It was not hard to find one's way
about in Richmond then, and the tavern was not far from the open
square. They came upon the tent, the smoky tin torch, the crowd of
idlers, and a loud-voiced youth who now stood at the entrance
shouting the attractions within.
Robert dragged his aunt impetuously to the tent door and offered his
gold dollar to the shouter.
"Pass right in, gentlemen and ladies," said the ill-looking youth in
his monotonous yell, bustling as if he had a rush of business, "and
make room for the crowd, all anxious to see the only pig-headed man
in America, and to hear the wonderful warblings of Fairy Carrie, the
child vocalist. Admission fixed at the low figure of fifteen cents
per head," said the ill-looking youth, dropping change into Robert's
hand and hustling him upon the heels of Corinne who craned her neck
toward the inner canvas. "Only fifteen cents, gentlemen, and the last
opportunity to see the pig-headed man who alone is worth the price of
admission, and has been exhibited to all the crowned heads of Europe.
Fifteen cents. Five three cent pieces only. Fairy Carrie, the
wonderful child vocalist, and the only living pig-headed man standing
between the heavens and earth to-day.
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