Watch Yourself Go By Part 27

It was a great day for Brownsville, it was a great day for Thayer and Noyse, it was a great day for Alfred. Charley Stowe had another faculty, shy in most agents, memory. He remembered the editor and the office force, particularly the latter. He gave Alfred his first sight of the inner sanctorum of the show world, namely, the dressing rooms. He introduced him to big, good-natured Dr. Thayer, to natty little Charley Noyse, to the elder Stickney and his talented son Bob, to J. M. Kelly, the long distance single somersault leaper, to little Jimmy Reynolds, the clown, to Mrs. Thayer and her charming daughter. It was the unfolding of the scenes of another world to the lad. His recollection of that day is as of a night of enchantment.

The circus had a very sick horse, a beautifully marked mare, sorrel and snow white with gla.s.s eyes, as they are termed. The beautiful creature was housed in the stable of the Marshall House. The animal was evidently one of value to the circus folk as many of them visited the stable; all seemed anxious as to the mare's recovery. After the afternoon performance, Dr. Thayer, his wife and daughter were in the stable administering to the sick horse. The circus man was completing arrangements to have the tavern keeper care for the mare and send her on to the show, if she were able to travel by the time the company reached Uniontown.

Isaac Vance a.s.sured the circus people that everything possible would be done for the mare, and turning to Alfred, laying both hands on the boy's shoulders, facing him toward Mr. Thayer, said: "And here's the lad who will take your mare to Uniontown. He can ride any horse or mule you have. You should have this boy with your show, he is an actor right. Our people swear by him, he can beat anything you have in the n.i.g.g.e.r minstrel line."

Then Alfred, with a freshness born of ignorance, said: "Yes, Mr. Thayer, you have a fine circus but your minstrels ain't much, not as good as those with Van Amberg's Menagerie, and everybody says so."

Mr. Thayer and his wife both seemed greatly amused at the frankness of the boy. The showman quizzed Alfred as to what he could do in the concert. Alfred, as all other "rube" amateurs have done and always will do, wanted to engage to give the entire concert. Thayer had more patience then than Alfred has now as he listened to the boastful a.s.sumptions of the boy.

Finally he said: "If you will get a letter from your father granting me permission to employ you, I will give you the opportunity of your life, but do not come to me without the permission of your parents, as our show does not employ minors. It's against the law."

It was further arranged that Alfred should take the Lilly mare to Uniontown the day the show exhibited there. Mrs. Thayer led Alfred to one side and, pressing two dollars into his hand, charged him to visit the sick horse several times daily, and no matter if those in charge a.s.serted that they had given her sufficient water, Alfred was to offer the animal drink. She so charged the stable man, stuttering Hughey Boggs.

After the night show Alfred called at the stable. The mare seemed very sick. He offered her water which she refused; he felt of her ears, they were cold; he stroked her satin-like coat; she opened her eyes and appeared almost human to Alfred as he petted her.

Arriving at home he went to his mother's room and gave her a detailed account of the day's doings, not forgetting the sick horse or the arrangements made by Mr. Vance for him to deliver the mare to the show folk in Uniontown.

Alfred had been careful not to reveal any of that part of the conversation touching on the offer of the big showman to employ him providing he could obtain the father's written consent. Somehow the mother's fears were aroused, she felt that there was more behind the delivery of the mare than was revealed and she strongly objected to the arrangement.

The mother communicated her fears to Lin and that worthy was quite ingenious in quizzing the boy. She questioned Alfred as to his intentions. "I tole yer mother ye wouldn't run off with thet ole show while yer pap wus away from hum. Mary sed 'They mout coax ye off.' Did they coax ye? Did they offer to gin ye a job?" And she looked at Alfred very hard and earnestly.

Alfred had been revolving in his mind a plan that included having Daniel Livingstone forge a letter signing Alfred's father's name to it, granting the boy permission to join the show. Alfred felt very guilty and hung his head when Lin's questions grew pointed.

Alfred was giving the sick show horse all the attention promised and even more. The second day following the mare died. Notwithstanding, all seemed to sympathize with Alfred, who had become greatly attached to the beautiful horse, it was apparent that all were greatly relieved that Alfred had been released from the agreement to deliver the mare to the circus folk.

Alfred wrote Mrs. Thayer a long letter, giving the particulars concerning the death of her pet, to which he received a prompt reply, ending with a standing invitation to visit them at any time, either while they were traveling or at their home.

The boy was very proud of this letter and read it to all his friends.

Lin, in commenting on the death of the mare quoted Scripture, after her own interpretation: "The Lord gins us an' the Lord takes hosses es well es peepul. Uv cos ye kin buy hosses ef ye got money but ye can't buy peepul. Ef ye'd run off with a show an' dide, w--, ye--"

Here Lin stuck. She could not find words to complete the sentence; but after a moment's pause, she continued: "The'd not miss ye es much es the' will thet hoss. Bet we'd miss ye every--time--we sot--up to--a--meal."

In the vernacular of the show profession of today, Rosston, Springer & Henderson took up the stand and did not appear in Brownsville. They were advertised to play in Pittsburg.

Mr. Hurd sent Alfred to Pittsburg to collect the newspaper advertising bill. Harrison was having his troubles with those to whom he had sold tickets. The holders of tickets held Harrison personally responsible for the non-appearance of the circus. Since the day Frank McKernan had pummelled Harrison, various and divers persons had been threatening him with similar treatment. Harrison staved off hostilities by promising to have the tickets redeemed when Alfred collected the paper's indebtedness from the circus.

The circus had no band wagon. The musicians were mounted on horses. This was all there was of the parade. Alfred has since learned that this feature was introduced into the circus as an expediency. G. G. Grady, an impecunious circus proprietor, found his colossal aggregation without a band wagon and no funds to purchase one. He hit upon the idea of mounting his band on horses. The innovation was heralded as a feature and to this day circuses advertise the mounted band as a novelty of the "highway, holiday parade."

John Robinson's circus boasted a steam calliope, which dispensed "biled music." Grady, not strong enough financially to annex a calliope, altered an old animal cage that resembled the exterior of a calliope. He installed a very large and loud hand organ inside the imitation calliope wagon, with a stovepipe poking out of the top, plenty of damp straw inside, a man to feed and burn it. In a stove inside, the volumes of smoke issuing from the stovepipe, a strong man turning the hand organ, the greatly improved steam calliope was calculated to astonish the public. If the music were not so vociferous as that his rival's instrument sent forth, it must be admitted that Grady's was more tuneful and therefore less objectionable.

Grady's steam piano came to an untimely end almost before its career began. The man inside the calliope, the fireman, was too industrious. He filled the stove with damp straw, poured kerosene oil over it and applied a match. The parade was in the midst of the public square, in Canton, Ohio. Thousands had congregated to witness it. The whole interior of the calliope was ablaze, smoke issuing from every crack and crevice. The show people grasping the situation, broke open the back door. The damp straw, the old stove, the two men and the hand organ were dragged from the smoking wagon. Grady's attempt to rival John Robinson was the joke of the circus world.

Alfred had quite a little difficulty in collecting the printing bill, which was grudgingly paid him.

The circus people tore up Harrison's order for payment for the tickets given. The treasurer said something about the paper being a "wolf."

When Alfred returned Harrison endeavored to spread the impression by insinuations that he had collected for the tickets and not made returns to him as yet. He was cornered, it was his only way to square himself with those who were pressing him for a settlement. Although Alfred knew full well that Harrison did not intend to injure him, the reports became so annoying and the insinuations so galling that Alfred took Harrison to account.

Harrison flew into a rage and threw a small shovel at Alfred. Things got lively for Harrison in a moment. No telling where it would have ended had not the entire Hurd family rushed into the room and separated the combatants. Harrison was much the worse for the encounter. To drown his grief he started the rounds but Jim Bench, the town watchman, locked him up. When he sobered up he shook the dust of Brownsville from his feet forever more.

Years afterward Alfred met Harrison in a far western city, leading the same life.

The mother entreated Alfred to forever give up the idea of becoming a newspaper man. She had cherished the hope that the boy would yet turn to the study of medicine. Old Doctor Playford, Bob's father, informed Alfred's uncle that if the boy were so inclined he would take him into his office and see what there was _in him_.

The Doctor had three good horses, his son Bob had a large pack of hounds. Alfred's duties did not keep him in the office very steadily. He was on horseback a greater part of the time, by day delivering medicine, by night fox or c.o.o.n hunting.

It was a part of Alfred's work to compound medicines in the small laboratory in the doctor's residence. A copy of materia-medica and a Latin dictionary were the only guides to the beginner of a medical career in those days. There were no prescriptions sent to the drug store, every doctor filled his own prescriptions. Alfred became very quick at compounding prescriptions.

A dose of medicine was prepared for Mr. Hare. This particular dose of medicine did not have the effect the doctor desired, or rather, it had more effect than the doctor or Hare desired.

The old doctor was a very resolute man, fiery and game, nearly everyone feared him. Bob, his son, was one of the few who dared brave the old doctor's wrath. The young doctor espoused Alfred's cause when his father charged Alfred with carelessness. Bob swore that old Hare was a notorious liar and that it was not the medicine that made him so sick.

The old doctor was very practical, therefore a successful pract.i.tioner.

Alfred protested that he had prepared the medicine for Hare as per the formula furnished him. Some time after the above argument Alfred was summoned to the doctor's room. Holding in one hand a gla.s.s of water, the doctor handed Alfred a lump of darkish color, ordering the boy to swallow it. Alfred mechanically swallowed the lump, the doctor handing him the water to take the taste out of his mouth.

As Alfred drank, the doctor, with a humorous glance, ordered him to hang around until he could determine the effects of the medicine. "It's the same dose you fixed for Hare. I'll see whether Hare lied or not."

Alfred had a keen sense of the ridiculous. He had swallowed the pill ere he realized what he was doing and knew full well he would be dreadfully ill, yet he laughed immoderately.

"Ef Hare suffered more than Alfurd, he sure wus sick," was Lin's comment. "No, Alfurd wus not sacked by the ole doctur, he jus naturally did not like doctorin'."

Mr. Todd replied: "I dunno nuthin' 'bout it, only what I've heard. They do say thet since Alfred nearly pizened Mr. Hare, most of Doctor Playford's patients has gone to Doctor Jackson. Folks is jus naturally afeared to doctor with Playford since they found out Alfred mixes the medicine. John McCune's two children, ole Lige Custer an' Dave Phillips wus all took sick jus like ole Hare an' n.o.body but Alfred ever mixed the medicine they took. You know it takes a man thet's hed practus to mix medicines an' Alfred ain't hed no chance to learn."

Lin contended that Alfred hed plenty of practice. "He mixed paint in his Pap's shop an' he mixed ink in the printin' offis an' Lord, he could certinly mix a few squills an' a little castor ile an' sich, that's all Playford ever gives. Alfurd cud a kep on doctorin' ef he'd wanted to, but the ole doctor sed when he took him thet he would see what wus _in him_, an' I s'pose he did."

CHAPTER TWELVE

A man may be defeated Half a score of times or more, His prospects may be darkened And his heart be bruised and sore; But let him smile triumphantly-- And call Misfortune's bluff.

For no man's ever conquered Till he says: "I've got enough?"

Hans Christian Andersen, the famous Danish poet, says: "The life of every man is a fairy tale written by G.o.d's finger." Carlyle says: "No life of a man faithfully recorded but is a heroic poem."

With all the advice and experience one can acquire or have thrust upon him it is pa.s.sing strange how easy it is to go wrong in this world. It forces one almost to the belief of him who wrote: "The aim is the man's, the end is none of his own." Someone has said that the only guide a man requires in this world is to side-step wrong doing. But like many prize fighters, some of us are deficient in foot work.

If life is a mission and any other definition of it is false and misleading, fate has certainly picked out some men as the hammer and others as the anvil, some men for door-mats and others for those who walk thereon.

Alfred claimed to have an aim in life but his entire family and a township of relatives differed with him. Alfred's most ardent apologist was compelled to admit that even though he was exerting himself greatly to hold his course he was drifting.

The minstrels were back in the old quarters, Frank McKernan's shoe-shop, rehearsing nightly.

At this time there came a proposition from a man of the town who had recently failed in business. It is a peculiarity of human nature or the fore ordination of fate that when a man fails in a commercial business he engages in show business or life insurance. If he be not mentally equipped to carry to success the business in which he failed, he generally engages in a business that requires ability of a higher order than that in which he was unsuccessful.

And so it was of the man who entered into an agreement to finance the minstrels. He possessed a little money and a mother who was well supplied with it. He spent money liberally in equipping the minstrels for their first road venture. All preparations were quietly consummated by order of Mr. Eli, as that gentleman had numerous creditors whose feelings would have been terribly lacerated had they known that he was soon to take himself away from them. Alfred soon had every arrangement completed. He was very happy he was to realize the ambitions of his life's dream. He had been relieved of all financial responsibility.

There would be wood cuts, printed bills, an agent and all that goes to make for a real show.