many friends that I have made in the show world, but, Uncle
Thomas, I feel that I could have done something better for myself if I
had only been as bent upon it as I was upon show life."

"Why, Alfred! You surprise me. What do you think you should have gone
into? A mercantile business?"

"No, I never had any taste for that. Of late years I have often wished I
had been enabled to enter the legal profession. I believe I would have
made a success as a lawyer."

"Oh, as a politician?"

"No, no, Uncle, I abhor politics as I know them. I mean a lawyer. One
who was respected by all the people in the community where he practiced.
I have often thought I would like to be a sort of lawyer and farmer. I
never was satisfied with myself until I became the owner of a farm."

"Well, if you are dissatisfied with your business, I cannot understand
why you have been so successful."

"Now, Uncle Tom, you misunderstand me. I am not dissatisfied with my
business. I had ambitions as a boy, I have ambitions as a man."

"Are you ashamed of your calling?" This was a leading question. Alfred
felt the inquisitor was digging pretty deep.

"No, Uncle, I am not. I shall always respect the calling of a public
entertainer. I thank God, and pat myself on the back often, that not one
dollar I possess was wrung from a human being that they were unwilling
to part with. I respect myself all the more that not one penny of the
little that I have saved is tainted, that is in the latter day
application of the term. In my professional work I have carried
gladness. I have endeavored to make two blades of grass grow where one
grew before. I have injured no man by my profession, but have made many
happy. Why should I be ashamed of it? Of course, I often wish that I had
entered a field where I could have enjoyed more opportunities; where I
could have extended myself as it were. I would like to live in a larger
world."

"Why, Alfred, I am again surprised. You travel the world over."

"Yes, but Uncle, it's the narrowest world you ever dreamed of. A crowd's
no company. The loneliest moments I pass are when in the largest
gatherings. I was cut out for a showman, but I ought to be a stationary
one. If you and father and all my other relatives had only headed me for
the law, perhaps I'd be a different man."

"Alfred, what was to be could not be changed. You have everything to be
thankful for and little to regret. You have a faithful helpmate in your
wife. You