At last the time came when the door was to be opened, when some listener, not vulgar, recognizing the child as God made him, induced his master to remove him from the plantation.  Something ought to be done for him; the world ought not to be cheated of this pleasure; besides—­the money that could be made!  So Mr. Oliver, with a kindly feeling for Tom, proud, too, of this agreeable monster which his plantation had grown, and sensible that it was a more fruitful source of revenue than tobacco-fields, set out with the boy, literally to seek their fortune.

The first exhibition of him was given, I think, in Savannah, Georgia; thence he was taken to Charleston, Richmond, to all the principal cities and towns in the Southern States.

This was in 1858.  From that time until the present Tom has lived constantly an open life, petted, feted, his real talent befogged by exaggeration, and so pampered and coddled that one might suppose the only purpose was to corrupt and wear it out.  For these reasons this statement is purposely guarded, restricted to plain, known facts.

No sooner had Tom been brought before the public than the pretensions put forward by his master commanded the scrutiny of both scientific and musical skeptics.  His capacities were subjected to rigorous tests.  Fortunately for the boy:  for, so tried,—­harshly, it is true, yet skilfully,—­they not only bore the trial, but acknowledged the touch as skilful; every day new powers were developed, until he reached his limit, beyond which it is not probable he will ever pass.  That limit, however, establishes him as an anomaly in musical science.

Physically, and in animal temperament, this negro ranks next to the lowest Guinea type:  with strong appetites and gross bodily health, except in one particular, which will be mentioned hereafter.  In the every-day apparent intellect, in reason or judgment, he is but one degree above an idiot,—­incapable of comprehending the simplest conversation on ordinary topics, amused or enraged with trifles such as would affect a child of three years old.  On the other side, his affections are alive, even vehement, delicate in their instinct as a dog’s or an infant’s; he will detect the step of any one dear to him in a crowd, and burst into tears, if not kindly spoken to.

His memory is so accurate that he can repeat, without the loss of a syllable, a discourse of fifteen minutes in length, of which he does not understand a word.  Songs, too, in French or German, after a single hearing, he renders not only literally in words, but in notes, style, and expression.  His voice, however, is discordant, and of small compass.