"For six years, Mr. President, I have carefully watched the progress of this disease, and it really warms the recesses of my heart to find myself surrounded, as I do to-day, by the highly honorable and respectable throng of gentlemen who now grace this rostrum,—yourself, Mr. President, prominent among this galaxy of talent, education, genius, morality, and thrift!" (Immense applause, during which the speaker removed his outside coat.)

"The day is auspicious, Mr. Barnum,—I beg pardon—Mr. President. The spirit of liberty,—of American liberty,—sir, is abroad! To be sure, our valued friends who pretend to Know Nothing (and whose pretensions none of here, I think, will gainsay) have commenced an onslaught upon almost everything of foreign extraction; but they kindly permit us to import Chinese fowls, and allow us to breed them—for the present, at least—without interruption; for which I trust they may receive a unanimous vote of thanks from this American National Poultry Society." ("Yes, yes!" followed this allusion, with hearty cheers.)

"I repeat it, sir,—the times are auspicious. Money is a drug in the market, plainly. The patronage bestowed upon this show (in which, Mr. President, I am sure your native modesty and national patriotism cannot suffer you to feel the slightest personal interest) is evidence of this fact. The prices paid here, in 1854, for domestic fowls—though so clearly below their actual value!—supports this assertion: and your own entire lack of backwardness in coming forward to assume the risk and responsibility of the expenses of this exhibition is the crowning proof that l'argent is plenty—somewhere, at least. I have no disposition, Mr. President,—far be it from me—Heaven forbid that I should attempt—to offer one word of flattery, that you might, by any possibility, appropriate personally. No, sir,—I am no such man! But, if ever there was an individual whose pure-bred disinterestedness, whose incomparable generosity, whose astonishing sacrifice of self, stuck out like a sore thumb, these attributes have now been evinced, beyond the shadow of a shade of question, on this exhilarating occasion, through the astounding liberality of a gentleman, the initials of whose name are Finnyous Tee Barman!" (Immense applause, during which the Young 'Un laid aside his dress-coat, and took off his cravat,—while the President, with both hands over his face, sat overpowered with his emotions.)

"Mr. President, I am no clap-trap orator. I shall say what I have to say, sir, to-day, without any hope or aim towards future reward. To be sure, I have the originals of the finest-blooded fowls in the land, and nobody disputes it; and I have now a fine lot here to dispose of; but this is not the time or place to allude to this matter; and I will only say that I do not charge so much for them as many breeders do, while, at the same time, mine are very much finer and purer than anybody else's, as can readily be seen upon examining the contents of my cages, in the first room below this hall, on the right-hand side as you enter the building. The people, sir, are in search of information on this interesting subject; and I will only add, gentlemen,—call as you pass out, and judge for yourselves." (Loud cries of "We will!—we will!" "That's true!" "That's a fact!" "Your fame is firmly established!")

"Mr. President, I have been too long a resident of these United States—I am too old a citizen of this enlightened country—to be ignorant of the true character of the American people. I am a Yankee, sir! My father was a Yankee, and my grandfather (if I ever had one, sir), before him. 'The people' know what they are about. You cannot deceive them, sir, as you and I well know. When they undertake a thing, it must go forward. There's no stopping them, sir. They enter into any enterprise that promises so much of universal success to the whole country as does this business of poultry-raising, with a rush, sir! And they carry out their objects,—nil disperandum hic jacit est glorii mundi morning, sir,—as the poet remarks." (Hurra! Hurra! "Three cheers for Burnham," suggested the President, which were given with a will; and during which the speaker removed his vest and braces,—carefully securing his watch, however, at the same time.)

"We are not here to be humbugged, sir, nor do we aspire to humbug anybody, at this exhibition;—a performance which would be rather difficult to effect, in my humble judgment, even if we did! We come here to show the people what has been done, what is now doing, and what may be done again, sir, by our friends here, all of them and any of them, who choose to undertake the pleasing and delightful task of rearing pure-bred fowls. And, should there now be within the sound of my voice any lady or gentleman who has never seen the tiny Shanghae chick as it emerged from its delicate prison-shell and leaped forth into liberty and the glorious sunlight,—should any one of my listeners never have enjoyed the dulcet tone of that chicken's tender 'peep,'—if any of you are strangers to the habits and beauties and innocence of these rare but graceful birds,—if you have never listened to the melody of their musical crow, from youth to green old age,—I will only say, procure some of the genuine specimens, and there is much of joy and happiness yet in store for yourselves, your wives, your children, or your friends,—if you chance to have any." (Applause, and marked sensation.)

"Mr. President, I am no speech-maker. Had I, for one moment, supposed that I should have been thought of, by this talented and well-informed audience, I should not have been present here, I assure you. But, sir, my fame preceded me here. I'm a poor but honest man; and modesty, sir, that native modesty which so preeminently characterizes your own composition, Mr. President (had I suspected that I should have been called upon), would have prompted me to have left to others the pleasing task of speaking of me and mine. Still, if my friends 'will buckle fortune on my back, whether I will or no,' I can only say that I feel impressed that the duty and moral obligations I owe to society compel me to submit to the burthen, with the best possible grace at my humble command." (Deep sensation among the audience; the ladies, for the most part, in tears.)

"But, sir, the future is before us! The brilliant star of fortune still shines in the distance, for the encouragement of those who have not yet availed themselves of the splendid promise that awaits the men who are yet to come after us, to do as we have done! And, to those who are now about to undertake the commendable occupation of attempting to breed 'fancy poultry,' I will only say, 'Go on, gentlemen! Forward, in your delightfully pleasing and profit-promising ambition! Purchase none but the best stock, without regard to price; and breed it (if you can!). Everybody wants to buy,—everybody will buy,—and the hens that lay the golden eggs are still for sale, within the sound of my voice (unless they have all been bought up since I entered this hall). But there are still a few more left, I have no doubt, gentlemen; and, I charge you, seize them while you may!'"

A general stampede followed my speech. I secured my clothes, and, for three hours afterwards, I found it impossible to get within fifty feet of my show-cages, in consequence of the throng of purchasers that crowded around them!

There must have been some charm about those magical coops of mine. They were filled and refilled, twenty times over; but they were as often emptied, and at singularly gratifying prices, both to buyer and seller.