The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-09-22
The Late Lamented Circus.

When l was hurrying along toward the
circus, very long time after the perform
ance had begun, happened to remember
that my newspaper pass would take two
people in just as we'll as one.
1t seemed pity to waste an opportunity
like that, so 1 gathered up the most for
looking boy in sight and undertook to
escort him in to see the show.
The ticket -taker wasn't very busy just
then, and for want of something better to
do he frowned severely at my boy. Whose
boy is that?'' said he. That is my boy"
said l, quickly, and l hope, not untruth-
fully. "Sure?" went on that dreadful
man. Sure" said 1, rather family and
fearfuIly.
The man realized at last that he didn't
care whose boy that was anyway, that he
was exposing himself to public ridicule,
that we were already inside the tent-and
he decided to let the matter rest.
Only, just to justify his conduct, he
called after me, not very loud: "Wel, he
doesn't look the least little bit like you,
anyway"
A lady in tights stepped from the ground
to her horses back and danced about there
while the horse galloped gracefully round
and round the little ring.
why, mamma gasped little fellow
who was sitting close beside me, shes
she's not got on hardly any clothes becept
she's stockingsi"
Another little chap who had a seat which
commanded a fine view of everything had
also about two and half cents worth of
peanuts, which had cost his devoted
mother a whole dime. They were detest-
ably bad peanuts too, stale and musty. |
know all about it, because bought some
just like them for my own (borrowed) boy,
and tasted them out of courtesy.
But this little chap that 1 began to tell
you about might exactly as well have
eaten those peanuts on the back steps of
his own home.
He didn't see one bit more of that circus
than any of the lucky-I mean uniucky-
children who couldn't go to it at all.
You see he was a very little fellow. And
he evidently loved peanuts more than any
thing in all the world. The donkey and
the clown sang duets together, and every
body but little Peanuts laughed because
the donkey's voice was softer and sweeter
than the clowns.
Eight horses dashed around a racetrack
that was great deal too small and every
body held his breath when they few
around the dangerously short turns and
came out abreast again. Everybody ex-
cept little Peanuts.
He was so busy looking for half peanut
meat that was lost in his lap that he Just
happened to miss that exciting race
entirely.
That boy missed everything systemati-
cally. He acted as if he came to the circus
for the express purpose of missing things
and then being miserable about it.
He even missed the last of those
wretched peanuts. They fell down to
the ground under the seats, and poor
little Peanuts just missed being big
enough to go down after them. So he
cried till he was tired out, and then he
put his head in his mothers lap-and Just
missed falling asleep therel
That boy was enough to set anybody
moralizing, even right in the midst of the
circus. What a lot of little people,
and big ones, too, though you chill
know anything about that-there are who
spend all their lives attending to some
thing which isn't very much matter any
way and which gets away from them
after all.
For instance, men get interested in try
ing to get money.
They try so hard that they forget
are blue and the fields green, forget to
listen when the birds sing, do not even
hear when their own little children cry.
And sometimes it happens that these
people who have forgotten that life was
meant for anything more than money
making grow old and die without having
made any money after all! Mr.. Kipling
seems to think that people of this sort
are ever so much more foolish than
monkeys, and in Ballads and Barrack-
room Ballads" he prints this clever little
poem, which he calls 1.-The Legend of
Evili
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
Holding each others tails:
Our fathers lived in the forest
Foolish people were they.
They went down to the corn land
To teach the farmers to play.
"our fathers frisked in the millet,
Our fathers skipped in the wheat,
Our fathers hung from the branches,
Our fathers danced in the street.
"Ihen came the terrible farmers
Nothing Of play they knew,
Only-they caught our fathers
And set them to LABOR, too!
Set them to work in the corn land
With plows and sickes and fails,
Put them in mud-waed prisons,
And-cut OF their beautiful tails!
snow can watch our fathers
Suen and bowed ard old,
STOPPING over the miller,
Sharing the silly mold.
"Drivinga foolish furrow
Mending muddy yoke.
Sleeping in mud walled PRISONS
Sleeping their food in smoke
" We may not speak TO our fathers,
For, if the farmers knew,
They would come up to the forest
And set us 10 labor, toop'
This is the horrible story
Told as the twilight fails,
And the monkeys walk together
Holding each others tails.
Everybody who wants Tn po IN tho circus
has to borrow a child of some sort to
make an excuse for being there. One
tired-looking woman had only been able
to borrow baby few-a very few
weeks old.
The little thing lay very still in its
white robes, all be-laced and be-frilled.
It's tiny hands, pink like the petals of
flower, and almost as transparent, only
curled up and Strengthened out again
convulsively when the din of shouts and
trumpets grew loudest. Do babies who
are treated like that l;yeP sometirnes