But Barnum’s activities were not confined to such minor improvements. He opened the Museum on January 1, 1842, under his own management, and on July 4, 1842, Bennett’s _Herald_ referred to him as “the Napoleon of public caterers.” Besides the experiments in animal magnetism, which were popular before Barnum became proprietor, he introduced a classic scene by Mr. Bennie, entitled “Il Studio or Living Statues.” A splendid attraction for one week only was the family of Industrious Fleas. “These insects,” Barnum advertised, “have been taught by a gentleman from Germany, and rendered so docile as to be harnessed to carriages and other vehicles of several thousand times their own weight, which they will draw with as much precision as a cart horse.” Jugglers, albinos, educated dogs, automatons, rope-dancers, dioramas of The Creation, The Deluge, and A Storm at Sea, fat boys, giants, gipsies, ventriloquists, knitting machines, models of Dublin, Paris, and Jerusalem, and examples of fancy glass-blowing were a few of the attractions at the Museum for twenty-five cents admission, children half-price. The first Punch and Judy Show ever exhibited in this country was one of Barnum’s early attractions. Barnum’s aim was to make the Museum the talk of New York, and he used for this purpose every available means of advertising, creating means when they were not available. A man came to the box-office of the Museum one morning and asked for money. Barnum inquired why he did not work, and, after buying him a breakfast, employed him at $1.50 for the day. The man’s job was to place a brick at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street, another brick at the corner of Broadway and Vesey Street, another in front of the Astor House, and another in front of St. Paul’s Church. This brick-layer was to hold a fifth brick in his hand, and he was to continue from brick to brick, exchanging the brick in his hand for the brick on the walk, without talking to any one en route. At the end of every hour of this work, he was to present a ticket at the Museum, walk through the building and pass out to continue solemnly his brick work. Half an hour after the man began his rounds five hundred men and women were watching him, and trying by conjecture and questions to solve the mystery of his purpose. Solemn and taciturn, he went from brick to brick, ignoring the comments and questions of the crowd, and at the end of the first hour the streets surrounding the Museum were filled with people. Whenever he entered the Museum, people bought tickets and followed him, hoping that inside was the solution to the riddle of his strange actions. After several days of this walking advertisement, the police interfered and insisted that Barnum must withdraw his man because of the congestion of traffic he caused, for the crowds practically closed all streets near the Museum. But Barnum’s bricks were discussed for several weeks and received due newspaper notice.