needed a sort of a cheap clown, so I joined them.
I heard from some of the neighbors that it looked bad, owing to father’s standing in the State as a man, but I went ahead. I learned to sing the clown’s song while standing on a barrel, with brass band accompaniment, and at that I did fairly well, if the band played loud; but Joe McMahan, the manager of the circus, thought I ought to do more, so I tried the spring-board. They had led up an old elephant and a horse with spots on him. All the acrobats and tumblers ran down this steep incline and hit the spring-board, and went up and turned from one to three somersaults, going over the elephant and horse, and lit on a big straw tick on the other side. My clown makeup consisted of a heavy, ponderous stomach, also made of straw. I’d never jumped on a spring-board, and no one explained to me the angles at which it was best to hit. I took a long run as I hit the spring-board. I evidently hit it too high up, and instead of going up over the elephant and horse, I cushioned back up the spring-board, lit on the back of my
