At a late hour they came home, loitering around the barn a long time before they ventured into the presence of my father, whom my grandmother had somewhat appeased by telling him that “boys must sow their wild oats sometime, and it wasn’t best to be too strict with ’em, for it only made ’em act worse,” adding that “the Catholics were not the worst folks in the world, and they had just as much right to their form of worship as we had to ours.” This in a measure mollified him, and consequently the two boys only received a long lecture, and were debarred the privilege of going to the village, except on Sundays, for three weeks, a punishment which annoyed Will exceedingly. But nothing could subdue him, and the moment the three weeks had expired he was as ready for mischief as ever. For a long time the coming of a Circus had been heralded by flaming handbills in red and yellow, one of which Will plastered onto our great barn door, from which conspicuous post it was removed by my father, who conscientiously turned his back upon men and women riding on their heads, declaring it an outrage upon all rules of propriety, and denouncing circuses and circus-going people as utterly low and vulgar. Thus from my earliest remembrance had I been taught, and still my heart would throb faster, whenever, with the beat of the drum and the sound of the bugle, the long procession swept past our door, and more than once had I stolen to the top of the hill, whence could be seen the floating banner and swaying canvas, watching from afar the evil I dared not approach.
Great, then, was my surprise, when, on the morning of the eventful day, Will suggested that Charlie, John, Lizzie, and I should run away in the evening and visit the “doings,” as he called it. I was shocked that he should propose my going to such a place. “It was low and vulgar,” I told him, “and no one went there but loafers and rowdies.”
But he assured me that I was mistaken, saying that “some of our most respectable people attended;” and then he wondered “how I was ever to know anything unless I once in a while went to a circus, or a theatre, or something. It was perfectly ridiculous,” he said, “for father to keep us so cooped up at home. Nobody else did so. There was Lawyer Smith’s daughter, and Judge Brown’s niece in Albany, who always went, and if it didn’t hurt them, it wouldn’t me.”
Thus Will reasoned, persuading me at last; and just at dark, Lizzie and I, on pretence of going to bed early, went to our room, dressed ourselves in our best, I donning the white cambric, which I had worn on the first day of Will’s arrival, and then when we were ready, got out upon the roof of the woodshed, which came up under our window, descending thence by means of a ladder which Will and Charlie brought from the barn. I had the utmost confidence in Will, and yet as I drew near the tent, and saw the rabble, whose appearance fully equalled my father’s description, I wished myself away. Just then the band inside struck up, and giving my fears to the winds, I pressed forward, once involuntarily turning my head aside, as I heard a man near the door exclaim, “Deacon Lee’s children, as I live! Is the world coming an end?”
Instantly my face flushed, for I felt that injustice was done to my father, and my first impulse was to exonerate him from all blame by explaining that we had run away; but ere I could do so Will pulled me along, and in a moment we were in the close, heated atmosphere of the vast arena, where were congregated more than a thousand people, of all ages and conditions. I was confounded, for it seemed to me that each and every one was pointing towards us the finger of scorn, and never since have I felt so wholly degraded and ashamed as I did at the moment of my first entrance to a circus!
We had been but a short time seated, when Will, who had divined my feelings, nudged my elbow, and pointing towards a group just entering, said, “See, there’s ’Squire Talbot, his wife and daughter, Dr. Griffin, and lots more of Meadow Brook aristocracy. Now, ain’t you glad you came?”
It was as he said, and as I saw the above mentioned individuals, some of them professors of religion, and all of them people of the first standing in town, I can scarcely tell how I felt. It was a sensation of mingled pleasure, bewilderment, and perplexity. Could it be that, after all, my father was wrong, that he was too strict with us, debarring us from innocent amusements, for if it were proper for members of the church to frequent such places, why was it not for me? Now, I can answer promptly that my father was right, wholly right, but I was puzzled then, and gradually I began to care less for being there, and to have less fear of what father would say when he found it out. I was growing very brave, entrenching myself behind the bad example of those who little suspected the harm their presence was doing. Father did not know the ways of the world, I thought, but after being enlightened by me, I was sure he would become a convert at once, and possibly at the next circus he would be in attendance, but from this last idea I involuntarily shrank, thinking I could never respect him again, were he guilty of such a thing.
I enjoyed it vastly, all except the riding of the girl, who I fancied had on her little sister’s dress, and when she came out I looked for a place where to hide my head; but hearing the spectators cheer louder than ever, I cast furtive glances at those around me, discovering to my amazement that they seemed more delighted with her than with anything else; while, to crown all, I heard Will telling a young man, that “she was a splendid rider, that he never saw but one who could beat her, and that was a girl in Albany.” Then turning to Lizzie, he asked if she would not like to ride in that way?
With an involuntary shudder I threw my arm around my sister, as if to protect her from what I felt would be worse than a thousand deaths. Gradually there was dawning upon my mind the suspicion that a circus after all was not exactly the school for pure young girls, and I felt that not all the wealth of the Indies could tempt me to fill the post that that rider did. Towards the other actors I was more lenient, thinking that if ever I joined the circus, I should surely be the clown, whose witty speeches amused me greatly, for I did not then know that they were all made up beforehand, and that what he said to us to-day he would say to others on the morrow. Mlle. Glaraine was just finishing up her performance by riding around the circle without other support than the poising of one foot on a man’s shoulder, when who should appear but our father!
He had missed Will and Charlie from family prayers, and had traced them as far as the pavilion, where the fee-receiver demanded a quarter ere he would allow him to enter. It was in vain that father tried to explain matters, saying, “he never attended a circus in his life, and what was more never should; he’d only come for two boys who had run away.”