[G1] "A Lounge in the Circus," Spirit of the Times, Feb. 4, 1842

A Lounge in the Circus.

On Thursday night last, three individuals might be seen traversing the lobby outside of the boxes in the Philadelphia Circus.  One was a remarkably smart youth, with his auburn hair topped by a steeple crowned beaver hat, his little figure enveloped in a bran new broad cloth blue coat, with three columns of metal buttons in front, while the shape of his bow legs was visible through the folds of voluminous black pantaloons.

On his right arm there leaned a very tall person, with long careless locks of tow-like hair, falling down on each side of a sun-burnt face, expressive of great solemnity of mind.  He was dressed in a short, brown linsey-wolsey coat, which gave ample view to a pair of voluminous trowsers of like color.

On the other arm of the auburn haired youth, a very short, fat little individual was leaning.  His countenance was formed by a composition of a very small nose, observable in the midst of very full and voluminous cheeks, which together with two small lips, and two little twinkling grey eyes, with some slight shading of dark, tangled brown hair, formed an expression of mingled reflection and complacency.  The corpulent person was dressed in a very tight-bodied olive colored coat, tight fitting blue striped pantaloons, red velvet vest, and blue neckerchief.  The auburn haired youth, in the blue coat, was—our Flib; the olive coated gentleman was his friend Mr. James Price; and the tall person in the linsey wolsey, was his friend, Mr. Simon Simcox, both from the country, both fast friends of Flib, and of each other.

"I say, Jemes," observed the tall Simon, "but the manager of this place is deserving of great credit.  Just take a look over the bannister.  What good order is preserved—no cuttings up—no hollering out—and sich performances."

"Siming, the performances are excellent.  They are, Siming."

"Friend Flib, can you tell me who these men are whom I see a-walking about, looking so remarkably deep about this thing and that, as if they were engaged to search into mysteries at the rate of a fip a lick."

"Them's a delegation from the Philadelphia Press.  There's fifteen editors and reporters here, as well as a little dog—"

"Look here, friend James and friend Simon, this circus is a capital place for philosophy.  The whole bundle of humanity is opened to your view, and you see all kinds and varieties of the human species.  Look at yon elderly gentlemen, dressed like a boy, with a red nose, sunken eyes, and rouged face.  That's a broken down roué!"

"Ro-a—what's that?"

"Row aa—what is't, Flib?"

"A roué is a sort of thing which goes about breaking this young girl's heart, and sending that one to the grave; throwing a firebrand into this family, and cutting that one into pieces.  A roué is the general does the d—l's dirty work, and will only escape perdition from the fact that its master is afraid it will kick up a row down below, and as you see a roué is short of that place.  That's a roué."

"Jemes, what's that thing with the bristles on its upper lip?"

"Siming, that's an animal lately imported—"

"Mr. Welch intends to exhibit it in the next pantomime."

"Jemes, what do they leave it walk about here for?  Wont it hurt any body?"

"Siming, I believe it's perfectly harmless."

"They call it an 'Exquisite.'"

"Jemes, what's the name of that good looking woman, who is performing in the ring.  She is dressed nice.  Let's see what the bill says—'Mrs. Howard as the Bavarian Broom Girl.'  She does perform beautiful."

"Siming, I'll tell you what it is, when I look at things, I don't know which performer to like best.  Little Glenroy is a rouser—Turner is a buster—Dale can't be beat—McCollum isn't to be touched—Cadwallader is a whole team—John Smith—"

"Jemes, you may depend John Smith is a nigger by nature.  Cause no man could do the thing as well as he does, unless he was brought up to it."

"Siming, don't forget Misters Wells and Rockwell."

"Friends, this circus is the nicest place of amusement in town.  What a capital view every body has from every part of the house of what every body else is doing.  What a number of faces—what excellent music—what glorious fun."

"Siming, hold the boy, or he'll bust."

"Jemes, I will.  Don't you bust my young friend."

Flib promised not to burst.  The trio continued their stroll around the place.  They may visit some of our other places of amusement shortly.  So look out for fun, scandal, gossip, and—you know what.