If all that was packed into "a room adjoining the Western Museum," the sight of it must, I think, be admitted to have been a cheap twenty-five cents' worth. The Cincinnati world of hard upon half a century ago judged it to be so, and flocked to the exhibition in crowds. But very soon the versatile and indefatigable artist devised new means of still further stimulating the curiosity and excitement of his public. A bar ran across the exhibition-room, dividing the space allotted to the spectators from that occupied by the scenery and objects provided for their amusement. But since the available space was, as may easily be imagined, somewhat limited, it came to pass that the foremost spectators, being often of that class of persons who see with the ends of their fingers, would stretch out their arms and audaciously touch "the Black Imp," or "the Skeleton," or Minos himself, or any other of the _dramatis personæ_ they could reach, to the damage of those somewhat perishable properties. A notice was therefore placarded in the room, written in flame-colored letters and couched in the choicest bugaboo phraseology, warning all such indiscreet persons that the denizens of the Infernal Regions could not be touched by mortal hands with impunity, and that _immediate_ punishment would visit transgressors. Of course it was foreseen that such threats would not avail to restrain, but would rather stimulate the curiosity of the disciples of Saint Thomas. But, sure enough, the threatened punishment, by no means "_pede claudo_" followed in every case--very accurately with the speed of lightning--on the transgression; for Powers had cunningly contrived, preparing it all with his own hand, that a sharp electric shock should be communicated to each audacious hand that braved the prohibition. The astonishment, the terror, and subsequently the fun, produced by this ingenious device may easily be imagined. The sufferers, like the fox who had lost his tail, brought their friends, and enjoyed the fun of leading them into the same scrape. The "room adjoining the Western Museum" was more thronged than ever, and little Dorfeuille reaped a golden harvest. How large a share of it found its way into the pockets of the ingenious artist I know not--probably a much smaller one than fair play would have assigned him. In the long after years at Florence, Powers and I had many a laugh together over his reminiscences of the scenes that occurred in that exhibition-room, all of which he remembered as well as if the incidents had happened but a year before, and would chuckle over with as much enjoyment as he did at the time of their occurrence. My copy of the hand-bill which I have given above--doubtless the only one now in existence--was matter of much amusement to us, and served to recall every portion and every figure of the early work of his hands.