down to his nephew's wife's last twins.
It is astonishing to see with what gusto everybody
laughs at the old Joe Millers. No doubt
they are quite new in Rusticshire, and Circus
clowns are not famed for their inventive powers.

The modern Touchstone might do better,
though. The clowns of the Circus might, if
they liked, considerably elevate their art. Our
clowns cling too rigidly to the old traditions of
the ring. They ought to reform this altogether,
and become more than they ever have been
"the abstract and brief chronicles of the time,"
and so satirise the "living manners as they rise."

The clown having finished his "patter," or,
in professional phrase, "cracked his wheeze,"
and the "star-rider of the world" having entered
the ring with a humility quite wonderful for
one so great, the natives begin to feel
astonished indeed. To see "the favourite pupil
of the great and mighty Andrew Ducrow,
the ne plus ultra of British horsemen, "sitting
upon the extreme verge of the horse's hind-
quarters with neither bridle nor saddle, so
lightly that he scarcely seems to touch the
animal as it flies round the ring, almost
makes the gazer giddy. Again, when he springs
suddenly to his feet, and with one foot on
the horse's head and the other on his shoulder,
sweeps round and round at redoubled speed,
the horse and he both leaning into the ring at an
angle which seems to threaten that every
moment will send them both whirling into the
sawdust, the spectators cannot choose but to breathe
hard.

In due time all the wonders of the travelling
Circus are accomplished, and the wearied
performers are glad to rest. It is no easy task
this tumbling, tight-roping, and equestrianising,
changing dress perhaps three times in the course
of the performance, and "going in" for five or six
turns. Although the salaries sound largely in
the ears of people who do not earn more by
their brain and pen, still it must be kept in
mind that "mountebanking" is a wearing-out
profession, and that a decrepit old age may be
yet in store for the "bounding brothers" of
the ring, or even for Herr Strongbeard, the
"modern Samson," himself.

In the evening, again, perhaps under the
smiling beneficence of a grand patronage, there
is a second performance, the patronage being
most likely obtained through the impudence
("cheek" it is called in the profession) of the
acting manager. Unfortunately, there is
sometimes a dark side to the picture, and accordingly
we find the manager, on the occasions of "bad
business," compelled to leave a horse behind for
hay, corn, and stabling.

The tenting system is now so well organised,
that everything connected with it is conducted
with effect and punctuality. Every now and
then the "go-a-head" will hark back across the
country to consult his employers as to change
or prolongation of route. The acting manager
of the Circus holds an important position
in such consultations, and is also of great
use in "working the oracle," as it is called—
that is, in obtaining patronage from the
influential people of the neighbourhood, and also
in seeing the gentlemen of the press; because
a good word from the local newspaper goes
a great length with the country people. In
this way the colony of show folks passes over a
large district of country, selecting with great
tact and knowledge the best places at their best
time—namely, when there is a fair or other fête
in prospect—and hitting on popular watering and
sea-bathing places when they are most resorted
to. As may be supposed, a large sum of money
is carried off from the various halting-places on
the route—one hundred pounds a day being
frequently taken in the pay-carriage of a
travelling Circus. But it is not all gold that glitters,
and such sums are, of course, subjected to
heavy deductions before they reach the bank
account of the proprietor. The salaries and
other charges, and the miscellaneous
expenses of a large Circus always on the road,
are too multifarious to particularise, but they
frequently amount to fifty or sixty pounds
a day, and the occasional loss of a valuable
horse, or the purchase of a couple of lions from
Mr. Gimcrack, makes a large hole in the purse.
Nevertheless, Circus people do occasionally
retire from business with fortunes.

HISTORY OF A YOUNG OLOGY.

IT must always be difficult to decide at what
precise point in the progress of knowledge a
particular branch of science becomes sufficiently
important and independent to require consideration
as a new science, under some new name,
and to deserve recognition as an independent
centre of human inquiry, round which facts may
be grouped and from which inferences may be
drawn. This process, however, has taken place
very frequently within the last two centuries,
as every one will admit who considers the
terrible array of new words recently introduced.
As familiar examples, we may mention GEOLOGY
and ETHNOLOGY, formerly mere departments of
natural history. METEOROLOGY is another
example.

Meteorology ranks still as a new science.
The first work of any value in reference to it
in our language appears to have been a volume
of essays, published in 1793, by Dr. Dalton, and
it was not till long after this period that
regular meteorological observations were made and
their meaning investigated by scientific men.
At the present time, however, we find the study
of meteorology not only pursued in many special
observatories, but regarded as essential to every
ship's captain; since, not only does the speed
of voyages depend on it, but the safety of
passengers, crew, and cargo.

The word meteor once meant merely a strange
appearance in the sky, but it has for some time
included all appearances, ordinary and extraordinary,
in any way connected with the air that surrounds
us. Thus, the weight or pressure of the air,
the warmth or coldness of the air, the strange
appearances, under the name of aurora, which