I had come with the unreasoning impatience of a boy,
fully conscious that I was too early, yet desperately anxious not to be
too late. I laughed at myself indulgently and patted the boy in me
on the head. Meanwhile, I gave myself up with mild interest to the
entertainment provided. It was the same as that at any music-hall,
winter garden, or variety theatre the world over. The same brawny
gentlemen in tights made human pyramids out of themselves and played
football with the little boys and minced with their aggravating steps
down to the footlights; the same red-nosed clown tried to emulate his
dashing companion on the horizontal bars, pulling himself up, to the
eternal delight of the audience, by the seat of his baggy breeches, and
hanging his hat on the smooth steel upright; the same massive lady with
the deep chest sang sentimental ballads; the same China-man produced
warrens of rabbits and flocks of pigeons from impossible receptacles;
the same half-dozen scantily clad damsels sang the same inane chorus in
the same flat baby voices and danced the same old dance.
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