By this time a group had gathered round the giant. Paul and Jimmy joined it.
"Was you always so large?" asked a boy at Paul's side.
"I was rather smaller when I was a baby," said the giant, laughing.
"How much do you weigh?"
"Two hundred and seventy-five pounds."
"That beats you, Jimmy," said Paul.
"Were you big when you were a boy?"
"I was over seven feet high on my fifteenth birthday," said the giant.
"Did the teacher lick you often?" asked one of the boys shyly.
"Not very often. He couldn't take me over his knee very well."
"What an awful lot of cloth you must take for your clothes!" said the last boy.
"That's so, my lad. I keep a manufactory running all the time to keep me supplied."
"Do you think that's true, Paul?" asked Jimmy, doubtfully.
"Not quite," answered Paul, smiling.
"Don't you need to eat a good deal?" was the next question.
"Oh, no, not much. Half a dozen chickens and a couple of turkeys are about all I generally eat for dinner. Perhaps I could eat more if I tried. If any of you boys will invite me to dinner I'll do my best."
"I'm glad you ain't my son," said one of the boys. "I shouldn't like to keep you in food and clothes."
"Well, now, I shouldn't mind having you for a father," said the giant, humorously looking down upon his questioner, a boy of twelve, and rather small of his age, with a humorous twinkle in his eye. "You wouldn't whip me very often, would you?"
Here there was a laugh at the expense of the small boy, and the group dispersed.
"Now, you've seen a large man, Jimmy," said Paul. "I'm going next to show you a small one."
They moved on to a different part of the building, and joined another crowd, this time surrounding the illustrious Tom Thumb, at that time one of the attractions of the museum.
"There's a little man, smaller than you are, Jimmy," said Paul.
"So he is," said Jimmy. "Is that Tom Thumb?"
"Yes."
"I didn't think he was so small. I'm glad I'm not so little."
"No, it might not be very comfortable, though you could make a good deal of money by it. Tom is said to be worth over a hundred thousand dollars."
"I guess it doesn't cost him so much for clothes as the giant."
"Probably not. I don't think he would need to run a manufactory for his own use."
But there were multitudes of curiosities to be seen, and they could not linger long. Jimmy was particularly interested in the waxwork figures, which at first he thought must be real, so natural was their appearance. There were lions and tigers in cages, who looked out from between the gratings as if they would like nothing better than to make a hearty meal from one or more of the crowd who surrounded the cages.
Jimmy clung to Paul's hand timidly.
"Couldn't they get out, Paul?" he asked.
"No, the cages are too strong. But even if they could, I don't think they would attack you. You would only be a mouthful for them."
"I don't see how Mr. Barnum dared to put them in the cages."
"I don't think Barnum would dare to come very near them. But he has keepers who are used to them."
But it was time for the afternoon performance to commence. The play was Uncle Tom's Cabin, which no doubt many of my readers have seen.
They got very good seats, fronting the stage, though some distance back. When the curtain rose Jimmy's attention was at once absorbed. It was the first time he had ever seen a play, and it seemed to him a scene of rare enchantment. To Paul, however, it was much less of a novelty. He had frequently been to Barnum's and the Old Bowery, though not as often as those boys who had no home in which to spend their evenings. Mrs. Hoffman was scarcely less interested than Jimmy in the various scenes of the play. It was not particularly well acted, for most of the actors were indifferent in point of talent; but then none of the three were critics, and could not have told the difference between them and first-class performers.
Both laughed heartily over the eccentricities of Topsy, probably the most original character in Mrs. Stowe's popular story, and Jimmy was affected to tears at the death of little Eva. To his unaccustomed eyes it seemed real, and he felt as if Eva was really dying. But, taking it altogether, it was an afternoon of great enjoyment to Jimmy, whose pleasures were not many.
"Well, Jimmy, how did you like it?" asked Paul, as they were working their way out slowly through the crowd.
"It was beautiful, Paul. I am so much obliged to you for taking me."
"I am glad you liked it, Jimmy. We will go again some time."
They were stepping out on the sidewalk, when a boy about Paul's size jostled them rudely.
"There's Limpy!" said he, with a rude laugh.
"You'd better not say that again, Peter Blake," he said menacingly.
"Why not?" demanded Peter defiantly.
"It won't be safe," said Paul significantly.
"I'll call you Limpy if I like."
"You may call me so, and I won't mind it. But don't you call my little brother names."
"I don't mind, Paul," said Jimmy.
"But I do," said Paul. "No boy shall call you names when I am near."
Paul's resolute character was well understood by all the boys who knew him, and Peter would not have ventured to speak as he did, but he did not at first perceive that Jimmy was accompanied by his brother. When he did discover it he slunk away as soon as he could.
They were walking up Park Row, when Jim Parker, once an enemy, but now a friend of Paul, met them. He looked excited, and hurried up to meet them.