s, the poor
marionnettes in the Champs-Elysees, and the mandolin players who visit
the cafes in the outskirts of the city, are all that is left.

Since then, it is true, we have had a number of farces of a higher class
of humour. But is the new as good as the old? Do you prefer Tom Thumb or
the Museum of Versailles?

On a wooden stand that formed a balcony around a square tent of grey
canvas, a man in a blouse was beating a drum; behind him was a big
painted sign representing a sheep and a cow, and some ladies, gentlemen,
and soldiers. The animals were the two young phenomena from Guerande,
with one arm and four shoulders. Their exhibitor, or editor, was
shouting himself hoarse and announcing that besides these two beautiful
things, battles between wild beasts would take place at once. Under the
wooden stand stood a donkey and three bears, and the barking of the
dogs, which proceeded from the interior of the tent, mingled with the
beating of the drum, the shouts of the owner of the two phenomena and
the cries of another fellow who was not as jovial and fat as the former,
but tall and lanky, with a funereal expression and ragged clothes. This
was the partner; they had met on the road and had combined their shows.
The lean one contributed his bears, his dogs and his donkey, while the
fat man brought his two phenomena and a grey felt hat which was used in
their performance.

The theatre was roofless and its walls were of grey canvas; they
fluttered in the wind and would have blown down had it not been for the
poles which held them. Along the sides of the ring was a railing, behind
which was the audience, and in a reserved corner we perceived the two
phenomena nibbling at a bundle of hay half concealed by a gorgeous
blanket. In the middle of the ring a high post was sunk in the ground,
and here and there, attached to smaller posts, were dogs, barking and
tugging at their chains. The men continued to shout and beat the drum,
the bears growled, and the crowd began to file in.

First they brought out a poor, half-paralyzed bear, which seemed
considerably bored. It wore a muzzle and had a big collar with an iron
chain around its neck, a rope in its nose, to make it obey commands
promptly, and a sort of leather hood over its ears. They tied bruin to
the centre post, and the barks grew louder and fiercer. The dogs stood
up, a bristling, scratching crew, their hind-quarters elevated, their
snouts near the ground, their legs sp