“I wouldn’t give two cents for such a slow old place as this.  Why, last Fourth at this time, I was rumbling through Boston streets up top of our big car, all in my best toggery.  Hot as pepper, but good fun looking in at the upper windows and hearing the women scream when the old thing waggled round and I made believe I was going to tumble off,” said Ben, leaning on his bat with the air of a man who had seen the world and felt some natural regret at descending from so lofty a sphere.

“Catch me cutting away if I had such a chance as that!” answered Sam, trying to balance his bat on his chin and getting a smart rap across the nose as he failed to perform the feat.

“Much you know about it, old chap.  It’s hard work, I can tell you, and that wouldn’t suit such a lazy bones.  Then you are too big to begin, though you might do for a fat boy if Smithers wanted one,” said Ben, surveying the stout youth with calm contempt.

“Let’s go in swimming, not loaf round here, if we can’t play,” proposed a red and shiny boy, panting for a game of leap-frog in Sandy pond.

“May as well; don’t see much else to do,” sighed Sam, rising like a young elephant.

The others were about to follow, when a shrill “Hi, hi, boys, hold on!” made them turn about to behold Billy Barton tearing down the street like a runaway colt, waving a long strip of paper as he ran.

“Now, then, what’s the matter?” demanded Ben, as the other came up grinning and puffing, but full of great news.

“Look here, read it!  I’m going; come along, the whole of you,” panted Billy, putting the paper into Sam’s hand, and surveying the crowd with a face as beaming as a full moon.

“Look out for the big show,” read Sam.  “Van Amburgh & Co.’s New Great Golden Menagerie, Circus and Colosseum, will exhibit at Berryville, July 4th, at 1 and 7 precisely.  Admission 50 cents, children half-price.  Don’t forget day and date.  H. Frost, Manager.”

While Sam read, the other boys had been gloating over the enticing pictures which covered the bill.  There was the golden car, filled with noble beings in helmets, all playing on immense trumpets; the twenty-four prancing steeds with manes, tails, and feathered heads tossing in the breeze; the clowns, the tumblers, the strong men, and the riders flying about in the air as if the laws of gravitation no longer existed.  But, best of all, was the grand conglomeration of animals where the giraffe appears to stand on the elephant’s back, the zebra to be jumping over the seal, the hippopotamus to be lunching off a couple of crocodiles, and lions and tigers to be raining down in all directions with their mouths wide open and their tails as stiff as that of the famous Northumberland House lion.

“Cricky! wouldn’t I like to see that,” said little Cyrus Fay, devoutly hoping that the cage, in which this pleasing spectacle took place, was a very strong one.