the river--the baby; and in and through, and betwixt and between,
there spun the whirling merry-go-round, with its curveting
wooden horses, its discordant organ, and its creaking machinery.

But gradually the child's voice gained in strength,
and as he heard it more plainly the other sounds grew fainter,
till at last, thank God! they were hushed. The din, the whirlwind,
and the tempest in his brain were lulled into silence,
as under a "Peace, be still!" and, worn out with the contest,
the man from Tennessee fell asleep under the grateful shade
of the nooning tree. So deep was the slumber that settled over
exhausted body and troubled spirit that the gathering clouds,
the sudden darkness, the distant muttering of thunder,
the frightened twitter of the birds, passed unnoticed.
A heavy drop of rain pierced the thick foliage and fell on
his face, but the storm within had been too fierce for him
to heed the storm without. He slept on.

* * *


Almost every man, woman, and child in the vicinity of Pleasant
River was on the way to the circus,--Boomer's Grand Six-in-One
Universal Consolidated Show; Brilliant Constellations of Fixed
Stars shining in the same Vast Firmament; Glittering Galaxies
of World-Famous Equestrian Artists; the biggest elephants,
the funniest clowns, the pluckiest riders, the stubbornest mules,
the most amazing acrobats, the tallest man and the shortest man,
the thinnest woman and the thickest woman, on the habitable globe;
and no connection with any other show on earth, especially Sypher's