had expended upon him had not been in 

 vain. It was comical to watch his ef- 

 forts — the Httle short forelegs trying to 

 reach up to the next stair, where he knew 

 a lump of sugar would be his reward. 



Bitt I am digressing. One day father 

 and mother having gone out of town to a 

 funeral, we children were left to our- 

 selves. It was an opportunity not to be 

 neglected, and our brains were at work 

 trying to plan some new ^ame, when 

 Harvey arrived in our midst triumph- 

 antly waving a huge sheet of paper — a 

 "bill-poster" he called it — upon which, in 

 large letters, were the headlines, ''Grand 

 Circus," and then followed an account 

 of the animals that would take part and 

 the tricks they would perform. Harvey 

 assigned us our posts — he himself being 

 ring-master, by right of his seniority and 

 having thought of the game. Alice was 

 the ''fat lady," while I, Paul, being the 

 youngest, was nothing but a "feeder of 

 animals" and tent shifter. 



Under the direction of the Circus 

 Master we assembled the menagerie in 

 cages, or loose as the case might be, up 

 in Mother's bed-room. It took a good 

 deal of time to get them all together. 

 Polly was of a roving disposition and 

 had to be coaxed down from the top of 

 a tall tree, where she had perched, a 

 square or so away ; the crow was up on 

 the roof; the rabbits and hares were 

 scampering all over the garden — in fact, 

 nothing but the caged animals seemed to 

 be at hand. But the task was finally ac- 

 complished and all were ranged around 

 the room waiting for Harvey, who had 

 disappeared mysteriously some little time 

 before. 



Suddenly there was a most terrific 

 clatter and noise, coming ever nearer 

 and nearer. We looked at each other 

 open-mouthed with surprise, when, with 

 a flourish of lariat and a wild Indian 

 war-whoop, that rose above the deafen- 

 ing noise, in dashed Harvey upon 

 "Daisy," a triumphant figure — having 

 accomplished the difiicult feat of making 

 the pony carry him up stairs. He dis- 

 mounted with a jump. "Ladies and 

 Gentlemen," he began, "the first act on 

 the programme wili be by this wonder- 

 ful 'horse — Daisy, down on your 

 haunches !" The lariat swept the air in 



true ring-master fashion, and Daisy obe- 

 diently sat back on her haunches. 



"Shake hands, Daisy." 



The hoof came up — but here Rex in- 

 terfered. He realized the pony had no 

 business there and felt the responsibility 

 wnich rested upon him. Good dog that 

 he was, he started toward her, barking 

 sharply, as though to say, "Go away — 

 you know you have no business here." 



Then, as if his bark had been a signal, 

 all the other animals lifted up their 

 voices, and for a while it was pande- 

 monium let loose — screeches from Polly, 

 calls of "Mamma" from the crow 

 (which it could say as plainly as any 

 parrot, though its tongue had never been 

 slit), grunts and squeals mingled in utter 

 confusion. In the midst of it all who 

 should walk in but Uncle Charles. 



Now, we all knew that Uncle was not 

 disposed to pass over lightly even the 

 least of our offenses, and what he would 

 say, and what was more, do now, we 

 dared not think. But Harvey was equal 

 to the occasion. He knew Uncle's weak 

 point, and went towards him nonchalant- 

 ly swinging the snakes who stuck out 

 their heads as they swayed back and 

 forth. 



Now, to us children the snakes were 

 just as nice and pretty as any of the ani- 

 mals, but they were quite the opposite to 

 Uncle Charles. The great, writhing 

 things, swaying to and fro as they 

 twisted in Harvey's hands and stuck out 

 their heads, in which the eyes dully 

 gleamed, filled him with loathing and dis- 

 gust, not unmixed with terror. 



All that Uncle Charles had meant to 

 say vanished from his mind as he saw 

 Harvey advancing upon him with the 

 boa-constrictors, and he began to retreat 

 more and more rapidly, but with ever 

 decreasing dignity. Harvey still pur- 

 sued. 



"Why, Uncle," we heard him say, 

 "what's the matter?" There was no re- 

 sponse — Uncle Charles had gone home. 

 But the circus was broken up. 



I think it is better to draw a veil over 

 the consequences of our circus. No cir- 

 cus is complete without a side-show — and 

 ours was no exception. We never had 

 another one — at least not in mother's 

 room. Paul Brenton Eliot. 



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