Thus the hero reasoned within himself. It was true, old Battle was eating his head off. But the pig had made a wonderful sensation, and so crowded the house every night as to demonstrate the fact that first rate talent of every kind was highly appreciated in New York. The critics, with scarcely a dissenting voice, had declared the pig a marvel, a profound embodiment of talent, one of the wonders of the age; an animal possessed of such rare gifts that no lover of the curious in natural history should lose the opportunity of witnessing his performances. And in order to diversify these distinguished and very popular entertainments, the clever showman had introduced a piece called "Evenings with the Critics," in one scene of which was presented a litter of nine precocious pigs, habited in bright, colored mantles, and seated on seats forming a semicircle, with Duncan in ducal robes seated on a throne, and presiding with the gravest demeanor. The nine small pigs were supposed to represent various members of the critic tribe, while Duncan, who was in spectacles, personated Doctor Easley. And so cleverly did the showman understand the instincts of critics, as well as the beauties of his art, that he produced the scene with the merits of a poem called Hiawatha under consideration. Each pig waited the signal of approval or disapproval from Duncan, and according to his verdict, either fell upon and grievously soiled the poem, or grunted in one string of praise as they danced round it. And the audience understanding the logic of this, the performance proved highly entertaining. Indeed, renowned tragedians, very popular low comedians, leading business ladies, whose fame had been made for twenty years, and singing ladies who hailed from no less a place than the Covent Garden Opera, London, were driven by the pig mania into Poverty Lodge, from whence they sneeringly declared that no better proof of the low standard of public taste could be afforded.