Year: 1874

! III MUST udfc UtCu Ill Ut ABOUT the year


1880 that a peripatetic circus company


pitched their tent in the village of Staun-


ton, in the Valley of Virginia, for the


profit to be reaped from the patronage of


country gentry and plantation hands, and


gave such entertainment of light fantastic


equestrianism, athletic contortion and


ground.and.l0fty tumbling as has not yet


lost its periodical zest for rural neighbor-


hoods. The small village inn and every


other receptacle for transitory guests in


the place were taxed to give temporary


domicile to the small army of show-peo-


who, instead of billeting with his COM


rades, took the first opportunity to slip


away from both tent: and village and


follow road winding aGar among retired
| plantations.


This was mere boy, haggard and pre-


COCiOusly rueful of glance and figure,


escaping from bondage in which fire.
quent stripes had not been wanting to
make him something lower than a horse


in nightly feats of the arena. Things had
! come to such pitch in his maltreated
young life that he preferred a future of


beggary on foot to the last-countered


tinscl of the beggar on horseback,


and upon reaching the stately


Britingham plantation he began his
new career by asking at the
door for glass of water. The sight of a
white boy on the tramp was a novelty
for that part of the country in those
patriarchial days, and hence the whole


household, with the planter at their head,
were attracted to the scene. Upon being
| kindly questioned by old Mr.. Birmingham
the fugitive Smike of the circus frankly
revealed his story and situation, and that
! with plteOus earnestness of speech and
| manner which might have extorted SYM
pathy from the toughest phase of human
nature. His response was an offer of
| immediate refuge and protection in the
good old, hearty, hospitable style, and
the whimper with which he accepted did
him no harm in the estimation of his new
friends.


Henceforth the runaway of the ring
| was a privileged inmate of the fine house
for year, enjoying every kindness that
benevolence could devise; but at the end
of that period, when another circus was
tented in neighboring Staunton, and he
| went there with the throng to see, the in
! fluence of the old habit proved stronger
in his nature than the newer ambition,
and the boy being naturally of sawdust
to the sawdust returned, not, however,
without something gained for the refine


nent of his whole future life, in senti-
ment of ardent gratitude to his benc-
factors and an ardor to excel in his


Aatural lot for the honor of that benefi-
cent emotion. Only circus-rider was
| he again, to be sure, but the something
| of better sphere of life with which he
| went back to horses and clowns was a
something potential to make him rise
above the creatures of meaner expert
ence


By skill as a performer, sobriety of
private character, and shrcwdness not
the less ettectual for it's honesty, his
progress through the remaining years of
his minority was a continual ascent, and
in his twenty first year he had attained
the dlgnities OF manager and proprietor.
Many times in these prosperous days he
brought his thriving circus to Staunton,
and always improved the opportunity to
present himself at the hospitable door
where simple glass of water had been
the lens through which his friendless
boyhood had caught its first view of the
worlds clearer face. The same welcome
was there still; the same disposition in
his own heart to whimper; and God
bless you!" sounded in it all. The DESC
lation of war supplanted the tent of the
| once happy valley at last, and Sheridan
rode to slaughter where erst the peace
full vaulter through hoops had urged his
spangled steed in the merry round Of the
ring.


While the circus still gathered golden
gain in distant uninvadcd States, fire and
sword rn nOn6 in fnr hn
home OF the Britinghams, until smoke
blackened chimneys marked the place
where that home had been, and the
churchyard closed upon the aged eyes
most mournful for the desolation. Not


until the spring of 1870 could the circus
man, now we'll advanced in years him.
self, hear aught of the surviving family
that, upon the destruction of their home
stead and the death of their chief, had
wandered away from the old plantation.
At the time mentioned, when the now
mammoth equestrian enterprise was CIV
ing entertainments in Kansas, poorly
| dressed, checked man applied for
some unskilled employment about the
tents.


"Your name," said the rich Snowman,
els Britingham?"


There could be but one answer, reluct-
"n:'{ 1{{sss'" s3?sn:


With a strange look the rich proprietor
grasped both hands of the other in his
| own.


Then," said he, "you are the son Of
the best man that ever lived, and thank
God that you have come to share in all
that your father has a mortgage upon
for eternity. Take my tent, my people,
my horses, my bank book, and then
you'll have Just the interest of the one
unpaid debt of my life"


Here was good feeling and no mistake
the kind of feeling that needs some sort
of unexpectedness of origin to make it
perfectly sublime, and just enough of
the eommonness of common natures
| about it to excuse natures common way
of betraying it's simplest effect The two
| men cried over each other without the
slightest regard to sex, and then the
S0utherner begged off as well as he could
by finally consenting to accept loan
only that-of 5000 for the purchase of
the farm.


The Yankee would not "let up on
him." to use his own words, a cent
cheaper, and added season ticket to the
show for the whole family. Two years
later the aforesaid out-and-out, double
twisted, dyed-in-the-wool down-Easter
was at Washington with his "city of
tents, " chromatic posters, unrivalcd ar
ray OF talent, and other epizootic symp-
toms. One night after the performance
he was sitting in the room of his hotel,
making merry with certain friends, when
q card was handed to him by waiter,
followed by it's Immediately invited
owner, Mr.. Birmingham, of Kansas, now