path: root/46793-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 46793 ***

[Illustration: This book belongs to]




                   Clown the Circus Dog




[Illustration: Clown the Circus Dog]




                          CLOWN

                     The Circus Dog

                 Story and Illustrations
                            By

                         A. Vimar
             Author of "The Curly-Haired Hen"

               Translated by Nora K. Hills

[Illustration: Clown the Circus Dog]

              The Reilly & Britton Company
                         Chicago




                     Copyright, 1917
                           by
                 The Reilly & Britton Co.


                 _Clown, the Circus Dog_




                  _To My Little Daughter
                     Genevieve Vimar_


[Illustration: Child with cat and dog]




Table


     Clown's Puppy Days                      15

     The Capture of Clown                    43

     Clown Escapes                           54

     Clown at the Circus                     64

     The Return Home                        101


[Illustration: Dog on book]




Clown, the Circus Dog




1

CLOWN'S PUPPY DAYS


Summer was here at last. The winter had not been very cold, but it had
stayed long after spring should have come. Now it seemed almost too
warm, perhaps because only a few days before it had been so cold.

[Illustration: Desk with books, paper, quill, laurel wreaths]

It was the end of the school-year, the time for examinations and the
giving of prizes, and these last few days were hard on both teachers
and children.

[Illustration: Girl with dogs]

Already a holiday breeze was blowing over the budding and blossoming
country, and the hum of insects and the singing of birds made one think
of the fun that would come with vacation.

Among the scholars bending over their desks was Bertha, a little
dark-haired girl, her black eyes fringed with long lashes. She was
twelve years old and was working for her first certificate. Morning and
afternoon she came to the school, sometimes brought by the maid, but
more often by her mother.

As a child she had always been petted and spoiled by her parents, who
gave her all the candies and toys she wanted. Her little room was
crowded with dolls and playthings of all sorts, each of which had its
name.

There were fair dolls, dark dolls, white dolls, black dolls, big
dolls--some even were life-size--fat dolls, thin dolls, little dolls,
tiny dolls; there were jointed dolls, who opened and shut their eyes;
there were dolls who could talk, and dolls who kept silent. I believe
myself that Bertha loved the silent ones best; they could not answer
back, you see.

Uncle Jean, the brother of Bertha's father, had made a point of giving
Bertha her first toy. He brought her, one fine morning, a lovely white
poodle, which had pink silk ribbons on it and little tinkly bells.
There was a spring inside, and when Bertha pressed this gently with
her fingers, the dog barked. It was altogether so well made that you
would have thought it was alive.

When he gave it to her, before the whole family, Uncle Jean made her
the following speech:

[Illustration: Desk with toys...and dog puppet]

"My dear niece, I give you this dog rather than a doll, because the
dog is the friend of man, but a doll--" here he mumbled into his big
moustache a lot of long words which got so mixed up with the barking of
the dog that nobody could catch them. Perhaps it was just as well.

[Illustration: Woman with child, man with dog]

Uncle Jean was always saying funny clever things to make people laugh
but really he was very wise and thoughtful. Everybody liked him and he
was invited places all the time.

So Bertha's first plaything was this dog, who was then and there given
the name of "Clown." Why they hit upon this name I really cannot say.

After the dog there came, one by one, all the dolls I just told you
about, but Bertha loved Clown best. You see, he was the only dog she
had, but there were many dolls to share her love.

[Illustration: Bertha and dog puppet]

Every night he was put to bed at the feet of his little mistress, who,
each morning as she woke up, took him into her arms and hugged him
tight.

Later on, as Bertha grew older, she would talk to him for hours, Clown
answering with long barks, really made by Bertha's fingers pressing on
the spring.

They were then, as I was just now telling you, on the eve of the
examinations. Bertha was working her hardest. For several days she had
been very, very quiet, and just a little worried; her parents were
quite anxious and petted her even more than usual.

[Illustration: Bertha and her mother]

At last one morning, when her mother asked her what was the matter,
Bertha decided to tell her all about it. After a long sigh she said:

"Mother, if I pass my examination, will you give me what I have been
wanting for a long, long time?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she went on:

"I want a dog, a little dog, but--a real live one. It will be quite
easy to get one if you will only let me. Miss Lewis, our principal
at school, is going to have some. Don't laugh, Mother, it is quite
true. She told me so herself, and she promised to give me one if you
and father would let me have it. Oh, you will ask father, won't you?
Everything depends on him," she murmured, snuggling up to her mother
and hugging her, "for I know you will let me, won't you, sweetest? Oh,
I am so happy, so proud to think of having a dog of my very own." She
was so excited, she clapped her hands and danced for joy.

Bertha passed her examinations with honors and, true to his promise,
her father said that she might have her dog.

After that nobody could think of anything but the doggie, so eagerly
expected. What would he be like? What color would he be? She imagined
him now black, now white, now black and white, now sandy. She asked
all sorts of questions of everybody she met. She dreamed of him, she
thought of him all day long, of nothing but him.

[Illustration: Marie with a letter for Bertha]

Her father told her not to get too excited, as he was afraid she might
be disappointed. Bertha listened at last to his good advice, but even
then she could not resist stopping to look in at the windows of the
leather goods stores, where muzzles, collars, chains, leashes, whips,
boots for the mud, coats and blankets--in short, all the things a dog
could need--were displayed.

Dreamily she gazed at the poodles and pet-dogs which passed her, led by
fine ladies.

But, what was this? Marie with a letter for the little girl? Bertha
recognized the handwriting. Miss Lewis had written to tell her the
great news--the puppies had arrived. Five of them. Five little puppies,
each with different markings, and Miss Lewis graciously invited her
pupil to come and choose.

[Illustration: Mrs. Lewis' dog with five puppies]

Bertha was breathless, wild with joy.

"Mother, Mother, let's go quick! My doggie is waiting."

Dressing hastily, mother and daughter went straight to Miss Lewis's
house, where they found her beside a beautiful black poodle, who,
jealously ready to protect her babies, looked at her visitors as though
she didn't quite trust them.

[Illustration: Little black puppy]

After much hesitation Bertha at last decided upon a sturdy little black
puppy, with a white lock set exactly in the middle of his forehead,
like a pennant, which made him look very quaint and cunning. Perhaps it
was the white lock that decided Bertha, anyhow, directly she saw him,
the darling, she cried:

"That's the one I want! I choose him."

She couldn't have told you herself why she chose that one. She thought
his brothers and sisters all very pretty, but he was the one she wanted.
Love is often like that.

Bertha, who already loved the puppy she had chosen, wanted to take him
home with her at once, but her mother and even Miss Lewis insisted
that he was too young yet. Just think, he was only just born. It would
not be wise to bring him up on the bottle--such a bother--and then the
risk of sickness and all that might cause his little mistress all sorts
of worry.

[Illustration: Puppy with mother]

Bertha saw that they were right, but she begged Miss Lewis to let her
come every day to see him, to which her teacher willingly agreed.

After that Bertha did not let a day go by without a visit to her little
friend. The mother-dog soon grew used to seeing the girl; she was a
trifle greedy, I must confess, and her affection was quite won by the
cakes and dainties which Bertha brought her.

[Illustration: Clown as puppy]

For more than a month the puppy stayed with his mother. He had to be
entirely weaned before his mistress could have him.

In the meantime Bertha was busier than ever, busier than she would have
been if she had had the doggie at home. She was making all sorts of
preparations for him. She bought a regular outfit for her baby, as she
called him, and she even wanted to get him nightcaps and pajamas. These
her mother did not think necessary. However, to make up for not getting
them, she had to get all kinds of other things: curtains for his bed,
cushions, ribbons, a collar, a leash, even a tiny muzzle. Her doggie
must be well provided for.

[Illustration: Dog on book]

After hesitating a long time over the name to be given to the newcomer,
Bertha decided to call him "Clown," after her first dog, Uncle Jean's
toy. Besides, the name suited him exactly; he was very active, and had
a happy look and clumsy ways which made you laugh.

He would spend hours chasing his tail, but as it was rather short and
his body very chubby, he never quite caught it. The look of disgust
which came over his face when he finally gave up was so funny that
Bertha laughed till the tears came to her eyes.

[Illustration: Clown]

Meantime all his brothers and sisters had been given away. This did
not worry Clown a bit; he certainly did not lose his appetite over it;
on the contrary, he stuffed himself nearly sick. He drank so hard that
sometimes the milk would run out of his nose. Eating like that, he soon
became a big fat doggie, strong and active, barking at everything, and
snapping at flies.

When Clown was at last old enough to be taken away, Bertha, with her
faithful maid, Marie, went to get the little fellow and bring him to
his new home.

They had a regular christening party to which all Bertha's little
friends and their brothers were invited. There was a fine lunch with
lots of candy; they even drank fruit-juice punch. The party was talked
of long after by the guests, who enjoyed themselves immensely.

[Illustration]

But, alas, a month afterward, a cloud dimmed Bertha's happiness. Uncle
Jean did not like the looks of Clown. It is true that although his
coat was well brushed and curled and perfumed, the dog did look more
like a little bear than a poodle. Uncle Jean was very particular about
the training of dogs. He had horses and dogs of his own (he even had a
monkey) and he insisted that his grooms keep all his animals, of whom
he was very fond, slick and clean.

No poodle of his would have remained unshaven, with tail uncut, when
all proper poodles are shaven and have their tails trimmed off.

He said so much about it that at last it was decided that the dog
should be sent to the veterinary surgeon, who in a minute had cut off
Clown's tail and shaved him like a lion, leaving just a rim of hair
around his hind-quarters as an ornament, and a bushy tuft at the end
of his trimmed-off tail.

Poor little Clown was terribly upset.

He was brought home looking like a martyr and horribly ashamed; for
more than a week he was feverish and had fits of trembling. Bertha
cried and cried. I need not tell you what care she took of him. You can
guess that for yourself.

[Illustration: Clown was terribly upset]

Cured at last, he soon forgot about having his hair cut, and became a
proud, fine-looking dog. Only he could not bear the sound of shears,
and when he heard the dog-clippers go past he would fall into a rage,
wanting to run out and bite them, barking furiously in chorus with the
other dogs who felt as he did about it.

Bertha ceased to be angry with her uncle. When as she led Clown on the
leash she noticed people turn round and go into raptures over the
looks of her dog, it made her feel very proud.

[Illustration: Dog training]

The dog grew so fast you could almost see him getting bigger. His
training was undertaken carefully, Uncle Jean looking after it himself.
Clown learned quickly and easily; he was naturally intelligent and had
a truly wonderful memory.

Uncle Jean found that Clown learned tricks easily--he seemed to like to
show off--but in other ways he was not so easily managed. He was rather
fond of having his own way, and his young mistress got more than one
scolding for spoiling him. He insisted on being fed from her own hand,
and he would sleep nowhere but in Bertha's room.

[Illustration: Clown learned tricks easily]

Men are conceited things and think themselves much wiser than the
animals, but I don't believe they know so very much more after all.
It's a question whether the animal's instinct isn't of as much use
to him as intelligence is to man. Anyhow, animals can understand
one another, even animals of different kinds. I rather think they
understand one _=another=_ better than we understand them.

However that may be, Clown was a wonder. You had only to say what you
wanted him to do and he would do it like an old hand. He would jump
through a hoop, give his right or left hand as he was asked, leap
backward or forward, walk on his hands or feet--all this was child's
play to him.

[Illustration: Clown's tricks]

He dearly loved games--such as he could play, of course. He would
toss a ball, hunt the thimble, and without ever making a mistake
bring back the handkerchief to its owner, grinning with delight. With
a policeman's helmet on his head, and a piece of sugar on his nose,
looking like a soldier on parade, he would carry arms for hours at a
time. What surprising things he could do! You would scarcely believe
it, but he had learned to recognize certain letters of the alphabet and
to put together the word, B-E-R-T-H-A.

He never made a mistake in spelling the name of his little mistress,
although that was, however, the first and last word that they succeeded
in teaching him.

Alas, with all his good qualities Clown had his failings. Nobody, sad
to say, is faultless. He was given to stealing. A sugar bowl left
within his reach had a very bad time of it; he ate all the sugar, to
the very last piece, and it was a lucky thing if he didn't break the
bowl as well. Clown was greedy, there was no denying.

[Illustration: Clown eats sugar from the sugar bowl]

After a while, sadly spoiled, unfortunately, he began to put on airs
of independence. His leash made him impatient, and when he met a dog
friend running free about the streets he would behave badly, forcing
Bertha to drag him along like a toy without wheels, or he would wallow
in the dust, both of which made his mistress very angry.

One day, when he had gone marketing with Marie, he managed to slip his
head out of his collar and set off with a rush to join a group of very
ill-kept tramp dogs.

Poor Marie called and called, but in vain. Then she ran after him.
Not only could she not overtake him but, worse still, at a turning in
the road she lost sight of him altogether. In vain she searched the
neighborhood, questioning everyone she met, but no one had seen poor
Clown.

[Illustration: Marie and Clown]


[Illustration: Clown running away from Marie]

The excited woman began to cry, not daring to return home without the
dog. Anxiously she walked up and down in front of the house. After
about half an hour she heard a noise and soon saw a band of children
appear, yelling and running after a poor wretched, muddy little dog, to
whose tail was tied an old tin can which knocked against the pavement
with every jump he took.

Marie could not believe her eyes.

[Illustration: Clown in Marie's arms]

You would _=never=_ have known it was poor Clown, so terrified, his
eyes almost bursting from his head, his tongue hanging. As soon as he
caught sight of Marie, he hurled himself into her arms, covering her
with both kisses and mud.

Marie was so sorry for him that she hadn't the heart to scold the poor
animal. She took him in her apron and after untying the horrible tin
can he had been dragging after him, she carried him up to her room and
there bathed him from head to foot. He needed it, I can tell you.

[Illustration]

"If this will only be a lesson to him," she said to herself; but she
did not dare to tell anybody about his running away.

[Illustration: Clown playing with ball]

After this adventure Clown behaved very much better and was quiet and
obedient for several weeks. When his mistress took him out he followed
her quietly on the leash, without making any objection. Thus his life
flowed on, calm and happy. He had everything a dog could wish, except,
perhaps, a little more freedom. In the house, in the garden, in the
country, he could run about as he pleased, but in the streets Bertha
always kept him on the leash. The leash was held by a hand very gentle,
very easy and discreet, but in spite of that he always resented it.
He had tried everything he could to get rid of it. When he could get
at it, he would hide it or chew it up so that it was not fit to use.
Bertha just bought another one at once. Then, to show his hatred of it,
Clown invented all sorts of tricks, winding himself round the feet of
passers-by, getting himself caught behind a tree, planting his feet and
refusing to move. That was his revenge.

[Illustration: One of Clown's tricks]


In this way, two years passed without anything happening worth telling
you about.

Our doggie, cared for as he was, had grown into a very handsome
creature.

[Illustration: Clown with tin can]




2

THE CAPTURE OF CLOWN


Generally Clown slept late and did not leave Bertha's room, where he
had his bed, until he was ready for the public eye--that is to say,
until he was combed and brushed, beribboned and perfumed.

[Illustration: Clown goes out of the door]

One morning, I don't exactly know why, the maid entered Bertha's room
long before getting-up time, and going out again she forgot to shut
the door. Clown, once awakened, did not go to sleep again. What he was
thinking about I can't tell you. Anyhow he yawned, stretched himself
slowly, then crept slyly toward the half-open door, pushed it softly
with his nose, and there he was in the hall. It was not far to the
kitchen and the pantry door which opened onto the back steps leading
into the street was not shut either.

[Illustration: Clown]

"'Tis opportunity makes the thief," so they say. After a moment's
hesitation, after looking carefully at the steps to be sure no one
would see and stop him, Clown thought that it would be rather pleasant
to take a morning stroll through the streets; he felt proud for once
not to be held in leash, and was delighted at the thought of being
able to rout at his own sweet will amongst the heaps of garbage, the
one thing of all others strictly forbidden him.

[Illustration: Dogs following man with parcel]

Nobody saw him, nobody stopped him. He reached the door; a glance, a
sniff here and there, and he was free.

Once outside he walked quietly for a hundred yards or so, nose in air.

[Illustration: Man with parcel catches Clown]

Soon, however, he was ready to come back and was just thinking of going
in again when he saw at the corner of the street five or six other dogs
following a man who was carrying a parcel. This made him curious; there
was a queer smell, too, which attracted him. In a trice he had joined
the group.

"After all," he said to himself pretty soon, "though the smell is
appetizing enough, I have better than that at home. Good-bye, my
friends, and good luck. I am going home to breakfast."

Whereupon, giving up the chase, he turned to go home. Alas! it was too
late. The man had just thrown a lasso, which caught Clown around the
neck. He tried to get away, to cry out, to struggle, to bite; the knot
tightened, choking him. He was muzzled, and forced by kicks--the first
he ever received in his life--to go, willy-nilly, with the dog-thief.
For that was what the man was, and one of the very worst of his kind,
too.

[Illustration: Man with parcel carries away Clown]


[Illustration: Clown in the kennel]

It was a fine day, and Paris began to awaken. In the streets there
were more and more passers-by, and the man walked faster and faster;
Clown, full of sad thoughts, let himself be dragged along. With hanging
head he was thinking of his little mistress, how probably at this very
minute she had discovered his flight. He saw her despair, and big tears
rolled from his eyes; he trembled from head to foot. Perhaps he would
never see her again! At this, heart-rending sobs burst from his poor
little throat. Sometimes he tried to drive away these sad thoughts by
imagining he would soon have a chance to escape from his torturer. If
only they did not take him too far from Paris, his native town, he
could find his way home again easily enough with his eyes shut.

After a long and painful walk through streets and avenues, the man
stopped at last in front of a wretched hut. At the end of a yard, in
a corner, there was a horrible kennel, with no cover, surrounded by a
strong wooden fence.

Clown, although worn out in mind and body, pulled back with disgust
from the door of this evil-smelling hole. The man pushed him in
brutally with his foot, and with another well-directed kick shut the
door to behind him. Then Clown gave himself up to despair. He felt
utterly lost. He would never see his dear ones again. How foolish he
had been! How miserable he was!

Attracted by his cries and tears, three beautiful setters, who had been
stolen the day before, came out of the back of the kennel and grouped
themselves around the newcomer. They did their best to comfort and
console him.

[Illustration: Clown and three setters]

After telling one another their sad stories, they talked over ways of
escape. The very idea of getting away cheered them up a lot.

It was clear that they were all to be sold.

[Illustration: Dogs at the dog market]

Next morning they were all tightly chained to one another and the man,
whip in hand, led them to the dog-market.

This market was held in a large square, slightly shaded by big elm
trees. Ragged old women, squatting on their heels, or crouching on old
chairs or baskets, held little dogs on their knees, petting them,
cleaning them, offering them for sale to anyone who stopped to look.
Some people had dogs on leashes. Suspicious-looking men walked dogs to
and fro.

[Illustration: Women selling dogs at the dog market]

In front there was a long line of hunting dogs of every kind and breed;
farther on, a line of pet-dogs; then a group of poodles--newly shaved
and beribboned. Here and there were cats, monkeys, parrots, birds of
all kinds, and, lastly, guinea-pigs and white rats.

All these creatures barked, whined, mewed, chattered, screamed. The din
was beyond description.

Clown, confused, a white poodle on either side of him, was silent. With
hanging head he pretended that he had quite given up the thought of
escape, but just the same, when no one was looking, he turned his eyes
quickly from side to side, ready to seize the first chance to get away.

[Illustration: Clown at the dog market]




[Illustration: Clown escapes]


3

CLOWN ESCAPES


It was not long before Clown's absence was noticed in his old home.
The whole household was alarmed. They searched the house from top to
bottom, whistling, calling to him, weeping. The servants ran to and
fro; nobody could understand how the dog had got away. Huddled in an
arm-chair, Bertha sobbed, with hardly the heart or strength to move.
In vain they searched all Paris. The police were informed, the pound
visited, the description and photograph of Clown scattered broadcast.
A large reward was offered to anyone finding him or giving information
about him. In spite of all this, the day and night passed without news
of the dog.

[Illustration: Clown at the dog market]

On the advice of the Chief of Police, Bertha went next morning to the
dog-market, accompanied by Marie and the footman. No sooner was she
there than Clown, without seeing her, even, sniffed her from afar.
He pulled so hard on his chain that he nearly broke it. Alas, where
he was, Bertha could not see him. The thief understood at once that
something was the matter. He seized the unhappy dog before he knew what
was happening, flung him into a box near at hand and banged down the
lid.

[Illustration: Clown is sold]

'Twas thus that poor Clown, at the moment when his rescue seemed
certain, learned to his cost that there are times in this life when it
is wise to hide one's feelings.

Anyhow, his young mistress was looking for him everywhere. This was
enough to make him feel much more cheerful.

[Illustration: Clown leaves Paris]

That day Clown was sold. When he saw the money counted out, he
understood and was at first quite delighted, but his joy did not last
long. He soon discovered from the gestures of the two men that his new
owner did not live in Paris and that he was leaving that very night,
for his home far, far away in the south. Then Clown felt desperate. He
shook with rage and fear lest he should be lost forever. He was so
upset by his bad luck that he hardly heard the thief offer to take him
to the station that evening in time for the train, and his new owner
accept the offer.

He lost all hope on hearing that, for his last chance of escape would
be gone the minute he was taken away from Paris.

[Illustration: Clown shut up in the dog kennel]

On the way to the station Clown was held so tightly that he saw it
would be no use to struggle. When he reached there at nightfall, he was
shut up in the hated dog-kennel until the time came for the train to
start.


[Illustration: Clown released from the dog kennel]

When the noisy whistles blew, as they always do when the great
expresses are about to draw out, and the train started with that horrid
grating sound they always make, Clown began to sob wildly and to howl
in a most dismal fashion. To make it all the worse he saw through the
iron bars of his cage the shadows of the last houses of his native
city. For a moment he thought he should go mad. Little by little the
cool evening air revived him, calmed his fever. Snuggling down in a
corner of his box, he determined to wait for the chance of escape which
must come some time or other. He would cross the whole of France, if
necessary, to find his beloved mistress. Death alone could deprive him
of his one great hope.

At last, after passing through Burgundy, the express stopped. It was
morning and already quite light. Clown saw his new master approach his
prison and open the padlock so that he could come out and stretch his
legs on the platform. The prisoner did not hesitate. No sooner was he
free than he was off like a shot, tearing along the platform, then back
along the railway track, taking no notice of the calls of his master or
of the laughter of the travelers, to whom the whole thing was a joke.

Quite happy now, forgetting all his past troubles and full of hope
again, he thought that, thanks to his hurried flight, he could not be
so very far from Paris.

[Illustration: Clown - running]

All morning Clown walked bravely along the dusty road, but at last he
began to feel hungry and tired. After going miles and miles, towards
midday he was lucky enough to meet in the fields a large flock of
sheep, guarded by sheep-dogs. These dogs, when Clown told them his
tragic story, were very kind to him and even asked him to share their
dinner with them. But they could give no real help as to how to get to
Paris.

[Illustration: Clown and two sheep dogs]

"All that we know is, that it is several days' walk from here, down
that way," they told him, pointing with their paws.

After comforting himself with cheese, milk, and brown bread, Clown left
them, thanking them politely for their kindness. All the same, as he
set off, he felt very sad, for he saw that the good dogs he had just
visited did not think that his plan seemed a very good one, and he
began to be afraid he never should get back home after all.

[Illustration: Clown fleeing]

To make him still more uneasy, toward four o'clock the wind began to
blow and big clouds darkened the sky. Clown fled along as fast as his
legs would carry him, trying to get ahead of the awful storm which
hung above his head. But the clouds went faster than he did; the
lightning and thunder grew nearer and nearer, louder and louder.

With the storm had come darkness. Now torrents of rain hurled
themselves madly from the sky. The poor dog was terribly frightened. He
didn't know where to go, what road to take, valley, forest, or hill.

[Illustration: Clown runs wildly]

Wet to the skin, muddy, blinded by the rain, deafened by the thunder,
he saw no sign of shelter. He just ran on wildly, battered by rain and
wind, faster and faster, following his nose.




4

CLOWN AT THE CIRCUS


However, as he reached the edge of the wood, the rain grew less
violent. Night was coming on but among the trees he could see bright
lights shining.

Drawing nearer, Clown made out some kind of a big camp; carriages and
closed wagons and tents stood out against the background of the forest.
At last he saw people and animals coming and going in all directions.

[Illustration: Clown with Marie in front of a mirror]

When he was quite close to this busy scene, Clown stopped, breathless
and anxious, sniffing the air, listening keenly to the slightest sound.

He was not quite satisfied, and in his doubt he thought of going
farther on the chance of finding other shelter. But he was more tired
than he was afraid. Plucking up his courage, poor Clown crept slowly
toward the larger of the two lighted vans that stood on the edge of the
woods.

[Illustration: Clown finds a big camp]

Just at this moment the curtain that closed the rear of one of these
vans opened and a young girl came out and stood on the doorstep. She
wore a gleaming costume of spangles, with a very short, fluffy skirt,
covered with shiny stones, and she had little satin slippers on her
feet, and the daintiest of pink stockings. A plaid shawl hung from her
shoulders.

[Illustration: Clown in front of a doorstep]

Clown was dumbfounded. Never had he seen his dear mistress in such a
dress. While he was gazing in astonishment at her, the girl stretched
out her hand to see if it was still raining. As she looked down she
caught sight of our poor little doggie, who, squatting in front of her,
wet through and muddy, raised imploring eyes, waiting till she should
take pity on him.

"What's this? A lost dog?" and, bending toward him, she coaxed him
nearer, saying:

"Poor doggie, poor little thing."

Clown went forward at once, trembling, anxious to please but still
half afraid. He let this strange girl pet him, and made himself so
agreeable, so eager and so interesting, that ten minutes later she had
him all cleaned, combed and brushed.

[Illustration: Clown on a pile of blankets]

Having won the favor of this kind-hearted girl, Clown became once more
his old handsome self.

On a soft pile of blankets he passed an excellent night. Now and again
strange noises troubled his ears, but completely worn out, and drowsy
from so much fresh air, he fell asleep again and dreamed golden dreams.

The next morning the sky was clear again and the air was fresh and
balmy.

[Illustration: Clown visits the animals of the circus]

Clown was awakened at dawn by the sound of people rushing about,
packing up, just as though they were moving house. Without leaving
his bed, his eyes still half-closed, he listened closely, and finally
understood with what kind of people he had to deal. Then were explained
the low growls which had so puzzled and frightened him during the
night. The carriages, the cages, were the dwelling places of strange
and terrifying animals, such as he remembered having seen at the
fair of Neuilly, whither his dear mistress, Bertha, had taken him one
evening when he was still a baby.

[Illustration: Clown watches boxes]

He had, then, fallen in with an immense traveling circus which,
constantly on the move, gave performances in the principal cities of
the world. Just now it was headed, by gentle stages, for the center of
France. Clown was quite comforted and happy at the thought of one day
or another reaching Paris. Then--then--then he would manage somehow to
see her again, her for whom he yearned, her whom he loved with all his
faithful little heart.

Traveling this way was much nicer than running along the highroad. He
was a sturdy fellow, but, all the same, that one day of walking under
such conditions had made him somewhat thin. In short, he had had enough
of it, especially when he remembered that he hadn't the least idea how
to get to Paris.

[Illustration: Clown at the lions' cages]

Slipping cautiously under the tents which sheltered the cages, Clown
took a good look around the place.

The stables, huge affairs, contained no less than one hundred and
fifty horses of all kinds and colors. He saw, too, three monstrous
elephants, dromedaries, giraffes, zebras, donkeys, and even pigs.

[Illustration: A polar bear]

Then came the turn of the menagerie--a fine collection of lions,
tigers, panthers, jaguars, foxes, hyenas, boars. What didn't he see?
Boxes full of snakes, crocodiles, monkeys in cages--a chimpanzee who
was walking about all alone gave him a terrible fright.

Parrots of every hue swayed on swinging perches, uttering, for no
reason that Clown could see, harsh discordant cries.

[Illustration: Elephants]

Thus he passed slowly through the whole menagerie, seeing all the
animals. He even grew bold enough to lap freely at a large lake of
milk, put there, he thought, for the snakes and monkeys, who are very
fond of it. After this light breakfast he felt stronger and more
light-hearted. He spent some time visiting and making much of his new
mistress, and then went on to finish his visit with the animals so
happily begun.

Passing close to the elephants, he noticed their small intelligent
eyes, contrasting so queerly with their huge size. While he was
wondering about them, Clown, who was by nature very curious, drew
nearer, wanting to sniff more closely at those long noses which swayed
so slowly and calmly from side to side. He succeeded in getting close
enough to touch them, but at the slightest movement of the trunk he
leaped back, his tail between his legs, although he just had to return.

Suddenly, without being in the least hurt, he felt himself lifted like
a feather, and cleverly drawn into the elephant-house. Now it was the
elephants' turn to sniff at him. One blew upon his nose until he could
scarcely breathe, while another gently pinched his hind-quarters, and
they all laughed at the figure he cut. I can tell you, Clown did not
enjoy all this one bit. He did not even dare to show his teeth, he was
so afraid of being torn to pieces if he made the slightest movement.
Those five minutes in the air seemed to him very long and terrible.

[Illustration: Clown 'in the air']

At last he was gently put upon his feet again. He made one bound for
liberty, a bound which brought him close to the giraffes. Here again he
felt a keen pang of fear, for one of them, suddenly stretching his long
neck over the top of the box, touched him quite unexpectedly with his
long black tongue.

[Illustration: Clown and the giraffe]

After this Clown was much more watchful and did not come too close to
the animals in the boxes. Even the sound of a fly buzzing put him on
his guard, and this was a good thing for him, for he was in the midst
of a horde not always pleasant and sometimes quite dangerous, where
all sorts of accidents might have happened to him. Fortunately he had
escaped harm, and these lessons made him very careful afterwards.

[Illustration: Ape ringing a bell]

A bell rang. Immediately commotion arose; people moved about in all
directions; the feeling of unrest showed more and more in the cages;
the inmates turned and twisted. Clown wondered what could be the
matter. The wild beasts roared, the horses whinnied; all the animals
clamored at once.

There was a medley of sounds that was simply deafening. It was feeding
time.

Barrows full of fresh meat, loaves of bread and bundles of forage,
were passed around freely. Each animal was served in turn according to
his taste. After the first bite or two calm gradually returned, in the
cages anyhow.

Clown was served apart and lunched with excellent appetite. His new
mistress fairly stuffed him with dainties, feeding him out of her own
hand. Her kindness made Clown love her more and more.

When the animals were all fed and the men had finished their own
meals, the whole circus got ready to move. By noon everything was
ready, and at a given signal, the entire troupe set off.

[Illustration: Clown - eating]

As the country was flat, and they were to march until evening before
reaching their next stopping place, orders were given to leave the
shutters of the cages open and to lead as many of the animals as
possible so that they might breathe in the fresh air and stretch their
legs a bit. You can guess that the passing of such animals on the road
frightened more than one good peasant as they went along, although
everyone along the road was warned in time by the tamer
and his helpers, who rode at the head of the procession so as to avoid
accidents.

[Illustration: The circus on its way]

[Illustration: Elephants doing tricks]

It was in an elegant carriage, with good springs, drawn by two fine
young horses, that Clown made the journey, seated beside his new
mistress. The longing to go quickly, made him hang his tongue out of
his mouth so that his white teeth showed under his black moustache,
and his eyes, turning from his mistress to the splendid horses and back
again, spoke his impatience but at the same time his delight at the
progress they were making.

[Illustration: The lion's trick]

They went on and on, over miles of road bordered by poplars, on into
the golden dust, into the purple sunset.

A few miles more, and there lay Dijon.

A week before, the town had been prepared, by bright-colored posters,
for the coming of the great, the marvelous circus. The walls and fences
were simply covered with pictures of the wonderful performance.

[Illustration: Circus riding]

Performing horses, looking huge as elephants, clowns at their most
amusing tricks, gymnasts doing their most thrilling feats, all were
pictured.

The tamer was there too, life-size, his head in the mouth of Sultan,
the big black Persian lion, while Mademoiselle Reine, his charming
daughter, Clown's new mistress, beneath a cloudless sky drove four
white does, scattering flowers as she went.

At last the travelers came to the first country houses, the vineyards
and finally the spires, the tower of St. John the Fearless and the
other buildings of the capital of Burgundy standing out against the
evening gloom.

[Illustration: Setting up everything at a new town]

Before they entered the town, a halt was called. Order was restored,
the cages were shut, a moment's rest was taken; then the troupe set out
again, to encamp at last on a large piece of open ground near the gates
of the city.

While the tents were being set up and the cages placed--in short,
the whole circus installed--a huge procession bearing torches was
organized, which rode through Dijon, led by a band of music.

Knights in shining armor, mounted on magnificent horses, handed out
bills telling of a big performance for the next evening and giving the
program.

[Illustration: Circus parade]

The whole town was abroad to see and admire this strange sight. Men,
women, children, all came out to meet them. It was a grand spectacle.
Everybody wanted a program. Just imagine a procession of elephants,
decked with gold and silver, a hundred and fifty horses, some ridden
and some driven but all with magnificent harnesses, dromedaries, parade
chariots shimmering with gold and gleaming with precious stones, and
all these lighted up by flaring torches.

Clown had been dressed up for the occasion with yellow ribbons, a
color which suited his black coat to perfection. Seated beside his new
mistress he was radiant upon a canopied chair of gold borne by four
zebras.

[Illustration: Zebras with palanquin]

After going through the principal streets the troupe at last came back
to camp to rest for the night, still followed by a vast crowd who did
not think of sleep until long after the circus fires were all out.

The night was calm, but at daybreak, as on the preceding day, the noise
in the camp started again, perhaps even a little louder this morning on
account of the rehearsal which was to take place in preparation for the
evening's performance.

[Illustration: Clown learning new trick]

Clown, always very curious, was present at all the rehearsals and
enjoyed them thoroughly--so much, indeed, that he suddenly joined in
and showed how well he could skip. Then he wanted to jump over and
through everything. At last he got so excited that Reine made him take
a nice hot sugar-drink with a little orange flower in it to calm him.

After this, Clown was considered one of the troupe.

[Illustration: Clown and an ape]

Always on the watch, our doggie learned at breakfast that three days
hence they were to go to Fontainebleau, where they were to give two
performances, and after that they were to set off for Paris, so as to
arrive in time for the opening of the big festival at Neuilly.

This made him so happy that for the moment he quite forgot to eat.
Then, hope in his soul and joy in his heart, he made up his mind to
do his very best at the next performance. He wanted to make all the
people admire him, to do something that would repay Reine and her
father for their kindness. Perhaps, too, he hoped that by acting in
this way he might get talked about and get his name into the papers.
Man is vain and even a dog has his pride. His fame might perhaps reach
Bertha, his dear, tender, much-regretted mistress. All this made him
very serious when at last the time for the performance arrived.

[Illustration: Clown thinks about Bertha]

Beneath an immense tent, brilliantly lighted, decorated with garlands
of foliage and flowers, the orchestra struck up a joyous march.

Immediately the doors were flung open, and to the sound of the music a
great crowd poured into the huge tent and took seats.

[Illustration: The menagerie]

For about an hour and a half the menagerie held the floor. Then the
animals were put back into their cages. The wild beasts were obedient
and rebellious in turn; whips sounded continuously. The noise of
squibs, firecrackers, and growls almost drowned the orchestra.

[Illustration: Clown is being prepared for his performance]

Three times did the tamer put his head into Sultan's great mouth. The
excitement of the audience was tremendous. They really thought he was
done for.

"Enough, enough," was heard on all sides, and amid a thunder of
applause, the first part of the performance came to an end.

Then came an interval of ten minutes.

[Illustration: Clown performing together with a clown]

Soon the second part was announced by a cheerful burst of music and
the mad entrance of the clowns. Our Clown only waited for this moment
to show off his talents, those already known and those nobody had ever
seen before. He entered barking, in a series of wild leaps exactly
like those of his companions. It was then that an artist in the troupe,
astonished and enthusiastic, took off his clown's collar, and then and
there put it round the neck of the poodle, naming him the "Dog-Clown."

[Illustration: Clown the dog-clown]

So, for the second time, although until then they had not known what to
call him, he received the name of Clown--"Dog-Clown."

During the first number, Clown set to work to copy all the fun-making
tricks of the other clowns, and succeeded wonderfully well. Jumping
through hoops and over barrels, he gave himself up to the pleasure of
the thing; pleasing everyone so well that they clapped and clapped
until he came back several times.

[Illustration: Horse performance]

When the second number was called, there appeared on the scene a very
handsome horse led by a groom dressed in the latest fashion. No sooner
had they entered than they were followed by Clown, who, as he had seen
done at the rehearsal, leaped with one bound into the saddle. They had
great difficulty in coaxing him down. He could not see that this was
not the place for him. Reine, beautifully dressed in a blue spangled
gown, was placed with her father, in the saddle and set off at a
gallop, to the sound of music and the gay cracking of the whip.

[Illustration: Clown's horse performance]

[Illustration: Clown with pipe]

A clown joined the groom and Dog-Clown, who in spite of everything had
remained on the scene, began to limp along behind them, to the great
amusement of the spectators.

He was the success of the evening. He even, it is said, caused some
jealousy among the artists of the troupe. Thus from the very beginning
Clown felt the thrill of stage life and became a privileged actor.

Petted and adored by the public, he became so important that he hardly
ever appeared on the scene until the end of the first and second
numbers, a place reserved always for the stars of the troupe.

[Illustration: Clown is balancing on a big ball]

As was fitting, Dog-Clown had the place of honor on the circus posters.
Sometimes he was a groom, sometimes a clown, but he did not stop
there. He succeeded in showing that he was a mimic, and in a little
play written for him by the manager, he made a huge success. Reine, who
introduced Clown, shared the applause with her favorite.

[Illustration: One of Clown's tricks]

Between whiles--and this was what astonished the company most--the dog
invented unexpected and novel entrances. He gradually became a part of
the circus life, and always watching what was going on around him, he
was cute enough to make a place for himself in every number, and the
tricks he played were so funny that everyone howled with laughter.

[Illustration: Clown and his dressmaker]

When the circus left Dijon, the people of that town were heart-broken.
The mayor himself even begged that the manager give a few more
performances. In vain. The manager was sorry, but time pressed; he had
made arrangements for a certain date at Fountainebleau.

When Dog-Clown appeared for the first time in public in this town, even
before he began he received such a welcome that he was moved to tears.
The people had heard all about him and were wild to see him. In a
moment the stage was covered with a mass of good things, thrown to him
from all parts of the house, from the nearest seats to the farthest.
Some threw sugar, some cakes; the clown even picked up cigars and
oranges.

Dog-Clown, by way of thanks, gave such a performance as even he had
never given before. His success was almost unbelievable. At last so
great did his fame become that the Paris papers took it up, giving long
accounts of this wonderful dog.

Clown was glad to be on the road again, for each move brought him that
much closer to Paris. Besides, now that he was an important member of
the company he always rode in state beside Reine, with velvet cushions
to nap on if he chose.

It was late in the afternoon when they reached Fountainebleau, so no
performance was given till next day, and the animals had a needed rest.
Clown spent his time in thinking up new tricks with which to surprise
the people who came to see him.

[Illustration: Clown is trying new tricks]

I must tell you that, as soon as Clown had shown what an artist he
was, and how wonderfully he could adorn a collarette, the management
had attached to his person a dressmaker who made for him all sorts of
quaint costumes.

Soon he had a rich and thoroughly equipped wardrobe, from a frock-coat
to a bull's skin and horns, a costume which he wore to act the bull in
a mock bullfight in which young dwarfs figured as matadors and teased
him.

[Illustration: Clown in a bull costume]




[Illustration: Clown talks with apes]


5

THE RETURN HOME


Meantime Clown was growing tired of his popularity. The fame, the
applause of the friendly public, the pleasure he felt in knowing
that Reine and her father were doing a fine business, the liberty
he enjoyed, the honors paid him daily, all these worldly vanities
flattered his pride, but neither success nor his pleasant relations
with the members of the troupe could make him happy.

[Illustration: Members of the menagerie become ill]

He was always longing for his dear mistress Bertha. Often in the night,
overtaken by a horrible nightmare, he would wake with a start, not
knowing where he was. Like many other artists, comic on the stage, he
was silent and gloomy away from it.

After three big performances, given one after the other, without
counting rehearsals, some of the most important members of the
menagerie became ill, owing to the heat and their hard work. It was
the animals who suffered most. For two days Sultan, whose appetite
was usually hard to satisfy, had refused his food--a thing hitherto
unheard-of.

One of the white bears complained of terrible colic; the llamas
sneezed continually; Hercules, the giant elephant, with trunk rolled
up like a snail, could hardly stand upright; a giraffe trumpeted; the
hippopotamus, "Poivro," stung by mosquitoes, scratched himself till
his cage shook. From the hyena-cage came forth dismal howls; two of
the poor creatures, down with toothache, were rolling about in agony.
Several horses, a zebra, and a rooster all felt very far from well.

The truth was the whole troupe was worn out. The manager, too, felt
that a rest was absolutely necessary for all of them. Everybody agreed
that the director should announce to the public, giving any reason
he chose, that for the next forty-eight hours there would be no
performances.

[Illustration: Zebras are ill and spitting]

No one was allowed even to visit the menagerie. It was only after much
delay and because he begged so hard that one stranger was admitted.
This was a reporter from one of the important Paris newspapers, who,
having heard by the many-tongued mouth of rumor of the queer tricks
of Dog-Clown, was most anxious to see the dog for himself, and if
possible to learn all about him, for he wanted his paper to be the
first to tell the people of Paris the true story of this wonderful dog.

[Illustration: Clown is also ill]

At the time Clown was resting on a pile of blankets; although he
seemed to be asleep he was listening to the conversation, for like a
policeman, he always slept with one eye open. As soon as he realized
what it was all about, he got up on his hind legs and went straight to
the reporter, understanding probably how much what the newspaper said
might help Bertha to find him.

He was polite as he could be to this reporter and took great pains to
show off before him, and--this was really a flash of genius--succeeded
three different times, using as his letters the print on a rolled
placard lying near him, in putting together the word "B-E-R-T-H-A," by
placing his foot on the letters in the right order.

[Illustration: Clown and a reporter]

Greatly puzzled as to what it could mean the reporter wrote down on his
tablet the word Clown had spelled. He could not help being surprised
by this strange sign of intelligence. He bowed respectfully to this
strangest of all subjects for interview, and as he left him he said
gravely:

"Delighted to have met you, my dear sir."

Clown returned his bow, no less politely. He felt a trifle proud,
perhaps, but he was charmed to have made himself understood by a human
being.

I leave you to imagine, dear friends, what a stir was caused by this
article which appeared on the front page of the paper. It was headed:

DOG-CLOWN, OR THE DOG WITH A BRAIN

[Illustration: Clown returns the bow of the reporter]

It gave details of Clown's wonderful tricks--it described them as
simply beyond belief--and ended by calling upon men of science to come
and see for themselves this curious, this strangely gifted dog.

That day Bertha, who since the moment of Clown's disappearance had not
ceased to mourn for him and to seek him everywhere, was even sadder
than usual, having at last given up hope of ever seeing him again, now
that all her attempts had ended in failure.

[Illustration: Bertha is crying]

At noon her father came home to lunch as he generally did. She ran to
meet him and was struck by his jovial manner. She guessed something
pleasant was in the air.

"You have good news, father dear?" she said.

"Well, I think so, but don't make too sure yet. I really do think
though that we have found your dog."

[Illustration: Bertha reads the newspaper with her father]

Bertha turned pale and nearly fainted for joy. Her father read her the
article and when he came to the part where the journalist told how the
dog had spelled, without a doubt, the name "Bertha," she cried:

"There's no doubt about it! It is--it is my dog. Let's go--let's go at
once and get him!"

Two hours later the express train going at its fastest to
Fontainebleau, bore Bertha and her father and mother.

There was a matinee that day. When Bertha and her family took places
beside the ring the performance had already begun. The wild animals
had been shown and the second part of the performance announced the
appearance of Dog-Clown. This clever individual kept them waiting a
moment or two to enhance the importance of his entry. The audience
began to grow impatient, cries of "Dog-Clown, Dog-Clown!" were heard
repeatedly.

It was a critical moment.

The father, the mother, the daughter sat motionless, wide-open eyes
glued to the door through which he would come.

Like a ball which, vigorously hurled, bounces on the pavement,
Dog-Clown in a succession of wild leaps went rapidly round the arena.

It was impossible to see his face, especially as he was all dressed up
and powdered.

[Illustration: At the matinee]

Having finished his first act, he went to the center of the stage, and
there standing on his hind legs made his bow to the audience.

One sniff and he had recognized his owners.

[Illustration: Clown doing a trick]

It was like a flash of lightning. Next instant he had hurled off his
clown's hat and leaped at them like a mad thing. He bounded over
benches and fell, eyes full of tears, whimpering softly, into the arms
of Bertha, who held him trembling and sobbing.

[Illustration: Clown ran to Bertha]

For a long time they clung to one another. This performance amazed the
public; the circus people thought at first that this was just one of
Clown's mad tricks--to which they were growing accustomed--but soon the
truth was known when Reine, surprised and anxious, came forward and
asked for an explanation.

"Mademoiselle," said Bertha's father, "I am extremely sorry to
interrupt the performance, but, as you see, the dog is ours. He was
stolen from us. There is no doubt at all that he is our dog, and I
demand that the manager give him back to us at once."

His decided tone convinced the young girl.

[Illustration: Clown and Bertha]

"As we are honest people," she said in her turn, "and so that you may
not think that we stole him, as you seem to suggest, I will tell you
how, three weeks ago, he became one of us."

Thus begun, the conversation was continued in a friendly way. True, a
policeman was called, but only to inform the audience, at the manager's
request, of the adventures of Dog-Clown who had delighted them all.

[Illustration: Leaving the circus]

Reine wept for the handsome poodle who would now no longer be with her
on her travels, and there was weeping and wailing in the menagerie,
when his comrades heard the news, for all the animals loved Clown.

This last scene was so affecting that the audience itself, moved to
tears, made no complaint.

It's a sad thing but true, alas, that what brings happiness to one
brings sorrow to others.

Bertha was too happy and this time too anxious, to leave Clown any
longer, even in the midst of these kind circus people. She thanked
them warmly for the good care they had taken of her dog, Mademoiselle
Reine especially, whom she kissed very sweetly. She promised, too, to
take Clown to see her as soon as they reached Neuilly, and giving her
address, begged the young girl to come to visit her in Paris.

[Illustration: Weeping animals]

After this Bertha departed in haste, hardly giving Clown time to say
good-bye to his best friends and comrades, all of whom wept at the
parting.

[Illustration: Bertha and Clown leave Reine and the circus]

That evening four joyful travelers took the train for Paris. During
the trip, Clown, seated on the cushion between Bertha and her mother,
his head against the shoulder of his dear mistress, gazed at her with
moist, affectionate eyes. Licking her hands, wagging his pompom of a
tail, and uttering plaintive little cries, he tried to tell her about
all his past sufferings and his present happiness.

Who could describe Clown's joy when he reached home after his long
journey, when he saw his own part of town, his own house, his own room,
where once again he would have lovely naps and dream golden dreams?

[Illustration: Clown and Bertha in the train]

When he caught sight of Marie, he jumped into her arms like a child.
Marie burst into tears and could not utter a word of reproach. He
leaped all over the footman, and did not forget even the cook. Then,
smiling to himself, he went off to see what they were to have for
dinner--and seemed well satisfied.

In a word, he took up once more his happy family life, full of
delightful things: pleasant strolls with Marie, delightful wanderings
with Bertha, caresses lovingly given and returned.

From this memorable day, Clown, who had learned his lesson, and grown
wise by experience, was the first to bring his leash when it was time
to go out.

[Illustration: Clown and Marie]

He would carry it triumphantly in his mouth as if to say, "Don't let's
forget it!" For nothing in the world could you get him to venture alone
upon the streets.

At the present time Clown is perfectly happy. His adventures are all in
the past.

[Illustration: Clown in the kitchen]

Now that he no longer has anything to worry him he is getting fatter
and lazier, but he is always ready for a frolic with his beloved
mistress, Bertha. I am sure that very few people who meet the contented
dog and his devoted mistress have any idea that this is the famous
Clown.

[Illustration: Clown as a gentleman]

As to the moral of this story, you have understood it, I am sure; but
don't forget it, dear little readers. If you don't take the wise advice
of your parents you are likely to suffer. Just because he didn't obey
his little mistress, Clown, in spite of all his intelligence and wit,
was very nearly lost forever.

[Illustration: Clown with his leash]




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     [Illustration]


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     [Illustration]

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                  gold binding, with multi-colored inlay.

                       Price 25 cents per volume


                   TWO VOLUME SETS BOXED AS FOLLOWS

     Set { The Story of Peter Rabbit     Set { The Night Before Christmas
       I { Little Black Sambo             II { Cinderella and the Sleeping
                                               Beauty

                     Set { Fairy Tales from Andersen
                     III { Fairy Tales from Grimm

     Put up in fancy boxes                      =Price 50 cents per set=

                      Six Volumes in Display Box

                          Price $1.50 per set




Transcriber's note:

'gesperrt' text marked as  _= ... =_





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Clown, the Circus Dog, by A. Vimar

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 46793 ***