At the close of his presidency in 1854 Barnum was asked to deliver the opening speech at the County Fair at Stamford. He did so, delivering simply a portion of his lecture on "The Philosophy of Humbug." The next morning, as he was being shaved in the village barber's shop, which was at the time crowded with customers, the ticket-seller to the fair came in. Here is Barnum's own account of what followed: "What kind of a house did you have last night?" asked one of the gentlemen in waiting. "Oh, first-rate, of course. Barnum always draws a crowd," was the reply of the ticket-seller, to whom I was not known. Most of the gentlemen present, however, knew me, and they found much difficulty in restraining their laughter. "Did Barnum make a good speech?" I asked. "I did not hear it. I was out in the ticket-office. I guess it was pretty good, for I never heard so much laughing as there was all through his speech. But it makes no difference whether it was good or not," continued the ticket-seller, "the people will go to see Barnum." "Barnum must be a curious chap," I remarked. "Well, I guess he is up to all the dodges." "Do you know him?" I asked. "Not personally," he replied; "but I always get into the Museum for nothing. I know the doorkeeper, and he slips me in free." "Barnum would not like that, probably, if he knew it," I remarked. "But it happens he don't know it," replied the ticket-seller, in great glee. "Barnum was on the cars the other day, on his way to Bridgeport," said I, "and I heard one of the passengers blowing him up terribly as a humbug. He was addressing Barnum at the time, but did not know him. Barnum joined in lustily, and indorsed everything the man said. When the passenger learned whom he had been addressing, I should think he must have felt rather flat." "I should think so, too," said the ticket-seller. This was too much, and we all indulged in a burst of laughter; still the ticket-seller suspected nothing. After I had left the shop, the barber told him who I was. I called into the ticket-office on business several times during the day, but the poor ticket-seller kept his face turned from me, and appeared so chapfallen that I did not pretend to recognize him as the hero of the joke in the barber's shop.