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Some months subsequent to this, Mr. Clark came rushing into the Museum almost out of breath, and with much earnestness saluted me thus: "Friend Barnum, I have come in to ask if you have got the club in the Museum that Captain Cook was killed with?"

Remembering that I had a large lot of Indian war-clubs among the collection of aboriginal curiosities, and feeling that I owed Clark a joke for his Niagara Falls catch, I instantly replied that I was the owner of the club in question.

"Well, I declare I am very glad to hear it," said he; "for do you know that I have for a long time had a singular and irrepressible desire to see that club?"

"Wait here a few minutes, and I will show it to you," I replied.

Passing up stairs, I commenced overhauling a lot of war-clubs, and finally selected a heavy one that looked as if it might have killed Captain Cook, or any body else whose head it came in contact with. Having affixed a small label on it, reading "The Capt. Cook Club," I took it down to Mr. Clark, assuring him that this was the instrument of death which he had inquired for.

"Is it possible!" said he, as he took it in his hand. Presently raising it above his head, he exclaimed, "Well, I declare, this is a terrible weapon with which to take a man's life."

"Yes," I replied seriously, but feeling an inward delight that I was now paying off Mr. Clark with interest; "I believe it killed the victim at the first blow!"

"Poor Captain Cook!" exclaimed Clark with a sigh; "I wonder if he was conscious after receiving the fatal blow."

"I don't think he could have been," I responded with a well-feigned look of sorrow.

"You are sure this is the identical club?"inquired Clark.

"We have documents which place its identity beyond all question," I replied.

"Poor Cook! poor Cook!" said Clark musingly. "Well, Mr. Barnum," he continued with great gravity, at the same time extending his hand and giving mine a hearty shake, "I am really very much obliged to you for your kindness. I had an irrepressible desire to see the club that killed Captain Cook, and I felt quite confident you could accommodate me. I have been in half a dozen smaller museums, and as they all had it, I was sure a large establishment like yours would not be without it!"

My laurels were fast withering, and I felt that unless I kept my wits about me and managed to pay Clark at least an instalment on what I owed him, I should be the laughing-stock of all his acquaintances. A few weeks afterwards, therefore, I wrote him a note, saying that I desired to consult him for a few moments at my office on a subject of serious importance to rue, he came immediately.

"Now," said I, "I do not want any of your nonsense, but I want your sober advice."

"My dear Barnum," he replied in the fulness of his truly generous heart, "nothing will give me greater pleasure than to serve you in any way in my power."

I proceeded to inform him that a gentleman who had visited Egypt had brought from the river Nile a most remarkable living fish, which he offered to hire for exhibition. The fish, I told him, was of a peculiar formation, and that the owner of it would place $5000 in the hands of a responsible banker, to be forfeited if the fish did not within six weeks pass through a transformation by which its tail would disappear, and it would then have legs.

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Clark, in great astonishment.

I assured him that there was no mistake about it. "But," said I, "his price is high, and I want to ask your opinion in regard to its success. He asks $100 per week for the use of it."

"It is cheap enough, my dear fellow. It will draw you more than that sum extra per day. Why, the whole thing is incredible. It will startle the naturalists -- wake up the whole scientific world -- and draw in the masses.

"Do you really think so?"I asked.

"Upon my honor, I am sure of it," responded Clark with much enthusiasm. "Make an engagement for six months, or for a year if possible, then come out and state the facts regarding this wonderful transformation -- announce that $5000 have been deposited in responsible hands which will be forfeited to the poor of this city if the change does not take place as described, and my word for it, your museum will not be large enough to contain your visitors. I declare I believe you will make $20,000 by the operation!"

I thanked Mr. Clark very warmly for his kind counsel, and assured him I should not fall to take his advice. "In fact," said I, "I thought well of the speculation, excepting that I did not like the name of the fish. I think that is an objection."

"Tush, tush, not at all; what's in a name? Nothing. That makes no difference whatever. What is the name of the fish?"

"Tadpole, but it is vulgarly called a pollywog," I replied, with becoming gravity.

"Sold, by thunder!" exclaimed Clark, springing to his feet and rushing down stairs.

The "Fejee Mermaid" was by many supposed to be a curiosity manufactured by myself, or made to my order. This is not the fact. I certainly had much to do in bringing it before the public, and as I am now in the confessional mood, I will "make a clean breast" of the ways and means I adopted for that purpose. I must first, however, relate how it came into my possession and its alleged history.