popular just now, because our English Prince
Lad been to see all the absurdities, and was
reported by the Herald to have said:

"And where is Mr. Barnum? I should like
to see him; he must be the greatest curiosity
of the place!" So, Baruum now advertises his
exhibition as patronised by the Prince of Wales.

I paid my twenty-five cents at the Greenwich
Fair-looking door, and entered. Coins hung in
the dark are rather baffling. A disguised idiot,
labelled,

"WHAT IS IT? WHAT DO YOU CALL IT?"
is not attractive; a sea-lion, tepid with gas-light
and lolling panting with bloodshot eyes and
very sick on a wet slab, one soon has enough
of; so up I went, after an hour's stare and
ramble with my two hearty Texan friends,
Paul and Silas Allen, up to the third floor
back of the frail dry house to the theatre.

Two scenes were over, and we had just got to
a dreary tableau of the Ishmaelites buying
Joseph (Miss Robinson) from his envious and
beetle-browed brethren; when, through the open
windows at the back, swept in a choking cloud of
smoke that gradually widened and widened, filling
the theatre and half hiding both Ishmaelites
and Jews. The country people, bent on the
play (the first many of them had ever seen),
grumbled at this, but took no other notice.
The stolid Circassian chief, with a pillow-case
full of white wool on his head, seated nearly
next to me and between his wife and daughter,
as spectators (to my infinite astonishment),
though themselves part of the exhibition—so
seated, I suppose, by Baruum's stern command
—coughed and sneezed, but still gazed
apathetically on the flesh-coloured legs of Joseph,
who was coughingly appealing to his eldest brother.
I looked back at the windows, they were
getting a deep red, as stained glass; and now
quick sparks crackled in, and a resinous smell
as of burning deal spread terror amongst us.

Shall I ever forget how every face suddenly
whitened (as if by a universal flour-dredger),
and how every white face suddenly turned to
the narrow distant door, as every creature in
the theatre, man, woman, and child, rose, and
prepared for a trampling life or death rush!

"Fire! Fire! We shall all be burnt! To
the door!" cried five hundred voices at once.

My friends, Paul and Silas, were the bravest of
men—they had fought hand-to-hand with
bowie-knives; they had battled with the Camanches
in Texas, one to six. They did not run—they
flew over the benches, and disappeared. The
fire was next door, the danger was imminent,
for New York houses are card-houses, and burn
quickly. I felt, not frightened, but stunned;
still, I believe, calm and collected. A German
gentlemen, rising without leaving his place, got
up and bravely stayed the panic. Some two
hundred crushed their way out; some hundred
and fifty stayed their speed, ashamed of their
headlong flight; the rest began to retire slowly,
as irrationally comforted as they had been
irrationally alarmed.

Again, through the hot smoke, the Spirit of
the Aloe entered, with the ballet of Egyptian
maidens. But it would not do; we were all
unquiet and restless, for now we could hear the
crowd below roar applause as the fire-engines
dashed up, and we could hear the crackle and
murmur of the flames, and now again the sparks
came blowing against the windows. Slowly
we began to melt away from the room; mutters
of " It's all up with Barnum!" filled the
air. The Circassian chief was by no means
last to leave; " the Lady with long hair," the
Happy Family, were all in the crowd together.
There was every chance of the " beautiful angel
fish" being fried, and the living alligator being
done brown. The tattooed New Zealander
bolted into the street to help at the engines.
(Between ourselves, he was an Irishman, and
the engines were Irish too.) Joseph made
tracks in the airy Israelitish dress; the men
at the doors shouldered their locked-up tills;
the gentleman with the world-renowned "Lightning
Calculator" prepared with tears to part
from his great invention. In a few minutes I
was in the street. The red shirts were swarming
there. The black hose was coiling about all
the neighbouring streets. Everywhere water
was dripping and puddling. The trim brass
engines were shining in the flames, that
broke in puffs from the house next to Barnum's
—a tailor's, I think. Smack! splash! went the
water, blacking out the red and yellow wherever
it fell. New engines, strong as steel could
make them, yet light as gigs, dashed up
every minute. The police, in their blue frock-coats
and low flat caps, were busy making room
for the firemen in the red shirts, and for the last
arrivals of engines; and, over all the shouting
and the bellowing of the fire-horns, sounded
the clamour of the tocsin bells of the neighbouring
churches.

Barnum's establishment was saved after a
little scorching; and, next morning over my
coffee, I read that so many thousand dollars
covered the loss by a fire which, thanks to the
energy of Numbers 1 and 4 Fire Companies,
was extinguished in about an hour and a half.

Two days after I met those companies marching
past the Mechanics' Hall, returning from a
shooting match. There were the same red
shirts, swords, and colandered target, officers,
negro standard-bearer, and band. But this
time the victors carried their prizes hanging
round their necks. I particularly remember
one poor rifleman who bore a heavy plated
cruet-stand and a teapot which must have
gone very near to strangling him. Between
these voluntary soldiers and the populace there
appeared to be perfect sympathy.

It is only upon certain questions that these
firemen or militia are ever mutinous. Such a
question came on the carpet during the Prince's
visit. One of the regiments (chiefly Irishmen)
refused to assist in the public processions to
welcome his arrival in New York. This regiment
has, I believe, since been disbanded in
consequence.

A few days before I visited New Orleans a