girls was in his chair, and he sat in her lap, and the crowd all yelled,
except a Spanish bull-fighter who seemed to be the husband of the woman
pa sat on, and he wanted pa's blood, but the old circus manager took him
away to save pa from trouble, and he glared back at pa, and I think he
will stab pa with a dirk knife.

We got out of the dining tent, and went to the barn, where the animals
are kept all winter, and pa wanted me to become familiar with the habits
of the beasts, 'cause they were to be in pa's charge, with the keepers
of the different kinds of animals to report to pa. Nobody need tell me
that animals have no human instincts, and do not know how to take a
joke. We are apt to think that wild animals in captivity are worrying
over being confined in cages, and gazed at and commented on by curious
visitors, and that they dream of the free life they lived in the
jungles, and sigh to go back where they were, captured, and prowl around
for food, but you can't fool me. Animals that formerly had to go around
in the woods, hungry half the time and occasionally gorging themselves
on a dead animal and sleeping out in the rain in all kinds of weather,
know when they have struck a good thing in a menagerie, with clean straw
to sleep in, and when they are hungry all they have to do is to sound
their bugle and they have pre-digested beefsteak and breakfast food
brought to them on a silver platter, and if the food is not to their
liking they set up a kick like a star boarder at a boarding house. Their
condition in the show, in its changed condition from that of their
native haunts, is like taking a hobo off the trucks of a freight train
and taking him to the dining car of the limited, and letting him eat to
a finish. People talk about animals escaping from captivity, and going
back to the jungles and humane societies shed tears over the poor,
sad-eyed captives, sighing for their homes, but you turn them loose at
South Bend, and run your circus train to New Albany without them and