Although Richardson had passed away the booth in the fair still bore his name, albeit it was in other hands.
“Walk up, ladies and gentlemen—just going to begin!” shouted out a leather-lunged individual on the platform of the show.
“The Bleeding Nun; or, the Midnight Hour,” was the powerful drama about to be represented.
While the gentleman with the never-failing lungs was addressing the yokels, a clown was going through some antics on another part of the platform.
After this a brass band struck up playing the most discordant music it is very well possible to conceive.
Mr. Wrench and his two companions ascended the steps which led to this temple of the drama, paid their money, and after waiting a considerable time in the interior of the booth had the satisfaction of witnessing the drama in question.
When they came out after the performance they were asked by the gentleman on the platform how they liked it, and of course said they were very much pleased.
Upon this the touter turned triumphantly to the gaping crowd below, and again shouted out, “Now’s your time, gentlemen and ladies—just going to begin!”
The formula was gone through over and over again during the whole of the day.
As to dwarfs and giants and giantesses they were innumerable, together with curiosities both natural and unnatural.