University of Virginia Library

7. VII.
SCENES OUTSIDE THE FAIR GROUND.

There is some fun outside the Fair
Ground. Any number of mountebanks
have pitched their tents there, and are
exhibiting all sorts of monstrosities to large
and enthusiastic audiences. There are
some eloquent men among the showmen.
Some of them are Demosthenic. We
looked around among them during the
last day we honored the Fair with our
brilliant presence, and were rather pleased
at some things we heard and witnessed.

The man with the fat woman and the
little woman and the little man was there.
“ `Ere's a show now,” said he, “worth
seeing. `Ere's a entertainment that improves
the morals. P. T. Barnum—you've
all hearn o' him. What did he say to
me? Sez he to me, sez P. T. Barnum,
`Sir, you have the damdist best show

travelin'!'—and all to be seen for the
small sum of fifteen cents!”

The man with the blue hog was there.
Says he, “GentleMEN, this beast can't turn
round in a crockery grate ten feet square
and is of a bright indigo blue. Over five
hundred persons have seen this wonderful
BEING this mornin', and they said as they
come out, `What can these `ere things be?
Is it alive? Doth it breathe and have
a being? Ah yes, they say, it is true,
and we have saw a entertainment as we
never saw afore. `Tis nature's [only
fifteen cents—`ere's your change, Sir] own
sublime handiworks'—and walk right in.”

The man with the wild mare was there.
“Now, then, my friends, is your time to
see the gerratist queeriosity in the livin'
world—a wild mare without no hair—captered
on the roarin' wild prahayries of
the far distant West by sixteen Injuns.
Don't fail to see this gerrate exhibition.
Only fifteen cents. Don't go hum without
seein' the State Fair, an' you won't see the
State Fair without you see my show. Gerratist
exhibition in the known world, an' all

for the small sum of fifteen cents.” Two
gentlemen connected with the press here
walked up and asked the showman, in
a still small voice, if he extended the usual
courtesies to editors. He said he did, and
requested them to go in. While they
were in some sly dog told him their names.
When they came out the showman pretended
to talk with them, though he didn't
say a word. They were evidently in a
hurry. “There, gentleMEN, what do you
think them gentlemen say? They air
editors—editors, gentleMEN—Mr.—of
the Cleveland—, and Mr.—of the
Detroit—, and they say it is the gerratist
show they ever seed in their born
days!” [Nothing but the tip ends of the
editors' coat-tails could be seen when the
showman concluded this speech.]

A smart-looking chap was doing a brisk
business with a gambling contrivance. Seeing
two policemen approach, he rapidly
and ingeniously covered the dice up, mounted
his table, and shouted: “ `Ere's the
only great show on the grounds! The
highly trained and performing Mud Turtle

with nine heads and seventeen tails, captured
in a well-fortified hencoop, after a
desperate struggle, in the lowlands of
the Wabash!!” The facetious wretch escaped.

A grave, ministerial-looking and elderly
man in a white choker had a gift-enterprise
concern. “My friends,” he solemnly said,
“you will observe that this jewelry is elegant
indeed, but I can afford to give it
away, as I have a twin brother seven years
older than I am, in New York City, who
steals it a great deal faster than I can give
it away. No blanks, my friends—all prizes
—and only fifty cents a chance. I don't
make anything myself, my friends—all I get
goes to aid a sick woman—my aunt in the
country, gentlemen—and besides I like to
see folks enjoy themselves!” The old
scamp said all this with a perfectly grave
countenance.

The man with the “wonderful calf with
five legs and a huming head,” and “the philosophical
lung-tester,” were there. Then
there was the Flying Circus and any number
of other igenious contrivances to relieve

young ladies and gentlemen from the
rural districts of their spare change.

A young man was bitterly bewailing the
loss of his watch, which had been cut from
his pocket by some thief. “You ain't
smart,” said a middle-aged individual in a
dingy Kossuth hat with a feather in it, and
who had a very you-can't-fool-me look.
“I've been to the State Fair before, I want
yer to understan', and know my bizniss
aboard a propeller. Here's MY money,” he
exultingly cried, slapping his pantaloons'
pocket.” About half an hour after this we
saw this smart individual rushing frantically
around after a policeman. Somebody
had adroitly relieved him of HIS money. In
his search for a policeman he encountered
the young man who wasn't smart. “Haw,
haw, haw,” violently laughed the latter, “by
G—, I thought you was smart—I thought
you'd been to the State Fair before.” The
smart man looked sad for a moment, but a
knowing smile soon crossed his face, and
drawing the young man who wasn't smart
confidentially towards him, said: “There
wasn't only fifty cents in coppers in my

pocket—my MONEY is in my boot—they
can't fool me—I've been to the State
Fair before!!”

He Declined “Biling.”—The students
of the Conneaut Academy gave a theatrical
entertainment a few winters ago. They
“executed” Julius Cæsar. Everything went
off satisfactorily until Cæsar was killed in
the market-place. The stage accommodations
were limited, and Cæsar fell nearly
under the stove in which there was a roaring
fire. And when Brutus said—

he was amazed to see Cæsar rise upon his
feet and nervously examine his scorched
garments. “Lay down, you fool,” shouted
Brutus, wildly, “do you want to break up
the whole thing?” “No,” returned Cæsar,
in an excited manner, “I don't: I want to
act out Gineral Cæsar in good style, but I
ain't goin' to bile under that cussed old
stove for nobody!” This stopped the play,
and the students abandoned theatricals
forthwith.