eer poetry, too. Into the darkened arena,
crossed by dazzling shafts of light, speeds a big white motor car. Bird
Millman descends, tossing aside her cloak. "A fairy on a cobweb" the
press agents call her, and as two humble clowns watch entranced through
the peepholes in the big doors the phrase seems none too extravagant.
See her, in a foam of short fluffy green skirts, twirl and tiptoe on the
glittering wire, all grace and slenderness and agile enchantment. She
bows in the dazzle of light and kisses her hands to the crowd. Then she
hops into the big car and is borne back behind the scenes. Once behind
the doors her gay vivacity ceases. She sits, wearily, several minutes,
before getting out of the car. And then, later, comes Mlle. Leitzel.
She, like all the other stars, is said to have "amazed all Europe." We
don't know whether Europe is harder to amaze than America. Certainly no
one could be more admiringly astounded than the amateur clowns gazing
entranced through the crack of the doorway. To that nerve-tightening
roll of drums she spins deliriously high up in giddy air, floating, a
tiny human pin-wheel, in a shining cone of light. One can hear the crowd
catch its breath. She walks back, all smiles, while her maid trots ahead
saying something unintelligible. Her tall husband is waiting for her at
the doorway. He catches her up like a child and carries her off, limp
and exhausted. One of the clowns (irreverent creature) makes a piteous
squawk and begs us to carry him to his dressing room.

A trained pig, trotting cheerfully round in search of tidbits, is
retrieved from under the hooves of Mrs. Curtis's horse, which is about
to go out and dance. The dogcatcher's wagon is drawn up ready to rush
forth, and the trained terrier which accompanies it is leaping with
excitement. He regards it as a huge lark, and knows his cue perfectly.
When the right time comes he makes a dash for a clown dressed as an
elderly lady and tears off her skirt. One of the amateurs was allowed to
ride behind the kicking mule, but to his great chagrin the mule did not
kick as well as usual. Here are Charley Chaplin and some others throwing
enormous dice from a barrel. No matter how the dice are thrown they
always turn up seven. Into this animated gamble the amateur clown enters
with enjoyment. All round him the wildest capers are proceeding. The
double-ended flivver is prancing about. John Barleycorn's funeral
procession is going its way. "Give me p