The famous Flea Circus was placed on an ordinary table, and resembled in size and shape a common dinner plate. A rim several inches high encircled the outer edge, and around the circle stood a number of small wooden boxes—the houses of the performers, and the stables for their carriages. The signal being given, the audience, consisting of one human being, would take in hand the large magnifying glass, hold it over the ring, and the performance would begin. At the word of command from the director, a very jolly, red-faced old gentleman, armed with a pair of pincers, a tiny trap-door in one of the wooden houses sprang open and a number of fleas filed out. They passed around the circle in a dignified manner, appearing through the glass about as large as wasps or bees. Each flea had a gold cord about its waist, and this was the grand entry always seen at the circus. Having completed the circuit, they returned to their quarters, and the performance proper commenced. Five fleas, each adorned with a different color, stepped from another house, and after running about here and there, and being admonished by the director, ranged themselves in a line, and at the word "go!" started on a rush around the circle; running into each other, rolling over and over, and making frantic leaps over one another. Only after half the course had been gone over, did they move in regular order, and strive fairly for the goal. In another moment, a large flea would have won the race had not two laggards almost at the last instant, as if made reckless by their evident risk of defeat, taken a desperate leap and landed far beyond the winning-post. Forthwith they were taken up in the pincers, and placed in solitary confinement in the glass phial, where it was supposed they had learned not to jump.
THE DANCE.
A dance was next announced and at a signal from the manager there came tumbling out from the third house probably the most ludicrous band of performers ever witnessed. Each dancer was in full regalia, like the ladies who ride the padded horses in the regular circus, their dresses of tissue paper being ornamented with purple, gold, and red hues. The glass was placed in position, the spectator looked through it, the performers were lifted in by the pincers, and the dance began—a mixture of the Highland-fling, the sailor's hornpipe, and a "regular" break-down.
THE HURDLE-RACE.
The little creatures bobbed up and down, now on one claw, now on all six, hopping, leaping, bowing, and scraping, moving forward and back, bumping into one another, now up, now down, until they seemed utterly exhausted, and several that had fallen down, and were kept by their voluminous skirts from getting up, had to be carried off by the aid of the ever-ready pincers.
Next came a hurdle-race. Hurdles of thin silver wire were arranged, over which two fleas were supposed to leap. One, however, was evidently very lazy or very cunning, as it won the last race by crawling under the wire.
A clown flea now appeared in the ring, and crawled about in a comical manner with a white clown's cap on its diminutive head. A moment later out came a number of fleas all harnessed with gold wire trappings, and the several vehicles were taken from the stables. There was a tally-ho coach, smaller than a very small pea, an Eskimo sled, about a quarter of an inch long, with wire runners, a trotting sulky, evidently made from hair or bristles, and other gorgeous equipages. The tally-ho team of four frantic fleas, evidently fiery steeds, was harnessed to the coach, and on the top were placed four phlegmatic fleas that had probably been booked as outsiders, while the insides were two others fleas, which, we are sorry to say, were obliged to get in through the window, and acted very much as if they wished to get out again. The other vehicles were each provided with a steed and rider, and then all were drawn up in a row. At the word of command, off they started pell-mell! The tally-ho leaders evidently jumped their traces at first, but finally they were off with a rush, running over the clown, knocking off his hat, and, for the moment, creating a dreadful panic. The sled team threw its driver, and the sulky ran away, the flea trotter actually leaping into the air, sulky and all. But order was soon restored, and as the track was arranged on the downhill principle, the racers made rapid time. In two minutes the circuit was completed, the tally-ho coming in ahead, without, however, its outside passengers, who were thrown off as the coach was rounding the curve, and at once crawled into the nearest place of refuge.
