Victor Hugo - "Napoleon the Little"

Anonymous - "The Fox Jumps Over the Parson's Gate"

Stephen Gwynn - "The Life of the Rt. Hon. Sir Charles W. Dilke, Vol. 2"

Editor In Chief Rossiter Johnson - "The Great Events by Famous Historians, Volume 12"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Watch Yourself Go By

A >> Al. G. Field >> Watch Yourself Go By




There are scores of men now, boys then, whose prayers have gone up that
kind hearted Bob Playford found it as easy to enter the gates above as
he made it for them to enter that heaven to a boy below--the circus.

Alfred knew full well that Doctor Playford would buy him a ticket but
his pride would not permit him to ask this.

Accompanying the Doctor were Willie Playford, his son, and Bob Kennedy,
his nephew. The boys, recognizing Alfred, asked if he were going in the
show. Endeavoring to swallow a big lump in his throat, his voice choked
as he answered: "No."

"Were you there this afternoon?"

Again Alfred answered: "No."

No longer able to restrain himself he told of Charley's folly. The
Doctor, approaching, Alfred's story was repeated, as it progressed,
Alfred's sobbing and crying increased.

The Doctor, giving him a sympathetic look and a rough shake, said: "Now
stop crying, stop crying, you dam little fool. When the circus comes to
town you always come to me and I'll see that you get in."

The big Doctor, Alfred and the boys were seated long before the
performance began, Alfred forgetting Cousin Charley, the raft, the
garments he had dangled out of the milk wagon; in fact all the trials
and tribulations of life were as fleeting dreams. Happiness lingered
within his whole being. The sights and wonders, the clowns were all
flitting before him. The evening was one of bewilderment and enchantment
to the boy.

The old clown was his especial delight. He fairly shouted at his quips
and antics. When the mules were brought in and $5 offered to the boy or
man who could ride one of them, Alfred was tempted to make the trial. He
felt certain he could do better than those who were being cast off like
babies by the agile animals.

The show over, they started with the crowd toward the door. A whistle
sounded, the walls of the tent fell as if by magic. The Doctor and the
boys stood a long time watching the tents lowered.

As they passed up the narrow passage leading from the show lot to the
street, Cousin Charley met them, his appearance evidencing his shame and
disappointment. The Doctor began chiding him.

Charley, in his illuminating way, explained that he went into the side
show, and the man coaxed him to shake the dice. He shook and came within
one every time he shook of winning the capital prize. He left the game,
was induced to go back and shake again and the first dash out of the box
he won the capital prize. They refused to give it to him, grabbed the
money he had in his hand and put him out of the tent. He had been up on
the hill to see Squire Wilkinson to swear out a warrant for their arrest
but the Squire was at prayer-meeting. (They always have prayer meeting
when the circus comes to town). He ran back to find the man who took his
money.

"If I'd found him, I'd licked him or he'd licked me," concluded Charley.

The big Doctor playfully straightened out his powerful arm, pushing
Charley backwards. Gazing at him in a humorously contemptuous manner as
he said:

"Look here, my boy, you lie. You were gambling? No one but a country
Jake would try to beat that game. I lost two dollars on that eight dice
case myself. Now let me give you a little advice: 'Don't bet on another
man's game unless you have money at home, for you are sure to lose all
you have with you.'"

Alfred and Cousin Charley wended their way home Alfred endeavored to
express his sympathy in detailing the wondrous sights he had witnessed
in the circus. Alfred was sorry for Cousin Charley and while his
intentions were commendable his descriptions of the circus only added to
the disappointment and chagrin of the elder boy.

That night Alfred dreamed of heaven in his happiness. He dreamed that
heaven was one big circus, with angels in pink tights and clowns
capering on the golden streets. Peanuts and candy were heaped in piles
invitingly, free to all. He dreamed of a big, blue-eyed man who stood at
the Golden Gates and passed all the boys in free and when they
did not come of their own accord he beckoned to them. He seemed to enjoy
the happiness of the boys more than the boys themselves.

Next morning at breakfast the wonders of the circus were gone over
again. Alfred did not breathe a word as to Cousin Charley's loss of the
money at the gaming table.

Since the night of the circus Alfred had busied himself preparing to
give his first show. The costumes and a place to give the exhibition
seemed to worry him more than the entertainment he was to offer.

Lin was his assistant. It might be more proper to state that Lin was the
prime mover, and the director of the proposed exhibition, although Lin
kept her activity concealed from the other members of the family. She
explained her participation in the coming show thusly:

"Well, it's better fer a body to keep yer yungins to hum even ef it does
clutter up the house to hev their fun. Alfurd's mos' crazy 'bout bein' a
circus clown an' ye'd die laffin' to see the little cuss cuttin' didoes.
I'd rather see him doin' it than hev him trapesin' the streets like
Bill's Charley."

Lin never lost an opportunity to cast a reflection on Charley.

Alfred, Lin and the mother were seated at the breakfast table,
discussing Alfred's show. Ways and means were the subjects. The mother
was an interested listener, although a quiet dissenter. She could not
understand how Alfred, even with Lin's aid, could offer anything in the
way of a show to entertain even children.

The price of admission was to be two ten-penny nails. The boat building
industry was thriving and the boys often went aboard a new boat picking
up the nails the carpenters let fall in their work. The nail idea was
Lin's and we must accord her some degree of originality.

"Pins had always been the equivalent for cash for admission to amatoor
shows." Lin said "our show." She always said "our show" when talking to
the neighbors. When the show was referred to at home it was "Alfred's
show."

Costumes were the perplexity of Alfred. He desired "purty" clothes: it
made the acting look better.

Lin added: "Purty duds makes a lot in a show, or in meetin'," meanwhile
looking mischievously at the mother. She said to Alfred: "Ye've got a
tolerable good start fur as ye're concerned yerself, with the two suits
ye fetched hum lately--the soldier suit Lacy Hare and Aunt Betsy made ye
an' the one Mrs. Young lent ye."

Morg Gaskill had requested the return of the latter mentioned garments
but Alfred's climbing of fences, running through briar patches and
dangling out of milk wagons had pretty well used the garments up. The
mother therefore in return sent similar garments.

Alfred insisted that the unmentionables Mrs. Young loaned him should be
the basis of his clown suit. Although Alfred has worn many grotesque
costumes since, none ever more strongly appealed to the risibilities of
an audience than did those same garments. Lin said they were "the
funniest fit she ever seed an' she wondered to gawd who they ever wuz
made fer. Two meal sacks fastened together would fit jes' as well."

The show passed off as amateur shows generally do, with a great many
hitches, accidents and quarrels. The night was a stormy one, without and
within. The audience all came early and stood around the kitchen stove
while Alfred and the other performers robed themselves, for there were
no dressing rooms. Lin commanded the audience to turn their faces and
look toward the stove while the actors were dressing.

The audience were compelled to go through the kitchen to gain entrance
to the place of exhibition, the cellar. On Lin would fall the labor of
cleaning up next day; therefore, as each auditor appeared at the kitchen
door, Lin shouted: "Wipe yer feet 'fore ye come in."

That the show might go on without hindrance, or for some other reason,
the father and mother visited a neighbor that night. This was a great
relief to Alfred and Lin.

Lin said: "Ef Mary ever sees this kitchen afore I git at it in the
mornin' she'll hev a fit of the conniptions."

The show was very unsatisfactory to Alfred. He was dissatisfied with his
company and declared they "couldn't do nuthin'." One or two weakened at
the last moment. When looked for to take their place in the ring they
were found seated or standing among the audience and no persuasion from
the manager or the audience could induce them to go on with their part
of the performance. This was exasperating to Alfred. He either enacted
their roles or explained the part they were expected to perform.

Lin went wild over his impersonations of Daniel Boone, Santa Anna and
Davy Crockett. Lin said: "I tell ye what, Lacy Hare's soldier suit come
in jes' right."

Young Bill Colvin, a nephew of Uncle Joe's neighbor, was seated near the
ringside. He plucked at one of the epaulets while Davy Crockett was
supposed to be holding the cabin door against the wolves. This ruffled
the temper of Davy to such an extent that he smote Bill. Bill smote
back. Over and over they rolled on the cellar floor. Davy might have
been a mighty man pitted against the wolves, but Bill Colvin was getting
the better of him until Lin rushed to the rescue.

Parting the combatants, young Colvin was rushed to the door, flung half
way across the street by Lin and the door slammed in his face. Lin was
more loudly applauded than any other part of the show.

She made a speech:

"Ef there's any other freckled faced willun here thet's goin' to do
anythin' to bust up this show, now's the time fer 'em to wade in while
I'm het up. Huh, Bill Colvin thinks caus' his daddy's rich he kin do
anythin' he wants to, but he'll find he's up agin a stump when he starts
a fuss in this shanty."

Lin's sunny disposition was rarely crossed by shadows, but she was
terribly angry and the best of order was maintained for the remainder of
the evening.

Although there was no visible evidence of the mud and dirt tracked into
the kitchen by the audience, the next morning the mother forever put the
ban on future shows in so far as the cellar or kitchen were concerned.

Lin had constructed a rude candelabra after the style of the one in the
circus. It was left hanging in the cellar. Lin lit them up when Aunt
Betsy came on Saturday to show her how "purty" they were. Afterwards, in
the absence of Lin, the mother confidentially imparted the information
to Aunt Betsy that "Lin was crazier over such things than Alfred, and it
was pretty much all her doings."

* * * * *

Lin had been busy for weeks, in fact, ever since the show in the cellar,
patching, sewing, and putting together old rag carpet, canvas, heavy
with paint, that had been ripped from the hurricane deck of an old
steamboat.

Alfred was to give another show, this time on Jeffries' Commons and
under canvas, or rather, inside of canvas. Since the night the side wall
fell as Dr. Playford and he were leaving the tent, the boy had been
revolving this plan in his mind. He felt certain he could collect, with
the aid of the boys, sufficient material to encircle the ring which had
been long constructed and used to practice in. A center pole with side
poles planted in the ground like fence posts. A top for the tent was out
of the question but nearly sufficient material had been collected to
encircle the poles, making a sidewall nearly ten feet high.

Lin had announced the price of admission at one cent and had so
extensively advertised the show by word of mouth that the children were
already visiting Alfred's home to buy tickets of admission. This
aggravated the mother more greatly than even the cellar show. The mother
feared the neighbors would think that she was interested in the show,
financially.

Lin said: "Let 'em think what they durn please. Some of 'em's in a
mighty big hurry to pay fur their tickets. Ef they'd pay back the
saleratus, salt, sugar, tea, coffee, an' sich they've borryed from us
we'd be better off. But some peepul will spend money quicker fer fun
than they will fer vittles or religion."

It was the night before the show. A consultation was held in the tent
between Alfred and his aids. There was an opening of at least ten feet
in length in the side of the tent and no canvas or other material to
close it up. Turkey Evans had brought the last strip of an old rag
carpet he had taken surreptitiously from an unused room of his home. The
two old quilts Tom White had stolen from Betsy Smart were in place with
half moons, hearts, diamonds, and sunflowers worked on them in raised
figures. They gave the tent the appearance of an Indian tepee.

Win Scott had contributed all the coffee, grain or salt sacks he could
secure by rummaging every building on Stable Street. Some of the boys
had even appropriated the aprons worn by Nimrod Potts, the shoemaker. As
Mr. Potts was of goodly size the two aprons from his shop went a long
ways toward making a partition between the tent and the dressing room.
Spliced to the bed tick Bindley Livingston had thrown out of the third
story window of his father's house, the aprons closed up the opening
completely.

But the big opening near the door was still a gaping void. After all had
confessed to their inability to furnish another yard of material, Alfred
advised that in the garret of his grandfather's home there was a large
cedar chest filled with whitest linen, three pieces of which would close
up the opening but he knew grandpap would not let him take it "caus' he
was a Baptis' and agin shows."

Win Scott argued that it would be no harm to take the linen. The fact
that it had lain there unused was proof positive they would never miss
it. Just as soon as the show was over they would take it back and no one
would ever know it but themselves.

Alfred being entirely familiar with grandfather's house it was planned
he should creep upstairs, open a window and throw sufficient of the
linen out of the garret into old man Morehouse's back yard where the
others would station themselves, carry the linen to the old school house
and secrete it until the following morning.

Alfred's limbs trembled so he could scarcely stand as he opened the back
door of the big stone house. Up the long flight of stairs he crept, the
creaking of a loose board startling him so he nearly fainted. Although
not a light burned in that part of the house, so familiar was he with
its interior that he had no difficulty in finding his way.

As he reached the top of the stairs leading to the garret, still on
hands and knees, the old furniture, odds and ends piled around
indiscriminately, took on the grotesqueness of imps, demons and other
fantastic figures. So wrought up was his imagination that nothing but
the fear of ridicule from his confederates forced him on. Crawling along
the dirty, sooty, begrimed floor, he soon located the old cedar chest.

Raising the lid, the aroma of camphor and rose leaves nearly overcame
him. Even in the dark he could discern the folds of whitest linen.
Counting out five pieces, he tiptoed to the window. With the signal--a
soft whistle--down floated the first sheet, caught by one of the boys
ere it touched the ground. The next sheet hit the brick pavement with a
thud. Partly unfolding the next two Alfred followed their fluttering
course to the earth with his gaze. He could see the white objects moving
off like specters floating through space.

They appeared so ghost-like the sight almost paralyzed him. Shaking with
nervousness, the last sheet left his hands accidently catching on the
window fastening. It spread out like a great, white bird with flapping
wings and slowly fluttered to the earth.

A door opened below. Alfred nearly collapsed. Tip-toeing across the room
he stumbled over an object on the floor causing a great racket. Falling
on the floor he crawled behind a number of old quilting frames and lay
there ever so quiet expecting momentarily to hear some of the family
ascending the stairs.

Crawling slowly to the stairs he softly descended, opened the door and
shot out into the darkness of the night. The perspiration streaming down
his face. Wiping it away with his soot begrimed hands, so blackened his
countenance his companions scarcely recognized him when he reached the
rendezvous, the old school-house on the commons.

When the last sheet fluttered down from the garret, Win Scott stepped
under it. Tommy Morehouse's back door opened. With the sheet fluttering
about him, Scott ran down the garden path and out through the barn into
Stable Street.

Nearly opposite the stable from which he had just emerged was the big
stable of the Marshall House, a tavern kept by Isaac Vance, the uncle of
Ike Stribeg, the afterwards noted circus agent.

Baggy Allison and Hughey Boggs, characters of the town, were seated on a
bench outside the door of the big stable. Scott, pulling the sheet more
closely about him and waving his arms wildly, quickly crossed the street
towards the two worthies, thinking to have some fun with them. Both
caught sight of him at the same instant. One corner of the sheet,
fluttering high in the air, it certainly was a skittish looking object
that floated down upon the two superstitious men. Over went the bench, a
chair or two, Allison stepped in a tin pail as he arose, his foot
entangled in it. The clattering of Baggy's foot in the pail added ten
fold to the terror of Hughey. He swore afterwards he could feel the
clutch of the long, bony fingers of the ghost on his neck.

[Illustration: He Could Feel the Clutch of Long, Bony Fingers on Him]

The hostlers flew, both trying to enter the narrow door of the tavern.
Wedged in the doorway, each thought the other holding him. Fighting,
cussing, scratching, they were pulled into the big tap room filled with
guests. All imagined the two hostlers were fighting and endeavored to
separate them.

Baggy Allison was very slow of speech; Hughey Boggs stuttered painfully.
After they were separated they kept up their clawing and waving.

Baggy, pointing toward the stable, blurted out: "Ghost! Ghost! Ghost
after us! Ketch it! Ketch it!"

Hughey stuttering more terribly, owing to his fright had, only got to
"Gh--gh--gh--gh," when Baggy had finished explaining the cause of their
fright.

Bud Beckley, old Johnny Holmes and Jim Hubbs, the town constable, were
the first to run towards the stable, but nothing was to be seen in any
direction. Baggy and Hughey were unmercifully scored for their
cowardice, and were ridiculed for days afterward.

Win Scott was as badly frightened as the two hostlers. The flight of the
men caused him to redouble his speed. On down Stable Street to
Playford's Alley, out along the high stone wall enclosing Nelson
Bowman's castle, on to Jeffries' Commons, formerly an old graveyard.

Here, according to report, the spook sank into a sunken grave. Albert
Baker's mother saw the apparition as did Sammy Honesty, one of Bowman's
servants.

* * * * *

Saturday morning, the day of the show, was one of those days that nature
often bestows on Brownsville: not the fleck of a floating cloud in the
firmament above. Even the winds slept that they might not ruffle the
tranquility of the scene or Alfred's tent.

Lin was greatly disturbed over the opening in the tent. She declared:
"Every dadratted, stingy critter in the neighborhood would jes' stan'
outside and peek in fer nuthin'; and jes' to think, we got all the other
places kivered only that plague-goned old hole right by the door."

When Win Scott arrived with the white linen sheets, Lin was greatly
surprised. She feared they were not come by honestly. The boys assured
her they had borrowed them, promising to return them as good as they
came.

Lin was finally persuaded to tack and sew the sheets on the tent. When
completed, she surveyed her work for a moment and said: "We're all
hun-ki-dora now"--a slang phrase in those days signifying "all right."

Jeffries Commons swarmed with children. So impatient was Alfred to open
the circus that he refused to eat dinner. Lin fetched him a pie which he
devoured as he worked.

Win Scott was the door-keeper and treasurer. Lin had a wordy war with
the treasurer soon after the doors opened. Willie Shuman, who was lame,
wanted to sit on the treasurer's seat, a soap box near the main
entrance. Win objected solely on the grounds that real shows did not
permit patrons to sit where they pleased but made them stand around. Lin
secured another soap box and Willie was given the kind of seat he
desired "up high," as Lin expressed it, "so nobody could stan' in front
of him."

Lin insisted on counting the receipts several times while the audience
was assembling and when they reached sixty-eight cents, she concluded it
was too much money to entrust to any one connected with the show.
Emptying the pennies in her pocket, she pinned it up, remarking: "Ef
there's no trouble comes up about them there new linen sheets, we'll
give another show tonight. I hev all the lights hangin' in the cellar
ready."

The ghost seen the night before had been the talk of the town and that
it disappeared on the old commons near the tent was whispered about
among those in attendance at Alfred's show. Lin heard whispers of the
reports and somehow she could not entirely dispossess her mind of the
idea that the new linen sheets were connected in some way with the
ghosts. However, so deeply interested was she in the manifold duties she
had imposed upon herself that ghosts and linen sheets were, for the
time, forgotten.

Sitting on a soap box holding two children on her lap, so they could see
it all, Lin was calling on Alfred to come back into the ring and repeat
a twisting about trick he had just performed. Lin said the children
wanted to see him do it "agin."

Encores were numerous from Lin, no matter whether the major portion of
the audience desired them or not; if the children expressed a wish to
see any feat repeated Lin simply commanded that it be done and if the
performer hesitated to take a recall, Lin sat the children off her lap
and marched the performer out and compelled him to comply with the
children's wishes.

Although it was balmy spring, there was a tinge of chill in the air that
touched one. Many of the boys were compelled to undress to don their
costumes, and Joe Sandford's costume especially was not conducive to
comfort and warmth.

Alfred had strongly impressed it upon all who participated in the
performance that they must have real show clothes. Many and surprising
were the costumes. Tom White's father had been a member of the Sons of
Malta. Young White wore his father's regalia, a cross between the
make-up of Captain Kidd and Rip Van Winkle.

Joe Sanford's costume made Alfred slightly jealous. Lin had trimmed the
garments loaned Alfred by Mrs. Young. She had made him a body dress from
an old patch quilt, the figures worked in yellow and red. Yet the colors
were not as bright as those in the costume of Joe.

It was spring time, house-cleaning and wall-papering time. Mrs. Sanford,
being of an inventive turn of mind, collected the wall paper scraps,
particularly the red border paper. Fashioning a suit out of the paper,
she pasted it together. The costume was after the style of Napoleon, as
we have seen him in pictures. Joe was without clothing of any kind
except the pasty wall paper suit, stripes on the trousers running up and
down and on the jacket encircling. As Joe walked about the dressing room
to keep warm the paper suit rustled and swished. He was the admiration
of all the performers.

Although Joe was not to appear until later he insisted that he be
permitted to perform his feats at once, that he was almost frozen. Lin
was advised of this fact and said: "Oh, well, let him do his showin'. Ef
he ketched cold he would hev the tisic, (phthysic)." Joe was subject to
this affliction.

Joe's part of the performance was hanging on a horizontal pole a little
higher than his head, skinning the cat, then sitting upright on the bar,
clasping his knees with his hands, revolve around the pole. Joe had
performed this feat a thousand times. But he had never attempted it in a
show costume constructed of wall paper.

[Illustration: Joe's Wall Paper Duds]

The wall-paper suit began to give along the pasted seams even while Joe
was skinning the cat. Lin said afterwards: "He was so durned skeered and
a wheezin' with the tisic he didn't know whether he was a-foot or
a-horseback. I seed the rips openin' every time he stirred."

Joe was evidently uncertain as to the strength of his show clothes.
Despite a parting of seams he squirmed upon the horizontal bar, gripped
his knees with his hands. Thus doubled up the strain on the wall paper
was greater than ever. Joe ducked his head forward. The first
revolution, the greater part of the wall paper suit was scattered over
the saw-dust ring. Joe started on the second revolution but when he got
under the bar he hung there swinging backwards and forwards. Lin said:
"He jus' clung thar doubled up like a toy monkey on a stick, jus'
swinging like the pendulum of a stoppin' clock."

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