at in the doorway of the caravan nursing
the youngest at the breast, no doubt the perfect future acrobat. And
how charming it was to look in at the doors of these little houses on
wheels and note the excellent domestic order of them, most always with
a canary or a linnet at the curtained window and at least one cat or
dog or maybe both. This type is the progenitor of our stage acrobat,
it is the primitive stage of these old-time troubadours, and it is
still prevalent in times of peace in France. The strong man gotten in
tawdry pink tights and much worn black velvet with his very elaborate
and drawn out speeches, in delicate French, concerning the marvels of
his art and the long wait for the stipulated number of _dix centimes_
pieces before his marvellous demonstration could begin. This is, so to
say, the vagabond element of our type of entertainment, the wandering
minstrel who keeps generation after generation to the art of his
forefathers, this fine old art of the pavement and the open country
road. But we look for our artist in vain these days, those groups
whose one art is the exquisite rhythmical display of the human body,
concerted muscular melody. We cannot find him on the street in the
shade of a stately chestnut tree as once in Paris we found him at
least twice a year, and we seek him in vain in our modern music hall.

Is our acrobatic artist really gone to his esthetic death; has he
given his place permanently to the ever present singing lady who is
always telling you who her modiste is, sings a sentimental song or two
and then disappears; to the sleek little gentleman who dances off a
moment or two to the tune of his doll-like partner whose voice is
usually littler than his own? Perhaps our acrobat is still the delight
of those more characteristic audiences of the road whose taste is less
fickle, less blase. This is so much the case with the arts in
America--the fashions change with the season's end and there is never
enough of novelty; dancing is already dying out, skating will not
prevail for long among the idle; what shall we predict for our variety
which is in its last stages of boredom for us?

I suspect the so-called politeness of vaudeville of the elimination of
our once revered acrobats. The circus notion has been replaced by the
parlor entertainment notion. Who shall revive them for us, who admire
their simple and unpretentious art; why is there not someone among
the designers with sufficient interes