there is no reason why I should do either. By the way, if a man has to
choose between having either his leg or his arm amputated, which ought
he to choose? Obviously he should choose ether,--that being much safer
than chloroform.

As I was saying, the CIRCUS always has a strong flavor of orange peel.
Will some one explain why orange-peel has such a close affinity for
horses and sawdust? I have attempted to account for it by an elaborate
stretching of the theory of chemical affinities. People crack peanuts at
the CIRCUS, because the cracking of peanuts in its prosaic dreariness is
in harmony with the cracking of jokes by the dreary clown. The clown
himself is always hoarse, obviously because of his intimate association
with the feats of horsemanship. Here are two cases in which the theory
of affinities clearly applies. Now, can we not go further, and find some
connection between the ring of the Circus and the peel of the orange? Or
again, may not the presence of unwholesome animals in the arena have
something to do with the presence of orange-rind in the seats? The
latter is clearly a rind-pest of the very worst variety.

At this rate we shall never get inside the _Circus_ building. So say
MARGARET; and I therefore cease my philosophical remarks, which have so
strongly impressed the doorkeeper that he has finally beckoned to a
policeman to come and listen to them. Up the steep stairs we hasten, and
are put into a reserved pen, where we watch the glory of motley and the
glitter of spangles in the ring below.

A terrific feat of horsemanship is in progress. A daring rider, mounted
on a broad platform, which is borne on the back of a placid horse, is
carried on a slow canter around the ring. He evidently impersonates a
member of the horse marines, for he executes elaborate imitations of