Some years ago I engaged a celebrated Living American
Skeleton for a tour through Australia. He was the thinnest
man I ever saw. He was a splendid skeleton. He didn't
weigh anything scarcely--and I said to myself--the people of
Australia will flock to see this tremendous curiosity. It
is a long voyage--as you know--from New York to Melbourne--
and to my utter surprise the skeleton had no sooner got out
to sea than he commenced eating in the most horrible manner.
He had never been on the ocean before--and he said it agreed
with him.--I thought so!--I never saw a man eat so much in
my life. Beef--mutton--pork--he swallowed them all like a
shark--and between meals he was often discovered behind
barrels eating hard-boiled eggs. The result was that when
we reached Melbourne this infamous skeleton weighed 64
pounds more than I did!

I thought I was ruined--but I wasn't. I took him on to
California--another very long sea voyage--and when I got him
to San Francisco I exhibited him as a Fat Man. (The reader
need scarcely be informed that this narrative is about as
real as "A. Ward's Snaiks," and about as much matter of fact
as his journey through the States with a wax-work show.)

This story hasn't anything to do with my Entertainment, I
know--but one of the principal features of my Entertainment
is that it contains so many things that don't have anything
to do with it.

My Orchestra is small--but I am sure it is very good--so far
as it goes. I give my pianist ten pounds a night--and his