American waggon. There is a small steam-engine at one side,
with an escape-pipe and valve projecting into the Circus,
and a bundle of parti-coloured stuff is fluttering overhead
opposite. From loose-boxes, three or four horses are examining
these ominous preparations with apprehensive eyes. Enter
a Portly Gentleman in a tall hat and frock-coat, who bows
to the audience, and is but faintly applauded, owing to a
disappointed sense that the ideal Horse-trainer would not
tame in a tall hat. However, he merely appears to introduce
Professor NORTON B. SMITH, who, turning out to be a slender,
tall man, in a slouch hat, black velveteen coat, breeches, and
riding boots, is received with enthusiasm._

_The Professor_ (_with a slight Transatlantic accent_). The first
animal On my list, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a vurry bad shyer, afraid
Of strange Objects, Fireworks, Music, Paper. Almost _anything_, in
fact. Bring out Number One, boys. (_To a tall Groom and a short one,
who rush to the loose-boxes, the short Groom falling over a drum, to
the general delight. The horse who is afraid of almost anything is
brought in, and begins to plunge at once, as though defying any_
Professor _to cure_ him.) Now, this animal is not Vicious, he's only
Nervous.

[Illustration: "The short Groom falling over a drum."]

[_The Horse appears to resent this description of himself, and
lashes out by way of contradiction._

_Paterfamilias, in audience_ (_who has a spoilt horse at home_). Just
what I always say about _Tartar_--it's nerves, not vice.