PERFORMING FLEAS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 26, 27 June 1891, Page 103

PERFORMING FLEAS.

•SOME SKETCHES AT AN AQUARIUM SIDE SHOW. !IHROFESSOR STLT ART is the gentleman’s name—another Professor—and flea-training is his profession. He occupies a dainty little theatre of red and white calico at the Royal Aquarium. On the board without is pasted a bill on which the tricks of the fleas are illustrated. It is not at all curious that the Professor’s patrons move in the higher circles of society ; at any rate it is a fact. The plebs say they have lots of them at home, and pass along to less familiar attractions. The higher circles say they never saw one before, and cry ‘ How curious 1’ This curiosity is probably what Mr William Sloggins (now languishing in Pentonville) called ‘ a bloomin’ fairy tale,’ referring to the statement of his wife that the

‘ kids was starvin’, and that it was a shame to give the beef-steak to the dog. But ‘ curious ’ is the expression all these bloods use. Sir William Harcourt dropped in to see the fleas one day, and watched the active little tilings go through their manoeuvres with suppressed gusto. He did not say he had never seen one before, but at every jump a smile suffused his countenance and he said ‘ Curious, very curious.’ Then as he was walking away lie was heard to mutter, ‘ Ah ! me, what a lesson in jumping !’ Now as to these mameuvres, which so pleased Sir William. These fleas—the troupe comprises about fifteen like a football team (they are all chained, ladies, so squirm not) —are highly intelligent members of the Pulex family, who fire guns, draw hansoms, walk tight ropes, and perform other evolutions without a murmur. ‘This particular flea ’ said the Professor, ‘ comes from a lodging house at Bright— ’ I stopped the Professor, and said I was a pressman and knew

better. ‘ Brighton,’ I said ‘ is much too voguish to hatch fleas.’ ‘Well, to tell you the truth,’ returned the fleatrainer, seeing that 1 would stand no gammon about Brighton—Margate would have been a different thing altogether— • when I want a flea I give a shoeblack a shilling and he brings me a bottleful.’ ‘ Why a shoeblack, Professor?’ ‘Shoeblacks are always open to an honest job. I can’t tell you why. I suppose ’ — very pensively—* because they’re always brushing dirt away, and it exercises a healthy moral influence upon them.’ * But still, Professor, they use a good deal of blacking in the practice of their profession.’ ‘Well, it’s no use arguing.

Mister. It’s as I say. Shoeblacks are above suspicion, anti when I give them a shilling I get my money's worth of the article required in return.’ * And where may the shoeblacks go to.’ ‘ They have their happy hunting grounds — and that's enough. lamof a secretive nature. Excuse me, but I see some—yes’—and here the Professor put out his finger ami his thumb, and approached my coat with the eager subtlety of a Sitting Bull on the war path. He then applied the magnifying glass, and with a look of disgust exclaimed, ‘ It’s not one of my sort. It's from a dog.’ ‘ How curious!’ 1 retorted, echoing Sir William. Having been relieved of my burden, I asked the Professor why not a doggy flea. ‘ Because they are too wild, ami they sigh so for their old home that they launguish ami die.’ ‘Of a broken heart, I suppose?’ The Professor sighed, and began

to tell me how he trained his little pets. ‘ The great difficulty,’ he went on, ‘is to prevent their jumping. The first thing I do is to yoke them with this tiny chain of drawn wire, and then give them their own sweet way. They soon tire, and then I attach them to their own particular vehicle. We begin business at about one in the afternoon. They are all in and ready to perform at that hour, and are kept in harness till about ten. I then put them into their little beds, as the song says, and carry them home. I then unyoke them leaving the chains on. They are quite attached to them, I can assure you, and coil up in the coiners of their little dwelling-houses—flannel—and sleep after theirlabours. Every other night or so I take the chains oil’, too.’ ‘And dinner?’— * Here it is,’ answered the Professor. The Professor bared his arm.— Pall Mall Budget.