angry, and there was much talk of tar and feathers for Barnum, who left Boston the next day, allowing his manager, Le Grand Smith, to pay off the dissatisfied ticket-holders. This episode, which is one of many omitted from Barnum’s autobiography, caused Jenny Lind to become dissatisfied with her manager. Throughout their tour it was difficult for Barnum to reconcile his methods with her temperament, but this was the first sign of disagreement. Jenny Lind hated crowds, and to Barnum they were a delight as well as a necessity. She hated humbug, a word which was constantly on her lips to describe all that was abhorrent to her; and Barnum called himself the “Prince of Humbugs.” When she heard that Ossian F. Dodge had paid $625 for the first ticket to her Boston concert, she said, “What a fool!” The newspapers were also angry at Barnum for the riot in the Fitchburg depot, and one of them published an attack upon his methods that accused him openly of fraud. The editor of another Boston newspaper wrote to Barnum: “One of our occasional correspondents has sent an article which I find is in type, handling you very severely. Thinking that you would dislike very much to be placed before the public in an unfavorable light, especially at this particular time, I concluded to write this and say, that if you desire it, I will prevent its appearing in our columns. Please reply by bearer, and believe me, Faithfully yours, ----. P. S. Please loan me one hundred dollars for a few days to aid me in making an improvement in our paper.” Barnum answered: “Sir--I hope you will by no means curtail the privilege of ‘correspondents’ or editors on my account. Publish what you please, so far as I am concerned. I have no money to lend, and never yet paid a farthing ‘blackmail,’ and, _so help me God, I never will_. P. T. Barnum.” Then Barnum published the entire correspondence in the Boston newspapers, omitting the name of the editor. From Boston the party went to Philadelphia. Philadelphia was determined not to lose its head and heart, as Boston and New York had done, and the audience that assembled in the Chestnut Street Theater was quiet, staid, and cold; they could not have been more skeptical had they been from Missouri. When Belletti came upon the stage, there was a dead silence, and after his song only a few daring hands ventured to break the heavy hostility. Jenny Lind’s appearance was greeted with a few cheers, which were conspicuous for their individuality rather than their communal strength. The first of her arias was received with only slight applause, but when she sang “Take This Lute,” the ice was broken, and the rest of the program was received with enthusiasm appropriate to her reputation.