At that time Hiram Powers was, as the saying is, living upon his wits; and they, being such as I have described them, were not likely to fail in producing the wherewithal to do so.  There was at that period a little Frenchman named Dorfeuille at Cincinnati—­not a bad sort of little man, I believe, and with some amount of literary and other talent.  But he also being engaged in the operation of living on his wits, or mainly so, and not finding them so abundantly sufficient for the purpose as those of my young friend, thought that he too might in part live on the wits of the latter; and during the time of my stay at Cincinnati he did so to the satisfaction of both parties.  This Dorfeuille was the proprietor of a museum, the main and most attractive portion of which was a number of wax figures.  But the Cincinnati public was not large enough in those days to supply a constant stream of fresh spectators, and, though there was little in the way of public amusement to compete with M. Dorfeuille’s museum, the Cincinnati people soon got tired of looking at the same show; and but for the happy chance which brought him into contact with Hiram Powers, M. Dorfeuille must have packed up his museum and sought “fresh woods and pastures new.”  But with the advent of young Powers, and the contents of the museum given over to his creating brain and clever fingers, a period of halcyon days and new prosperity commenced for the little Frenchman and his show.  With the materials at his disposition all things were possible to the young artist, to whom such a chance gave the first clear consciousness of his own powers.  New combinations, new names, new costuming, alterations of figures, etc. etc. were adopted to produce fine effects and amuse the public with constant novelties.  For the invention of these Powers often used to consult my mother, whose suggestions he never failed to carry into effect, to the great amusement of both parties.  On one occasion an idea struck her, which, when she communicated it to him, fired the imagination of Powers and turned out a great success.  This was nothing less than to give a representation of some of the more striking scenes of Dante’s Divina Commedia.  The idea was a sufficiently audacious one.  But “audaces Fortuna juvat.”  Powers scouted the notion of difficulty.  My mother was to draw up the programme, and he undertook, with the materials furnished him by the museum, and with the help of some of his own handiwork, to give scenic reality to her suggestions.  The result, as I have said, was a brilliant success.  I have a copy of the “bill” that was issued to the public inviting them to the exhibition in question, which is a curiosity in its way, and which I must give the reader.  It is drawn up in high sensational style, with lines of different lengths and boldness, and printed in all the different sorts of capitals which the printer’s case afforded.  I cannot occupy space with any imitation of these typographical magnificences, but will simply copy the language of the bill.  It must have been my mother’s composition, and Powers had to work up to it, which he did to the letter: