entire American press expected, as a matter of course, that the
_Illustrated News_ would be simply an advertisement for the great
showman, and, as I represented to Mr. Barnum, this would ere long utterly
ruin the publication. I do not now really know whether I was quite right
in this, but it is very much to Mr. Barnum's credit that he never
insisted on it, and that in his own paper he was conspicuous by his
absence. And here I will say that, measured by the highest and most
refined standard, there was more of the gentleman in Phineas T. Barnum
than the world imagined, and very much more than there was in a certain
young man in good society who once expressed in my hearing disgust at the
idea of even speaking to "the showman."

Henry Ward Beecher was a great friend of Barnum and the Beaches, of which
some one wrote--

"No wonder Mr. Alfred Beach
Prefers, as noblest preacher,
A man who is not only Beach,
But even more so--Beecher."

He came very frequently into our office; but I cannot recall any saying
of his worth recording.

There was also a brother of H. W. Longfellow, a clergyman, who often
visited me, of whom I retain a most agreeable recollection.

The newsboys who clustered round the outer door were divided in opinion
as to me. One party thought I was Mr. Barnum, and treated me with
profound respect. The other faction cried aloud after me, "Hy! you ---
---!"

Mr. Barnum wanted me to write his Life. This would have been amusing
work and profitable, but I shrunk from the idea of being identified with
it. I might as well have done it, for I believe that Dr. Griswold
performed the task, and the public never knew or cared anything about it.
But my jolly companions at Dan Bixby's used to inquire of me at what hour
we fed the monkeys, and whether the Great Gyascutus ever gave me any
trouble; and I was sensitive to such insinuations.

At this time Mr. Barnum's great moral curiosity was a bearded lady, a
jolly and not bad-looking Frenchwoman, whose beard was genuine enough, as
I know, having pulled it. My own beard has been described by a French
newspaper as _une barbe de Charlemagne_, a very polite pun, but hers was
much fuller. It was soft as floss silk. After a while the capillary
attraction ceased to draw, and Mr. Barnum thought of an admirable plan to
revive it. He got somebody to prosecute him for false pretences and
imposture, on the ground that Madame was a man. Then Mr. Barnum