Many incidents, humorous and otherwise, marked their progress. At Cabotville, Massachusetts, on going to bed one night one of the company threw a lighted cigar stump into a box of sawdust, and the result was that, an hour or two later, they all narrowly escaped suffocation from the smoke. At Lenox, Massachusetts, they spent Sunday and Barnum went to church as usual. The sermon was directed against the circus, denouncing it in very abusive terms as an immoral and degrading institution. "Thereupon," says Barnum, "when the minister had read the closing hymn, I walked up the pulpit stairs and handed him a written request, signed 'P. T. Barnum, connected with the circus, June 5, 1836,' to be permitted to reply to him. He declined to notice it, and after the benediction I lectured him for not giving me an opportunity to vindicate myself and those with whom I was connected. The affair created considerable excitement, and some of the members of the church apologized to me for their clergyman's ill behavior. A similar affair happened afterward at Port Deposit, on the lower Susquehanna, and in this instance I addressed the audience for half an hour, defending the circus company against the attacks of the clergyman, and the people listened, though their pastor repeatedly implored them to go home. Often have I collected our company on Sunday and read to them the Bible or a printed sermon, and one or more of the men frequently accompanied me to church. We made no pretense of religion, but we were not the worst people in the world, and we thought ourselves entitled to at least decent treatment when we went to hear the preaching of the Gospel." Turner, the proprietor of the circus, was a self-made man. He had made himself rich through industry, as he believed any other man with common sense could do, and he was very proud of the fact. He was also an inveterate practical joker, and once, at Annapolis, Maryland, he played upon Barnum a trick which came very near having a serious result. They got there on Saturday night, and the next morning Barnum went out for a walk, wearing a fine new suit of black clothes. As he passed through the bar-room and out of the hotel Turner said to some bystanders, who did not know Barnum: "I think it very singular that you permit that rascal to march your streets in open day. It wouldn't be allowed in Rhode Island, and I suppose that is the reason the scoundrel has come down this way." "Why, who is he?" they demanded. "Don't you know? Why, that is the Rev. E. K. Avery, the murderer of Miss Cornell."