This circus that's advertised to show and furnish a little

Hear the words of Wild Bill Hickok, frontiersman and legend of the American West, who declared with rough sincerity: “This circus that’s advertised to show and furnish a little amusement for us heathens is owned by a woman, one whose pluck catches my sympathy every time.” In this line, we glimpse not only the grit of a gunfighter, but the heart of a man who recognized courage when he saw it—especially in those whom society often overlooked. Hickok, famed for his pistols and his restless wandering, paused here to honor pluck—that unyielding spirit of determination—embodied in a woman who dared to run a business in an age that seldom welcomed such boldness.

The meaning of his words shines through the dust of history. A circus, meant to amuse the rough folk of frontier towns—the so-called “heathens”—was no small enterprise. To own and operate such a venture demanded not only imagination, but resilience, for the frontier was a harsh stage, unforgiving to weakness. Hickok saw that while many men faltered, here was a woman who stood her ground with daring, meeting risk with courage. And it was this pluck, this fearless tenacity, that won his sympathy and admiration.

The ancients, too, knew the power of such courage. Consider the story of Artemisia of Caria, the warrior queen who commanded ships in the Battle of Salamis. The men of Greece mocked the notion of a woman at the helm, but when the battle raged, she maneuvered with brilliance, and even her enemies praised her. Like the circus woman in Hickok’s tale, Artemisia defied expectation and won respect not by words alone, but by deeds. Pluck, whether on the sea or the frontier, shines the same across all ages.

History offers another mirror in the life of Harriet Tubman, who, though born enslaved, refused to bow to despair. With unyielding resolve, she returned again and again through danger, leading her people to freedom along the Underground Railroad. The world was filled with men who doubted, who hesitated, who sought safety. Yet her courage lit the way. Hickok’s admiration for boldness echoes this timeless truth: when the spirit of pluck arises in the face of hardship, it demands respect, whether from gunfighters, kings, or common folk.

The lesson here is powerful: strength does not always wear the garments of the warrior, nor does courage always stand with sword in hand. Sometimes it runs a circus, sometimes it steers a ship, sometimes it guides others through the night. The measure of greatness lies not in titles, but in the unyielding heart that dares to act when others shrink away. Hickok, hardened by a life of violence and survival, recognized that this kind of bravery was worth honoring above all.

Practical action follows: in your own life, seek out those whose pluck inspires you, and give them your admiration and support. When you see someone striving against the tide, whether in small labors or grand battles, do not dismiss them—encourage them, honor their courage, learn from their resolve. And when trials come upon you, remember that greatness does not require fame or renown. It requires only the spirit to stand, to endure, and to move forward when others fall behind.

So let Hickok’s words endure as more than a passing remark. In his rough frontier tongue, he teaches us that pluck is a jewel, and those who bear it, no matter their station, are worthy of our sympathy and respect. Let us then live so that we, too, may be counted among the plucky—those who stand undaunted, who strive against odds, and whose courage lights the way for others in the wilderness of life.