The result of these arrangements may be imagined; at every station crowds of people came to the cars to see the whales which were travelling by land to Barnum's Museum, and those who did not see the monsters with their own eyes, at least saw some one who had seen them, and thus was secured a tremendous advertisement, seven hundred miles long, for the American Museum.

Arrived in New York, dispatches continued to come from the whaling expedition every few hours. These were bulletined in front of the Museum and copies sent to the papers. The excitement was intense, and, when at last, these marine monsters arrived and were swimming in the tank that had been prepared for them, anxious thousands literally rushed to see the strangest curiosities ever exhibited in New York.

Barnum's first whaling expedition was thus a great success. Unfortunately he did not know how to feed or take care of the animals. A supply of salt water could not be obtained, so they were put into fresh water artificially salted, and this did not agree with them. The basement of the Museum building was also poorly ventilated and the air was unwholesome. As the result of these circumstances the whales died within a week, although not until they had been seen by thousands of people. Barnum immediately resolved to try again. In order to secure a better home for his pets, he laid an iron pipe under the streets of the city, from his Museum clear out into New York bay. Through this, by means of a steam-engine, he was able to secure a constant supply of genuine sea-water. In order that the whales should have good air to breathe, he constructed for them another tank on the second floor of the Museum building. This tank had a floor of slate, and the sides were made of French plate-glass, in huge pieces six feet long, five feet wide, and one inch thick. These plates were imported by Barnum expressly for the purpose. The tank was twenty-four feet square. Two more white whales were soon caught in the same manner as before, and were conveyed in a ship to Quebec and thence by rail to New York.

Barnum was always proud of this enterprise, and it yielded him handsome profits. The second pair of whales, however, soon died. Barnum remarked that their sudden and immense popularity was too much for them. But a third pair was quickly secured to take their place. Envious and hostile critics declared that they were not whales at all, but only porpoises, but this did no harm. Indeed, Barnum might well have paid them to start these malicious reports, for much good advertising was thereby secured. The illustrious Agassiz was appealed to. He came to see the animals, gave Barnum a certificate that they were genuine white whales, and this document was published far and wide.

The manner in which the showman advertised his curiosities may be seen from the following, taken from one of the daily papers of the time:

BARNUM'S AMERICAN MUSEUM. ——After months of unwearied labor, and spending NEARLY TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS NEARLY TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS NEARLY TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS

in capturing and transporting them from that part of the Gulf of St. Lawrence nearest Labrador, the Manager is enabled to offer his visitors

TWO LIVING WHALES, TWO LIVING WHALES, TWO LIVING WHALES, TWO LIVING WHALES, TWO LIVING WHALES, TWO LIVING WHALES,

a male and a female. Everybody has heard of WHALES

IN NURSERY TALES and "SAILOR'S YARNS," IN NURSERY TALES and "SAILOR'S YARNS,"

everybody has read of WHALES in story, song, and history, and everybody

WANTS TO SEE A WHALE, WANTS TO SEE A WHALE, WANTS TO SEE A WHALE, WANTS TO SEE A WHALE,

and now they have the opportunity. Barnum has

CAPTURED TWO OF THE LEVIATHANS, CAPTURED TWO OF THE LEVIATHANS, CAPTURED TWO OF THE LEVIATHANS,

has built a small ocean in his Museum, filled it from the briny deep, and there

THE TWO LIVING WHALES, THE TWO LIVING WHALES, THE TWO LIVING WHALES, THE TWO LIVING WHALES,

measuring respectively fifteen and twenty feet in length, may be seen at all hours sporting in their native element. Who will miss the opportunity of seeing them? Another may not offer in a lifetime. Embrace this ere it be too late. See Mr. Barnum's card below.

LAST TWO DAYS OF WILLIAM TILLMAN AND WILLIAM STEDDING,

The Colored Steward and German Sailor of the

SCHOONER S. J. WARING,

Who slew three of the piratical prize crew, and rescued themselves and the vessel from their power.

WHAT IS IT? OR, MAN MONKEY.

MADAGASCAR ALBINOS, PURE WHITE NEGROES, OR MOORS. SEA LION, MAMMOTH BEAR SAMSON, with a variety of other living Bears; MONSTER SNAKES, AQUARIA, HAPPY FAMILY, LIVING SEAL, WAX FIGURES, &c.

In the Lecture-Room, a great Dramatic Novelty is offered,

EMBRACING FARCE, VAUDEVILLE and BURLETTA, with a brilliant and talented company, including LITTLE LOLA, THE INFANT WONDER,

Mr. and Mrs. C. B. REYNOLDS;

Miss DORA DAWRON, DOUBLE-VOICED SINGER, LA PETITE ADDIE LE BRUN,

The favorite Juvenile Danseuse, always popular.

MARIE; THE CHILD OF SORROW,

With a laughable farce, every day at 3 and 7 3/4 o'clock. Admission to all, 25 cents; Children under 10, 15 cents. ——————————————————————————————-A CARD FROM P. T. BARNUM.—LIVING WHALES on exhibition.—Having learned from fishermen and eminent naturalists, including the written statement of the celebrated Prof. Agassiz, that the White Whale could be found in that portion of the Gulf of St. Lawrence nearest to Labrador, I made a journey there in June last, accompanied by my agent. I remained there a fortnight, and made every arrangement for capturing and keeping alive two of these monsters. This arrangement included the service of thirty-five men, beside my special agent. I then returned and had erected in the Museum a reservoir fifty feet in length and twenty-five feet in width, in which was placed sea-water, and arrangements made for a continual fresh supply. I also made arrangements with steamers and railroads to convey these leviathans to New York at the fastest possible speed, without regard to the expense.

I am highly gratified in being able to assure the public that they have arrived safe and well, a MALE and FEMALE, from 15 to 20 feet long, and are now swimming in the miniature ocean in my Museum, to the delight of visitors. As it is very doubtful whether these wonderful creatures can be kept alive more than a few days, the public will see the importance of seizing the first moment to see them. P. T. BARNUM.

AMERICAN MUSEUM, Thursday, August 8, 1861.

"A real live whale," said an editorial writer in the New York Tribune of that date, "is as great a curiosity as a live lord or prince, being much more difficult to catch, and far more wonderful in its appearance and habits. After all people are people, and have much the same ways of feeling and doing. But when we get among the whales, we catch glimpses of a new and neat thing in nose, recall the narrative of Jonah without throwing a shadow of a doubt upon its authenticity, and appreciate keenly the difficulties with which mermaid society must have to contend.

"We owe the presence of two whales in our midst to the enterprise of Mr. P. T. Barnum. He has had them in tow for a long while, but has kept his secret well, and it was not until his own special whaler telegraphed from Troy that he had come so far into the bowels of the earth with his submarine charge, and all well, that he felt warranted in whispering whale to the public. The public was delighted, but not surprised, because it feels that the genius that is equal to a What Is It is also equal to the biggest thing, and would experience no unusual thrill of wonder if a real iceberg, or a section of the identical North Pole, should be announced on the bills of the Museum.

"But flocks of the public sought the Museum yesterday, and were not disappointed. They saw not, as Polonius, something 'very like a whale,' but the original animal in its original element. The bears, and the anacondas, the hatchet, and the seal, sank into merited insignificance, although they will have their day again if the whales should expire. The transfer of the fish was neatly effected. They travelled the whole distance in first-class hermetical boxes, filled with water and thickly lined with seaweed, and were landed, if the expression may be used, in the new and excellent tank provided for them in the basement of the Museum. This tank is fifty feet deep and twenty-five in width, has seven feet of sea-water in it, and seems to suit the whales eminently. Mr. Barnum has fears that the pets will have but a brief, if brilliant, career, in their new quarters, but we prefer to predict for them a long and happy one.

"These are white whales, and were taken near the Labrador coast by a crew of thirty-five men. The largest has attained the extreme size reached by this species, and is about 22 feet long; the other is 18 feet long. Their form and motion are graceful, and their silver backs and bellies show brightly through the water. A long-continued intimacy has endeared them to each other, and they go about quite like a pair of whispering lovers, blowing off their mutual admiration in a very emphatic manner. Just at present they are principally engaged in throwing their eyes around the premises, and pay small attention to visitors, upon whom, indeed, the narrative of Jonah has a strong hold. And yet neither of these whales could make a single mouthful of a man of ordinary size. Even if one of them should succeed in swallowing a man, he could just stand up with the whale, and make it, at least, as uncomfortable as himself.

"Here is a real 'sensation.' We do not believe the enterprise of Mr. Barnum will stop at white whales. It will embrace sperm whales and mermaids, and all strange things that swim or fly or crawl, until the Museum will become one vast microcosm of the animal creation. A quarter seems positively contemptible weighed against such a treat."

And this was the public tribute, from the same pen, to the first of the cetaceans that died through too much publicity:

"The community was shocked to hear of the death of one of Barnum's whales yesterday morning. Death apparently loves a shining mark. It seems but yesterday—in fact it was the day before—we gazed upon the youthful form, instinct with life, and looking forward to a useful and pleasant career. The whale shared not the forebodings of its friends. Mr. Barnum was possessed with a strange presentiment of calamity, and summoned the public to either a house of mourning or a house of joy, he knew not which, but at all events to be quick. At daybreak, we believe, the great natural curiosity passed away.

"The blow is a severe one. To Mr. Barnum it must be a shocking reminder of the emptiness of all human plans. Enterprise, liberal expenditure, courage—what are they all before the fell destroyer? Even whales have their time to sink and rise no more. To the dear companion of all the joys and sorrows of the troubled life of the deceased the bereavement must be sore indeed. Delicacy forbids that we should lay bare such sorrows. No twenty-five cent ticket should admit to them, including the lecture-room. Such as witnessed the tender endearments between these white whales, and saw how they had hearts that beat as one, and how they were not happy when they were not pretty near each other in the tank, may, perhaps, realize the anguish of their separation. We are not surprised to learn, indeed, that the affliction has borne so heavily upon the survivor that there may be tidings at any moment of the flight of its spirit also. May both whales meet again in the open seas of immortality! The loss of the public is great, although not irreparable. The world moves on, and many natural curiosities remain to fill up the gaps caused by death. Mr. Barnum's spirit, although saddened, is not broken. He sees the objects of his care and best management snatched from him, and yet he announces that he will immediately send on for two more whales of the same sort. We shall soon forget the lost whales in contemplation of the new. Such is life, it is well known.

"The decease may be attributed in a great measure to bear. It is true that there might have been something injurious to the health of the fish in a long overland journey. 'A fish out of water' is a case that tries the utmost skill of the faculty. If a man were confined in the most comfortable of water-tight boxes and carried, under the care of a special agent, hundreds of miles beneath the water, we should not be startled to hear that his constitution was much shattered at the end of the journey. And yet we are more encouraged to think that the whale owed his death to other causes than the overland transportation, because the sea lion does so well, and the fishes in the aquaria appear to be so hearty and contented. To bear, then, we must attribute our loss. This animal abounded in the basement where the tank is, and whether through jealousy of the fame of the new-comers, or through some settled antipathy between flesh and fish, or simply through his natural beastliness, he communicated effluvia to the atmosphere that were perfectly unendurable by whale, which promptly expired from want of good breath.

"This agent of destruction will be removed from the premises before the next whales arrive, and suitable measures will be taken to guard against such a mournful catastrophe. There is a whale in Boston whose health is so good that it never requires medical attendance.

"The deceased was about sixty years of age. It bore an excellent character. Its patience and sweet disposition under the most trying circumstances will long be remembered. The remains, weighing not less than twenty-six hundred pounds, will be suitably disposed off. While the public mourns it may also console itself with the reflection that there are plenty more where it came from, and that the energy of Barnum is not to be abated by any of the common disasters of life, and may hopefully anticipate a speedy announcement of an entirely new whale. Vale! Vale!"

The tank in the basement of the Museum was now devoted to a yet more interesting exhibition. On August 12, 1861, Barnum placed in it the first live hippopotamus that had ever been seen in America. The brute was advertised most extensively and ingeniously as "the great behemoth of the Scriptures," and thousands of scientific men, biblical students, clergymen and others, besides the great host of the common people, flocked to see it. There was fully as much excitement in New York over this wonder in the animal creation as there was in London when the first hippopotamus was placed in the Regent's Park "Zoo."

Barnum began by advertising that the animal was on exhibition for a short time only. Then he announced the "last week" of the novel show. Then, "by special request," another week was added. And thus the "last week of the hippopotamus" was prolonged through many months. The following is a fair sample of the advertisements with which the daily papers literally teemed:

BARNUM'S MUSEUM ——SECOND WEEK OF THAT WONDERFUL LIVING HIPPOPOTAMUS,

FROM THE RIVER NILE IN EGYPT THE GREAT BEHEMOTH OF THE SCRIPTURES AND THE MARVEL OF THE ANIMAL KINGDOM.

The history of this animal is full of interest, and to every class, especially the educated and intelligent, but above all to the biblical student, who has read with interest the glowing description of

THE GREAT BEHEMOTH

in the Book of Job. He is strictly an

AMPHIBIOUS ANIMAL,

living in the water and out of it; under the water, or on the top of it, floats on its surface with perfect ease, or beneath the surface, midway between the top and the bottom. In their natural state these animals are wild and ferocious; though on the land, they are not very formidable, but when pursued they fly to the rivers,

DESCEND TO THE BOTTOM AND WALK ACROSS,

frequently appearing on the opposite side without the least indication of their course on the surface of the stream. If exasperated by assaults, in the water they are the most

FRIGHTFUL ANTAGONISTS,

their gigantic proportions and herculean strength, giving them power over every opposing force, frequently destroying whole boat-loads of men and their boats, crushing with their huge jaws everything that comes in their way. In the Museum the specimen here exhibited has an

ARTIFICIAL OCEAN OR RIVER,

where he is to be seen in all his natural peculiarities, floating on, and swiming beneath the surface, walking on the bottom several feet beneath, exhibiting, in short, all the peculiarities of his nature; and to perfect the scene, native

ARABIAN KEEPER, SALAAMA,

who is himself a curiosity as a specimen of that historic tribe of men, who exhibits all the stolidity and Arabian dignity of that Oriental race; the only man who can control or exhibit his hippopotamiship, is in constant attendance. They are both to be seen at all hours, DAY and EVENING.

This is the

FIRST AND ONLY REAL HIPPOPOTAMUS

ever seen in America. He is engaged at a cost of many thousand of dollars, and will remain

A SHORT TIME ONLY. A SHORT TIME ONLY.

Also just obtained at great expense, and now to be seen swimming in the large tank in the Aquarial Hall,

A LIVING SHARK,

beside a great variety of other living Fish, Turtles, &c., &c.

WHAT IS IT? OR, MAN MONKEY. SEA LION, MAMMOTH BEAR SAMSON, MONSTER SNAKES, AQUARIA, HAPPY FAMILY, LIVING SEAL, &c.

The Lecture-Room Entertainments embrace PETITE DRAMA, VAUDEVILLE, BURLETTA and FARCE. By a company of rare musical and dramatic talent. Miss DAWRON, DOUBLE-VOICED VOCALIST, Mlle. MATILDA E. TOEDT,

The Talented Young Violinist, &c.

Admission to all, 25 cents; Children under 10, 15 cents.

Nor did the monster fail to receive much other notice in the press. Said one writer: "Nothing discomfitted by the sudden death that overtook the gentle and loving whales, Mr. Barnum has again invested untold heaps of money in a tremendous water-monster. The great tank has again a tenant, and the great public have huge amphibious matter for their wonderment. The new curiosity comes to us staggering under the unwieldy name of Hippo-potamus. He is a comely gentleman, fair and beauteous to look upon; and the strange loveliness of his countenance cannot fail to captivate the crowd. His youth, too, gives him a special claim to the consideration of the ladies, for he is a little darling of only three years—a very baby of a hippopotamus in fact, who, only a few months ago, daily sucked his few gallons of lacteal nourishment from the fond bosom of mamma Hippo, at the bottom of some murmuring Egyptian river. The young gentleman is about as heavy as an ox, and gives you the idea that he is the result of the amalgamation of a horse, a cow, two pigs, a seal, a dozen India-rubber blankets, and an old-fashioned horse-hide covered trunk. Big as he is, unwieldy as he is, strange, uncouth, and monstrous as he is, he appears after all to be most mild and even-tempered. In truth, he is no more vicious than a good-natured muley cow; and if by chance he should hurt anybody, he would have to achieve it much in the same manner that such a cow would, by running against him, or rolling over upon him. So that the red-breeched individual, who so valiantly gets over the railing and stands by the side of young Hippo, doesn't, after all, do a deed of such superhuman daring, for all he does it with such an air of reckless sacrifice of self for the public good. The hippopotamus is certainly one of the most interesting and attractive of all the strange creatures ever yet caught by Mr. Barnum, and offered for the delectation of the paying public. He is well worth a visit, and an hour's inspection. He receives daily, from 9 A.M. to some time after dark."

Having now a good supply of salt water Barnum greatly enlarged his aquarium, which was the first show of the kind ever seen in America. He exhibited in it living sharks, porpoises, sea-horses and many rare fishes. For several seasons he kept a boat cruising the ocean in search of marine novelties. In this way he secured many of the beautiful angel fishes and others that never had been seen in New York before. He also purchased the Aquarial Gardens in Boston, and removed the entire collection to his Museum.

The story of another of Barnum's greatest hits must be told in his own words: "In December, 1861," he related, "I was visited at the Museum by a most remarkable dwarf, who was a sharp, intelligent little fellow, with a deal of drollery and wit. He had a splendid head, was perfectly formed, and was very attractive, and, in short, for a 'showman,' he was a perfect treasure. His name, he told me, was George Washington Morrison Nutt, and his father was Major Rodnia Nutt, a substantial farmer, of Manchester, New Hampshire. I was not long in dispatching an efficient agent to Manchester, and in overcoming the competition with other showmen who were equally eager to secure this extraordinary pigmy. The terms upon which I engaged him for three years were so large that he was christened the $30,000 Nutt; I, in the meantime, conferring upon him the title of Commodore. As soon as I engaged him, placards, posters and the columns of the newspapers proclaimed the presence of 'Commodore Nutt' at the Museum. I also procured for the Commodore a pair of Shetland ponies, miniature coachman and footman, in livery, gold-mounted harness, and an elegant little carriage, which, when closed, represented a gigantic English walnut. The little Commodore attracted great attention, and grew rapidly in public favor. General Tom Thumb was then travelling in the South and West. For some years he had not been exhibited in New York, and during these years he had increased considerably in rotundity and had changed much in his general appearance. It was a singular fact, however, that Commodore Nutt was almost a fac-simile of General Tom Thumb, as he looked half-a-dozen years before. Consequently, very many of my patrons, not making allowance for the time which had elapsed since they had last seen the General, declared that there was no such person as 'Commodore Nutt;' but that I was exhibiting my old friend Tom Thumb under a new name.

"Commodore Nutt enjoyed the joke very much. He would sometimes half admit the deception, simply to add to the bewilderment of the doubting portion of my visitors.

"It was evident that here was an opportunity to turn all doubts into hard cash, by simply bringing the two dwarf Dromios together, and showing them on the same platform. I therefore induced Tom Thumb to bring his Western engagements to a close, and to appear for four weeks, beginning with August 11, 1862, in my Museum. Announcements headed 'The Two Dromios,' and 'Two Smallest Men, and Greatest Curiosities Living,' as I expected, drew large crowds to see them, and many came especially to solve their doubts with regard to the genuineness of the 'Nutt.' But here I was considerably nonplussed, for, astonishing as it may seem, the doubts of many of the visitors were confirmed! The sharp people who were determined 'not to be humbugged, anyhow,' still declared that Commodore Nutt was General Tom Thumb, and that the little fellow whom I was trying to pass off as Tom Thumb, was no more like the General than he was like the man in the moon. It is very amusing to see how people will sometimes deceive themselves by being too incredulous.

"In 1862 I sent the Commodore to Washington, and, joining him there, I received an invitation from President Lincoln to call at the White House with my little friend. Arriving at the appointed hour, I was informed that the President was in a special Cabinet meeting, but that he had left word if I called to be shown in to him with the Commodore. These were dark days in the rebellion, and I felt that my visit, if not ill-timed, must at all events be brief. When we were admitted, Mr. Lincoln received us cordially, and introduced us to the members of the Cabinet. When Mr. Chase was introduced as the Secretary of the Treasury, the little Commodore remarked:

" 'I suppose you are the gentleman who is spending so much of Uncle Sam's money?'

" 'No, indeed,' said the Secretary of War, Mr. Stanton, very promptly; 'I am spending the money.'

" 'Well,' said Commodore Nutt, 'it is in a good cause, anyhow, and I guess it will come out all right.'

"His apt remark created much amusement. Mr. Lincoln then bent down his long, lank body, and taking Nutt by the hand, he said:

" 'Commodore, permit me to give you a parting word of advice. When you are in command of your fleet, if you find yourself in danger of being taken prisoner, I advise you to wade ashore.'

The Commodore found the laugh was against him, but placing himself at the side of the President, and gradually raising his eyes up the whole length of Mr. Lincoln's very long legs, he replied:

" 'I guess, Mr. President, you could do that better than I could.' "

In no place did extremes ever meet in a more practical sense than in the American Museum. Commodore Nutt was the shortest of men; and at the same time the Museum contained the tallest of women. Her name was Anna Swan, and she came from Nova Scotia. Barnum first heard of her through a Quaker, who was visiting the Museum. This visitor came to Barnum's office, and told him of a wonderful girl, only seventeen years old, who lived near him at Pictou. Barnum soon sent an agent up there, who brought the young lady back to New York. She was an intelligent girl, and, despite her enormous stature, was decidedly good-looking. For a long time she was a leading attraction at Barnum's Museum, and afterwards went to England and attracted great attention there.

For many years Barnum had been in the habit of engaging parties of American Indians from the far West to exhibit at the Museum. He had also sent several parties of them to Europe, where they were regarded as extraordinary curiosities.

In 1864 ten or twelve chiefs, of as many different tribes, visited the President of the United States, at Washington. By a pretty liberal outlay of money, Barnum succeeded in inducing the interpreter to bring them to New York, and to pass some days at the Museum. Of course, getting these Indians to dance, or to give any illustration of their games or pastimes, was out of the question. They were real chiefs of powerful tribes, and would no more have consented to give an exhibition of themselves than the chief magistrate of our own nation would have done. Their interpreter could not therefore promise that they would remain at the Museum for any definite time; "for," said he, "you can only keep them just so long as they suppose all your patrons come to pay them visits of honor. If they suspected that your Museum was a place where people paid for entering," he continued, "you could not keep them a moment after the discovery."

On their arrival at the Museum, therefore, Barnum took them upon the stage and personally introduced them to the public. The Indians liked this attention from him, as they had been informed that he was the proprietor of the great establishment in which they were invited and honored guests. His patrons were of course pleased to see these old chiefs, as they knew they were the "REAL thing," and several of them were known to the public, either as being friendly or cruel to the whites. After one or two appearances on the stage, Barnum took them in carriages and visited the Mayor of New York in the Governor's room at the City Hall. Here the Mayor made them a speech of welcome, which, being interpreted to the savages, was responded to by a speech from one of the chiefs, in which he thanked the "Great Father" of the city for his pleasant words, and for his kindness in pointing out the portraits of his predecessors hanging on the walls of the Governor's room.

On another occasion Barnum took them by special invitation to visit one of the large public schools up town. The teachers were pleased to see them, and arranged an exhibition of special exercises by the scholars, which they thought would be most likely to gratify their barbaric visitors. At the close of these exercises, one old chief arose, and simply said: "This is all new to us. We are mere unlearned sons of the forest, and cannot understand what we have seen and heard."

On other occasions he took them to ride in Central Park, and through different portions of the city. At every street-corner which they passed they would express their astonishment to each other, at seeing the long rows of houses which extended both ways on either side of each cross-street. Of course, after each of these outside visits Barnum would return with them to the Museum, and secure two or three appearances upon the stage to receive the people who had there congregated "to do them honor."

As they regarded him as their host, they did not hesitate to trespass upon his hospitality. Whenever their eyes rested upon a glittering shell among his specimens of conchology, especially if it had several brilliant colors, one would take off his coat, another his shirt, and insist that he should exchange the shell for the garment. When he declined the exchange, but on the contrary presented the coveted article, he soon found he had established a dangerous precedent. Immediately they all commenced to beg for everything in the vast collection which they happened to take a liking to. This cost Barnum many valuable specimens, and often "put him to his trumps" for an excuse to avoid giving them things which he could not part with.

The chief of one of the tribes one day discovered an ancient shirt of chain-mail which hung in one of the cases of antique armor. He was delighted with it, and declared he must have it. Barnum tried all sorts of excuses to prevent his getting it, for it had cost a hundred dollars, and was a great curiosity. But the old man's eyes glistened, and he would not take "no" for an answer. "The Utes have killed my little child," he said through the interpreter; and now he must have this steel shirt to protect himself; and when he returned to the Rocky Mountains he would have his revenge. Barnum remained inexorable until the chief finally brought a new buckskin Indian suit, which he insisted upon exchanging. Barnum then felt compelled to accept his proposal; and never did anyone see a man more delighted than the Indian seemed to be when he took the mailed shirt into his hands. He fairly jumped up and down with joy. He ran to his lodging-room, and soon appeared again with the coveted armor upon his body, and marched down one of the main halls of the Museum, with folded arms, and head erect, occasionally patting his breast with his right hand, as much as to say, "Now, Mr. Ute, look sharp, for I will soon be on the war-path!"

Among these Indians were War Bonnet, Lean Bear, and Hand-in-the-water, chiefs of the Cheyennes; Yellow Buffalo, of the Kiowas; Yellow Bear, of the same tribe; Jacob, of the Caddos; and White Bull, of the Apaches. The little wiry chief known as Yellow Bear had killed many whites as they had travelled through the "far West." He was a sly, treacherous, bloodthirsty savage, who would think no more of scalping a family of women and children than a butcher would of wringing the neck of a chicken. But now he was on a mission to the "Great Father" at Washington, seeking for presents and favors for his tribe, and he pretended to be exceedingly meek and humble, and continually urged the interpreter to announce him as a "great friend to the white man." He would fawn about Barnum, and although not speaking or understanding a word of our language, would try to convince him that he loved him dearly.

In exhibiting these Indian warriors on the stage, Barnum explained to the large audiences the names and characteristics of each. When he came to Yellow Bear he would pat him familiarly upon the shoulder, which always caused him to look up with a pleasant smile, while he softly stroked Barnum's arm with his right hand in the most loving manner. Knowing that he could not understand a word he said, Barnum pretended to be complimenting him to the audience, while he was really saying something like the following:

"This little Indian, ladies and gentlemen, is Yellow Bear, chief of the Kiowas. He has killed, no doubt, scores of white persons, and he is probably the meanest black-hearted rascal that lives in the far West." Here Barnum patted him on the head, and he, supposing he was sounding his praises, would smile, fawn upon him, and stroke his arm, while he continued: "If the bloodthirsty little villain understood what I was saying, he would kill me in a moment; but as he thinks I am complimenting him, I can safely state the truth to you, that he is a lying, thieving, treacherous, murderous monster. He has tortured to death poor, unprotected women, murdered their husbands, brained their helpless little ones; and he would gladly do the same to you or to me, if he thought he could escape punishment. This is but a faint description of the character of Yellow Bear." Here Barnum gave him another patronizing pat on the head, and he, with a pleasant smile, bowed to the audience, as much as to say that the words were quite true, and that he thanked Barnum very much for the high encomiums he had so generously heaped upon him.

After the Indians had been at the Museum about week they discovered the real character of the place. They found they were simply on exhibition, and that people paid a fee for the privilege of coming in and gazing at them. Forthwith there was an outcry of discontent and anger. Nothing would induce them again to appear upon the stage. Their dignity had been irretrievably offended, and Barnum was actually fearful lest they should wreak vengeance upon him with physical violence. It was with a feeling of great relief that he witnessed their departure for Washington the next day.

In the fall of this year Barnum produced at his Museum a dramatization of Dickens's "Great Expectations." On the opening night of the play, before the curtain rose, the great showman himself went upon the stage and made this poetical address of welcome to the audience:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:

"That Prince of Humbugs, Barnum," so it appears Some folks have designated me for several years. Well, I don't murmur; indeed, when they embellish it, To tell the truth, my friends, I rather relish it, Since your true humbug's be, who as a host, For the least money entertains you most. In this sense I'm a "humbug," I succumb! Who as a "General" thing brought out Tom Thumb? Who introduced (you can't say there I sinned) The Swedish Nightingale, sweet Jenny Lind? Who brought you Living Whales from Labrador? The Hippopotamus from Nilus's shore, The Bearded Lady with her (h)airs and graces, The Aztec Children with their normal faces, The Twins of Siam—rarest of dualities— Two ever separate, ne'er apart realities? The Family of Albinos? the Giraffe? The famous Baby Show that made you laugh? The Happy Family—cats, rats, doves, hawks, harmonious? Their voices blend in tones euphonious. The great Sea Lion from Pacific's coast, The "Monarch of the Ocean," no empty boast; Old Adam's Bears, cutest of brute performers, In modern "peace meetings" models for reformers. That living miracle, the Lightning Calculator, Those figures confound Hermann the "Prestidigitator." The Grand Aquaria, an official story Of life beneath the waves ill all its glory; The curious "What is It?" which you, though spunky, Won't call a man and cannot call a monkey. These things and many more time forbids to state, I first introduced, if I did not originate; "The World's Seven Wonders," pooh! let them invite you, Here "seven" saloons all wonder-full delight you. To call this "humbug" admits of no defence, For all is shown for five and twenty cents. And now, good friends, to use less rhyme than reason, To-day re-opens our dramatic season; Therefore I welcome you! And though we're certain To raise "Great Expectations" with the curtain, And "play the Dickens" afternoon and nightly, I bid you welcome none the less politely, To these my "quarters," merry and reliable, That yours are always welcome 'tis undeniable! And Patrick Henry like I say, I boast of it, If that be "humbug," gentlemen, "make the most of it."

The foregoing address may be correctly said to have as much truth as poetry. It is a graceful summary of the curiosities which Barnum had brought before the world up to his sixtieth year. It does not include the Sacred White Elephant of Siam, the mammoth Jumbo and other wonders of nature which he was yet to reveal to astonished and delighted millions. Nor does it indicate that grand genius of aggregation by which in later years he surpassed all his previous performances—masterly as they were. Not till the veteran had reached the age of seventy—the allotted span of life—did he gather and create "The Greatest Show on Earth."

In connection with the dramatization of Dickens' novel, it seems surprising that the Great Showman had little intercourse with the Great Novelist. He was on intimate terms with Thackeray and gave him useful hints for his lecturing tour in the United States, by which the humorist duly profited. But Dickens, who reached the popular heart as Barnum did their senses, seems to have held aloof from one whose knowledge of men rivalled his own.



CHAPTER XXXV. GENERAL AND MRS. TOM THUMB.

MISS LAVINIA WARREN—THE RIVALS—MISS WARREN'S ENGAGEMENT TO TOM THUMB—THE WEDDING—GRAND RECEPTION—LETTER FROM A WOULD-BE GUEST, AND DR. TAYLOR'S REPLY.

In 1862 Mr. Barnum heard of an extraordinary dwarf girl named Lavinia Warren, who was living at Middleboro, Massachusetts, and sent an invitation to her and her parents to visit him at Bridgeport: they came, and Barnum found her to be a very intelligent and refined young lady. He immediately made a contract with her for several years, she agreeing to visit the Old World.

He purchased a splendid wardrobe for her, including many elegant dresses, costly jewels and everything else that could add to her naturally charming person. She was placed on exhibition at the Museum, and from the first was a great success. Commodore Nutt was exhibited with her, and although he was several years her junior, he at once took a violent fancy to her. One day Mr. Barnum gave Miss Warren a diamond and emerald ring, and as it did not exactly fit her finger, he offered to get her another one just like it, and told her to present this one to Commodore Nutt in her own name. She did so, and the Commodore, who possessed a full proportion of masculine vanity, construed the gift to be a love token, and poor Lavinia was much distressed, for she considered herself quite a woman, and the Commodore only "a nice boy." Still she did not like to offend him, and continued to treat him kindly, while not actually encouraging his attentions.

At the time Tom Thumb was not on exhibition at the Museum; he was taking a vacation at his home in Bridgeport. One day he came to New York quite unexpectedly, and naturally called on Mr. Barnum at the Museum. Lavinia was holding one of her levees when he came in, and he was presented to her.

After a short interview with her he went directly to Mr. Barnum's private office and asked to see him alone. The door was closed and the General sat down. His first question gave Mr. Barnum a slight inkling of the object of the interview. The General wanted to know all about the family of Lavinia Warren. Mr. Barnum gave him all information, and the General said, earnestly, "That is the most charming little lady I ever saw, and I believe she was created to be my wife. Now, Mr. Barnum, you've always been a friend of mine, and I want you to say a good word for me to her. I've got plenty of money and I want to marry and settle down, and I really feel as though I must marry that young lady."

Mr. Barnum laughed, and recalling his ancient joke, said: "Lavinia is already engaged, General."

"To whom? Commodore Nutt?" asked Tom Thumb, jealously.

"No, to me."

"Oh!" laughed the General, much relieved. "Never mind; you may exhibit her for a while, and then give up the engagement; but I do hope you will favor my suit with her."

"Well, General," replied Barnum, "I will not oppose your suit, but you must do your own courting. I will tell you, however, that Commodore Nutt will be jealous of you, and more than that, Miss Warren is nobody's fool, and you will have to proceed very cautiously if you succeed in winning her."

The General promised to be very discreet. A change now came over him. He had been very fond of his country home at Bridgeport, where he spent all his leisure time with his horses and his yacht, for he had a great passion for the water; but now he was constantly running down to the city, and the horses and yacht were sadly neglected. He had a married sister living in New York, and his visits to her multiplied to such an extent that his mother, who lived in Bridgeport, remarked that Charles had never before shown so much brotherly affection, nor so much fondness for city life.

His visits to the Museum were frequent, and it was very amusing to watch his new relations with Commodore Nutt, who strutted around like a bantam rooster whenever the General approached Lavinia. One day the rivals got into a friendly scuffle in the dressing-room, and the Commodore laid the General very neatly on his back.

But while the Commodore was performing on the stage, and on Sunday afternoons and evenings, the General found plenty of opportunities to talk to Lavinia, and it was evident that his suit was progressing.

Finally, Tom Thumb returned to Bridgeport, and privately begged Mr. Barnum to bring Lavinia up the next Saturday evening, and also to invite him to the house.

His immediate object was that his mother might see Miss Warren. Mr. Barnum agreed to the proposition, and on the following Friday, while Miss Warren and the Commodore were sitting in the green-room, he said:

"Lavinia, would you like to go up to Bridgeport with me to-morrow, and stay until Monday?"

"I thank you," she replied, "it will be a great relief to get into the country for a couple of days."

"Mr. Barnum," said the Commodore, "I should like to go up to Bridgeport to-morrow."

"What for?" asked Barnum.

"I want to see my ponies; I have not seen them for several months;" he replied.

Mr. Barnum remarked that he was afraid he could not spare the Commodore from the Museum, but he said:

"Oh! I can perform at half past seven o'clock and then jump on the evening train and go up by myself, reaching Bridgeport at eleven, and return early Monday morning."

Fearing a clash of interests between the two little men, but wishing to please the Commodore, Mr. Barnum consented, especially as Miss Warren seemed to favor it.

The Commodore had made his feelings almost as plain to the manager as had General Tom Thumb, but Lavinia Warren's secret was her own. She kept up a wonderful self-possession under the circumstances, for she must have known the reason of the General's frequent visits to the Museum. Barnum was afraid that she intended to reject Tom Thumb, and he told him as much; the General was nervous but determined; hence his anxiety to have Lavinia meet his mother, and also to see the extent of his possessions in Bridgeport.

The General met his lady-love and Mr. Barnum at the station Saturday morning, and drove them to the latter's house in his own carriage—the coachman being tidily dressed, with a broad velvet ribbon and a silver buckle on his hat, especially for the occasion.

After resting for a half hour at Lindencroft, he came back and took Lavinia out to drive. They stopped at his mother's house, where she saw the apartments which had been built for him and filled with the most gorgeous furniture, all corresponding to his diminutive size. Then he took her to East Bridgeport, and undoubtedly took occasion to point out all of the houses which he owned, for he depended much on his wealth making an impression on her.

He stayed to lunch at Lindencroft, and was much pleased when Lavinia expressed her opinion that "Mr. Barnum or Tom Thumb owned about all Bridgeport."

The General took his leave and returned to five o'clock dinner, accompanied by his mother, who was delighted with Lavinia. The General took Mr. Barnum aside and begged him for an invitation to stay all night, "For," said he, "I intend to ask her to marry me before the Commodore arrives."

After tea Lavinia and the General sat down to play backgammon. By and by the rest went to their separate rooms, but Tom Thumb had volunteered to sit up for the Commodore, and persuaded Miss Warren to keep him company.

The General was beaten at backgammon, and after sitting a few minutes, he evidently thought it time to put a clincher on his financial abilities. So he drew from his pocket a policy of insurance and handed it to Lavinia, asking her if she knew what it was.

Examining it, she replied, "It is an insurance policy. I see you keep your property insured."

"But the beauty of it is, it is not my property," replied the General, "and yet I get the benefit of the insurance in case of fire. You will see," he continued, unfolding the policy, "this is the property of Mr. Williams, but here, you will observe, it reads 'loss, if any, payable to Charles S. Stratton, as his interest may appear.' The fact is, I loaned Mr. Williams three thousand dollars, took a mortgage on his house, and made him insure it for my benefit. In this way, you perceive, I get my interest, and he has to pay the taxes."

"That is a very wise way, I should think," remarked Lavinia.

"That is the way I do all my business," replied the General, complacently, as he returned the huge insurance policy to his pocket. "You see," he continued, "I never lend any of my money without taking bond and mortgage security, then I have no trouble with taxes; my principal is secure, and I receive my interest regularly."

The explanation seemed satisfactory to Lavinia, and the General's courage began to rise. Drawing his chair a little nearer to hers, he said:

"So you are going to Europe, soon?"

"Yes," replied Lavinia, "Mr. Barnum intends to take me over in a couple of months."

"You will find it very pleasant," remarked the General; "I have been there twice, in fact I have spent six years abroad, and I like the old countries very much."

"I hope I shall like the trip, and I expect I shall," responded Lavinia; "for Mr. Barnum says I shall visit all the principal cities, and he has no doubt I will be invited to appear before the Queen of England, the Emperor and Empress of France, the King of Prussia, the Emperor of Austria, and at the courts of any other countries which we may visit. Oh! I shall like that, it will be so new to me."

"Yes, it will be very interesting indeed. I have visited most of the crowned heads," remarked the General, with an evident feeling of self-congratulation. "But are you not afraid you will be lonesome in a strange country?" asked the General.

"No, I think there is no danger of that, for friends will accompany me," was the reply.

"I wish I was going over, for I know all about the different countries, and could explain them all to you," remarked Tom Thumb.

"That would be very nice," said Lavinia.

"Do you think so?" said the General, moving his chair still closer to Lavinia's.

"Of course," replied Lavinia, coolly, "for I, being a stranger to all the habits and customs of the people, as well as to the country, it would be pleasant to have some person along who could answer all my foolish questions."

"I should like it first rate, if Mr. Barnum would engage me," said the General.

"I thought you remarked the other day that you had money enough, and was tired of traveling," said Lavinia, with a slightly mischievous look from one corner of her eye.

"That depends upon my company while traveling," replied the General.

"You might not find my company very agreeable."

"I would be glad to risk it."

"Well, perhaps Mr. Barnum would engage you, if you asked him," said Lavinia.

"Would you really like to have me go?" asked the General, quietly insinuating his arm around her waist, but hardly close enough to touch her.

"Of course I would," was the reply.

The little General's arm clasped the waist closer as he turned his face nearer to hers, and said:

"Don't you think it would be pleasanter if we went as man and wife?"

And after a little hesitation she agreed that it would.

A moment later a carriage drove up to the door, the bell rang and the Commodore entered.

"You here, General?" said the Commodore as he espied his rival.

"Yes," said Lavinia, "Mr. Barnum asked him to stay, and we were waiting for you."

"Where is Mr. Barnum?" asked the Commodore.

"He has gone to bed," answered Tom Thumb, "but a supper has been prepared for you."

"I am not hungry, thank you," said the Commodore petulantly, "What room does Mr. Barnum sleep in?"

He was answered, and immediately went to Mr. Barnum whom he found reading in bed.

"Mr. Barnum," he said sarcastically, "does Tom Thumb BOARD here?"

"No," said Mr. Barnum, "Tom Thumb does not BOARD here. I invited him to stop over night, so don't be foolish, but go to bed."

"Oh, it's no affair of mine. I don't care anything about it. Only I thought he'd taken up his residence here." And off he went to bed, in a very bad humor.

Ten minutes after, Tom Thumb rushed into the room in the greatest excitement, and cried joyfully: "We're engaged, Mr. Barnum! We're engaged!"

"Is that possible?" said Barnum.

"Yes sir, indeed it is," responded the General, "but you must'nt mention it. We've agreed to tell no one, so don't say a word. I'm going to ask her Mother's consent Tuesday."

Barnum swore secrecy, and the General went off radiant with happiness.

The next day the family plied Lavinia with all sorts of questions, but not a breath passed her lips that would give the slightest indication as to what had transpired. She was most amiable to the Commodore, and as the General concluded to go home the next morning, the Commodore's happiness and good humor were fully restored. The General made a call Sunday evening and managed to have an interview with Lavinia. The next morning she and the Commodore returned to New York, without Mr. Barnum.

The General called on Monday to tell Mr. Barnum that he had concluded to send his letter to Lavinia's mother by his friend, Mr. Wells, who had consented to go to Middleboro' the next day, and to urge the General's suit if necessary.

The General went to New York on Wednesday to wait there for Mr. Wells's return. That same day he and Lavinia came to Mr. Barnum, and Tom Thumb said: "Mr. Barnum, I want somebody to tell the Commodore that Lavinia and I are engaged, for I'm afraid there will be a row when he hears of it."

"Why don't you do it yourself, General?" asked Barnum.

"Oh!" said the General, almost shuddering, "I would not dare do it, he might knock me down."

"I will do it myself," said Lavinia. So the General retired and the Commodore was sent for. When he had joined them, Mr. Barnum began by saying, "Commodore, do you know what this little witch has been doing?"

"No, I don't," he answered.

"Well, she has been cutting up the greatest prank you ever heard of. She almost deserves to be shut up for daring to do it. Can't you guess what it is?"

He mused a moment, and then said in a low tone, and looking full at her, "Engaged?"

"Yes," said Barnum, "actually engaged to be married to General Tom Thumb. Did you ever hear of such a thing?"

"Is it so, Lavinia?" he asked, earnestly.

"Yes," said Lavinia, "it is really so."

The Commodore turned pale, choked a little, and turning on his heel, he said, in a broken voice:

"I hope you may be happy."

As he passed out the door a tear rolled down his cheek. "That's pretty hard," said Barnum.

"Yes it is hard," said Lavinia, "and I am very sorry. Only I couldn't help it. It was all the fault of your emerald and diamond ring."

Half an hour later the Commodore returned to the office and said:

"Mr. Barnum do you think it would be right for Miss Warren to marry Charlie Stratton if her mother should object?"

"No, indeed," replied Mr. Barnum.

"Well, she says she will marry him anyway; that she gives her mother the chance to consent, but if she objects, she will have her way and marry him."

"On the contrary," said Barnum, "I will not permit it. She is engaged to go to Europe with me, and I will not release her if her mother does not consent to her marriage."

The Commodore's eyes glistened, and he said: "Between you and me, Mr. Barnum, I don't believe she will consent."

But she did, although at first she had objected, thinking that it might be merely a money-making scheme; but after she read Tom Thumb's letter, and heard Mr. Barnum's assurance that he would release her from her engagement with him, in event of the marriage, she consented.

After the Commodore heard the news Mr. Barnum said to him:

"Never mind, Commodore; Minnie Warren is a better match for you anyhow. She is two years younger than you, and Lavinia is older."

But the Commodore replied grandly; "Thank you sir, but I would not marry the best woman living. I don't believe in women."

Barnum then suggested that he stand with Minnie, as groom and bridesmaid, but he declined. A few weeks later, however, he told Barnum that Tom Thumb had asked him to stand with Minnie, and that he was going to do so.

"And when I asked you, you refused," said Barnum.

"It was not your business to ask me," said the Commodore pompously, "when the proper person asked me, I accepted."

The approaching wedding was announced and created an immense excitement. Lavinia's levees were crowded and she not infrequently sold three hundred dollars' worth of photographs in a day. The General was engaged to exhibit and his own photograph was largely in demand. The Museum was so well attended, the daily receipts being nearly three thousand dollars, that Barnum offered them fifteen thousand dollars if they would postpone their wedding for a month and continue the levees.

"No sir," said the General excitedly, "not for fifty thousand dollars."

"Good for you Charlie," said Lavinia, "only you should have said one hundred thousand."

It was suggested to Barnum to have the wedding take place in the Academy of Music and charge a good admission.

But Barnum refused.

Grace Church, at Broadway and Tenth St., was the scene of this historic wedding, which occurred at noon of Tuesday, Feb. 10, 1863. Long before the hour designated the entire neighborhood was thronged by expectant and smiling crowds awaiting the arrival of the happy pair with their attendants, and looking with ill-concealed envy upon the scores of carriages that bore to the scene of action the fortunate possessors of cards of invitation. At the entrance the ubiquitous Brown was to be seen, bland and smiling, looking more like an honest Alderman of yore than a sexton, and recognizing in each new deposit of youth or beauty or wealth another star to shed lustre upon the extraordinary occasion.

Excellent police arrangements, no less than the self-respect and decorum that always characterizes an American crowd, secured the utmost quiet and order. The truth was that an outsider could only have discovered the marriage to have been one of peculiar interest from the snatches of feminine gossip that met the ear, in which small-sized adjectives were profusely employed.

The church was crowded with a gay assemblage of ladies and gentlemen, the former appearing in full opera costume, and the latter in dress coats and white neck-cloths. In front of the altar a platform three feet high covered with Brussels carpet had been erected. Pending the arrival of the wedding cortege, Mr. Morgan performed a number of operatic selections on the organ.

At high noon the murmuring of the swarming throng outside and the turning of all heads townward presaged the arrival of the bridal party; its undoubted arrival was announced by the arrival of Barnum himself.

The bridal party quickly entered the church, and proceeding up the middle aisle, took proper positions upon the platform. Commodore Nutt acting as groomsman, and Miss Minnie Warren as bridesmaid.

After several operatic performances on the organ, the marriage services were commenced, the Rev. Dr. Taylor and the Rev. Junius M. Willey officiating. The petite bride was given away by the Rev. Mr. Palmer, at the request of her parents. Dr. Taylor pronounced the marital benediction, when the party left the church and were rapidly driven to the Metropolitan Hotel, the street, stoops, buildings and windows in the neighborhood of which were crowded with men, women and children.

At 1 o'clock the reception commenced, the bride and groom, attended by the Commodore and Miss Minnie Warren, occupying a dais in one of the front parlors. The crowd soon resolved into a perfect jam, and for some time great confusion prevailed. After a time, certain arrangements were made by which the company were enabled to pay their respects to the little couple.

The graceful form of Mrs. Charles S. Stratton was shown to advantage in her bridal robe, which was composed of plain white satin, the skirt en traine, being decorated with a flounce of costly point lace, headed by tulle puffings; the berthe to match. Her hair, slightly waved, was rolled a la Eugenie, and elaborately puffed in noeuds behind, in which the bridal veil was looped: natural orange blossoms breathed their perfume above her brow, and mingled their fragrance with the soft sighs of her gentle bosom. Roses and japonicas composed a star-shaped bouquet, which she held in her just-bestowed hand.

Her jewels consisted of diamond necklace, bracelets, earrings, and a star-shaped ornament en diadem, with brooch to match.

Mr. Stratton was attired in a black dress coat and a vest of white corded silk, with an undervest of blue silk.

The Commodore was similarly attired, and Miss Minnie Warren appeared in a white silk skirt, with a white illusion overdress, trimmed half way up the skirt with bouillonnes of the same material, dotted with pink rosebuds. The corsage was decollete, with berthe to match.

At 3 o'clock the bridal party left the reception room, and retired to their private parlor, when the company soon after dispersed. Upon leaving the hotel the guests were supplied with wedding cake, over two thousand boxes being thus distributed. In a parlor adjoining that used for the reception were exhibited the bridal presents.

The jewelry and silverware were displayed in glass cases.

That night, at 10 o'clock, the New York Excelsior Band serenaded the bridal party at the Metropolitan, when Mr. Stratton appeared upon the balcony and made the following speech to the large assemblage in front of the hotel:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—I thank you most sincerely for this and many other tokens of kindness showered upon me to-day. After being for more than twenty years before the public, I little expected at this late day, to attract so much attention. Indeed if I had not become a family man I should never have known how high I stood in public favor, and I assure you I appreciate highly and am truly grateful for this evidence of your esteem and consideration. I am soon off for foreign lands, but I shall take with me the pleasant recollection of your kindness to-day. But, ladies and gentlemen, a little woman in the adjoining apartment is very anxious to see us, and I must, therefore, make this speech, like myself, short. I kindly thank the excellent band of music for its melody, the sweetness of which is only exceeded by my anticipations of happiness in the new life before me. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, wishing you all health and happiness, I bid you all a cordial good-night." [Applause.]

The following entirely authentic correspondence, the only suppression being the name of the person who wrote to Dr. Taylor, and to whom Dr. Taylor's reply is addressed, shows how a certain would-be "witness" was not a witness of the famous wedding. In other particulars the correspondence speaks for itself.

TO THE REV. DR. TAYLOR.

Sir: The object of my unwillingly addressing you this note is to inquire what right you had to exclude myself and other owners of pews in Grace Church from entering it yesterday, enforced, too, by a cordon of police for that purpose. If my pew is not my property, I wish to know it; and if it is, I deny your right to prevent me from occupying it whenever the church is open, even at a marriage of mountebanks, which I would not take the trouble to cross the street to witness. Respectfully, your obedient servant, W*** S***

804 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, Feb. 16, 1863. MR. W*** S***

Dear Sir: I am sorry, my valued friend, that you should have written me the peppery letter that is now before me. If the matter of which you complain be so utterly insignificant and contemptible as "a marriage of mountebanks, which you would not take the trouble to cross the street to witness," it surprises me that you should have made such strenuous, but ill-directed efforts to secure a ticket of admission. And why, permit me to ask, in the name of reason and philosophy, do you still suffer it to disturb you so sadly? It would, perhaps, be a sufficient answer to your letter, to say that your cause of complaint exists only in your imagination. You have never been excluded from your pew. As rector, I am the only custodian of the church, and you will hardly venture to say that you have ever applied to me for permission to enter, and been refused.

Here I might safely rest, and leave you to the comfort of your own reflections in the case. But as you, in common with many other worthy persons, would seem to have very crude notions as to your rights of "property" in pews, you will pardon me for saying that a pew in a church is property only in a peculiar and restricted sense. It is not property, as your house or horse is property. It vests you with no fee in the soil; you cannot use it in any way, and in every way, and at all times, as your pleasure or caprice may dictate; you cannot put it to any common or unhallowed uses; you cannot remove it, nor injure it, nor destroy it. In short, you hold by purchase, and may sell the right to, the undisturbed possession of that little space within the church edifice which you call your pew during the hours of divine service. But even that right must be exercised decorously, and with a decent regard for time and place, or else you may at any moment be ignominiously ejected from it.

I regret to be obliged to add that, by the law of custom, you may, during those said hours of divine service (but at no other time) sleep in your pew; you must, however, do so noiselessly and never to the disturbance of your sleeping neighbors; your property in your pew has this extent and nothing more. Now, if Mr. W*** S*** were at any time to come to me and say, "Sir, I would that you should grant me the use of Grace Church for a solemn service (a marriage, a baptism, or a funeral, as the case may be), and as it is desirable that the feelings of the parties should be protected as far as possible from the impertinent intrusion and disturbance of a crowd from the streets and lanes of the city, I beg that no one may be admitted within the doors of the church during the very few moments that we expect to be there, but our invited friends only,"—it would certainly, in such a case, be my pleasure to comply with your request, and to meet your wishes in every particular; and I think that even Mr. W*** S*** will agree that all this would be entirely reasonable and proper. Then, tell me, how would such a case differ from the instance of which you complain? Two young persons, whose only crimes would seem to be that they are neither so big, nor so stupid, nor so ill-mannered, nor so inordinately selfish as some other people, come to me and say, sir, we are about to be married, and we wish to throw around our marriage all the solemnities of religion. We are strangers in your city, and as there is no clergyman here standing in a pastoral relation to us, we have ventured to ask the favor of the bishop of New York to marry us, and he has kindly consented to do so; may we then venture a little further and request the use of your church in which the bishop may perform the marriage service? We assure you, sir, that we are no shams, no cheats, no mountebanks; we are neither monsters nor abortions; it is true we are little, but we are as God made us, perfect in our littleness. Sir, we are simply man and woman of like passions and infirmities with you and other mortals. The arrangements for our marriage are controlled by no "showman," and we are sincerely desirous that everything should be ordered with a most scrupulous regard to decorum. We hope to invite our relations and intimate friends, together with such persons as may in other years have extended civilities to either of us; but we pledge ourselves to you most sacredly that no invitation can be bought with money. Permit us to say further, that as we would most gladly escape from the insulting jeers, and ribald sneers and coarse ridicule of the unthinking multitude without, we pray you to allow us, at our own proper charges, so to guard the avenues of access from the street, as to prevent all unseemly tumult and disorder.

I tell you, sir, that whenever, and from whomsoever, such an appeal is made to my Christian courtesy, although it should come from the very humblest of the earth, I would go calmly and cheerfully forward to meet their wishes, although as many W*** S***'s as would reach from here to Kamtschatka, clothed in furs and frowns, should rise up to oppose me.

In conclusion, I will say, that if the marriage of Charles S. Stratton and Lavinia Warren is to be regarded as a pageant, then it was the most beautiful pageant it has ever been my privilege to witness. If, on the contrary, it is rather to be thought of as a solemn ceremony, then it was as touchingly solemn as a wedding can possibly be rendered. It is true the bishop was not present, but Mr. Stratton's own pastor, the Rev. Mr. Willey, of Bridgeport, Connecticut, read the service with admirable taste and impressiveness, and the bride was given away by her mother's pastor and her own "next friend," a venerable Congregational clergyman from Massachusetts. Surely, there never was a gathering of so many hundreds of our best people, when everybody appeared so delighted with everything; surely it is no light thing to call forth so much innocent joy in so few moments of passing time; surely it is no light thing, thus to smooth the roughness and sweeten the acerbities which mar our happiness as we advance upon the wearing journey of life. Sir, it was most emphatically a high triumph of "Christian civilization!" Respectfully submitted, by your obedient servant, THOMAS HOUSE TAYLOR.

Not long after the wedding, a lady called at Barnum's office and called his attention to a little six-paged pamphlet which she said she had written. It was called "Priests and Pigmies," and she asked Barnum to read it. He glanced at the title, and at once estimating the character of the publication, promptly declined to devote any portion of his valuable time to its perusal.

"But you had better look at it, Mr. Barnum; it deeply interests you, and you may think it worth your while to buy it."

"Certainly, I will buy it, if you desire," said he, tendering her a sixpence, which he supposed to be the price of the little pamphlet.

"Oh! you quite misunderstand me; I mean buy the copyright and the entire edition, with the view of suppressing the work. It says some frightful things, I assure you," urged the author.

He lay back in his chair and fairly roared at this exceedingly feeble attempt at blackmail.

"But," persisted the lady, "suppose it says that your Museum and Grace Church are all one, what then?"

"My dear madam," he replied, "you may say what you please about me or about my Museum; you may print a hundred thousand copies of a pamphlet stating that I stole the communion service, after the wedding, from Grace Church altar, or anything else you choose to write; only have the kindness to say something about me, and then come to me and I will properly estimate the money value of your services to me as an advertising agent. Good morning, madam,"—and she departed.



CHAPTER XXXVI. POLITICAL NOTES.

BARNUM BECOMES A REPUBLICAN—ILLUMINATING THE HOUSE OF A DEMOCRAT—THE PEACE MEETING—ELECTED TO THE LEGISLATURE—WAR ON THE RAILROADS—-SPEECH ON THE AMENDMENT.

While he had always taken an active interest in politics, it was many years before Barnum consented to run for any office. In 1852 he was strongly urged to submit his name to the State Convention, as a candidate for the office of Governor, and although the Democratic party (to which he then belonged) was in the ascendancy, and the nomination was equivalent to election, he still refused.

In 1860 his political convictions were changed, and he identified himself with the Republican party. During the exciting campaign of that year, which resulted in Lincoln's first election to the presidency, it will be remembered that the "Wide-Awake" associations, with their uniforms and torchlight processions, were organized in every city, town and village throughout the North.

One day Mr. Barnum arrived home from New York and learned that the Bridgeport "Wide Awakes?" were to parade that evening and intended to march out to Lindencroft. Ordering two boxes of candles he prepared for an illumination of every window in the house. Many of his neighbors, among them several Democrats, came to Lindencroft that evening to witness the parade, and to see the illumination. His next door neighbor, Mr. T., was a strong Democrat, and before he left home, he ordered his servants to stay in the basement, and not show a light, thus proving by the darkness of his premises, the firmness of his Democratic principles.

Barnum urged his friend James D. Johnson, who was not less a joker than a Democrat, to engage the attention of Mr. and Mrs. T., and to keep their faces turned toward Bridgeport and the approaching procession, while he and Mr. George A. Wells, also a Democrat, ran over and illuminated Mr. T.'s. house. As the Wide-Awakes approached and saw that the house of Mr. T. was in a blaze with light, they concluded that he had changed his politics, and gave three rousing cheers for him. Hearing his name, he turned and saw his house lighted from basement to attic, and uttering one single emphatic ejaculation, he rushed for home. But he was not able to extinguish the lights before the Wide-Awakes had gone on their way rejoicing over his apparent conversion.

When the war broke out in 1861, Barnum was too old for active service in the field, but he sent four substitutes and contributed largely from his means to the support of the Union.

After Bull Run, July 21st, 1861, "Peace Meetings" began to be held in different parts of the North, and especially in Connecticut. At these meetings it was usual to display a white flag bearing the word "Peace," above the national flag, and to listen to speeches denunciatory of the war.

One of these meetings was held August 24, 1861, at Stepney, ten miles north of Bridgeport, and Mr. Barnum and Elias Howe, Jr., inventor of the sewing machine needle, agreed to attend and hear for themselves whether the speeches were loyal or not. They communicated their intention to a number of their friends, asking them to go also, and at least twenty accepted the invitation. It was their plan to listen quietly to the harangues, and if they found any opposition to the government or anything calculated to create disaffection in the community, or liable to deter enlistments,—to report the matter to the authorities at Washington and ask that measures be taken to suppress the gatherings.

As the carriages of these gentlemen turned into Main street they discovered two large omnibuses filled with soldiers who were home on a furlough, and who were going to Stepney. The lighter carriages soon outran the omnibuses, and the party arrived at Stepney in time to see the white flag run up above the stars and stripes. They stood quietly in the crowd, while the meeting was organized, and a preacher—Mr. Charles Smith—was invited to open the proceedings with prayer. "The Military and Civil History of Connecticut, during the war of 1861-65," by W. A. Croffut and John M. Morris, thus continues the account of the meeting:

"He (Smith) had not, however, progressed far in his supplication, when he slightly opened his eyes, and beheld, to his horror, the Bridgeport omnibuses coming over the hill, garnished with Union banners, and vocal with loyal cheers. This was the signal for a panic; Bull Run, on a small scale was re-enacted. The devout Smith, and the undelivered orators, it is alleged, took refuge in a field of corn. The procession drove straight to the pole unresisted, the hostile crowd parting to let them pass; and a tall man—John Platt—amid some mutterings, climbed the pole, reached the halliards, and the mongrel banners were on the ground. Some of the peace-men, rallying, drew weapons on 'the invaders,' and a musket and a revolver were taken from them by soldiers at the very instant of firing. Another of the defenders fired a revolver, and was chased into the fields. Still others, waxing belligerent, were disarmed, and a number of loaded muskets found stored in an adjacent shed were seized. The stars and stripes were hoisted upon the pole, and wildly cheered. P. T. Barnum was then taken on the shoulders of the boys in blue, and put on the platform, where he made a speech full of patriotism, spiced with the humor of the occasion. Captain James E. Dunham also said a few words to the point. * * * * 'The Star Spangled Banner' was then sung in chorus, and a series of resolutions passed, declaring that 'loyal men are the rightful custodians of the peace of Connecticut.' Elias Howe, Jr., chairman, made his speech, when the crowd threatened to shoot the speakers. 'If they fire a gun, boys, burn the whole town, and I'll pay for it!' After giving the citizens wholesome advice concerning the substituted flag, and their duty to the government, the procession returned to Bridgeport with the white flag trailing in the mud behind an omnibus. * * * * They were received at Bridgeport by approving crowds, and were greeted with continuous cheers as they passed along."

In the Spring of 1865, Barnum accepted from the Republican party a nomination to the Connecticut Legislature, from the town of Fairfield, and he did so mainly because he wished to vote for the then proposed amendment to the Constitution, to abolish slavery forever from the land.

He was elected, and on arriving at Hartford the night before the session began, found the wire pullers at work, laying their plans for the election of a Speaker of the House.

Barnum, with his usual penetration and shrewdness, saw that the railroad interests had combined in support of one of the candidates, and seeing in this, no promise of good to the community at large, he at once consulted with a few friends in the Legislature, and they resolved to defeat the railroad "ring," if possible, in caucus. Their efforts were successful and the railroad's candidate was not elected.

Immediately after the caucus, Barnum sought the successful nominee, Hon. E. K. Foster, of New Haven, and begged him not to appoint as chairman of the Railroad Committee the man who had held the office for several successive years, and who was, in fact, the great railroad factotum of the State. The speaker complied with Barnum's request, and he soon saw how important it was to check the strong and growing monopoly; for, as he said, the "outside pressure" to secure the appointment of the objectionable party was terrible.

Although Barnum had not foreseen such a thing until he reached Hartford, he soon discovered that a battle with the railroad commissioners would be necessary, and his course was shaped accordingly. A majority of the commissioners were mere tools in the hands of the railroad companies, and one of them was actually a hired clerk in the office of the New York and New Haven Railroad Company. It was also shown that the chairman of the commissioners permitted most of the accidents which occurred on that road to be taken charge of and reported upon by their paid lobby agent.

This was so manifestly destructive to the interests of all parties who might suffer from accidents on the road, or have any controversy with the company, that the farmers, and the anti-monopolist element united to defeat the chairman of the railroad commissioners, who was a candidate for re-election, and to put their own candidate in his place.

Through Barnum's efforts a law was passed that no person in the employ of any railroad in the State, should serve as railroad commissioner.

But the great struggle, which lasted through the entire session, was upon the subject of railroad passenger commutations. Commodore Vanderbilt had secured control of the Hudson River and Harlem railroads, and had increased the price of commuters' tickets, from two hundred to four hundred per cent. Many men living on the line of these roads, ten to fifty miles from New York, had built fine residences in the country on the strength of cheap transit to and from the city, and were now compelled to submit to the extortion. Commodore Vanderbilt was also a large shareholder in the New York and New Haven road, and it seemed evident that the same practice would be introduced there Barnum therefore enlisted as many as he could in a strong effort to strangle the outrage before it became too strong to grapple with. Several lawyers in the Assembly promised their aid, but before the final struggle came, all but one, in the whole body, had enlisted in favor of the railroads.

What influence had been at work with these gentlemen was, of course, a matter of conjecture.

Certain it is that all the railroad interests in the State were combined; and while they had plenty of money with which to carry out their designs, the chances were small indeed for those members of the legislature who were struggling for simple justice, and who had no pecuniary interests at stake.

Nevertheless, every inch of ground was fought over, day after day, before the legislative railroad committee; examinations and cross-examinations of railroad commissioners and lobbyists were kept up. Scarcely more than one man, Senator Ballard, of Darien, lent his personal aid to Barnum in the investigation, but together they left not a stone unturned.

The man who was prevented from being appointed chairman succeeded in becoming one of the railroad commissioners, but so much light was thrown on his connection with railroad reports, railroad laws and lobbying, by the indefatigable Barnum, the, the man took to his bed, some ten days before the close of the session, and actually staid there "sick " until the legislature adjourned.

The amendment to the United States Constitution abolishing slavery met with little opposition; but the proposed amendment to the State Constitution, giving the right of suffrage to the negro, was violently opposed by the Democratic members. The report from the minority of the committee to whom the question was referred gave certain reasons for rejecting the contemplated amendment, and in reply to this minority report, Barnum spoke, May 26th, 1865, as follows:—ON THE CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT.

Mr. Speaker: I will not attempt to notice at any length the declamation of the honorable gentleman from Milford, for certainly I have heard nothing from his lips approaching to the dignity of argument. I agree with the gentleman that the right of suffrage is "dearly and sacredly cherished by the white man"; and it is because this right is so dear and sacred, that I wish to see it extended to every educated moral man within our State, without regard to color. He tells us that one race is a vessel to honor, and another to dishonor; and that he has seen on ancient Egyptian monuments the negro represented as "a hewer of wood and a drawer of water." This is doubtless true, and the gentleman seems determined always to KEEP the negro a "vessel of dishonor," and a "hewer of wood." We, on the other hand, propose to give him the opportunity of expanding his faculties and elevating himself to true manhood. He says he "hates and abhors, and despises demagogism." I am rejoiced to hear it, and I trust we shall see tangible evidence of the truth of what he professes in his abandonment of that slavery to party which is the mere trick and trap of the demagogue.

When, a few days since, this honorable body voted unanimously for the Amendment of the United States Constitution, abolishing human slavery, I not only thanked God from my heart of hearts, but I felt like going down on my knees to the gentlemen of the opposition, for the wisdom they had exhibited in bowing to the logic of events by dropping that dead weight of slavery which had disrupted the Democratic party, with which I had been so long connected. And on this occasion I wish again to appeal to the wisdom and loyalty of my Democratic friends. I say Democratic "friends," for I am and ever was, a thorough, out and out Democrat. I supported General Jackson, and voted for every Democratic president after him, up to and including Pierce; for I really thought Pierce was a Democrat until he proved the contrary, as I conceived, in the Kansas question. My democracy goes for the greatest good to the greatest number, for equal and exact justice to all men, and for a submission to the will of the majority. It was the repudiation by the Southern Democracy of this great democratic doctrine of majority rule which opened the rebellion.

And now, Mr. Speaker, let me remind our Democratic friends that the present question simply asks that a majority of the legal voters, the white citizens of this State, may decide whether or not colored men of good moral character, WHO ARE ABLE TO READ, and who possess all the qualifications of white voters, shall be entitled to the elective franchise. The opposition may have their own ideas, or may be in doubt upon this subject; but surely no true Democrat will dare to refuse permission to our fellow-citizens to decide the question.

Negro slavery, and its legitimate outgrowths of ignorance, tyranny and oppression, have caused this gigantic rebellion, which has cost our country thousands of millions of treasure, and hundreds of thousands of human lives in defending a principle. And where was this poor, down-trodden colored race in this rebellion? Did they seize the "opportunity" when their masters were engaged with a powerful foe, to break out in insurrection, and massacre those tyrants who had so long held them in the most cruel bondage? No, Mr. Speaker, they did not do this. My "Democratic" friends would have done it. I would have done it. Irishmen, Chinamen, Portuguese, would have done it; any white man would have done it; but the poor black man is like a lamb in his nature compared with the white man. The black man possesses a confiding disposition, thoroughly tinctured with religious enthusiasm, and not characterized by a spirit of revenge. No, the only barbarous massacres we heard of, during the war, were those committed by their white masters on their poor, defenceless white prisoners, and to the eternal disgrace of southern white "Democratic" rebels, be it said, these instances of barbarism were numerous all through the war. When this rebellion first broke out, the northern Democracy raised a hue-and-cry against permitting the negroes to fight; but when such a measure seemed necessary, in order to put down traitors, these colored men took their muskets in hand and made their bodies a wall of defence for the loyal citizens of the North. And now, when our grateful white citizens ask from this assembly the privilege of deciding by their votes whether these colored men, who at least, were partially our saviours in the war, may or may not, under proper restrictions, become participants in that great salvation, I am amazed that men calling themselves Democrats dare refuse to grant this democratic measure. We wish to educate ignorant men, white or black. Ignorance is incompatible with the genius of our free institutions. In the very nature of things it jeopardizes their stability, and it is always unsafe to transgress the laws of nature. We cannot safely shut ourselves up with ignorance and brutality; we must educate and Christianize those who are now by circumstances our social inferiors.