P. T. BARNUM.

P. T. BARNUM, the chief caterer for the amusements of the million, the prince of showmen, the curiosity king, the ex-editor, ex-school teacher, ex-clerk, ex-merchant, is one of the most remarkable men of any age in any country, and my book would be incomplete without some allusion to his wonderful energy and successful enterprise. He has been regarded by multitudes as a strange something, part humbug, part human, part Hercules. At present he is the proprietor of the American Museum, and one of the sleeping, but not one of the sleepy, partners of the firm which controls the New York Illustrated News. He is a writer of more than mediocre ability, and he ranks high as a platform speaker, while his financiering skill is unsurpassed even among Yankees. Whatever he touches turns to gold, whether it be Joice Heth, or Jenny Lind, Tom Thumb, or a pair of giants. For his generous efforts in assisting the unfortunate and aiding young beginners, he has endeared himself to many recipients of his bountiful benevolence; for his disinterested labors to promote the temperance cause, he deserves the gratitude and admiration of our race; at his own expense he has travelled and toiled, week after week, in the face of obloquy and opposition, to secure the advancement of a glorious reform which is identi

fied with the happiness of every member of the human family. Barnum is a man and not a humbug. He is an extraordinary man, he is a great man. See with what tact, boldness, and practical good common sense he managed the Jenny Lind affair: did he not deserve the princely profit he received from his well directed efforts to secure the services of the queen of song, and the admirable manner in which he carried out his well directed plans?

It was risk enough for a corporation to hazard, and required as much enterprise as a community possesses to execute the arrangements after they had been made. With what Napoleonic energy, and superior generalship did he foil the attempt made to decoy the bird from his hands after he had caught it from the bush; what a knowledge of human nature has he displayed in the tact and skill with which he has brought out cunning contrivances for the entertainment of the curious. Now he shows a "fictitious" nurse of Washington, now a mermaid, half cod-fish and half monkey, manufactured more to please than to deceive the public, now an amiable and handsome dwarf, is exhibited in the presence of the Queen and nobility of England. Now, for the sake of notoriety, he calls himself a humbug, and the cry is echoed by the press all over the Union.

But he always gave his patrons their money's worth of amusement, and it cannot be proved that he ever received the price of a ticket "under false pretences;" that Joice Heth was not 163 years of age has never been proved, that the mermaid which is now in the Boston Museum was not the creature

it purported to be was no fault of his. If it is not a natural it is a mechanical curiosity. The woolley horse was a natural curiosity, for which he paid the sum of five hundred dollars.

Barnum is a shrewd man, who has the art and mystery of making large sums of money in a short time, and then he has the magnanimity to distribute it unostentatiously among those who will make wise appropriations of it. He is a scheming speculative man, but far removed from selfishness, and would never sacrifice nor deny his principles to obtain place, or power, or fame, or fortune. He is a business man, and his rules for success in business, deserve to be written in gold, and preserved in frames of silver in every counting room, work-shop, foundry, and factory, and dwelling, in the land. He is a gentleman, polite not finical, courteous not affected, and truthful without dissimulation in his personal intercourse with his fellow men. He is a philanthropist. Where is the man who gives more generously, and makes less parade about it? In politics he is a cold water Democrat; in religion he is a cold water Universalist.

Mr. Barnum is a native of Danbury, Connecticut, and is now forty-three years of age. He is a fine-looking man, well formed and somewhat above the ordinary size and stature. He has a noble forehead, expressive eyes, and a mouth finely cut and indicative of decision and energy; there is a mixture of mirthfulness,* shrewdness and benevolence in his counte

While lecturing out West on the subject of temperance, some one in the meeting cried out, "What shall we do with our surplus grain?"

"Feed the starving wives and children of drunkards," replied Barnum.

nance, which comports with his character. He dresses neatly, without much ornament, is very accessible, and treats even the humblest person with much kindness, and never cuts an old acquaintance in the hour of trial and misfortune. He is charitable and strictly honorable in all his business transactions. He has a beautiful home, and is very happy in his domestic relations. One of his daughters was recently married. The following description of his residence will form a fitting close to this sketch. It comes from one of his own townsmen.

P. T. BARNUM, AND HIS RESIDENCE.

One of the first places which a stranger visits on coming here, is Iranistan, the residence of P. T. Barnum, proprietor of the American Museum and importer of heavenly minstrelsy into our unharmonious country. It stands upon a level plateau, about half a mile from the main street, a unique and magnificent building, in the Oriental and Turkish style—its wings, piazzas, galleries, pinnacles, and dome giving it a light and airy appearance. It is especially beautiful, when viewed by moonlight. The grounds are laid out in excellent taste, with the gardener's cottage, the green-houses and the stables built in a style of architecture corresponding sufficiently to that of the house, without being stiff copies of it, all disposed in the best manner for a pleasing general effect. The gates are constantly thrown open, and, in pleasant weather, visitors may at almost any time be seen riding or walking through the grounds of this earthly paradise. Is it thus thrown open to

the public merely to gratify an ostentations pride? I think

not.

It is a Sabbath evening, and the sun is just setting. Groups of gentlemen and ladies are threading the walks among the trees the hard-working mechanic with his wife and children, all dressed in their best, are sauntering over paths thickly strewed with tiny seashells, admiring the flowers and rare shrubs that border the walks, or throwing crumbs to the tame fishes in the fish-pond, or gazing at the rare exotics in the green-houses, and all enjoying the costly scene, as really, for the moment, as if it were their own. The proprietor, if he is at home, simply enjoys the innocent pleasure which his establishment affords the people, and I really believe, that if he were conditioned to hold it guarded with the exclusiveness which characterizes some of the snobbish aristocracy of our land, he would sooner burn it to the ground. But the chances are that, instead of being at home, stretched upon a luxurious sofa, this Sunday evening, he started in his buggy some hour or two since, to fulfil an appointment to lecture upon temperance in some country village, distant ten or fifteen miles. His heart is thoroughly interested in this reform, which, heaven knows, is unpopular enough in Connecticut, and he is constantly sacrificing his money and ease to promote it. Although unaccustomed to public speaking, his addresses tell upon an audience in a most effective manner.

With many others, I was once accustomed to associate the name of Barnum with humbug, but the truth is, there is no humbug about the man-Barnum. He may have taken the