In the winter of 1898 his grandfather offered to him, rent free, his carriage-house, which was situated on the main street, if he would come back to Bethel. The young man's capital was one hundred and twenty dollars; fifty of this was spent in fixing up his store, and the remainder he invested in a stock of fruit and confectionery. Having arranged with fruit dealers of his acquaintance in New York to receive his orders, he opened his store on the first of May--in those times known as "training day." The first day was so successful that long before noon the proprietor was obliged to call in one of his old schoolmates to assist in waiting on customers. The total receipts were sixty-three dollars, which sum was promptly invested in a stock of fancy goods --pocket-books, combs, knives, rings, beads, etc. Business was good all summer, and in the fall oysters were added to the list of attractions. The old grandfather was delighted at the success of the scheme, and after a while induced Barnum to take an agency for lottery tickets on a commission of ten per cent. Lotteries in those days were looked upon as thoroughly respectable, and the profit gained from the sale of the tickets was regarded as perfectly legitimate by the agent; his views on the subject changed very materially later on. The store soon became the great village resort, the centre of all discussions and the scene of many practical jokes. The following scene, related by Barnum himself, makes a chapter in the history of Connecticut, as the State was when "blue laws" were something more than a dead letter: "To swear in those days was according to custom, but contrary to law. A person from New York State, whom I will call Crofut, who was a frequent visitor at my store, was equally noted for his self-will and his really terrible profanity. One day he was in my little establishment engaged in conversation when Nathan Seelye, Esq., one of our village justices of the peace, and a man of strict religious principles, came in, and hearing Crofut's profane language he told him he considered it his duty to fine him one dollar for swearing. "Crofut responded immediately with an oath, that he did not care a d----n for the Connecticut blue laws. " 'That will make two dollars,' said Mr. Seelye. "This brought forth another oath. " 'Three dollars,' said the sturdy justice. "Nothing but oaths were given in reply, until Esquire Seelye declared the damage to the Connecticut laws to amount to fifteen dollars. "Crofut took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the justice of the peace, with an oath. " 'Sixteen dollars,' said Mr. Seelye, counting out four dollars to hand to Mr. Crofut as his change. " 'Oh, keep it, keep it,' said Crofut, 'I don't want any change; I'll d----n soon swear out the balance.' He did so, after which he was more circumspect in his conversation, remarking that twenty dollars a day for swearing was about as much as he could stand."