In a pleasant New England village, several years ago, there was a good deal of excitement produced among the little folks, by the appearance, on the sign-post, and in the tavern and store, of some large placards, with very curious and funny pictures upon them.  These placards made known the important fact, that, for the sum of ninepence, (a shilling, according to the currency of New York,) any boy and girl in the vicinity might have the pleasure of seeing some of the most astonishing feats of trained animals ever heard of.  On a certain day there was to be a sort of juggler, who would play on some kind of instruments.  The music made by this man would have the power of charming the animals—­so the advertisement read—­and the instant they heard it, they would commence playing their antics.  There was a great black bear who would stand on his head; a dog who knew almost as much as his master; a cock that could walk on a pair of high stilts.  Then there were learned monkeys, learned pigs, and I know not what besides.

[Illustration:  THE “SHOW.”]

The pictures of these different animals, performing their several exploits, caused a great deal of wonder and admiration among the village boys and girls.  In cities, where such exhibitions occur very frequently, such things would not be much thought of.  But it is very different in the country, where public exhibitions of every sort are “like angels’ visits, few and far between.”  For nearly a week before the day appointed for this juggling exhibition, there was nothing talked of in this quiet village so much as the “show.”  Ninepences that had been a twelvemonth in accumulating, were now in great demand; and more than one boy sighed as he reflected that he had spent his pennies in candies and other nice things, so that he had none left for the “show,” and secretly resolved that he would be wiser next time, and not allow his money to slip through his fingers so easily.

Among those who had the permission of their parents to visit the exhibition, and who were anxiously longing for the day to come, were Julian Parmelee and his sister.  Julian, especially—­a boy of about nine years of age—­was almost crazy with delight, when his mother told him he might go.  He jumped, danced, clapped his hands, shouted, and went through so many strange manoeuvres, that his elder brother George, who was rather more sober on the occasion, said he guessed he should not go to the court-house and pay ninepence to see the show, for he was in a fair way to get the exhibition at home, for nothing.

“Oh, mother!” said Julian, “do you really believe the bear will stand on his head?  What a funny sight it must be!  I wonder if they keep the bear chained.  I shall take care I do not get within reach of his paws, I guess.  Charley Staples said he didn’t believe it was half so big as the one he saw when he was up in Vermont.  How big is it, mother? as big as our Carlo?  Oh, I wish it was time to go now!  I should think monkeys were very funny creatures.  They say there is one in the show that rides a horse, just like a man.  Ha! ha! ha!” And he laughed so loudly that he waked up the baby in the cradle.