Even this generous offer from my little friend I felt compelled to refuse. But kind words were written and spoken which I could not prevent, nor did I desire to do so, and which were worth more to me than money. I should fail to find space, if I wished it, to copy one-tenth part of the cordial and kind articles and paragraphs that appeared about me in newspapers throughout the country. The following sentence from an editorial article in a prominent New York journal was the key-note to many similar kind notices in all parts of the Union: “It is a fact beyond dispute that Mr. Barnum’s financial difficulties have accumulated from the goodness of his nature; kind-hearted and generous to a fault, it has ever been his custom to lend a helping hand to the struggling; and honest industry and enterprise have found his friendship prompt and faithful.” The _Boston Journal_ dwelt especially upon the use I had made of my money in my days of prosperity in assisting deserving laboring men and in giving an impulse to business in the town where I resided. It seems only just that I should make this very brief allusion to these things, if only as an offset to the unbounded abuse of those who believed in kicking me merely because I was down; nor can I refrain from copying the following from the _Boston Saturday Evening Gazette_, of May 3, 1856: BARNUM REDIVIVUS. A WORD FOR BARNUM. BARNUM, your hand! Though you are “down,” And see full many a frigid shoulder, Be brave, my brick, and though they frown, Prove that misfortune makes you bolder. There’s many a man that sneers, my hero, And former praise converts to scorning, Would worship--when he fears--a Nero, And bend “where thrift may follow fawning.” You humbugged us--that we have seen, _We got our money’s worth_, old fellow, And though you thought our _minds_ were _green_, We never thought your _heart_ was _yellow_. We knew you liberal, generous, warm, Quick to assist a falling brother, And, with such virtues, what’s the harm All memories of your faults to smother? We had not heard the peerless Lind, But for your spirit enterprising, You were the man to raise the wind, And make a _coup_ confessed surprising. You’re reckoned in your native town A friend in need, a friend in danger, You ever keep the latchstring down, And greet with open hand the stranger. Stiffen your upper lip. You know Who are your friends and who your foes now; We pay for knowledge as we go; And though you get some sturdy blows now, You’ve a fair field,--no favors crave,-- The storm once passed will find you braver,-- In virtue’s cause long may you wave, And on the right side, never waver.