Amusements in Puddleford.--The Highland Fling.--A Fire-eater
comes next.--Runs a Sword down his Throat.--Starts his
Ribbon Factory.--Borrows Squire Longbow's Hat.--Boils Eggs
in it.--The Squire gets into a Passion.--The Grand Caravan
is posted.--Squire Longbow lectures on the Lion.--Bigelow
Van Slyek follows on the Ichneumon--The Caravan
arrives.--Great Excitement.--Jim Buzzard still
himself.--Aunt Sonora in Trouble.--The Band blows away.--The
Canvas is raised.--Terrible Press of Puddlefordians.--The
Keeper shows up the Lion.--Explains why he has no Hair.--The
Ichneumon is found at last--The Monkey Ride.--Breaking up.
The amusements of a new country are on a scale with everything else. As
every people are set to some scale, from the most refined and luxurious, to
the most rustic and simple, that scale is always preserved in whatever may
exist. Puddleford was not without its public amusements. It was not beyond
the reach of strolling vagabonds, and impudent mountebanks. These troops,
like light, penetrate every quarter of the globe, and, of course, visited
Puddleford.
One of the first exhibitions which wormed its way among the Puddlefordians
was made up of a drunken Irishman and a vixen of a woman, a cracked fiddle
and a greasy fife, all of whom and which performed the "Highland fling"
with variations and other tunes as the man declared (there were no bills),
in full costume. The Highlander was drunk, and the woman was out of
temper; the fiddle was crazy, and the fife could scarcely squeak. The
performance opened with the "Highland fling," was succeeded by the
"Highland fling," continued by the "Highland fling," and closed by a grand
display of the "Highland fling." This exhibition being the first that ever
found its way into the settlement, everybody was delighted. Aunt Sonora
said, "she didn't b'lieve there war any such Highlanders--nor any such
flings nuther--but the music was very purty, say what they would."
After the Irishman and woman departed, and their memory had nearly faded
out, a "fire-eater" came on, and positively turned Puddleford nearly
topsy-turvy. He was certainly a most ferocious character. He boiled eggs in
a hat, hatched chickens, ate tow, and pulled out ribbons from his mouth;
swallowed swords, point foremost, burned all the handkerchiefs in the room,
and restored them to their owners again; and did divers more astonishing
things, which completely upset the brains of the Puddlefordians, and they
began to think, before he finished, that he was fresh from the infernal
regions, and had been sent on by Satan himself.
There had never been such a crowd collected at Puddleford for any purpose
as assembled to see the wonderful performance of this fire-eater. Mrs.
Bird, Mrs. Longbow, Mrs. Beagle, Mrs. Swipes, Aunt Sonora, and a few more
of the female aristocracy of Puddleford, occupied the front seats, which
were covered with green baize, as a mark of respect and distinction. The
background was composed of a very miscellaneous sort of people--Jim Buzzard
being in the extreme rear, perched upon a barrel.
It was exceedingly fearful to hear the screams of the women, when the
performer had a sword half down his throat.
"What is the man a-goin'-ter to do?" exclaimed Mrs. Bird.
"O, murder!--mur-_der_!" screamed Aunt Sonora, jumping from her seat.
"O, twitch it out quick--he's _cho_-kin'!" gasped Mrs. Swipes.
"See him!--see him!" exclaimed a dozen voices at once. "Stop him!" "Run!"
"'Tis goin' right straight inter his throat." "He's dyin'! How his eyeballs
glare!" "Squire Longbow!--Squire Longbow!--run--run--you're a peace
officer--don't see him die!" "There! O, dear me--'tis gone down--it's outer
sight--he's swaller'd it _now_." "He's got it inter him, mor'n three feet
long." "How it must cut!" "There--there!" "I see it--he's pullin' it up
agin." "I can jest see the tip end of the handle--but there ain't no blood
on't." "How can he get it out?" "Well, if it ain't a comin' right out, I
wouldn't say so, handle and all!" "O, dear me--whoever heer'd of a man
swallerin' a sword afore!" "How his in'ards must feel!" And so on, keeping
the house in a tempest of noise and alarm.
When the performer, however, began to make ready to run his "ribbon
factory," as he called it, the women recovered from their fright, and were
in high glee, particularly during the preliminary remarks, and during the
tow-stuffing exercises. He was, beyond all question, a very funny man, and
said a host of very funny things. He threw himself into many strange
shapes, twisted his face out of form--looked gay and looked solemn by
turns, and kept the house in a continual burst of merriment.
Mrs. Bird declared "she should die a _lafin_'."
Aunt Sonora said "it _did_ seem as if her sides would split right open."
Mrs. Swipes said "she know'd that it _did_ beat all--he was the oddest
critter that ever com'd into the settlement."
Ike Turtle said "he was _sum_, if not more."
Bates declared "he must stay over another night."
Squire Longbow said but little. He sat and shook his sides. "It was as good
as anything he ever see'd down on-ter the Susquehannas. He was so glad the
man had come so far jist to amuse 'em a little."
But when the man began deliberately to light up the tow, and to set his
mouth all in a blaze, the screams commenced again.
"He will blow up--he will blow up!" said one.
"He's all-on-a fire!" another.
"How the sparks do fly out of his mouth!"
"'Tis fire! 'Tis _raal_ fire!"
"O--d-e-a-r!"
"Take him some _wa_-ter!"
"I say, _mister_--mister," exclaimed Mr. Longbow, who had become really
frightened, and who could sit still no longer, when he saw the man
positively burning up--"Did you really mean to set that _tow_ on fire?
Don't it _burn_, mister? Don't you want some help? I say, sir, mis-_ter_!"
The man answered by blowing a stream of sparks out of his mouth straight at
the Squire, who started back in terror, and overset Mrs. Longbow, who
uttered an unearthly scream.
The fire flickered out at last, and order was restored.
This was followed by the "ribbon factory," and the man pulled a pile of
them out of his mouth, of all sizes and colors, and scattered them around
his feet in the most reckless manner.
"Don't tromp on 'em," said Aunt Sonora.
"He ought to be _keer_ful on 'em," said another.
"If Whistle & Sharp only sold sich ribbons," another.
"And to think," continued Mrs. Bird, "they come right out on him, too."
"He keeps 'em in his _butes_," roared Turtle.
"They don't come out of his _butes_ at all," said Aunt Sonora; "they're all
in his _mouth_."
"He didn't put 'em _in_ his butes," said Mrs. Swipes; "how could they come
out on 'em?"
"Put 'em in 'fore he come," said Turtle.
"I say, mister," inquired Squire Longbow, who wished to settle the disputed
point for the benefit of all, "did you put them 'are ribbons inter yer
butes 'fore you come?"
The man cocked his eye, and kept pulling away.
The Squire looked indignant.
"Ask him if they are raal ribbons," said Aunt Sonora.
"I say, mister," stammered the Squire, again rising, "are them 'are raal
ribbons?"
The man still pulled.
"Won't answer no questions!" exclaimed the Squire, and he sat down. The
ribbon factory at last ran out.
The only other exercise of importance was cooking eggs in a hat. The
performer had borrowed the Squire's hat in the most polite way possible,
saying, "he would confer a great favor upon him for the loan of it for a
few moments; it would so much aid him in his feats. It was just _the_ hat
he wanted--it was sometimes difficult for him to find just _the_ hat--but
the Squire's hat filled his eye to a dot."
Now the Squire's hat was the most remarkable hat in all Puddleford. It was
a broad-brimmed affair, "raal beaver," he said, which he'd worn mor'n
twenty years. He bought it down on the "Susquehannas," and had watched it
with sacred care ever since he had owned it. He wore it on Sunday, Fourth
of July, on town-meeting days, and on all special occasions. He kept it the
rest of the time in a closet in the "_cham_-ber," covered with a piece of
"ile-cloth," which was about as ancient as the hat. There was one grease
spot on it, and only one, and there was not a man, woman, or child in the
settlement who did not know how it "come on," for the Squire had detailed
the circumstances that led to the catastrophe, a hundred times.
The hat was set upon the floor, and the performer brought out a basket of
eggs, and bowing gracefully, holding one in his hand at the same time, said
he would cook a dozen in that hat, pointing to the Squire's hat
significantly.
"S-i-r!" exclaimed the Squire.
"Keep easy, sir!" said the man.
"In--my--hat!"
"Yes, sir! in your _hat_!"
"In my _beaver_ hat?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Cook _eggs_?"
"Yes, sir! _Cook_ 'em!"
"That hat!"
"Yes, sir! I say _that_ hat!"
"Down in front!" exclaimed Turtle; "can't see."
"That hat!" gasped the Squire again.
"He's gummin' you," roared Turtle; "can't cook eggs in a hat. Down in
front!"
Squire Longbow was very much excited, and had turned very red in the face.
He could not help but think what his first wife would say if she was
there--what she would say if she saw that hat with eggs "a-bilin'" in
it--but perhaps the showman was "a-tryin'" to scare him, as Turtle said--he
would wait a little and watch him closely.
"And now," said the performer, "examine this egg--it is a real egg--and now
you see me break it--and now it is broke--and now," cracking it apart with
his thumb nails, and looking down into the Squire's hat--"there _it goes_!"
"Twenty-five dollars! twenty-five dollars for that!" ejaculated the Squire,
filled with fury, and jumping towards the performer, with his fist doubled,
and his teeth firm set. "You're a great scoundrel, sir--you _borrow'd_ that
hat, sir--you borrowed it of me, sir--it is _my_ hat, sir, that you've got,
sir--my name is Longbow, sir--_Squire_ Longbow, sir--that's my beaver hat,
sir--twenty years old, sir--cost ten dollars, sir!"
"And there goes another," continued the performer, amid the stamping and
roars of the audience, popping another egg into the Squire's hat, in the
coolest manner possible, disregarding the tempest around him.
"I call upon Mr. Turtle to witness!" continued the Squire; "I'll ish-er a
warrant for you, sir--I'll have you up, sir--before _me_, sir--you can't
_pay_ me for that 'ere hat, sir--you'll be imprison'd--you'll go to jail,
sir--you won't spile any more people's hats, sir--you won't bile eggs,
arter this, sir--it's your last bilin', sir--"
By this time the smoke was rising out of the Squire's hat and curling away
towards the ceiling, and the smell of cooked eggs was waxing strong in the
nostrils, and the hat, so they all said, was "gone for sartin."
"La!" exclaimed Aunt Sonora, as she saw the fate of the hat, "what wicked
critters these performers are; sit right down and burn up a hat--a-bilin'
eggs in it!"
The performer returned Squire Longbow's hat, after he had concluded his
wonderful experiment of cooking eggs, but the old man looked upon it with
suspicion. He turned it over and over, and smelled of it, but declared, at
last, that it was his old beaver, and jest as good as new; whereupon he
apologized for his getting into a passion, and gave as a reason, that it
"was the first time he ever saw the trick done--but now he know'd the man
was a gentleman, every inch on him."
But the most remarkable exhibition that ever fell upon Puddleford occurred
after this. A caravan of wild animals, about the autumnal days, took
Puddleford in its way. It was called the _grand_ caravan. Quite a flaming
poster preceded the animals themselves. The bill was indeed a very
attractive-looking affair. There was a lion and a tiger painted on it, at a
dead lock. The lion, it appeared, had opened the tiger's bowels, and the
tiger had opened the lion's bowels--the lion had torn the tiger's head, and
the tiger had torn the lion's head--these two furious beasts seemed to be
about on an equal footing. An elephant was also portrayed in a very stately
manner, carrying a house full of people on his back, who were armed to the
teeth, for some unknown purpose, and who also supported a stern-looking
gentleman, seated upon his tusks, who carried a long pole in his hand.
Monkeys of all sizes were scattered around the picture. Some climbing
trees, some chattering higher up in the branches, and some cutting curious
antics, evidently for the gratuitous amusement of the public who might
choose to look on. This bill was posted up at the Eagle, and it created a
very great excitement throughout Puddleford and the adjacent country.
Scores of people came in from "round about," to wonder over and digest this
wonderful "picter." Aunt Sonora, Mrs. Swipes, Mrs. Bird, Mrs. Beagle, Mrs.
Longbow, and their husbands, the "Colonel," Bigelow Van Slyck, Jim Buzzard,
and scores of ragged children, pressed into the bar-room, day after day,
and "Oh'd" and "Ah'd" over it. All kinds of comments were made by the
multitude. The origin, history, habits, and ferocity of the animals were
sagely discussed and settled. Squire Longbow, among the rest, told
wonderful stories about the "roar" of the lion--how he "shak't the whole
woods, when he got his wrath up, and made all the other animals run and
hide themselves--he said they'd all have to stop their ears if that feller
(pointing to the said lion on the show-bill) giv' 'em a blast--he heer'd
one roar onct, down onter the Susquehannas, and he shouldn't forget it the
longest day _he_ lived."
Aunt Sonora inquired of Squire Longbow, "where lions came from, and how
they got 'em here, and if they were _dang_-rous animals, and would bite
people."
The Squire drew a long a-hem! stretched out his legs, and looked very wise,
for he thought if there was anything that he _did_ know about, it was about
lions. He recollected just how that lion looked that he saw down on the
Susquehannas. He knew, too, that there was no other person in Puddleford
that could throw any light upon the subject of lions. So the Squire began
in the most profound manner to answer Aunt Sonora. "The lion," said the
Squire, "the great African lion--jist sich a lion as you see on that 'ere
bill--inasmuch as you have axed me, I tell you, comes from the jungles of
the torrid zone."
Mr. Bates wanted to know what "a jungle was, while he was about his lion
story?"
"A jungle--a jungle," continued the Squire, coughing in his embarrassment;
"a jungle--is--a--place--a kind-er cave, where the lions go, deep inter the
airth, and where they can growl and roar, without disturbin' anybody."
"Inter the _airth_?" exclaimed Turtle; "how do they catch 'em, then?"
"How do they ketch 'em?--how do they ketch 'em?" exclaimed the Squire; "how
do _I_ know?--how can _I_ tell?--_I've_ never been in Africa--I was only
tellin' how the lions liv'd."
Mrs. Bird asked the Squire what the lions ate?
"Anything they can get," answered the Squire, very philosophically; "they
ain't 'tall particular."
"Don't eat grass, do they?"
The Squire said he "shouldn't be s'prised if they did."
"Do they eat up men and women?"
"_Wal_," answered the Squire, "to tell you the plain truth, I s'pose they
do."
"O Lordy!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird. "Ugh! how he looks!"
During all this time the young Puddlefordians, dirty and barefooted, who
had crowded themselves into a corner in a distant part of the room, were
filled with terror during the Squire's sage remarks, and fairly trembled
for their safety.
Jim Buzzard took occasion to say that "he s'posed the an-_er_-mals _would_
bite, but he warn't goin' to be scart, if they had 'em fasten'd in
cages--but if they were goin' ter run loose, he'd be gaul-blasted if they
seed him round thar when they com'd--he'd jest let 'em know he warn't
a-goin' to be eat up by their lions and elephuntses--he didn't care nothin'
'bout their monkeys--he warn't 'fraid of them, nohow--but them 'are
lions--what _teeth_ they have got--O! mighty!--guess'd they wouldn't ketch
him round them grinders."
The bill, among other startling announcements, declared that "the
celebrated animal mentioned in Holy Writ, and now known as the Ichneumon,"
would be exhibited--that it was the first time any company had ever
succeeded in carrying him so far into the interior, as he was very partial
to salt water, and suffered very much, and grew very faint and weak, when
removed any distance away from it.
The showman had been very careful not to furnish a picture of the
Ichneumon, whose peculiarities had been so vividly portrayed in print, and
the Puddlefordians were in great doubt about his real appearance. There
were many curious speculations, and sage reflections indulged in by the
more learned portion of the crowd, about his origin and history. It was
very difficult, in the first place, to pronounce his name.
Bigelow Van Slyck, who was a host at Puddleford in philology, attempted to
give the most correct pronunciation of the word. It was "_Ich_, something,"
he said--"probably the whole word was taken from Ich--and that was an
animal that scratched himself--and yet he didn't believe this animal had
any hair--and it was only hairy animals that _did_ scratch themselves--and
the reason why he thought the animal hadn't any hair, was, that he must be
a salt-water animal--for the bill said he was mentioned in Holy Writ--and
also, that he couldn't live away from salt-water. He thought he knew
_sun_-thin' 'bout Holy Writ--he _thought_ he did--and sunthin' 'bout
animals, too--and if _he_ was to give his opinion, he should say the
Ichneumon was the great Le-_vi_-a-_thern_, that went into the mighty deep!"
(Here Bigelow raised upon his toes, and spread out his arms, as if to show
the crowd how big the great Le-_vi_-a-_thern_ was.)
Bigelow's oration produced a very solemn effect on the Puddlefordians. The
idea that the great Leviathan, of Holy Writ, was really coming into their
midst, was a most astounding thought to every man, woman, and child
present.
Mrs. Longbow, who was a member of Bigelow's church, as has been seen,
wanted to know "in what part of Holy Writ that 'are Ich-what-do-ye-call-it
was found?"
Bigelow said it was somewhere--he couldn't 'zactly tell--it was either in
the _Old_ or _New_ Testament, he was very--"_sar_tin."
Mrs. Longbow said "she'd never see'd it."
Bigelow said "he'd never seen him nuther."
Mrs. Longbow explained--"she'd never seen the animal in the _Holy Writ_."
Bigelow thought, "if she'd look, she'd find it."
Mrs. Longbow said "she'd look now."
Bigelow said "he hadn't time _now_, but he'd look it up by next Sunday, and
preach on't."
Turtle, who had been carefully watching Bigelow in his attempt to identify
the Ichneumon, and who had great respect for his opinion in all matters
connected with Holy Writ, thought he discovered a flaw in the argument. He
would "jest like to know how they could carry around a salt-water animal on
land?"
Bigelow said "he warn't alive--he was stuff'd. It didn't say the celebrated
_live_ animal called the Ichneumen."
"But it did say," replied Turtle, "that it was the first time they had
succeeded in carrying the animal so far in the interior."
Bigelow was a little puzzled at this--but said, "he s'posed it was in great
danger of being stolen--but at any rate, the Ichneumen was the great
Levia_thern_, or some other--very--strange--animal,--_that_ he was sure
of."
Squire Longbow, who had listened in the most dignified manner to all that
Bigelow had said, heaved a long sigh at his last remark, and declared that
Bigelow had, in his opinion, "s'plained the whole thing--and 'twas clear
'nough to him that the Ich-nu-men was the Viathen--'tany rate, he know'd
the Viathen was the Ich-nu-men."
The excitement was very great from the time the bill was posted until the
grand caravan actually arrived. Very little else was talked about, or
thought of in Puddleford, and the region round about. Every business, and
every domestic and social arrangement had reference to the coming event.
Squire Longbow had declared, two weeks before the day fixed for the
performance, that no law business would be done in his office on show-day.
Turtle had issued a similar proclamation. Important financial arrangements
were everywhere matured to enable the Puddlefordians to "raise the wind,"
so they might procure an entrance behind the canvas. The draft of ready
money upon the people threatened to be very disastrous, for the admission
was two shillings per head, children half price--cash down.
The caravan was expected to arrive at about ten o'clock in the forenoon.
But the mighty multitude, who had some distance to travel, packed and
provisioned, and started on their way the day previous. Everybody was
determined to be on the ground when the first blow was struck. The morning
of the long-looked for period presented a spectacle more stirring and
sublime than anything which had ever been before known. Every man, woman,
and child was dressed in his or her best. Many had strained a point, and
appeared in a style so rich that they were scarcely known by their best
friends. And then, too, every person appeared to be so full of good humor
and smiles, that it really seemed to be the only desire of all to make each
other happy. Squire Longbow shone like a dollar. The old homespun coat and
beaver hat wore a new brightness about them; and, what was very unusual for
the Squire, he had procured a new hickory cane, and had cut "Longbow" upon
it, which very much added to his dignity. Turtle had actually mounted a
clean collar, which was one of the most remarkable occurrences of the
season. Jim Buzzard, however, had not met with any change, outwardly or
inwardly. He wore the same hat, coat, and boots that were found with him
when he was first seen sunning himself on a dry-goods box, one morning, in
the streets of Puddleford. The hat was a little more jammed up, and the
boots gaped a little wider--but he was still the same Jim Buzzard, and they
were still the same hat and boots. They bade fair to last as long as he
did. His garments seemed to have grown _to_ him, and to have become a part
_of_ him--to have formed a sort of attachment for him, and he really looked
as if he had been born with these very clothes on.
Jim sauntered around and said nothing. Sometimes he might be seen perched
away off by himself upon a post, overlooking the crowd--sometimes stretched
out on a box in the sun, snoring, and making ready for the coming occasion.
He knew he would get in. He had no money, but he was a philosopher. He let
matters take care of themselves, and as he had always been provided for, he
felt perfectly satisfied that he always would be.
Everybody inquired very particularly about everybody's family on that day;
and why shouldn't everybody inquire about everybody's family, for it was
the day of the great caravan, and everybody was of course overflowing with
joy. Mrs. Longbow assured Aunt Sonora, that "she would sartinly call on her
the very next afternoon;" and Aunt Sonora apologized for not having dropp'd
in to take tea with Mrs. Longbow, long afore. Mrs. Bird went so far as to
inquire of Mr. Longbow, "how his cousins," which she said she had heer'd
on, were gettin' along down on the Susquehannas--the only time before or
since that the old lady ever alluded to the Squire's cousins, down on the
Susquehannas, or anywhere else.
The grand caravan at last appeared in the distance, preceded by a cloud of
dust, and heralded by distant strains of music. The shock was
electrical--the rush was immense. The boys ran, and turned somersets--the
men ran after the boys, and the women ran after the men. Jim Buzzard,
disturbed by the "noise and confusion," actually rolled off a box, where he
was dozing; crawled to his feet, and rubbed his eyes open with his fist.
The jam was really terrific--women lost portions of their dresses, men's
hats flew off, and somehow, in the hurly-burly and jam, Squire Longbow
missed his beaver hat, cane, and eye-shade. The Squire was in great mental
excitement, as well as in bodily danger. He panted for breath, and plodded
on the best way he could. Even a man of his distinction was not regarded on
that day. Among other trials and reverses, he found himself separated from
Mrs. Longbow, who, for anything he knew, was "trampled to death,"
somewhere; and with one eye on the grand caravan, and the other (the blind
one) looking after his second wife, he hurried along, muttering to himself
like some mad animal. He was dashed on to Mr. Turtle in his progress, and
nearly upset that respectable legal gentleman. Mr. Turtle rose, filled with
wrath, and with drawn fist, and just saw his mistake in time before the
blow descended. "O, it's _you_, Squire!" said Mr. Turtle. Squire Longbow
asked Mr. Turtle where his wife was? Mr. Turtle, very much excited, said
something which the Squire did not understand, and pointed nowhere in
particular, and then bounded on after the grand caravan. The Squire, after
twisting and turning, and panting and blowing, and after having overturned
three or four innocent women, who happened to be in his way, found himself
at last out of the rush, in the corner of a rail fence, blowing his flushed
face with his best cotton handkerchief. When he came to himself, he began
to think. He recollected that he was a magistrate yet, and if anybody
_should_ steal his hat, cane, or his eye-shade, he muttered, "he'd bring
'em afore him by daylight next morning, he would--he'd have some kinder la'
in town, if _'twas_ caravan day."
The fate of Aunt Sonora was about as melancholy as that of the Squire. She
was somehow drawn into the tide, and as the good old lady could not move
fast, the current that passed her on each side rolled her round and round,
as she stood, first one way and then the other, until she became completely
peeled of her outer clothes. Cries were jerked out of her in a spasmodic
way, as she could catch her breath. "Massy--massy! O, massy--me!
I'm--k-i-l-l-'d!" and many more heart-rending exclamations she uttered; but
it was the great caravan that was coming, and she was neither heard nor
heeded. When she escaped, she looked as if she had been plucked of all her
feathers; she, however, quietly slid into the house of Mrs. Longbow, which
was near by, for repairs. When she found herself able to speak, she
declared, "if _that_ was the _way_ the caravan was a-goin' to use folks,
she hop'd _lite_-ning would strike 'em 'fore they got out-er the
settlement--they'd sp'ilt her shillin' caliker dress, and she wouldn't gin
it for all the monkeys the confounded consarn had."
But the caravan moved on regardless of accidents, and the music grew
stronger and stronger, as it approached nearer and nearer; and as the
breeze cast aside the dust, men, and horses, and wagons were seen moving
forward, solemnly preceded by an elephant, which carried a stately looking
gentleman upon his tusks, according to the representation on the bill. As
the procession approached the village, its extent and magnificence began to
dwindle. Alas! three wagons and one sickly-looking elephant comprised the
whole affair. The people were evidently very much disappointed. The bill
was a very large bill, and they did not see how it was possible for the few
vehicles that came into town, to hold all the live stock which had been
promised.
Squire Longbow still stood in the corner of the rail fence, looking out for
the lion, for he had pledged his reputation to the Puddlefordians that the
lion should be all that he had promised. He didn't know whether he would
come on foot or not, housed or open; but the Squire saw no lion, nor any
place for one.
Bigelow was busy sharply scenting out the "_Ich_-nu-men, celebrated in Holy
Writ," as the bill declared. He felt it to be his duty to take a kind of
guardianship over the Ich-nu-men, while he might favor Puddleford with his
presence, because he _was_ associated with Holy Writ; but Bigelow could not
find him anywhere, living or dead, kicking or stuffed. He was much
disappointed, but took courage from the hope that he was shut up from
vulgar gaze in one of the strong cages.
The musicians still blowed their blast, as the cavalcade wound its way
through the principal streets. The bill declared that the band was the
celebrated "Boston Band," led by Monsieur Huzzleguget, and, according to
_that_, it was composed of some twenty-four performers, drawn by six fiery
steeds, attached to a Grecian chariot, driven by one elegant-looking
gentleman, heavily whiskered, who must have been some six feet high; but,
alas! the band itself that led on the animals through the streets of
Puddleford consisted of only four seedy-looking performers, who carried
three rusty copper horns and a bass drum, which was beat by a
melancholy-looking boy. The three horn-men had blown their faces as round
as pumpkins, and as red, too; or something besides wind, perhaps, had blown
the color into their faces, for they occasionally took something to drink,
during the heat of the exercises, from a bottle which they kept under the
seat of the chariot.
The chariot was a large high-boarded wagon, and painted red, and was drawn
by a couple of jaded "tugs," who showed plainly enough that their days were
fast drawing to a close. But the music still blowed, and the procession
moved on, and the Puddlefordians were as much delighted as if the
proclamation had been fully realized.
Up went the canvas, and the show prepared to open. The hurry to enter was
most marvellous--such a crowd Puddleford never saw before. Even Squire
Longbow could not wait until the doors were actually opened. He was
bewitched to see the great African lion. The Squire, as a peace-officer,
ordered the crowd to keep back, in reality for the purpose of giving him
and Mrs. Longbow a better chance; but the Squire's commands were entirely
disregarded; he had sunk down to the level of a mere citizen; he was
stripped of all his power; it was the great caravan day, and who cared for
a justice of the peace on such an occasion?
Aunt Sonora having repaired the disasters of the forenoon, had determined
to see the fun out. She had put on her "'t'other frock," and looked as
well as she did before she had been peeled through the morning multitude.
The doors were opened at last, and the "rush" entered, and in a few moments
the canvas was alive with human beings. The grand caravan now on exhibition
was originally the fag-end of a large concern, which had been bought up by
sharpers to swindle the people. I say, originally, because this fag-end had
been divided up into three smaller fag-ends which were out in different
parts of the new country scouring around for money. The Puddleford fag-end
had a runt of a lion, who was very evidently on his last legs; for he had
been travelled until his hair was worn entirely off, and his spirits
exhausted. It was very clear that he was showing himself for about the last
time. The elephant was diseased, and the tiger was about four times the
size of a cat. There were three dirty-looking monkeys in a cage eating
crackers and hickory nuts, and chatting and throwing shucks through the
bars at the gaping crowd--an ichneumon--a black bear, the only hearty
fellow in the concern--and a mussy-looking ostrich, who had lost his
tail-feathers in his peregrinations through the globe. This was _the_
caravan.
Aunt Sonora entered, trembling.--"Dear me! dear me! dear me!" she uttered
to herself as she went in; "and so this is really the great caravan; if the
animals should get loose--and there--O, there--is that the lion!" she
exclaimed involuntarily to those around her, starting back, as she saw the
bars of a cage in the distance,--"are them bars iron?" she exclaimed,
looking frightened.
"Walk up! walk up!" exclaimed the keeper, as he saw several persons
standing back; "the lion is one of the most docile animals we have, ladies
and gentlemen; he never bites, ladies and gentlemen; got him in a strong
cage; walk up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the _li_-on, the monarch of
the forest, as he is called."
"How his eyeballs glare!" exclaimed Aunt Sonora, disregarding the peaceful
proclamation of the keeper, as the great African lion looked up lazily, and
brushed a fly from his nose with his fore-paw.
"This African lion, ladies and gentlemen," continued the keeper, "is
fourteen years old; was caught in the great jungles of Ethiopia, by
throwing a _large_ rope around _his_ neck when he was _a_-sleeping, ladies
and gentlemen; he floundered a good deal, ladies and gentlemen, but he was
caught and brought away to the shores of Ameri-_ca_, where he has been ever
since. Nobody need be afear'd, for he never breaks out of his cage, and
always minds his keeper. Walk up _clo_-ser and look at the animal, ladies
and gentlemen." Here the keeper struck the iron bars of the cage a heavy
blow with a stick which he carried, but the great African lion took no
notice of it.
"Don't be skeer'd," exclaimed Mrs. Swipes, who had listened attentively to
the assurances of the keeper, addressing herself to Miss Lavinia Longbow,
whom she held between herself and the great African lion, as a precaution;
"don't be skeer'd, he's one of the most docil_est_ animals in the whole
caravan, the keeper says; push along. Don't be skeer'd; go right up to
where he is a-lying."
"This," exclaimed Squire Longbow, in a loud tone of voice, to a host of
Puddlefordians who had gathered around him for protection; "this is the
great lion I tell'd you about; he ain't so large as the one I onct saw
down onter the Susquehannas. Can he roar any, Mr. Keeper?" continued the
Squire, turning solemnly, and addressing himself to that august personage
with his usual dignity.
"He's a perfect roarer, ladies and gentlemen!" answered the keeper; "but
the lion don't roar at this time of the year--you don't understand the
nater of the animal--he loses his voice during the latter part of the
season. You ought to have heard him last spring, when he was in the roaring
mood, ladies and gentlemen."
"Bless us!" exclaimed Aunt Sonora.
"Frightened the children half to death," said the keeper.
"The great--African lion," muttered Aunt Sonora.
"But he won't _roar_ now, ladies and gentlemen--walk up, walk up!"
"Com'd from the jungles, I s'pose," inquired the Squire, with much gravity.
"Caught right _in_ a jungle," said the keeper.
"Jest as I told you!" said the Squire, turning around to his friends.
"Has he got _claws_?" inquired Aunt Sonora.
"_Claws!_" exclaimed the keeper, looking astonished; "the great--African
lion--got claws? Bless you! why he's _all_ claws and teeth; let me show
them to you;" and the keeper ran his arm into the cage, in the act of
pulling out one of the paws of the ferocious beast; when all Puddleford
started with a rush for the door, mingled with screams that were most
heart-rending.
"Never mind," said the keeper, who had become affected by the terror around
him; "we won't show the lion's claws now."
Order being restored, Mrs. Bird wanted to know why the lion "hadn't got any
_har_?"
"Any _what_?" inquired the keeper, peering through the crowd to find where
the voice came from, and what it said.
"Any _har_, Mr. Keeper."
"Ah! O, yes--any _hair_--I see--it is a _lady_ who makes the inquiry. Why
the animal hasn't got any hair? Yes, yes, very proper inquiry. We like to
answer such questions, or _any_ questions. These animals are great
curiosities; and we travel for the instruction of the people. Why the
animal hasn't got any hair? Put all the questions you can think of, ladies
and gentlemen. The animal _hasn't_ got any hair just now. Well, ladies and
gentlemen, he has just shed his coat--the lion is the monarch of the
forest--_he_ sheds _his_ coat in the fall of the year, ladies and
gentlemen; _he's_ from Africa, where the animals shed their coats at a
different season from the animals in this country; and the lion does just
as he would do if he were in Africa now, ladies and gentlemen. A very
proper question that, ladies and gentlemen; the lion is a wonderful
beast--the most wonderful beast, ladies and gentlemen, we have. Any more
questions? He has shed his coat, you see; looks bad just now. A sight at
the lion alone is worth the whole admission money. Any more questions?"
Mrs. Bird wanted to know of the keeper if he couldn't make him "snap and
snarl a little."
As the lion could scarcely stand upon his legs, the request of Mrs. Bird
rather took the keeper aback for a moment. But he recovered himself and
proceeded. He said he _could_ do it--_did_ do it sometimes--but he didn't
like to do it. "You see, ladies and gentlemen, that he is very docile now;
resting _very_ quiet; nothing disturbs him; but if he should get once
roused up, there is no knowing what he would do; I have stirred him up upon
particular request, but I never do it of my own accord, ladies and
gentlemen. We don't propose to do any such thing on our bills; we don't
like to do such a thing; but we always mean to satisfy the public, ladies
and gentlemen." Here the keeper started for a long pole with a sharp spike
in the end of it, and returning with it in his hand, announced, "I will now
make the great African lion foam and rage, and gnash his teeth."
A scream of terror went up from the whole multitude, filled with broken
ejaculations. "Murder!" "Don't!" "Let me out!" "Stop him!" and everybody
rushed in the wildest confusion a second time for the door.
The keeper laid down his pole, and calmed the crowd.
The exercises connected with the lion now closed. Turtle took advantage of
the interregnum to make an inquiry of his own. He had in his possession the
flaming poster that had so long hung at the Eagle, and amused and
astonished the Puddlefordians, and slowly unfolding it, he caught the eye
of the keeper, as he held it out at full length, and wished to know where
"all the monkeys were that were put on to that 'ere bill?"
The keeper pointed to the monkeys' cage, where the three were, still
chewing nuts and crackers, and chattering and bobbing from one side to the
other.
"Je-hos-a-phat!" exclaimed Turtle, "them _ar'_ ain't these 'ere
monkeys--there ain't but three on 'em, nuther, and they ain't climbing
trees, as these are--Je-hos-a-phat!--are _them_ your monkeys, Mr. Keeper?"
The keeper said "he would explain. They were the same monkeys that the
gentleman found on the bill; the same monkeys in different attitudes. That
monkey, for instance, ladies and gentlemen," continued the keeper, pointing
his stick at a gray-bearded one in the cage, who was just then intently at
work pulling a sliver out of his foot, "that monkey is represented four or
five times on the bill in different forms, ladies and gentlemen; jumping
here, and climbing there, ladies and gentlemen; and in other places
performing those wonderful and curious feats that the monkey only _can_
perform. Will the gentleman show the bill for the benefit of all? (Ike held
up the bill over his head.) Now, ladies and gentlemen, look at the bill,
and then look at the monkey. These bills are printed for the instruction of
the people; it gives them a knowledge of natural history. That monkey can
do anything that we have represented on our bill; or, rather, monkeys in
their native woods do all these things; but the woods we cannot carry
around with us, ladies and gentlemen; and so we give it to you on our
bills. (Hold the bill a little higher, if you please, sir.) There you see
the monkey as he is--next thing to a man, ladies and gentlemen. Study the
monkey; he's an as-_ton_-ishing animal; very different from the lion there;
wherever we go, the _mon_-keys are admired. Any more questions, ladies and
gentlemen?"
Turtle said "he b'lieved he shouldn't ask any more questions."
Bigelow Van Slyck had not yet seen "that wonderful animal mentioned in Holy
Writ, and now known as the Ichneumon." He had walked the whole caravan over
and over a dozen times, but the Ichneumon was nowhere to be seen.
He inquired, at last, of the keeper, "where he kept his Ichneumon."
"Certainly," answered the keeper in the most amiable manner possible,
leading the way to a little cage on the ground, where he had an animal
housed about the size of a small dog.
"There," exclaimed the keeper, "is the sacred quadruped now known as the
Ichneumon."
Bigelow ran his hands into his breeches-pockets and looked down very
reverently upon the little fellow.
"Spoken of in Holy Writ?" repeated Bigelow.
"Often," said the keeper.
"Old Testament, probably," said Bigelow.
"Most probably," replied the keeper.
Bigelow took another long look.
"And he's alive, too," said Bigelow, drawing a long breath.
"But it costs a great deal of money," answered the keeper, "to preserve his
life--most _expensive_ animal we have--bathe him in salt water three times
a day."
"Mi-_rac_-ulous!" said Bigelow.
"Treat him very tenderly," continued the keeper; "liable to lose him any
moment; cost a great sum; but we don't mind that--it is our business--we
_will_ satisfy the public."
Bigelow introduced Mrs. Bird, Mrs. Swipes, and Mrs. Longbow to the
Ichneumon, who did not happen to be present and hear the keeper's remarks,
and repeated in low breath the information which he had just derived, with
suitable and appropriate remarks of his own. For his part, he said, he was
paid. He had seen the sacred animal called the Ichneumon; and he managed to
weave him into a sermon which he preached some weeks afterwards, in which
he identified him as clearly as he did when inspecting the poster at the
Eagle.
Jim Buzzard was present during all the exercises. He crawled in under the
canvas at rather a late hour, but appeared in time to see all that was to
be seen. He made very few comments upon the animals. He took a very long
look at the elephant, who seemed to just strike his fancy. Jim was a
picture, and so was the elephant. As he stood in rags gaping at the
monster, it seemed as if he was magnetized to the ground. He examined him
up and down, looked under him, and over him, and at last, after having
digested all there was about him, he scratched his head and said, "O,
Gosh!"
But all things must have an end, and the grand caravan, in time, came to
its end. The last performance, which was intended as the climax to the
whole day's proceedings, and which had been looked forward to by the
Puddlefordians with the most enthusiastic feeling, was the "ostrich and
monkey ride." The poster had painted this affair in shining colors, and it
was finally announced by the keeper, amid a tempest of applause. It is not
in my power to describe this ride. The monkey rode the ostrich, as
promised, carrying a whip in his hand--and then the monkey took another
round on the ostrich, carrying something else--and then again and again,
each time under renewed and stronger vociferations from the multitude,
until I really began to think that the monkey and ostrich were certain to
transport the crowd into hysterics, and cover themselves with immortal
glory.
When the afternoon shadows began to lengthen over the green, the tent,
which had so recently gone up by magic, as suddenly dissolved, and the
people dissolved too. The show was over, and there were scores of people
who were twenty or thirty miles from home, jaded and nearly out of money.
Puddleford was in an uproar in the general preparation for a departure. The
showmen were packing their monkeys, ostrich, and ichneumon, temporarily
hobbling their elephant, and counting up the proceeds of the day, and
making ready for a fresh swindle upon some adjacent town. The women were
dealing out gingerbread to squalling children to fortify their stomachs
against the journey of the night. The men were settling up their bills at
the Eagle; and all was bustle and commotion.
Aunt Sonora hurried home and "took a nap;" she had passed _such_ a day;
"was," as she said, "nearly killed in the morning, and skeer'd to death in
the arternoon, that it seemed as if she should fly off the handle; her head
danc'd round like a top; see if they could catch her at any more of their
powwows; their lions and their monkeys might go to grass, for all her;
she'd not look at 'em agin; that's what she wouldn't--there warn't nothin'
so grand 'bout 'em, arter all, as folks tell'd on--she wouldn't use up
herself agin for any such strolling critters--not she."
The procession formed in a line, just at twilight, to take its farewell. A
knot of urchins, and twenty or more Puddlefordians, were all that were left
of the pride and pomp of the morning to see them safely on their way. The
band struck up a lively air, the wagons moved forward, and soon had wound
away out of sight; and all settled down again into the most profound
tranquillity.