My great-grandfather was definitely a character.  He was written about by Joseph Mitchell for the New Yorker and also for his book, "Up in the Old Hotel".

My mother could tell you all about Toby, including the story of Toby's birth.  He was purportedly born in the hand of William Jennings Bryan (there's more to it).  And of course he would wink at the ladies, etc.  He is seated at one of my g-g's music boxes (there was an enormous collection of them).

Seaweed is the latest victim of economists; new uses for it are being found constantly. The picture above shows it in its latest form — clothing.
Both the sweater and the pair of stockings that the girl is holding were made from seaweed that grows in China. Yet they look not unlike woolen garments.
Pine-needles are also being pressed into service; and so are many grasses and leaves. At a recent exhibition of the Commerce Bureau in the Customs House in New York city many grass-made garments were shown.

Terrapins have brains of a human-like quality, declares Alex Barbee of Savannah, Ga., owner of "Toby," the only trained terrapin in the world. His pet is seen playing a toy piano. "Toby" does lots of other clever things.

Toby was a diamond-back terrapin of unusual gifts. He is owned by a man whose name I have forgotten, but who owns and manages what he claims is the only diamond-back terrapin farm in existence. It is in Savannah, Georgia, and Toby's father ships anything from one terrapin to a carload to any point east, west, north or south, in these United States where the delicacy of diamond-back terrapin may at that moment be desired. Also, he cans terrapin and makes them into soup.

Toby, however, has escaped this fate by virtue of the rare and great affection which exists between him and his master. He is a small terrapin, and he lived in his master's bath-tub. Each of the diamonds upon his back has been lovingly outlined in gold paint.

When Toby is taken from the bath-tub and into the parlor for the edification of visitors, he is instructed to wink his left eye, and Toby responds properly. Then he is told to cry, and up go his tiny flippers to his tinier eyes, while Toby would appear to be violently sorrowing.

But his crowning achievement is waving his flippers temperamentally over the keys of a tiny music box built to resemble a piano, on which his master has propped him. It would appear to the uninitiate that Toby was making music with all the fire of a Paderewski, albeit minus the hair and the politics. Truly, a talented terrapin.