omen, and children, plunging through the snow or mud at their
heavy heels. It was Orpheus fallen from his high estate. What a
mockery the glare of the lamps and the capers of the mountebanks were,
and how satisfied were we to enjoy it all without going inside. I hear
the "Waterloo veterans" still, and remember their patriotic outbursts:

On the sixteenth day of June, brave boys,
while cannon loud did roar,
We being short of cavalry they pressed on us full sore;
But British steel soon made them yield,
though our numbers was but few,
And death or victory was the word on the plains of Waterloo.

The storm-stayed shows often found it easier to sink to rest in a field
than to leave it. For weeks at a time they were snowed up,
sufficiently to prevent any one from Thrums going near them, though not
sufficiently to keep the pallid mummers indoors. That would in many
cases have meant starvation. They managed to fight their way through
storm and snowdrift to the high road and thence to the town, where they
got meal and sometimes broth. The tumblers and jugglers used
occasionally to hire an out-house in the town at these times--you may
be sure they did not pay for it in advance--and give performances
there. It is a curious thing, but true, that our herd-boys and others
were sometimes struck with the stage-fever. Thrums lost boys to the
showmen even in winter.

On the whole, the farmers and the people generally were wonderfully
long-suffering with these wanderers, who I believe were more honest
than was to be expected. They stole, certainly; but seldom did they
steal anything more valuable than turnips. Sam'l Mann himself flushed
proudly over the effect his show once had on an irate farmer. The
farmer appeared in the encampment, whip in hand and furious. They must
get off his land before nightfall. The crafty showman, however,
prevailed upon him to take a look at the acrobats, and he enjoyed the
performance so much that he offered to let them stay until the end of
the week. Before that time came there was such a fall of snow that
departure was out of the question; and it is to the farmer's credit
that he sent Sam'l a bag of meal to tide him and his actors over the
storm.

There were times when the showmen made a tour of the bothies, where
they slung their poles and ropes and gave their poor performances to
audiences that were not critical. The bothy being strictly the "man's"
castle, the