acquaintance in New York to receive his orders, he opened his
store on the first of May--in those times known as "training
day." The first day was so successful that long before noon the
proprietor was obliged to call in one of his old schoolmates to
assist in waiting on customers. The total receipts were
sixty-three dollars, which sum was promptly invested in a stock
of fancy goods --pocket-books, combs, knives, rings, beads, etc.
Business was good all summer, and in the fall oysters were added
to the list of attractions. The old grandfather was delighted at
the success of the scheme, and after a while induced Barnum to
take an agency for lottery tickets on a commission of ten per
cent. Lotteries in those days were looked upon as thoroughly
respectable, and the profit gained from the sale of the tickets
was regarded as perfectly legitimate by the agent; his views on
the subject changed very materially later on.

The store soon became the great village resort, the centre of all
discussions and the scene of many practical jokes.

The following scene, related by Barnum himself, makes a chapter
in the history of Connecticut, as the State was when "blue laws"
were something more than a dead letter:

"To swear in those days was according to custom, but contrary to
law. A person from New York State, whom I will call Crofut, who
was a frequent visitor at my store, was equally noted for his
self-will and his really terrible profanity. One day he was in my
little establishment engaged in conversation when Nathan Seelye,
Esq., one of our village justices of the peace, and a man of
strict religious principles, came in, and hearing Crofut's