“Granted, but after all, the man who looks upon the loss of money as anything compared to the loss of honor, or health, or self-respect, or friends,--a man who can find no source of happiness except in riches,--is to be pitied for his blindness. I certainly feel that the loss of money, of home, and my home comforts is dreadful,--that to be driven again to find a resting-place away from those I love, and from where I had fondly supposed I was to end my days, and where I had lavished time, money, everything, to make my descent to the grave placid and pleasant,--is, indeed, a severe lesson; but, after all, I firmly believe it is for the best, and though my heart may break, I will not repine.” All is for the best, in this best of possible worlds! Barnum paid his personal debts and sold his assets to make good some of his notes. Though he took the public sympathy without any suggestion that he did not need it, Barnum was not exactly penniless, a condition which some of his pitiful public statements of the time would seem to indicate. The lease of the American Museum, one of his most valuable possessions, was in Mrs. Barnum’s name. The collection itself was sold to Greenwood and Butler, two of Barnum’s former managers, for double its original cost. This sum was used to pay clock debts, but the lease held by Mrs. Barnum brought her $19,000 a year. “The situation is disheartening,” Barnum had said, “but I have experience, energy, health, and hope.” He also had money in his wife’s name, a world-wide notoriety which developed in spite of some newspapers into sympathy, and valuable personal friends. Barnum’s creditors, and especially people who had bought up the clock notes cheaply, caused him much annoyance. He was examined in supplementary proceedings daily for a long period. The process was called, “putting Barnum through a course of sprouts.” This heckling won him much sympathy from the public and the newspapers. One lawyer asked him his business. He answered, “Attending bar.” “Attending bar! Attending bar! Why, I thought you were a teetotaler.” “So I am,” said Barnum. “And yet, sir, you have the audacity to assert that you peddle rum all day, and drink none yourself?” “That is not a relevant question,” said Barnum. The judge decided that it was a relevant question, and Barnum finally answered, “Very well, I do attend bar, and yet never drink intoxicating liquors.” “Where do you attend bar, and for whom?” “I attend the bar of this court nearly every day, for the benefit of two-penny lawyers and their greedy clients,” was the answer. When another lawyer, who had been asking him many questions, said apologetically, “You see, Mr. Barnum, I am searching after the small thing; I am willing to take even the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table,” Barnum asked, “Which are you, then, Lazarus, or one of the dogs?”