At a certain town in Missouri a laughable circumstance occurred. Here,
for some time, a revival had been in progress. The revivalists had been
abusing the circus, its surroundings and influences, and had tried to
prevent us from exhibiting. However, we secured a lot adjoining the
church and opened our doors. John Robinson, the chief proprietor of our
show, was one of the best equestrians that ever lived, and at that time
was introducing what he called his Demon Act. In this act he dressed
and made up as nearly as possible like a demon. While riding his four
horses at breakneck pace around the ring, he would utter a series of
the most ferocious yells imaginable, at the same time working himself
up to a great pitch of excitement, until, as the auditors frequently
expressed it, he "looked like his Satanic Majesty himself."
On this occasion, at the close of his act, he jumped from his horses,
ran out of the dressing-room and boldly entered the church, exclaiming
in the stentorian voice for which he was famed: "I am victorious! I am
victorious!" The effect was magical. The revivalist had been eloquently
exhorting on the subject of the Prince of Darkness, and the overwrought
congregation took but one glance at the theatrical Satan, and then,
leaping madly through the windows and doors of the little church, broke
for the woods.
At Council Bluffs, Iowa, we had exhibited to a large afternoon
audience. The day was extremely hot and sultry, and in the evening,
just as the people were seating themselves on the benches, a cyclone
struck us without the slightest warning. In a twinkling the poles,
seats and canvas were being hurled through the air in all directions.
At that time we used an inflammable liquid for illuminating the tent,
and this ignited and added the horror of fire to the scene.