Since we got settled in New York for a two weeks' stand, in Madison
Square Garden, we are having the tents repaired, and don't have to put
up and take down tents, and ride all night on trains. We are all
stopping at hotels and getting rested, and pa is having a chance to
shine.
The managers think pa is trying to commit suicide, for he wants to take
the place of anybody who is sick or drunk, and is the understudy of
everybody. We got one act that just curdles your blood, a cage in the
ring, with lions and tigers and leopards, who go through all kinds of
stunts. One lion rides a horse and jumps through hoops, and lands on the
back of the horse, and jumps on a staging and lets the horse go around
the ring, and then jumps on again. The horse is blindfolded, so he don't
know it is a lion that jumps on his back, but thinks it is a man.
The tigers ride bicycles, and the leopards jump about wherever the
trainer tells them to; a monkey acts as clown, and a little elephant
runs a make-believe automobile. That act alone is worth the price of
admission.
Well, the regular trainer went to Coney Island, and got drunk, and we
either had to cut out that performance, or give back the money, and the
manager was wailing about it, 'cause nothing makes a circus man wail
like giving back good money.
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