"But you must spare them. All the birds and animals from California ought to be together. You own half of my California menagerie, and you must lend me those pigeons."

"Mr. Adams, they are too rare and valuable a bird to be hawked about in that manner."

"Oh, don't be a fool," replied Adams. "Rare bird, indeed! Why, they are just as common in California as any other pigeon! I could have brought a hundred of them from San Francisco, if I had thought of it."

"But why did you not think of it?" with a suppressed smile.

"Because they are so common there," said Adams. "I did not think they would be any curiosity here."

Barnum was ready to burst with laughter to see how readily Adams swallowed the bait, but, maintaining the most rigid gravity, he replied:

"Oh! well, Mr. Adams, if they are really so common in California, you had probably better take them, and you may write over and have half a dozen pairs sent to me for the Museum."

A few weeks later Barnum, being in the California Menagerie, noticed that something ailed the pigeons. They had a sadly-mottled appearance. Their feathers had grown out, and they were half white. Adams had not yet noticed it, being too busy with his bears. But Barnum called him at once to the pigeon cage.

"Look here, Adams," he said, "I'm afraid you are going to lose your Golden Pigeons. They must be very sick. Just see how pale they look! Good thing they're so common in California, so you can easily get some more, eh?"

Adams looked at them a moment in astonishment, then turning to Barnum, and seeing that he could not suppress a smile, he indignantly exclaimed:

"Blast the Golden Pigeons! You had better take them back to the Museum. You can't humbug me with your painted pigeons!"

This was too much, and Barnum laughed till he cried, to witness the mixed look of astonishment and vexation which marked the grizzly features of old Adams.

After the exhibition on Thirteenth Street and Broadway had been open six weeks, the doctor insisted that Adams should sell out his share in the animals and settle up his worldly affairs, for he a.s.sured him that he was growing weaker every day, and his earthly existence must soon terminate. "I shall live a good deal longer than you doctors think for," replied Adams, doggedly; and then, seeming after all to realize the truth of the doctor's a.s.sertion, he turned and said: "Well, Mr. Barnum, you must buy me out."

A bargain was soon concluded. Arrangements had been made to exhibit the bears in Connecticut and Ma.s.sachusetts during the summer, in connection with the Museum, and Adams insisted that Barnum should engage him to travel for the season and manage the bears. He offered to do it for $60 a week and expenses. Barnum replied that he would gladly make such an arrangement, but he feared Adams was not strong enough to stand it.

"You are growing weaker every day," he said; "and would better go to your home and rest."

"What will you give me extra if I will travel and exhibit the bears every day for ten weeks?" added old Adams, eagerly.

"Five hundred dollars."

"Done!" exclaimed Adams, "I will do it, so draw up an agreement to that effect at once. But mind you, draw it payable to my wife, for I may be too weak to attend to business after the ten weeks are up, and if I perform my part of the contract, I want her to get the $500 without any trouble."

Barnum drew up a contract to pay him $60 per week for his services, and if he continued to exhibit the bears for ten consecutive weeks, to hand him, or his wife, $500 extra.

"You have lost your $500!" exclaimed Adams on taking the contract; "for I am bound to live and earn it."

"I hope you may, with all my heart, and a hundred years more if you desire it," replied Barnum.

"Call me a fool if I don't earn the $500!" exclaimed Adams, with a triumphant laugh.

The "show" started off in a few days, and at the end of a fortnight Barnum met it at Hartford, Connecticut.

"Well" said he, "Adams, you seem to stand it pretty well. I hope you and your wife are comfortable?"

"Yes," he replied with a laugh; "and you may as well try to be comfortable, too, for your $500 is a goner."

"All right," Barnum replied, "I hope you will grow better every day."

But the case was hopeless. Adams was dying. When Barnum met him three weeks later at New Bedford his eyes were gla.s.sy and his hands trembling, but his courage and will were strong as ever.

"This hot weather tells on me," he said, "but I'll last the ten weeks and more, and get your $500."

Barnum urged him to quit work, to take half of the $500 and go home. But, no. He would not listen to it. And he did actually serve through the whole ten weeks, and got the $500; remarking, as he pocketed the cash,

"Barnum, it's too bad you're a teetotaler, for I'd like to stand treat with you on this."

When Adams set out on this last tour, Barnum had a fine new hunting-suit made of beaver-skins. He had procured it for Herr Driesbach, the animal tamer, whom he had engaged to take Adams'

place whenever the latter should give out. Adams had asked him to loan him the suit, to wear occasionally when he had great audiences, as his own suit was badly worn. Barnum did so; and at the end of the engagement, as he received the $500, Adams said:

"Mr. Barnum, I suppose you are going to give me this new hunting-dress."

"Oh, no," Barnum replied, "I got that for your successor, who will exhibit the bears to-morrow, besides, you have no possible use for it."

"Now, don't be mean, but lend me the dress, if you won't give it to me, for I want to wear it home to my native village."

Barnum could not refuse the poor old man anything, and he therefore replied:

"Well, Adams, I will lend you the dress, but you will send it back to me?"

"Yes, when I have done with it," he replied, with an evident chuckle of triumph.

Barnum thought, "he will soon be done with it," and replied: "That's all right."

A new idea evidently struck Adams, for, with a brightening look of satisfaction, he said:

"Now, Barnum, you have made a good thing out of the California menagerie, and so have I; but you will make a heap more. So if you won't give me this new hunter's dress, just draw a little writing, and sign it, saying that I may wear it until I have done with it."

Barnum knew that in a few days, at longest, he would be "done"

with this world altogether, and, to gratify him, he cheerfully drew and signed the paper.

"Come, old Yankee, I've got you this time--see. if I hadn't!"

exclaimed Adams, with a broad grin, as he took the paper.

Barnum smiled, and said:

"All right, my dear fellow; the longer you live the better I shall like it,"

They parted, and Adams went to Charlton, Worcester County, Ma.s.sachusetts, where his wife and daughter lived. He took at once to his bed, and never rose from it again. The excitement had pa.s.sed away, and his vital energies could accomplish no more, The fifth day after arriving home, the physician told him he could not live until the next morning. He received the announcement in perfect calmness, and with the most apparent indifference; then, turning to his wife, with a smile he requested her to have him buried in the new hunting-suit. "For," said he, "Barnum agreed to let me have it until I have done with it, and I was determined to fix his flint this time. He shall never see that dress again."

That dress was indeed the shroud in which he was entombed.

After Adams' death, Barnum incorporated the California Menagerie with the American Museum, for a time, but afterward sold most of the animals. The Museum was now most prosperous, and Barnum was making steady progress toward paying off the debts that burdened him.

In the fall of 1860 the Museum was visited by the Prince of Wales and his suite, in response to an invitation from Barnum.

Unfortunately, Barnum himself had gone to Bridgeport that very morning, the invitation not having been accepted until about an hour before the visit. Mr. Greenwood, the manager, when he heard that the Prince was coming, caused the performance in the lecture-room to be commenced half an hour before the usual time, so as to clear the floors of a portion of the crowd, in order that he might have a better opportunity to examine the curiosities. When the Prince arrived, there was a great crowd outside the Museum, and hundreds more were soon added to the numbers a.s.sembled within the building. He was received by Mr.

Greenwood, and immediately conducted to the second story, where the first object of interest pointed out was the "What Is It?" in which his Royal Highness manifested much curiosity. In compliance with his wish, the keeper went through the regular account of the animal. Here, also, the party were shown the Albino family, concerning whom they made inquiries. The Siamese twins, the sea-lions, and the seal were also pointed out, and some of the animals were fed in the presence of the Prince at his own request. He was conducted through the building, and his attention was called to many objects of special interest. At the close of a short visit, the Prince asked for Mr. Barnum, and regretted that he had not an opportunity of seeing him also. "We have," he said, "missed the most interesting feature of the establishment."