all, do a deed of such superhuman daring, for all he does it with such an air of reckless sacrifice of self for the public good. The hippopotamus is certainly one of the most interesting and attractive of all the strange creatures ever yet caught by Mr. Barnum, and offered for the delectation of the paying public. He is well worth a visit, and an hour's inspection. He receives daily, from 9 A.M. to some time after dark." Having now a good supply of salt water Barnum greatly enlarged his aquarium, which was the first show of the kind ever seen in America. He exhibited in it living sharks, porpoises, sea-horses and many rare fishes. For several seasons he kept a boat cruising the ocean in search of marine novelties. In this way he secured many of the beautiful angel fishes and others that never had been seen in New York before. He also purchased the Aquarial Gardens in Boston, and removed the entire collection to his Museum. The story of another of Barnum's greatest hits must be told in his own words: "In December, 1861," he related, "I was visited at the Museum by a most remarkable dwarf, who was a sharp, intelligent little fellow, with a deal of drollery and wit. He had a splendid head, was perfectly formed, and was very attractive, and, in short, for a 'showman,' he was a perfect treasure. His name, he told me, was George Washington Morrison Nutt, and his father was Major Rodnia Nutt, a substantial farmer, of Manchester, New Hampshire. I was not long in dispatching an efficient agent to Manchester, and in overcoming the competition with other showmen who were equally eager to secure this extraordinary pigmy. The terms upon which I engaged him for three years were so large that he was christened the $30,000 Nutt; I, in the meantime, conferring upon him the title of Commodore. As soon as I engaged him, placards, posters and the columns of the newspapers proclaimed the presence of 'Commodore Nutt' at the Museum. I also procured for the Commodore a pair of Shetland ponies, miniature coachman and footman, in livery, gold-mounted harness, and an elegant little carriage, which, when closed, represented a gigantic English walnut. The little Commodore attracted great attention, and grew rapidly in public favor. General Tom Thumb was then travelling in the South and West. For some years he had not been exhibited in New York, and during these years he had increased considerably in rotundity and had changed much in his general appearance. It was a singular fact, however, that Commodore Nutt was almost a fac-simile of General Tom Thumb, as he looked half-a-dozen years before. Consequently, very many of my patrons, not making allowance for the time which had elapsed since they had last seen the General, declared that there was no such person as 'Commodore Nutt;' but that I was exhibiting my old friend Tom Thumb under a new name.