s ready to leave the tent although all were
admonished that the most astounding and greatest treat in natural
history was about to be brought to their notice. The mammoth of
mammoths, the behemoth of Holy Writ was about to be exhibited, the only
one in captivity, something to tell your children and your children's
children of. The hippopotamus was brought from his cage and waddled into
the roped enclosure in the center of the tent. Bob Ellingham, the
lecturer, talked long and learnedly on the habits and capture of the
animal. The name hippopotamus was mentioned at least twenty times in the
lecture as a dramatic climax. Ellingham rubbed a piece of white paper
over the animal's back. Standing on a stool above the heads of the
multitude he held the once spotless sheet of paper in his left hand,
pointing his right forefinger at the paper, now discolored with the
matter that oozed from the animal's body, he dramatically exclaimed: "He
is truly the behemoth of Holy Writ. See, he sweateth blood!"

As he stood motionless, still holding the paper aloft, Old man Hare,
Lacy's father, who had stood a most interested listener during the
lecture, looked up into the lecturer's face and, in a querulous tone
asked: "What fer animal did ye say it was?"

"A guinea pig, you dam old fool," flashed back Ellingham, as he stepped
off the stool, while the crowd yelled, "Bully for Hare."

The old fellow felt greatly grieved although the shouts of approval from
the crowd partially appeased him. How he talked back to the show man
made him quite a hero among the country folks for a long time
afterwards.

It is safe to assert that a more disappointed audience never left an
exhibition than filed out of the big tent. Even the ministers, and they
were all admitted free, were not satisfied. Bob Playford did not gather
up the boys on the lot and pay their way in.

As the audience filed out the man with the big red nose stood on top of
the wagon and invited everybody into the tent where Christy's Original
Minstrels were about to offer the good people of Brownsville the same
choice and amusing performance they had won fame with in the principal
theatres in New York City. Songs, glees, choruses, banjo solos, pathetic
ballads, side-splitting farces, the whole concluding with a grand walk
around by the entire company.

Bob Playford and Dan French made all manner of fun of the big man with
the red nose. Playford laughingly shouted: "Pay no attention to h