MY DEAR MR. BARNUM: I understand your friends, and that means "all creation," intend to get up some benefits for your family. Now, my dear sir, just be good enough to remember that I belong to that mighty crowd, and I must have a finger (or at least a "thumb") in that pie. I am bound to appear on all such occasions in some shape, from "Jack the Giant killer," Up-stairs, to the door-keeper down, whichever may serve you best; and there are some feats that I can perform as well as any other man of my inches. I have just started out on my Western tour, and have my carriage, ponies, and assistants all here, but I am ready to go on to New York, bag and baggage, and remain at Mrs. Barnum's service as long as I, in a small way, can be useful. Put me into any "heavy" work, if you like. Perhaps I can not lift as much as some other folks, but just take your pencil in hand and you will see I can draw a tremendous load. I drew two hundred tons at a single pull to-day, embracing two thousand persons, whom I hauled up safely and satisfactorily to all parties, at one exhibition. Hoping that you will be able to fix up a lot of magnets that will attract all New York, and volunteering to sit on any part of the loadstone, I am, as ever, your little but sympathizing friend, GEN. TOM THUMB. All the prominent papers published editorials and paragraphs full of sympathy for the great man's misfortune, the Saturday Evening Gazette of Boston breaking out in the following poem. BARNUM REDIVIVUS. A WORD FOR BARNUM. BARNUM, your hand! Though you are "down," And see full many a frigid shoulder, Be brave, my brick, and though they frown, Prove that misfortune makes you bolder. There's many a man that sneers, my hero, And former praise converts to scorning, Would worship--when he fears--a Nero, And bend "where thrift may follow fawning." You humbugged us--that we have seen, WE GOT OUR MONEY'S WORTH, old fellow, And though you thought our MINDS were GREEN, We never thought your HEART was YELLOW. We knew you liberal, generous, warm, Quick to assist a falling brother, And, with such virtues, what's the harm All memories of your faults to smother? We had not heard the peerless Lind, But for your spirit enterprising, You were the man to raise the wind, And make a coup confessed surprising. You're reckoned in your native town A friend in need, a friend in danger, You ever keep the latch-string down, And greet with open hand the stranger. Stiffen your upper lip. You know Who are your friends and who your foes now; We pay for knowledge as we go; And though you get some sturdy blows now, You've a fair field--no favors crave-- The storm once passed will find you braver-- In virtue's cause long may you wave, And on the right side, never waver.