"Then turn around."
But that, too, was impossible. The traffic had pushed in behind
hemming them in.
Then, down the street that crossed in front of the crowded jam of
vehicles, came the familiar sound of trumpets and the gorgeously
attired heralds at the head of the procession appeared, followed by
the leading band with its crashing, smashing, music.
As gilded chariot followed gilded chariot, each drawn by many pairs of
beautiful horses, gaily plumed and equipped--as the many riders, in
glittering armor and flashing, spangled, costumes, rode proudly past;
followed by the long line of elephants and camels with the cages of
their fellow captives; and, in turn, by the chariot racers, the
clowns, and the wagons of black faced fun makers; and at last by the
steam calliope with its escort of madly shouting urchins--the man in
the carriage slipped away from the cares and burdens of the present
into the freedom of his Yesterdays. He escaped from the galling chains
that Success had put upon him and lived again a circus day in the long
ago.
Weeks before the date of the great event, the barns and sheds and
every available wall in the little village, to which the boy often
went with his father, would be covered with gorgeous pictures
announcing the many startling, stupendous, wonders, to be seen for so
small a price. There was a hippopotamus of such size that a boat load
of twenty naked savages was not for him a mouthful. There were
elephants so huge that the house where the boy lived was but a play
house beside them. There were troops of aerial artists, who, on wires
and rings and trapeze and ladders and ropes, did daring, dreadful,
death defying, deeds, that no simian in his old world forest would
ever think of attempting. There was a great, glittering, gorgeous,
procession, of such length that the farther end was lost beyond the
distant horizon and tents that covered more acres of ground than the
boy could see from the top of the orchard hill.
Wonderful promises of the billboards! Wonderful! Wonderful promises of
the billboards of Life! Wonderful!
Then would follow the days of waiting--the endless days of
waiting--when the boy, with the help of the little girl, would try to
be everything that the billboards pictured, from the roaring lion in
his cage to the painted clown who cut such side splitting capers and
the human fly that, with her gay Japanese parasol, walked upside down
upon a polished ceiling. When circus day was coming, the fairies and
knights and princes and soldiers and all their tried and true
companions were forced to go somewhere--anywhere--out of the boy's
way. There was no time, in those busy days, even for fishing. The old
mill pond had no charm that was not exceeded by the promises of the
billboards. The earth itself, indeed, was merely a place upon which to
pitch a circus tent. The charms of the little girl, even, were almost
totally eclipsed by the captivating loveliness of those ladies who, in
spangled tights of blue and pink and red, hung by their teeth at dizzy
heights, bestrode glittering wheels upon slack wires, or were shot
from cannon to soar, amid black smoke and lurid flame, like angels,
far above the heads of the common people.
There was no lying in bed to be called the third time the morning of
that day; when at last it came. Scarcely had the sun peeped through
the orchard on the hill when the boy was up and at the window
anxiously looking to see if the sky was clear. Very early the start
for town was made for there is much on circus day that is not pictured
on the billboards--_that_, of course, the boy knew. And, as they
drove through the fresh smelling fields, the boy would wonder if the
long journey would ever come to an end and would ask himself, with
sinking heart: "What if they had mistaken the day? What if something
had happened that the circus could not materialize the promises of the
billboards? What, if the hippopotamus, the elephants, the beautiful
ladies in spangles and tights, and all the other promises of the
billboards should fail?" And somewhere, deep within his being, the boy
would feel a thrill of gladness that the little girl was so close
beside him. If anything should happen that the promises of the
billboards should fail he would need the little girl. While, if
nothing happened--if it was all as pictured--still it would not be
enough if the little girl were not there.
It was all over at last. The spangled riders galloped out of the ring;
the trapeze performers made their last death defying leap; the clown
cracked his last joke and cut his last caper; the last peanut in the
sack was devoured by the elephant; and, at the close of the long day,
the boy and the girl went back through the quiet fields to their
homes; tired with the excitement and wonder of it all but with sighs
of content and happiness. And, deep in his heart, that night, the boy
resolved that he would grow up to travel with a circus. He would be
very sorry to leave father and mother and the little girl but nothing
in the world--nothing--should keep him from such a glorious career.
The man knew, now, that the promises of those billboards in his
Yesterdays were never fulfilled. He knew, now, that the golden
chariots were not gold at all but only gilded. He knew, now, that
those wondrous beings who wore the glittering, spangled, costumes,
were only very common and very ordinary men and women. He did not,
now, envy the riders in the procession or the performers in the tent.
He knew that to have a place in the parade or to perform in the ring,
is to envy those whose applause you must win. The quiet of the old
fields; the peaceful home under the orchard hill; the gentle
companionship of the little girl; these were the things that in the
man's life endured long after the glamor of the circus was gone.
Through the circus day crowd the man was driven on to his appointment
but his mind was not now occupied with the business that awaited him.
His thoughts were not with the crowd that filled the streets. His
heart was in his Yesterdays. The music of the circus band, the sight
of the parade that so stirred his memories of childhood, had awakened
within him a hunger for the old home scenes. He longed to escape from
Success--to get away from the circus parade of Life in which he found
himself riding. He was weary of performing in the ring. He wanted to
go home through the quiet fields. Perhaps--perhaps--amid the scenes of
his Yesterdays, he might find that which Success had not brought.
As quickly as he could make arrangements, he went.
Of the woman's success, I cannot write here. My story has been poorly
told, indeed, if I have not made it clear that, for this woman who
knew herself to be a woman, Success was inseparable from Love.
For every woman who knows herself to be a woman, Love and Success are
one.