The Kentucky Gazette

The circus was coming to town on Thursday, and of course all juvenile Lexingtonians were in a ferment of excitement to witness the procession, and the feats of the clown and acrobats in the ring. Unfortunately Thursday was a school-day, and grim masters of the ferule frowned and threatened and it looked as if the circus must come and go without the patronage of the school-children. To put the matter beyond the possibility of a holiday, the new School Committee for the city schools notified the Mayor that on Thursday they would visit the various schools to see how they were prospering. His Honor the Mayor, though, thought that he would give the Principals warning of the coming of the Committee, and for this purpose, despatched an urchin of his acquaintance to give the information. It was an errand fraught with infinite sorrow to the bearer as well as to hundreds of other children who had their hearts set upon seeing the circus. As the messenger proceeded on his painful errand, a bright thought struck him—what if he should tell the Principals, not that the Committee was coming, but that the circus was, and that the Mayor wished the schools closed for the day. The thought was too fascinating for resistance, and the message as amended was delivered in due form, and great was the rejoicing among the children, and they went off with a shout. The dignified and highly respectable gentlemen of the School Committee assembled at the appointed hour, and in grave procession proceeded to the school-house. In answer to repeated raps, no other response was made but an echo from empty halls, and this was repeated at each school-house in succession. The astonished committeemen were slightly disgusted with the state of affairs, and could not comprehend the situation until the Mayor, all breathless, came up and made an explanation, when the gentlemen of the committee enjoyed a hearty laugh at the shrewdness of the little rascal who had put a stop to their investigations for that day at least.