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CHAPTER IX. THE AMERICAN MUSEUM.

New Enterprises -- Foot of the Ladder -- Strong Resolutions -- The American Museum -- A Bold Attempt -- An Interview -- Propositions -- Ivy Island again -- A Repulse -- Tactics -- The Shots take Effect -- Stratagem Foiled -- The Victory -- Neck or Nothing -- Museum Improvements -- Humbug and Reality -- Niagara in the Museum -- Taxed for a Cataract -- The Falls in Full Flow -- Caught by an Editor -- The Captain Cook Club -- My Laurels in Danger -- The Hoaxer Hoaxed -- The Fejee Mermaid-Puzzle for Naturalists -- Professor Griffin -- Ways and Means -- An Ingenious Work -- Preliminaries -- Siebold's Explanation -- Grand Announcement -- The Old Dutchman -- A Sight of the "Mare-Maid" -- Mermaid and Cigar -- The Professor Nonplussed -- Striking the Flag -- Receipts in Contrast -- Profitable Opposition -- Gen. Tom Thumb -- A Frank Confession.

APRIL 26, 1841, I called on Robert Sears, the publisher of "Sears' Pictorial Illustrations of the Bible," and contracted for five hundred copies of the work for $500, accepted the United States agency, opened an office, May 10, at the corner of Beckman and Nassau streets, which was subsequently taken by Mr. Redfield as a bookstore, and is the present site of the Nassau Bank. I had thus made another effort to quit the life of a showman for ever, and settle down into a respectable calling. I advertised largely, appointed agents and sub-agents, and managed in the course of six months to sell thousands of books, and at the same time to place a sufficient number in the hands of irresponsible agents to use up all my profits and all my capital!

In the mean time I again leased Vauxhall saloon, and opened it June 14, 1841. I thought it would be compromising my dignity as a "Bible man" to be known as the lessee of a theatre, and the concern was managed, under my directions, by Mr. John Hallett, my brother-in-law. We closed the season, Sept. 25, having cleared about two hundred dollars above expenses.

Living in the City of New-York with nothing to do and a family to support, in a very short time exhausted my funds, and I became about as poor as I should ever wish to be. I looked around in vain for employment congenial to my feelings, that would serve to keep my head above water. I finally obtained the post of writing advertisements and notices for the Bowery Amphitheatre, my duties including daily visits to the upper stories of many newspaper offices to deliver what I had prepared, and see that they were inserted. For this I received $4.00 per week! and was thankful for even that.

I also wrote articles for the Sunday press, for the purpose of en-abling me to "keep the pot boiling" at home.

These productions afforded me a fair remuneration, but it was at best a precarious way of living, and I began to realize, seriously, that I was at the very bottom round of fortune's ladder, and that I had now arrived at an age when it was necessary to make one grand effort to raise myself above want, and to think soberly of laying up something for "a rainy day." I had hitherto been careless upon that point. I had engaged in divers enterprises, caring little what the result was, so that I made a present living for my family. I now saw that it was time to provide for the future.

About this period, I received a letter from my esteemed friend, Hon. Thomas T. Whittlesey, of Danbury. He had long held a mortgage of $500 on a piece of property which I owned in that town. He wrote to say that he was satisfied I never would lay up any thing until I could "invent a riddle that would hold water," and as that was not very likely to occur, I might as well pay him now as ever. That letter strengthened the resolutions I had made, and laying it aside unanswered, I said to myself, "Now, Mr. B., no more nonsense, no more living from hand to mouth, but from this moment please to concentrate your energies upon providing permanently for the future.

While engaged as outside clerk for the Bowery Amphitheatre, I casually learned that the collection of curiosities comprising Scud-der's American Museum, at the corner of Broadway and Ann street, was for sale. It belonged to the daughters of Mr. Scudder, and was conducted for their benefit by John Furzman, under the author-ity of Mr. John Heath, administrator. The price asked for the entire collection was $15,000. It had cost its founder, Mr. Scudder, probably $50,000, and from the profits of the establishment he had been able to leave a large competency to his children. The Museum, however, had been for several years a losing concern, and the heirs were anxious to sell it.

It will not be considered surprising, under all the circumstances, that my speculative spirit should look in that direction for a permanent investment. My recent enterprises had not indeed been productive, and my funds were decidedly low; but my family was in poor health, I desired to enjoy the blessing of a fixed home -- and so I repeatedly visited that Museum as a thoughtful looker-on. I saw, or believed I saw, that only energy, tact and liberality were needed, to give it life and to put it on a profitable footing; and although it might have appeared presumptuous, on my part, to dream of buying so valuable a property without having any money to do it with, I seriously determined to make the purchase, if possible.

I met a friend one day in the street, and told him my intentions. "You buy the American Museum?" said he with surprise, for he knew that my funds were at ebb-tide; "what do you intend buying it with?"

"Brass," I replied, "for silver and gold I have none."

It was even so.

The Museum building, I learned, belonged to Mr. Francis W. Olmsted, a retired merchant, who had a suite of rooms in Park Place. How to approach this great man was a question. I was acquainted with no one who knew him, and to enter his presence without an introduction, I considered equivalent to being kicked out of his house. I therefore wrote him a letter, informing him that I desired to purchase the Museum collection, and that although I had no ready means, if it could be purchased upon a reasonable credit I was entirely confident that my tact and experience, added to a most determined devotion to business, would enable me to make the payments when due. On this basis I asked him to purchase the collection in his own name -- give me a writing securing it to me provided I made the payments punctually, including the rent of his building -- allow me twelve dollars and a half a week on which to support my family -- and if at any time I failed to meet the instalment due, I would vacate the premises and forfeit all that might have been paid to that date. "In fact, Mr. Olmsted," I continued in my earnestness, "you may bind me in any way, and as tightly as you please -- only give me a chance to dig out, or scratch out, and I will either do so or forfeit all the labor and trouble which I may have incurred."

I also endeavored to show Mr. Olmsted, that by making this arrangement he would secure a permanent tenant, whereas if I did not make the purchase the Museum would probably soon be closed. I added, that if he would have the goodness to grant me an interview, I should be happy to give him satisfactory references, and would also submit to any reasonable conditions which he might propose.

I took the letter myself; handed it to his servant, and in two days afterwards I received a reply, naming an hour for me to call on him. I was there at the exact moment, and Mr. Olmsted expressed himself pleased with my punctuality. He eyed me closely, and put several home questions regarding my habits and antecedents. I told him frankly my experience in the way of a caterer for public amusements -- mentioned Vauxhall Garden, the circus, and several exhibitions that I had managed in the South. I was favorably impressed with Mr. Olmsted's appearance and manner. He indeed tried to assume an austere look, and to affect the aristocrat; but I thought I could see the good, open-hearted, noble man peering through his eyes, and a subsequent intimate acquaintance proved the correctness of my impressions respecting him.

"Who are your references?" he inquired.

"Any man in my line," I replied; "from Edmund Simpson, manager of the Park Theatre or William Niblo, to Messrs. Welch, June, Titus, Turner, Angevine, or other circus or menagerie proprietors; also Moses Y. Beach of the New-York Sun."

"Can you get any of them to call on me?" he continued.

I informed him that I could, and it was arranged that they should call on him the next day, and myself the day afterwards. My friend Niblo willingly rode down in his carriage, and had an interview with Mr. Olmsted. Mr. Beach and several others among the gentlemen named also called, and on the following morning I waited upon the arbiter of my fate.

"I don't like your references, Mr. Barnum," said Mr. Olmsted abruptly, as soon as I entered the room.

I was confused, and said "I regretted to hear it."

"They all speak too well of you," he added, laughing; "in fact they talk as if they were all partners of yours, and intended to share the profits."

This intelligence, of course, pleased me. Mr. Olmsted then inquired if I could not induce some friend to give bonds as security that I should meet the installments as they became due. I thought it was doubtful.

"Can you offer me any security in case I should make the purchase for you?" was his still more direct question.

I thought of several small pieces of land which I owned in Connecticut, but they were severely afflicted with mortgages. "I have some land and buildings in Connecticut, but there are encumbrances on them," I replied.

"Yes, yes; I don't want mortgaged property," said Mr. O.; "I should probably have to redeem it."

During further conversation, it was agreed that if he concluded to make the purchase for me, he should retain the property until it was all paid for; and should also appoint (at my expense) a ticket-receiver and accountant, who should render him a weekly statement. It was further stipulated that I should take in an apartment in the adjoining building, hitherto used as a billiard-room, and allow therefor five hundred dollars per year, making the entire rent three thousand dollars per annum, on a lease of ten years. I felt that in all this I had been liberal in my propositions and agreements, and hoped that the wealthy landlord would demand no more concessions. But he wanted something more.

"Now," said he, "if you only had a piece of unencumbered real estate that you could offer as additional security, I think I might venture to negotiate with you."

This seemed the turning-point of my fortune. Thinks I to myself, "It is now or never," and memory rapidly ran over my small possessions in search of the coveted bit of land. Ivy Island, in all the beauty in which my youthful imagination had pictured it, came dancing to my relief. I hesitated an instant. He is amply secured already -- so I thought within myself -- and without some piece of land, I may lose the Museum altogether. I saw no particular harm in it, and after a moment's hesitation I replied:

"I have five acres of land in Connecticut which is free from all lien or encumbrance."

"Indeed! what did you pay for it?"

"It was a present from my late grandfather, Phineas Taylor, given me on account of my name."

"Was he rich?"inquired Mr. Olmsted.

"He was considered well off in those parts," I answered.

"Very kind in him to give you the land. It is doubtless valuable. But I suppose you would not like to part with it, considering it was a present."

"I shall not have to part with it, if I make my payments punctually," I replied, "and I am sure I shall do that."

"Well," said Mr. Olmsted, "I think I will make the purchase for you. At all events, I'll think it over, and in the mean time you must see the administrator and heirs of the estate -- get their best terms, and meet me here on my return to town a week hence."

I withdrew, and proceeded at once to the house of Mr. John Heath, the administrator. His price was $15,000. I offered him $10,000, payable in seven equal annual instalments, with good security. He could not think of selling at that price, and I agreed to call again.

During the week I had several interviews with Mr. Heath, and it was finally agreed that I should have it for $12,000, payable as above -- possession to be given on the 15th November. Mr. Olmsted assented to this, and a morning was appointed to draw and sign the writings. Mr. Heath appeared, but said he must decline proceeding any farther in my case, as he had sold the collection to the directors of Peale's Museum (an incorporated institution) for $15,000, and had received $1000 in advance.

I was thunderstruck. I appealed to his honor. He replied that he had signed no writing with me, was not therefore legally bound, and he felt it his duty to do the best he could for the orphan girls. Mr. Olmsted said he was sorry for me, but could not help me. He would now have permanent tenants who would not require him to incur any risk, and I must necessarily be thrown overboard.

I withdrew, with feelings which I need not attempt to describe. I immediately informed myself as to the character of this Peale's Museum Company. It proved to consist of a company of speculators, headed by an unsuccessful ex-president of a bank, who had sought Peale's collection for a few thousand dollars, were now to join the American Museum with it, issue and sell stock to the amount of $50,000, pocket $30,000 profits, and permit the stock-holders to look out for themselves.

I went immediately to several of the editors, including Major M. M. Noah, M. Y. Beach, my good friends, West, Herrick and Ropes, of the Atlas, and others, and stated my grievances. "Now," said I, "if you will grant me the use of your columns, I'll blow that speculation sky-high." They all consented, and I wrote a large number of squibs, cautioning the public against buying the Museum stock, ridiculed the idea of a board of broken-down bank directors engaging in the exhibition of stuffed monkey and gander skins, appealed to the case of the Zoological Institute, which had failed by adopting such a plan as the one now proposed, and finally told the public that such a speculation would be infinitely more unwise than Dickens's "Grand United Metropolitan Hot Muffin and Crumpet-baking and Punctual Delivery Company."

The stock was as dead as a herring! I then went to Mr. Heath and solicited a confidential conversation. He granted it. I asked him when the directors were to pay the other $14,000. "On the 26th day of December, or forfeit the $1000 already paid," was the reply. I assured him that they would never pay it, that they could not raise it, and that he would ultimately find himself with the Museum collection on his hands, and if once I started off with an exhibition for the South, I would not touch the Museum at any price. "Now," said I, "if you will agree with me confidentially, that in case these gentlemen do not pay you on the 26th December, I may have it on the 27th for $12,000, I will run the risk, and wait in this city until that date." He readily agreed to the proposition, but said he was sure they would not forfeit their $1000.

"Very well," said I; "all I ask of you is, that this arrangement shall not be mentioned." He assented. "On the 27th day of December, at ten o'clock A. M., I wish you to meet me in Mr. Olmsted's apartments, prepared to sign the writings, provided his incorporated company do not pay you $14,000 on the 26th." He agreed to this, and by my request put it in writing.

From that moment I felt that the Museum was mine. I saw Mr. Olmsted, and told him so. He promised secrecy, and agreed to sign the documents if the other parties did not meet their engagement.

This was about the 15th November. To all who spoke to me about the Museum, I simply remarked, that I had lost it. In the mean time the new company could not sell a dollar's worth of stock, for I kept up a perfect shower of squibs through the papers.

About the 1st of December, I received a letter from the Secretary of the Peale's Museum Company, or rather the "New-York Museum Company," as it was called, desiring me to meet the directors on the following Monday morning at the Museum, when and where I should probably hear something to my advantage. I saw that the newspaper medicine was doing its office. It was evident that those gentlemen wished to purchase my silence.

I was punctual at the meeting. The "honorable board of directors" was in session. The venerable President, a gray-haired, hawk-eyed old man, who had recently been President of a broken bank, accosted me with his blandest smile and smoothest tone of language. The upshot of the matter was, they proposed to hire me to manage the united museums. I professed to take it all in earnest, and when asked to mention the salary I should expect, I specified $3000 per annum. They complimented me on my character for ability in that department, and engaged me at the sum I demanded, my salary to commence on the 1st day of January, 1842. As I was leaving the "august presence," the amiable President pleasantly remarked, "Of course, Mr. Barnum, we shall have no more of your squibs through the newspapers."

"I ever try to serve the interests of my employers," I replied.

The jolly directors probably had a hearty laugh so soon as I was beyond hearing their unseemly mirth. They probably meant by thus keeping me quiet to sell their stock, and permit the stock-holders to throw me overboard as soon as they pleased. They thought they had caught me securely. I knew that I had caught them.

Finding that I was now removed out of the way, those directors did not fear that any other person would attempt to buy the American Museum, and they concluded not to advertise their stock until the first of January, as that would give the people longer time to forget the attacks which I had made on it. As for their promised payment on the 26th December, unaware that Mr. Heath had contracted to me for $12,000, they thought he would cheerfully wait on them until it suited their pleasure to pay him. In fact, so unconcerned were they upon this point, that they did not even call on the administrator on the 26th inst., nor send him the slightest apology for not doing so!

On the morning of the 27th, I was at Mr. Olmsted's apartment, with my legal counsellor, CHAS. T. CROMWELL, Esq., at half-past nine o'clock. Mr. Heath came with his lawyer punctually at ten, and before two o'clock that day I was put in formal possession of the American Museum. The first act which I performed, after being thus installed, was to write and dispatch the following note:

AMERICAN MUSEUM, NEW-YORK, Dec. 27, 1841.

To the President and Directors of the New-York Museum:

GENTLEMEN -- It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you are placed upon the Free List of this establishment until further notice.

P. T. BARNUM, Proprietor.

The President was astonished beyond measure, and could scarcely believe his eyes. He called upon Mr. Heath, and learned that I had indeed bought and was in possession of the American Museum. His indignation knew no bounds. He threatened him with a prosecution, but finding that this availed him nothing, he demanded the return of the thousand dollars which had been paid on the agreement. It was refused because forfeited, and the company lost it.

No one will doubt that I now put forth all my energy. It was strictly "neck or nothing." I must either pay for the establishment within a stipulated period, or forfeit it, including all I might have paid on account, provided Mr. Olmsted should insist on the letter of the contract. Let "come what would," I was determined to deserve success, and brain and hands and feet were alike busy in forwarding the interests of the Museum.

The system of economy necessary to support my family in the city of New-York upon $600 a year, was not only assented to by my treasure of a wife, but she expressed her willingness to reduce the expenses to four hundred dollars per year, if necessary.

One day, about six months after I had purchased the Museum, my friend Mr. Olmsted happened in at my ticket office about twelve o'clock, and found me alone eating my dinner, which consisted of a few slices of corned beef and bread that I had brought from home in the morning. "Is this the way you eat your dinner?" he inquired.

"I have not eaten a warm dinner since I bought the Museum, except on the Sabbath," I replied, "and I intend never to eat another on a week-day until I am out of debt."

"Ah! you are safe, and will pay for the Museum before the year is out," he replied, clapping me familiarly on the shoulder. And he was right, for in less than a year from that period, I was in full possession of the Museum as my own property, every cent having been paid out of the profits of the establishment.

The American Museum, at the date of my purchase, was little more than the nucleus of what it is now. During the thirteen years of my proprietorship, I have considerably more than doubled the value of the permanent attractions and curiosities of the establishment. The additions were derived, partly from Peale's Museum, (which I bought and transferred to my former collection in the fall of 1842;) partly from the large and rare collection known as the Chinese Museum, (which I removed to the American Museum in 1848;) and partly by purchases wherever I could find curiosities, in both America and Europe.

The space now occupied for my Museum purposes is more than double what it was in 1841. The Lecture Room, which was originally narrow, ill-contrived and uncomfortable, has been several times enlarged and improved, and at present may be pronounced one of the most commodious and beautiful halls of entertainment in New-York.

There have been enlargement and improvement in other respects. At first, the Museum was merely a collection of curiosities by day, and in the evening there was a performance, consisting of disjointed and disconnected amusements, such as are still to be found at many of the inferior shows. Saturday afternoon was soon appropriated to performances, and shortly afterwards the afternoon of Wednesday was added. The programme has for years included the afternoon and evening of every day in the week, (of course excepting the Sabbath,) and on great holidays, we have sometimes given as many as twelve performances.

There has been a gradual change in these, and the transient attractions of the Museum have been greatly diversified. Industrious fleas, educated dogs, jugglers, automatons, ventriloquists, living statuary, tableaux, gipsies, albinoes, fat boys, giants, dwarfs, rope-dancers, caricatures of phrenology, and "live Yankees," pantoming instrumental music, singing and dancing in great variety, (including Ethiopians,) etc. Dioramas, panoramas, models of Dublin, Paris, Niagara, Jerusalem, etc., mechanical figures, fancy glass-blowing, knitting machines and other triumphs in the mechanical arts, dissolving views, American Indians, including their warlike and religious ceremonies enacted on the stage, etc., etc.

I need not specify the order of time in which these varieties were presented to the public. In one respect there has been a thorough though gradual change in the general plan, for the moral drama is now, and has been for several years, the principal feature of the Lecture Room of the American Museum.

Apart from the merit and interest of these performances, and apart from every thing connected with the stage, my permanent collection of curiosities is, without doubt, abundantly worth the uniform charge of admission to all the entertainments of the establishment, and I can therefore afford to be accused of "humbug" when I add such transient novelties as increase its attractions. If I have exhibited a questionable dead mermaid in my Museum, it should not be overlooked that I have also exhibited cameleopards, a rhinoceros, grisly bears, orang-outangs, great serpents, etc., about which there could be no mistake because they were alive; and I should hope that a little "clap-trap" occasionally, in the way of transparencies, flags, exaggerated pictures, and puffing advertisements, might find an offset in a wilderness of wonderful, instructive, and amusing realities. Indeed I cannot doubt that the sort of "clap-trap" here referred to, is allowable, and that the public like a little of it mixed up with the great realities which I provide. The titles of "humbug," and the "prince of humbugs," were first applied to me by myself. I made these titles a part of my "stock in trade," and may here quote a passage from the "Fortunes of the Scattergood Family," a work by the popular English writer, Albert Smith:

"'It's a great thing to be a humbug,' said Mr. Rossett. 'I've been called so often. It means hitting the public in reality. Anybody who can do so, is sure to be called a humbug by somebody who can't.'"

Among my first extra exhibitions produced at the American Museum, was a model of the Falls of Niagara, belonging to Grain the artist. It was undoubtedly a fine model, giving the mathematical proportions of that great cataract, and the trees, rocks, buildings, etc., in its vicinity. But the absurdity of the thing consisted in introducing water, thus pretending to present a fac simile of that great wonder of nature. The falls were about eighteen inches high, every thing else being in due proportion!

I confess I felt somewhat ashamed of this myself, yet it made a good line in the bill, and I bought the model for $200. My advertisements then announced among the attractions of the Museum,

THE GREAT MODEL OF NIAGARA FALLS, WITH REAL WATER!

A single barrel of water answered the purpose of this model for an entire season; for the falls flowed into a reservoir behind the scenes, and the water was continually re-supplied to the cataract by means of a small pump.

Many visitors who could not afford to travel to Niagara, were doubtless induced to visit the "model with real water," and if they found it rather "small potatoes," they had the whole Museum to fall back upon for 25 cents, and no fault was found.

One day I was peremptorily summoned to appear before the Board of Croton Water Commissioners the next morning at ten o'clock. I was punctual.

"Sir," said the President, "you pay only $25 per annum for the Croton water at the Museum. That is simply intended to supply the ordinary purposes of your establishment. We cannot furnish water for your Niagara Falls without large extra compensation."

Begging "his honor" not to believe all he read in the papers, nor to be too literal in the interpretation of my large show bills, I explained the operation of the great cataract, and offered to pay a dollar a drop for all the water I used for Niagara Falls exceeding one barrel per month, provided my pump continued in good order! I was permitted to retire, amid a hearty burst of laughter from the Commissioners, in which his honor the President condescended to join.

On one occasion, Louis Gaylord Clark, Esq., the witty and popular editor of the "Knickerbocker," called to view my Museum. I had never had the pleasure of seeing him before, and he introduced himself. I was extremely anxious that my establishment should receive a "first-rate notice" in his popular magazine, and therefore accompanied him through the entire Museum, taking especial pains to point out all objects of interest. We passed the entrance of the hall containing Niagara Falls just as the visitors had entered it from the performances in the Lecture Room, and hearing the pump at work, I was aware that the great cataract was at that moment in full operation.

I desired to avoid that exhibition, feeling confident that if Mr. Clark should see the model Niagara, he would be so much disgusted with the entire show that he would "blow it up" in his "Knickerbocker," or (what I always consider much the worse for me) pass it by in silent contempt. Seeing him approach the entrance, I endeavored to call his attention to some object of interest in the other hall, but I was too late. He had noticed a concourse of visitors in the "Falls Room," and his curiosity to know what was going on was excited.

"Hold on, Barnum," said Clark; "let us see what you have here."

"It is only a model of Niagara Falls," I replied.

"Oh, ah, yes, yes, I remember now. I have noticed your advertisements and splendid posters announcing Niagara Falls with real water. I have some curiosity to see the cataract in operation," said Clark, at the same time mounting upon a chair in order to obtain a full view over the heads of the visitors.

I felt considerably sheepish as I saw this movement, and listened to the working of the old pump, whose creakings seemed to me to be worse than ever. I held my breath, expecting to hear the sagacious editor pronounce this the silliest humbug that he ever saw. I was presently, however, as much surprised as delighted to hear him say:

"Well, Barnum, I declare that is quite a new idea. I never saw the like before."

I revived in a moment; and thinking that if Louis Gaylord Clark could see any thing attractive in the old model, he must be particularly green, I determined to do all in my power to assist his verdancy. "Yes," I replied, "it is quite a new idea."

"I declare I never saw any thing of the kind before in all my life," exclaimed Clark with much enthusiasm.

"I flatter myself it is, in point of originality and ingenuity, considerably ahead of any invention of modern times," I replied with a feeling of exultation, as I saw that I had caught the great critic, and was sure of a puff of the best sort.

"Original!" exclaimed the editor. "Yes, it is certainly original. I never dreamed of such a thing; I never saw any thing of the kind before since I was born and I hope with all my heart I never shall again!"

It is needless to say that I was completely taken in, and felt that any ordinary keyhole was considerably larger than would be necessary for me to crawl through.

We then passed to the upper stories of the Museum, and finally to the roof, where I had advertised an "aerial garden," which consisted of two tubs, each containing a stunted and faded cedar, and ten or twelve pots of wilted flowers, backed up by a dozen small tables and a few chairs for the accommodation of such partakers of ice-cream as could appreciate the beauties of ever-verdant nature, as shown forth in the tubs and pots aforesaid.

The "Knickerbocker" appeared, and I felt happy to see that while it spoke of the assiduity in business manifested by the new proprietor of the Museum, and a prognostication that he would soon render his establishment highly popular, the editor had kindly refrained from making any allusion to "THE CATARACT OF NIAGARA WITH REAL WATER!"

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.

Early in the summer of 1842, Moses Kimball, Esq., the popular proprietor of the Boston Museum, came to New-York and exhibited to me what purported to be a mermaid. He stated that he had bought it of a sailor whose father, while in Calcutta in 1817 as captain of a Boston ship, (of which Captain John Ellery was principal owner,) had purchased it, believing it to be a preserved specimen of a veritable mermaid, obtained, as he was assured, from Japanese sailors. Not doubting that it would prove as surprising to others as it had been to himself, and hoping to make a rare speculation of it as an extraordinary curiosity, he appropriated $6000 of the ship's money to the purchase of it, left the ship in charge of the mate, and went to London.

He did not realize his expectations, and returned to Boston. Still believing that his curiosity was a genuine animal and therefore highly valuable, he preserved it with great care, not stinting himself in the expense of keeping it insured, though re-engaged as ship's captain under his former employers to reimburse the sum taken from their funds to pay for the mermaid. He died possessing no other property, and his only son and heir, who placed a low estimate on his father's purchase, sold it to Mr. Kimball, who brought it to New-York for my inspection.

Such was the story. Not trusting my own acuteness on such matters, I requested my naturalist's opinion of the genuineness of the animal. He replied that he could not conceive how it was manufactured; for he never knew a monkey with such peculiar teeth, arms, hands, etc., nor had he knowledge of a fish with such peculiar fins.

"Then why do you suppose it is manufactured?" I inquired.

"Because I don't believe in mermaids," replied the naturalist.

"That is no reason at all," said I, "and therefore I'll believe in the mermaid, and hire it."

This was the easiest part of the experiment. How to modify general incredulity in the existence of mermaids, so far as to awaken curiosity to see and examine the specimen, was now the all-important question. Some extraordinary means must be resorted to, and I saw no better method than to "start the ball a-rolling" at some distance from the centre of attraction.

In due time a communication appeared in the New-York Herald, dated and mailed in Montgomery, Ala., giving the news of the day, trade, the crops, political gossip, etc., and also an incidental paragraph about a certain Dr. Griffin, agent of the Lyceum of Natural History in London, recently from Pernambuco, who had in his possession a most remarkable curiosity, being nothing less than a veritable mermaid taken among the Fejee Islands, and preserved in China, where the Doctor had bought it at a high figure for the Lyceum of Natural History.

A week or ten days afterwards, a letter of similar tenor, dated and mailed in Charleston, S. C., varying of course in the items of local news, was published in another New-York paper.

This was followed by a third letter, dated and mailed in Washington city, published in still another New-York paper -- there being in addition the expressed hope that the editors of the Empire City would beg a sight of the extraordinary curiosity before Dr. Griffin took ship for England.

A few days subsequently to the publication of this thrice-repeated announcement, Mr. Lyman (who was my employee in the case of Joice Heth) was duly registered at one of the principal hotels in Philadelphia as Dr. Griffin of Pernambuco for London. His gentlemanly, dignified, yet social manners and liberality gained him a fine reputation for a few days, and when he paid his bill one afternoon, preparatory to leaving for New-York the next day, he expressed his thanks to the landlord for special attention and courtesy. "If you will step to my room," said Lyman, alias Griffin, "I will permit you to see something that will surprise you." Whereupon the landlord was shown the most extraordinary curiosity in the world -- a mermaid. He was so highly gratified and interested that he earnestly begged permission to introduce certain friends of his, including several editors, to view the wonderful specimen.

"Although it is no interest of mine," said the curiosity-hunter, "the Lyceum of Natural History, of which I am agent, will not be injured by granting the courtesy you request." And so an appointment was made for the evening.

The result might easily be gathered from the editorial columns of the Philadelphia papers a day or two subsequently to that interview with the mermaid. Suffice it to say, that the plan worked admirably, and the Philadelphia press aided the press of New-York in awakening a wide-reaching and increasing curiosity to see the mermaid.

I may as well confess that those three communications from the South were written by myself, and forwarded to friends of mine, with instructions respectively to mail them, each on the day of its date. This fact and the corresponding post-marks did much to prevent suspicion of a hoax, and the New-York editors thus unconsciously contributed to my arrangements for bringing the mermaid into public notice.

Lyman then returned to New-York with his precious treasure, and putting up at the Pacific Hotel in Greenwich street as Dr. Griffin, it soon reached the ears of the wide-awake reporters for the press that the mermaid was in town. They called at the Pacific hotel, and the polite agent of the British Lyceum of Natural History kindly permitted them to gratify their curiosity. The New-York newspapers contained numerous reports of these examinations, all of which were quite satisfactory.

I am confident that the reporters and editors who examined this animal were honestly persuaded that it was what it purported to be -- a veritable mermaid. Nor is this to be wondered at, since, if it was a work of art, the monkey and fish were so nicely conjoined that no human eye could detect the point where the junction was formed. The spine of the fish proceeded in a straight and apparently unbroken line to the base of the skull -- the hair of the animal was found growing several inches down on the shoulders of the fish, and the application of a microscope absolutely revealed what seemed to be minute fish scales lying in myriads amidst the hair. The teeth and formation of the fingers and hands differed materially from those of any monkey or orang-outang ever discovered, while the location of the fins was different from those of any species of the fish tribe known to naturalists. The animal was an ugly, dried-up, black-looking, and diminutive specimen, about three feet long. Its mouth was open, its tail turned over, and its arms thrown up, giving it the appearance of having died in great agony.

Assuming, what is no doubt true, that the mermaid was manufactured, it was a most remarkable specimen of ingenuity and untiring patience. For my own part I really had scarcely cared at the time to form an opinion of the origin of this creature, but it was my impression that it was the work of some ingenious Japanese, Chinaman, or other eastern genius, and that it had probably been one among the many hideous objects of Buddhist or Hindoo worship.

Recently, however, in reading myself up on the history of Japan, I found the following article in a work entitled "Manners and Customs of the Japanese in the Nineteenth Century, from the accounts of recent Dutch residents in Japan, and from the German work of Dr. Ph. Fr. Von Siebold:"

"Another Japanese fisherman displayed his ingenuity in a less honorable and useful form than Kiyemon, to make money out of his countrymen's passion for whatever is odd and strange. He contrived to unite the upper half of a monkey to the lower half of a fish, so neatly as to defy ordinary inspection. He then gave out that he had caught the creature alive in his net, but that it had died shortly after being taken out of the water; and he derived considerable pecuniary profit from his device in more ways than one. The exhibition of the sea monster to Japanese curiosity paid well; but yet more productive was the assertion that the half-human fish had spoken during the few minutes it existed out of its native element, predicting a certain number of years of wonderful fertility, to be followed by a fatal epidemic, the only remedy against which would be possession of the marine prophet's likeness. The sale of these pictured mermaids was immense. Either this composite animal, or another, the offspring of the success of the first, was sold to the Dutch factory and transmitted to Batavia, where it fell into the hands of a shrewd American, who brought it to Europe, and there, in the years 1822-3, exhibited his purchase as a real mermaid, at every capital, to the admiration of the ignorant, the perplexity of the learned, and the filling of his own purse."

It is not a plausible conjecture that this account relates to the identical mermaid exhibited in the American Museum? Certainly the method adopted to induce people to buy the likeness, as related by Siebold, fairly entitles my Japanese confrere to the palm and title of "Prince of Humbugs."

Smaller specimens, purporting to be mermaids, but less elaborately gotten up, have been seen in various museums. I believe they are all made in Japan. I purchased one in the Peale collection in Philadelphia. It was burnt at the time the Museum opened by me in that city was destroyed by fire in 1851.

A small specimen, I have been informed, is also now lying on a shelf in the Royal Museum of Indian Antiquities at the Hague. I understand that it was purchased for the collection from an American sea captain, who procured it in China, probably an importation from Japan.

While Lyman was preparing public opinion on mermaids at the Pacific Hotel, I was industriously at work (though of course privately) in getting up wood-cuts and transparencies, as well as a pamphlet, proving the authenticity of mermaids, all in anticipation of the speedy exhibition of Dr. Griffin's specimen. I had three several and distinct pictures of mermaids engraved, and with a peculiar description written for each, had them inserted in 10,000 copies of the pamphlet which I had printed and quietly stored away in a back office until the time came to use them.

I then called respectively on the editors of the New-York Herald, and two of the Sunday papers, and tendered to each the free use of a mermaid cut, with a well-written description, for their papers of the ensuing Sunday. I informed each editor that I had hoped to use this cut in showing the Fejee Mermaid, but since Mr. Griffin had announced that as agent for the Lyceum of Natural History, he could not permit it to be exhibited in America, my chance seemed dubious, and therefore he was welcome to the use of the engraving and description. The three mermaids made their appearance in the three different papers on the morning of Sunday, July 17, 1842.

Each editor supposed he was giving his readers an exclusive treat in the mermaid line, but when they came to discover that I had played the same game with the three different papers, they pronounced it a scaly trick.

The mermaid fever was now getting pretty well up. Few city readers had missed seeing at least one of the illustrations, and as the several printed descriptions made direct allusion to the mermaid of Mr. Griffin now in town, a desire to see it was generally prevailing. My 10,000 mermaid pamphlets were then put into the hands of boys, and sold at a penny each, (half the cost,) in all the principal hotels, stores, etc., etc.

When I thought the public was thoroughly "posted up" on the subject of mermaids, I sent an agent to engage Concert Hall, Broadway, for the exhibition, and the newspapers immediately contained the following advertisement:

THE MERMAID, AND OTHER WONDERFUL SPECIMENS OF THE CREATION. -- The public are respectfully informed that, in accordance with numerous and urgent solicitations from scientific gentlemen in this city, Mr. J. GRIFFIN, proprietor of the Mermaid, recently arrived from Pernambuco, S. A., has consented to exhibit it to the public, positively for one week only! For this purpose he has procured the spacious saloon known as Concert Hall, 404 Broadway, which will open on Monday, August 8, 1842, and will positively close on Saturday the 13th inst.

This animal was taken near the Fejee Islands, and purchased for a large sum by the present proprietor, for the Lyceum of Natural History in London, and is exhibited for this short period more for the gratification of the public than for gain. The proprietor having been engaged for several years in various parts of the world in collecting wonderful specimens in Natural History, has in his possession, and will at the same time submit to public inspection, THE ORNITHORNHINCHUS, from New-Holland, being the connecting link between the Seal and the Duck. THE FLYING FISH, two distinct species, one from the Gulf Stream, and the other from the West Indies. This animal evidently connects the Bird with the Fish. THE PADDLE-TAIL SNAKE from South-America. THE SIREN, or MUD IGUANA, an intermediate animal between the Reptile and the Fish. THE PROTEUS SANGUIHUS, a subterraneous animal from a grotto in Australia -- with other animals forming connecting links in the great chain of Animated Nature.

Tickets of admission 25 cents each.

A large number of visitors attended Concert Hall, and Lyman, alias Griffin, exhibited the mermaid with much dignity. I could not help fearing that some of the Joice Heth victims would discover in Professor Griffin the exhibitor of the "nurse of Washington," but happily no such catastrophe occurred. Lyman, surrounded by numerous connecting links in nature, as set forth in the advertisement, and with the hideous-looking mermaid firmly secured from the hands of visitors by a glass vase, enlightened his audiences by curious accounts of his travels and adventures, and by scientific harangues upon the works of nature in general, and mermaids in particular.

The public appeared to be satisfied, but as some persons always will take things literally, and make no allowance for poetic license even in mermaids, an occasional visitor, after having seen the large transparency in front of the hail, representing a beautiful creature half woman and half fish, about eight feet in length, would be slightly surprised in finding that the reality was a black-looking specimen of dried monkey and fish that a boy a few years old could easily run away with under his arm.

Several days subsequent to the opening of the exhibition at Concert Hall, an old Dutchman came to the Museum and said to me, in a drawling tone of voice, "Where is the mare-maid?"

"We have no mermaid here, sir," I replied.

"I've come over from Jarsey on purpose to see the mare-maid. I thought it was here."

I informed him that I had seen it advertised at Concert Hall, Broadway. He started off in pursuit of the object of his curiosity, remarking as he turned to go down stairs, "I have never seen a maremaid. It's alive I s'pose, ain't it?"But I did not profess ability to enlighten him on that point.

Immediately afterwards, I went up to Concert Hall to see how the exhibition was progressing, and just as I passed in, I saw the old Dutchman purchasing a ticket at the foot of the stairs. I found Lyman surrounded with twenty or thirty ladies and gentlemen, to whom he was learnedly descanting on the wonders of nature, as illustrated in the objects on the table before them. They were all attention. Presently the old Dutchman entered, and upon looking around, and being unable to discover the beautiful living lady-fish so elegantly displayed upon the transparency at the door, he approached Lyman, and, interrupting him in his learned discourse, said to him, "I want to see the mare-maid."

Lyman, somewhat disconcerted, but with as much dignity and deliberation as he could command, replied, "That is the mermaid, sir," at the same time pointing to the article in question.

The old Dutchman looked upon the diminutive, ugly creature, and exclaimed in great surprise, "Do you call that the mare-maid?"

"Yes, sir, that is the mermaid," said Lyman, evidently ill at ease. The Dutchman, with a look of scorn such as I have rarely seen equalled, turned to depart, exclaiming, "Well, that is the poorest show I ever did see."

On one occasion Lyman left the room for a few minutes. There were few visitors present, principally young students from the Medical College in Barclay street. Perceiving her fish-ship without protector, and being ripe for a joke, they removed the glass vase which covered the mermaid, and thrust into her mouth a cigar from which perhaps half an inch had been "whiffed." They replaced the vase and decamped.

Before Lyman returned, a score or more ladies and gentlemen had entered the room, and it is difficult to say what their feelings were when they saw the little, black, dried mermaid with a cigar in her mouth! They probably felt that the whole thing was an imposition, and that the exhibitor was purposely insulting his customers. Certainly it was the most ridiculous and ludicrous sight that can easily be conceived.

Lyman, wholly unconscious of the wicked trick which had been played upon him, and seeing the respectable number of visitors, approached the table with a dignity which no man could assume better than himself; and, without happening to cast his eyes upon the mermaid, commenced his usual harangue: "You see before you, ladies and gentlemen, the extraordinary mermaid captured at the Fejee Islands. The mermaid has long been deemed a fabulous animal by many persons, including naturalists, but the evidence I possess, as agent for the Lyceum of Natural History in London, places the fact beyond all reasonable doubt, that this identical animal was taken in a fisherman's net at the Fejee Islands. It lived upwards of three hours after its capture."

"Was her ladyship smoking the same cigar when she was captured that she is enjoying at present?"asked one of the gentlemen.

Poor Lyman now for the first time discovered the cigar, and this was probably the first and only time in his life that he was completely nonplussed, and could not utter a word in reply. In relating the incident, (which he afterwards did with great gusto in the private circles of his friends,) he declared that when he discovered that cigar, he began to perspire as if he had been mowing a heavy crop of grass, and that very soon he had not a dry thread upon his back.

The mermaid remained a single week at Concert Hall, and was then advertised to be seen at the American Museum, "without extra charge." Numerous transparencies had been prepared; show-bills were posted with a liberal hand; and on Monday morning, a flag representing a mermaid eighteen feet in length was streaming directly in front of the Museum. Lyman saw it as he was slowly approaching to commence operations. He quickened his pace, entered my office, and demanded, "What in the name of all conscience is that immense flag out for?"

"In order that nobody shall enter Broadway without knowing where to find the mermaid," I replied.

"Well, that flag must come in. Nobody can satisfy the public with our dried-up specimen eighteen inches long, after exhibiting a picture representing it as eighteen feet. It is preposterous."

"Oh, nonsense," I replied; "that is only to catch the eye. They don't expect to see a mermaid of that size."

"I tell you it won't do," replied Lyman, "I think I ought to know something of the public 'swallow' by this time, and I tell you the mermaid won't go down if that flag remains up."

"That flag cost me over seventy dollars, and it must remain up," I replied.

Lyman deliberately buttoned his coat, and said as he slowly walked towards the door, "Well, Mr. Barnum, if you like to fight under that flag, you can do so, but I won't."

"What! you are a deserter, then!"I replied, laughing.

"Yes, I desert false colors when they are too strong," said Lyman; "and you will desert them before night," he continued.

I could not spare "Professor Griffin," and was reluctantly compelled to take down the flag. It never saw the light again. (1)

The mermaid was afterwards exhibited in various parts of the country, and finally returned to its owner, Mr. KIMBALL, who has ever since given it a prominent niche in his truly beautiful and attractive "Boston Museum." There it will remain until the 31st day of March, 1855. On the 1st of April next, (a most appropriate day,) it will again make its appearance in my AMERICAN MUSEUM, NEW-YORK, where it will remain until January 1st, 1856, to the admiration and astonishment, no doubt, of many thousand patrons. On the 2d day of January, 1856, the mysterious lady-fish will again take up her old quarters under the guardianship of her owner, the HON. MOSES KIMBALL, (he having recently been elected to the State Senate, and thus acquired the title,) and from that period the FEJEE MERMAID will be installed as a prominent and interesting fixture in the BOSTON MUSEUM.

That "her ladyship" was an attractive feature, may be inferred from these facts and figures:

The receipts of the American Museum for the four weeks immediately preceding the exhibition of the mermaid, amounted to $1272. During the first four weeks of the mermaid's exhibition, the receipts amounted to $3341.93. (2)

In the year 1853, the receipts amounted to $136,200, being in one year, more than in the six years above quoted. It will of course be understood that the expenses of the Museum increased in a corresponding ratio.

The New-York Museum Company, having failed in selling their stock, let their establishment, known as Peale's Museum, to Yankee Hill. After a management of a few months, he failed. Mr. Henry Bennett then took charge of it, reduced the price to one "York shilling," and endeavored to thrive by burlesquing whatever I produced. Thus, when I exhibited the Fejee Mermaid, he stuck a codfish and monkey together and advertised the Fudg-ee Mermaid. When I announced a company of talented vocalists, well known as the "Orphean Family," Bennett advertised the "Orphan Family." It was an invention creditable to his genius, and created some laughter at my expense, but it also served to draw attention to my Museum.

After the novelty of Bennett's opposition died away, he did a losing business, and on the 2d of January, 1843, he closed his Museum, having lost his last dollar. The entire collection fell into the hands of the proprietor of the building, on a claim of arrearages of rent amounting to six or eight thousand dollars. I purchased it privately for $7000, cash, hired the building, and secretly engaging Bennett as my agent, we run a spirited opposition. I found profit in the arrangement by attracting public attention, and at the end of six months, the whole establishment, including the splendid Gallery of American Portraits, was transferred to my American Museum.

I do not here intend to disparage Bennett's ability nor to glorify my own. Independently of any thing personal to either of us, I had superior advantages; and if the result of the real strife between us had at any time been doubtful, my lucky stars soon put me in possession of a means of overwhelming all opposition.

Being in Albany on business in November, 1842, the Hudson River was frozen tight, and I returned to New-York by way of the Housatonic Railroad. I stopped one night in Bridgeport, Ct., my brother, Philo F., keeping the Franklin Hotel at the time.

I had heard of a remarkably small child in Bridgeport; and by my request my brother brought him to the hotel. He was the smallest child I ever saw that could walk alone. He was not two feet in height, and weighed less than sixteen pounds. He was a bright-eyed little fellow, with light hair and ruddy cheeks, was perfectly healthy, and as symmetrical as an Apollo. He was exceedingly bashful, but after some coaxing he was induced to converse with me, and informed me that his name was CHARLES S. STRATTON, son of Sherwood E. Stratton.

He was only five years old, and to exhibit a dwarf of that age might provoke the question, How do you know that he is a dwarf? Some license might indeed be taken with the facts, but even with this advantage I really felt that the adventure was nothing more than an experiment, and I engaged him for the short term of four weeks at three dollars per week -- all charges, including travelling and boarding of himself and mother, being at my expense.

They arrived in New-York on Thanksgiving Day, Dec. 8, 1842, and Mrs. Stratton was greatly astonished to find her son heralded in my Museum bills as Gen. TOM THUMB, a dwarf of eleven years of age, just arrived from England!

This announcement contained two deceptions. I shall not attempt to justify them, but may be allowed to plead the circumstances in extenuation. The boy was undoubtedly a dwarf and I had the most reliable evidence that he had grown little, if any, since he was six months old; but had I announced him as only five years of age, it would have been impossible to excite the interest or awaken the curiosity of the public. The thing I aimed at was, to assure them that he was really a dwarf -- and in this, at least, they were not deceived.

It was of no consequence, in reality, where he was born or where he came from, and if the announcement that he was a foreigner answered my purpose, the people had only themselves to blame if they did not get their money's worth when they visited the exhibition. I had observed (and sometimes, as in the case of Vivalla, had taken advantage of the American fancy for European exotics; and if the deception, practised for a season in my dwarf experiment, has done any thing towards checking our disgraceful preference for foreigners, I may readily be pardoned for the offence I here acknowledge.

I took great pains to train my diminutive prodigy, devoting many hours to that purpose, by day and by night, and succeeded, because he had native talent and an intense love of the ludicrous. He became very fond of me. I was, and yet am, sincerely attached to him, and I candidly believe him at this moment to be the most interesting and extraordinary natural curiosity of which the world has any knowledge.

Four weeks expired, and I re-engaged him for a year at seven dollars per week, (and a gratuity of fifty dollars at the end of the agreement,) with privilege of exhibition in any section of the United States. His parents were to accompany him, and I was to pay all travelling expenses. Long before the year was out, I voluntarily increased his weekly salary to $25 -- and he fairly earned it, for he speedily became a public favorite. I frequently exhibited him for successive weeks in my Museum, and when I wished to introduce fresh novelties there, I sent him to numerous cities and towns in many of the States, accompanied by my friend Fordyce Hitchcock.

In the mean time, I had entirely paid for the American Museum, and entered into an agreement with Gen. TOM THUMB for his services another year, at fifty dollars per week and all expenses, with the privilege of exhibition in Europe.

Embarkation for England -- Farewell Thoughts -- The Tobacco Trick -- Courtesy for a Foe -- A Yankee Guide -- Gloomy Prospects -- Gleam of Sunshine -- Value of Dwarfs -- The London Manager -- Nobility Excluded -- Mr. Everett -- Visit at Rothschild's -- Golden Showers -- Lessons in Etiquette -- Tom Thumb before the Queen -- Backing Out -- Tom and the Poodle -- The Prince of Wales -- Royalty and Yankee Doodle -- Fashionable Popularity -- The Queen Dowager -- The Iron Duke and Bonaparte -- The Emperor Nicholas -- Review at Windsor -- Louis Philippe -- Royal Industry -- Field of Waterloo -- Deceased Military Friends -- An unexpected Smash -- Custom of the Country -- A Soaker -- Barberous Preceedings -- Brummagem Relics -- Worth makes the Man -- Golden Calves -- A Day with Albert Smith -- Who is Shakspeare? -- Guy of Warwick -- A Flock of Showmen -- A Great Day's Work -- Castle-hunting -- Yankee Curiosity -- A Lucky Pile -- An American Prince -- Suspicious Sausages -- Anecdote of Franklin -- Electric Glory -- Distinguished Americans -- The General at Home -- Twenty-five Cents' Worth -- Tour in the United Slates -- The General in Cuba -- Raising Turkeys.

ON Thursday, January 18, 1844, I stepped on board the new and splendid packet ship Yorkshire, Capt. D. G. Bailey, bound for Liverpool. My party consisted of Gen. Tom Thumb, both his parents, his tutor, Professor Guillaudeu the French naturalist, and myself. The City Brass Band kindly volunteered to escort us to Sandy Hook, and we were accompanied by many of our personal friends.

At half-past one o'clock, the bell of one of the steamers that towed our slip down the bay, announced the hour of separation. There was the usual bustle, the rapidly-spoken yet often-repeated words of farewell, the cordial grip of friendship -- and I acknowledge that I was decidedly in "the melting mood."

My name has so long been used in connection with incidents of the mirthful kind, that many persons, probably, do not suspect that I am susceptible of sorrowful emotion, and possibly the general tenor of these pages may confirm the suspicion. No doubt my natural bias is to merriment, and I have encouraged my inclination to "comedy," because enough of "tragedy" will force itself upon the attention of every one in spite of his efforts to the contrary; yet I should be either more or less than human, were I incapable of serious thought, or did I not frequently indulge in the sober meditation which becomes the solemn realities of life.

I do not now refer only to scenes of parting with friends, or of leaving country and home for a few months, or even years, but I speak of the ordinary occasions of experience. I have had, and hope always to have, my seasons of loneliness and even sadness; and, though many people may not see how my profession of "a showman" can be made to appear consistent with my profession of another kind, I must claim having always revered the Christian Religion. I have been indebted to Christianity for the most serene happiness of my life, and I would not part with its consolations for all things else in the world. In all my journeys as "a showman," the Bible has been my companion, and I have repeatedly read it attentively, from beginning to end. Whether I have or have not been profited by its precepts, is a question not here to be considered; but the scriptural doctrine of the government of God and its happy issue in the life to come, has been my chief solace in affliction and sorrow, and I hope always to cherish it as my greatest treasure.

The "melting mood" was upon me, for the pathway of the ship was toward the wide sea with its deep mysteries, and my heart clung to my family and home. I successively grasped for the last time the hand of each parting friend as he passed to the tow-boat, and I could not restrain my emotion; and when the band struck up "Home, Sweet Home!" my tears flowed thick and fast.

The distance between the ship and the steamer rapidly increased. We stood on the quarter-deck, waving our handkerchiefs, and when the strains of "Yankee Doodle" floated over the waters and distinctly saluted us, we all gave three cheers, and I wept freely, overpowered as I was with mingled feelings of regret and joy. At two o'clock the pilot left us, and thus was broken the last visible living link that bound us to our country.

The voyage to Liverpool has so frequently been described in print, that I shall abstain from entering into details. Abundant material is before me, in the first two of a series of one hundred letters which I furnished while in Europe, as correspondent of the New-York Atlas, but I shall do no more than transcribe or adopt such facts and adventures as will serve to keep up the chain of my history.

In consequence of calms and some adverse winds, we were nineteen days on the passage. Never was there a better ship nor a more admirable Captain. Only a few of the passengers were called upon for the customary sacrifice to Neptune or the fishes -- and, contrary to my expectations, I was one of the party exempted. Good fellowship prevailed, and the time passed with sufficient rapidity, and some jokes.

Our fellow-passengers were chiefly English merchants from Canada. One of the number reckoned himself as A No. 1, and frequently hinted that he was a little too "cute" for any Yankee. He boasted so often of his shrewdness, that a Yankee friend on board and myself resolved to give it a test before we arrived. On the tenth day of our passage, an opportunity offered itself. We were nearly becalmed, and the time hung heavily on our hands. I thought of an old Yankee trick, which I concluded to try on John Bull. So, having contrived the matter with my brother Yankee from New-York, I proceeded to put it in execution. Coming out of my state-room in great apparent pain, from an obdurate tooth, I asked the steward if there was an instrument in the medicine chest for extracting a painful masticator. Being answered in the negative, I inquired of my fellow-passengers what was good for the toothache. My Yankee friend (and confederate) recommended heating tobacco, and holding it to my face. I therefore borrowed a little tobacco, and putting it in a paper of a peculiar color, placed it on the stove to warm. I then retired for a few minutes, during which time the Yankee proposed playing a trick on me by emptying the tobacco, and filling the paper with ashes. The passengers liked the joke, and the Englishman thought it would be very fine, and he at once threw the tobacco in the fire and put ashes in its stead.

I soon appeared, and, with much gravity placed the paper to my face, and commenced walking up and down the cabin, the very picture of misery. The passengers found much difficulty in concealing their mirth. In my pocket I had a paper containing tobacco, and as that paper was of the same color as the one I held to my face, I contrived to change it while I was at the further end of the cabin. Presently, the merry Englishman cried out:

"Mr. Barnum, what have you got in that paper?"

"Tobacco," I replied.

"What will you bet it is tobacco?" said the Englishman.

"Oh, don't bother me," said I; "my tooth pains me sadly; I know it is tobacco, for I put it there myself."

"I'll bet you a dozen of champagne that it is not tobacco," said the Englishman.

"Nonsense," I replied, "I will not bet, for it would not be fair; I know it is tobacco."

"I'll bet you fifty dollars it is not," said John Bull, and he counted ten sovereigns upon the table.

"I'll not bet the money," I replied, "for I tell you I know it is tobacco; I placed it there myself."

"You dare not bet!" he rejoined.

At last, merely to accommodate him, I bet a dozen of champagne. The Englishman jumped with delight, and roared out:

"Open the paper! open the paper!"

The passengers crowded round the table in great glee to see me open the paper, for all but the Yankee thought I was taken in. I quietly opened the paper, and remarked:

"There, I told you it was tobacco -- how foolish you were to suppose it was not -- for I put it there myself!"

The passengers looked blank for a moment -- it was but a moment, and then the laugh turned against the Englishman with redoubled force. I never saw a man look so foolish in my life as he did. The biter was bit. He could not speak for five minutes. At last he called to the steward to bring on the champagne, and turning to my fellow-countryman, he remarked, with most chop-fallen disdain, "It was a contemptible Yankee trick!" Several days elapsed before he recovered his good-humor. At last, however, he laughed as heartily at the joke as any of us, but he bragged no more of his extra shrewdness.

On the eighteenth day out, the cry of "Land ho!" brought us to the deck in great glee. The snow-capped mountains of Wales soon appeared in sight, and in three hours we were safely in the Liverpool docks. A large throng of persons were gathered upon the wharves, and many were anxiously inquiring for Tom Thumb, as it had previously been announced in Liverpool that he would arrive in the Yorkshire. His mother managed to smuggle him on shore without being noticed, for they little thought that he was small enough to be carried in arms, like an infant.

Our baggage was taken to the custom-house, and, after paying duties on every thing we could not swear was of English manufacture, we were permitted to depart. We took apartments at the Waterloo Hotel -- the best in the city -- and after paying some half dozen porters half a crown each for looking at our luggage, for not half that number touched it, we washed down our indignation with a bottle of port, and dined upon a noble sirloin of English roast beef, accompanied with a rich delicacy known as "fried soles and shrimp sauce."

After discussing dinner, I walked out to take a look at the town. A few squares brought me to the Nelson monument. While admiring its many beauties, a venerable-looking, well-dressed old gentle-man, kindly volunteered to explain to me the various devices and inscriptions. His whole soul appeared centred in that pillar raised to perpetuate the fame of a noble and valiant hero. As he went on explaining the many interesting details so elegantly set forth in this great work of art, I found myself becoming singularly attached to him. I had heard much of the coldness and haughty bearing of the English people, and I was rejoiced to be able so soon testify that they had been seriously slandered.

Here, said I to myself is one of their own soldiers, no doubt wealthy and respected, who kindly volunteers to come with the most friendly familiarity, and devote an hour to a stranger in pointing out the beauties of a noble pile, which gratifies his and his country's patriotism and pride. I began involuntarily to guess how much he was worth, and at last set down his income at £10,000 per annum. Human nature rose at least a hundred degrees in my estimation as I reflected that an "old English gentleman" could at once be so wealthy and so kind and disinterested. I already expected every moment to be invited to spend a week at his mansion, and to ride about the city in his splendid equipage, and therefore I gave him a parting bow of thanks, half ashamed that I had so long trespassed on his kindness, when he extended his hand, and in the voice of a mendicant remarked that he would be thankful for any remuneration I thought fit to bestow for his trouble!

My pretty vision of all his greatness was annihilated, and thrusting a shilling into his hand, I walked away with a rapid pace, giving an extra pull to the strings of my purse as I slipped it into my pocket. Before I had proceeded five rods my ideas of the magnanimity of human nature fell twenty degrees below zero, and I set it down as an established fact, that in England it costs two and sixpence to look at a man, and just a crown to speak to him. It was a first impression merely, and I soon had reason to remember that there are "queer fish" hailing from other than British waters.

Towards evening of the same day, a tall, raw-boned man called on me at the hotel. He introduced himself by saying that he was a brother Yankee, and would be happy in pointing out the many wonders in Liverpool that a stranger would be pleased to see.

I asked him how long he had been in Liverpool, and he replied, "Nearly a week!"I declined his proffered services abruptly, remarking, that if he had been there only a week, I probably knew as much about England as he did.

"Oh," said he, "you are mistaken. I have been in England before, though never till recently in Liverpool."

"What part of England?" I inquired.

"Opposite Niagara Falls," he replied; "I spent several days there with the British soldiers."

I laughed in his face, and reminded him that England did not lie opposite Niagara Falls. The impudent fellow was confused for a moment, and then triumphantly exclaimed:

"I didn't mean England. I know what country it is as well as you do."

"Well, what country is it?"I asked, quite assured that he did not know.

"Great Britain, of course," said he.

It is needless to add that the honor of his company as a guide in Liverpool was declined, and he went off apparently in a huff because his abilities had not been appreciated.

The preceding interviews may have had some influence in depressing my spirits, by lowering my estimate of human nature, and merriment was not greatly promoted by still another incident of the same day, and later in the evening.

I was called upon by the proprietor of a cheap show of wax-figures at three ha'pence admission. Having heard of the arrival of the great American curiosity, he had taken the earliest opportunity to make proposals for the engagement of the General and myself, at about ten dollars per week, to add somewhat to the attractions of his already remarkable exhibition!

I could but laugh at the novelty of the joke, and yet there was a sadness settling down upon me in the thought that dwarfs were at rather a low figure in the fancy-stocks of England. Under other circumstances, the shadow on my path would have speedily passed away, but a sort of home-sickness had taken hold of me, and the world began to look very dark. I was a stranger in a strange land. My letters of introduction had not yet been delivered. Outside the little circle of my own company, I had not seen a familiar face nor heard a familiar voice. The crowded streets of Liverpool were gradually deserted as the veil of night was being drawn over the earth. I felt all alone, and, at the risk of being laughed at, I must acknowledge that I had a solitary hearty crying-spell! My dreams that night were of "Home, sweet Home."

There was a gleam of sunshine next morning. It was in the following note:

"Madame CELESTE presents her compliments to Mr. Barnum, and begs to say that her private box is quite at his service, any night, for himself and friends.

"Theatre Royal, Williamson Square."

This polite invitation was thankfully accepted on the evening of its reception. In the box adjoining that of Celeste (occupied by my party, including the General, who was partly concealed by his tutor's cloak) sat an English lady and gentleman whose appearance indicated the respectability of both intelligence and wealth. The General's interest in the performance attracted their attention, and the lady remarked to me:

"What an intelligent-looking child you have! He appears to take quite an interest in the stage."

"Pardon me, madam," said I, "this is not a child. This is General Tom Thumb."

"Indeed!" exclaimed both the lady and the gentleman in a breath. They had seen the announcements of our visit, which had largely preceded us, and what they had heard of the pigmy-prodigy was more than confirmed by what they saw. The reality of their gratification could not be questioned, for they immediately advised me, in the most complimentary and urgent terms, to bring the General to Manchester, (where they resided,) with the assurance that his exhibition in that place would be highly profitable.

Here, thought I, is a fair offset to the depressing proposal of the wax-figure man; these respectable people know how to appreciate a curiosity. It is not remarkable, therefore, that I forthwith had pleasing visions of prosperity among the Cotton Lords of Manchester.

I thanked my new friends for their counsel and encouragement, and ventured to ask them what price they would recommend me to charge for admission.

"The General is so decidedly a curiosity," said the lady, "that I think you might put it as high as tup-pence" (two-pence).

She was, however, promptly interrupted by her husband, who was evidently the economist of the family. "I am sure you would not succeed at that price," said he; "you should put admission at one penny, for that is the usual price for seeing giants and dwarfs in England."

Worse, and more of it! "What a fall was there, my countrymen!" But the reaction promptly brought me to my feet; the old spirit was awakened; I was myself again; and I answered, "Never shall the price be less than one shilling sterling, and some of the nobility and gentry of England will yet pay gold to see General Tom Thumb!"

It had been my intention to proceed directly to London and begin operations at "head-quarters" -- that is, at the Palace, if possible. But I learned that the royal family was in mourning because of the death of Prince Albert's father, and would not permit the approach of entertainments. My letters of introduction speedily brought me into relations of friendship with many excellent families, and I was induced to hire a hall and present the General to the public in Liverpool for a short time.

Meanwhile I had confidential advices from London that Mr. Maddox, Manager of Princess's Theatre, was coming down to witness my exhibition, with a view to making an engagement. He came privately, but I was "posted up" as to his presence and object. A friend pointed him out to me in the hail, and when I stepped up to him, and called him by name, he was "taken all a-back," and avowed his purpose in visiting Liverpool. An interview resulted in an engagement of the General for three nights at Princess's Theatre. I was unwilling to contract for a longer period, and even this short engagement, though on liberal terms, was acceded to only as a means of advertisement.

The General made so decided a "hit" at Princess's Theatre, that it might have been difficult to decide which party was the best pleased, the spectators, the manager, or myself. The first were pleased because they could not help it; the second was pleased because he had coined money by the operation; and I was pleased because I had a visible guarantee of success in London. I was offered a much higher figure for a re-engagement, but my purpose had been sufficiently answered. The news was out that General Tom Thumb was on the tapis, as an unparalleled curiosity, and it only remained for me to bring him before the public, "on my own hook," in my own time and way.

I had taken a furnished house in Grafton street, Bond street, West End, in the centre of fashion. Lord Brougham, and half a dozen families of the blood-aristocracy and many of the gentry, were my neighbors. The house had been occupied by Lord Talbot for several years previously. From this magnificent mansion, I sent letters of invitation to the editors and several of the nobility, to visit the General. Most of them called, and were highly gratified. The word of approval was indeed so passed around in high circles, that uninvited parties drove to my door in crested carriages, and were not admitted.

This procedure, though in some measure a stroke of policy, was not either singular or hazardous, under the circumstances. I had not yet announced a public exhibition, and as a private American gentleman it became me to maintain the dignity of my position. I therefore instructed my servant, dressed in the tinselled and powdered style of England, to deny admission to my mansion to see my "ward," excepting to persons who brought cards of invitation. He did it in a proper manner, and no offence could be taken -- though I was always particular to send an invitation immediately to such as had not been admitted.

During our first week in London, Mr. Everett, the American Minister, to whom I had letters of introduction, called and was highly pleased with his diminutive though renowned countryman. We dined with him the next day, by invitation, and his family loaded the young American with presents. Mr. Everett kindly promised to use influence at the Palace in person, with a view to having Tom Thumb introduced to Her Majesty Queen Victoria.

A few evenings afterwards the Baroness Rothschild sent her carriage for us. Her mansion is a noble structure in Piccadilly, surrounded by a high wall, through the gate of which our carriage was driven and brought up in front of the main entrance. Here we were received by half a dozen servants elegantly dressed in black coats and pantaloons, white vests and cravats, white kid gloves, and, in fact, wearing the tout ensemble of gentlemen. One old chap was dressed in livery -- a heavy laced coat, breeches, a large, white powdered and curled wig, and every thing else to match. The hall was brilliantly illuminated, and each side was graced with the most beautiful statuary. We were ushered up a broad flight of marble stairs, and our names announced at the door of the drawing-room by an elegantly-dressed servant, who under other circumstances I might have supposed was a member of the noble family.

As we entered the drawing-room, a glare of magnificence met my sight which it is impossible for me to describe. The Baroness was seated on a gorgeous couch covered with rich figured silk damask, (there were several similar couches in the room,) and several lords and ladies were seated in chairs elegantly carved and covered with gold, looking indeed like solid gold, except the bottoms, which were rich velvet. On each side of the mantlepiece were specimens of marble statuary -- on the right of which stood glazed cabinets containing urns, vases, and a thousand other things of the most exquisite workmanship, made of gold, silver, diamonds, alabaster, pearl, etc. The centre table, and several tables about the size and something like the shape of a pianoforte, all covered with gold, or made of ebony thickly inlaid with pearls of various hues, were loaded with bijous of every kind, surpassing in elegance any thing I had ever dreamed of. The chairs at one end of the room were made of ebony, inlaid with pearl and gold, elegantly cushioned with damask. The walls were panelled and heavily gilt -- the curtains and ornaments of the most costly kind. The immense chandeliers, candelabras, etc., exceeded all my powers of description; and I confess my total inability to give a correct idea of the splendor in which lived the wife of the most wealthy banker in the world.

Here we spent about two hours. About twenty lords and ladies were present. On taking our leave, an elegant and well-filled purse was quietly slipped into my band, and I felt that the golden shower was beginning to fall!

It could not be a delusion, for precisely the same trick was played upon me shortly afterwards, at the mansion of Mr. Drummond, another eminent banker.

I now engaged the "Egyptian Hall," in Piccadilly, and the announcement of my unique exhibition was promptly answered by a rush of visitors, in which the wealth and fashion of London were liberally represented.

I made these arrangements because I had little hope of being soon brought to the Queen's presence, (for the reason before mentioned,) but Mr. Everett's generous influence secured my object. I breakfasted at his house one morning, by invitation, in company with Mr. Charles Murray, an author of creditable repute, who held the office of Master of the Queen's Household.

In the course of conversation, Mr. Murray inquired as to my plans, and I informed him that I intended going to the Continent shortly, though I should be glad to remain if the General could have an interview with the Queen -- adding that such an event would be of great consequence to me.

Mr. Murray kindly offered his good offices in the case, and soon afterwards one of the Life Guards, a tall noble-looking fellow, bedecked as became his station, brought me a note, conveying the Queen's invitation to General Tom Thumb and his guardian, Mr. Barnum, to appear at Buckingham Palace on an evening specified. Special instructions were the same day orally given me by Mr. Murray, by Her Majesty's command, to suffer the General to appear before her, as he would appear anywhere else, without any training in the use of the titles of royalty, as the Queen desired to see him act naturally and without restraint.

Determined to make the most of the occasion, I put a placard on the door of the Egyptian Hall: "Closed this evening, General Tom Thumb being at Buckingham Palace by command of Her Majesty."

On arriving at the Palace, the Lord in Waiting put me "under drill" as to the manner and form in which I should conduct myself in the presence of royalty. I was to answer all questions by Her Majesty through him, and in no event to speak directly to the Queen. In leaving the royal presence I was to "back out," keeping my face always towards Her Majesty, and the illustrious Lord kindly gave me a specimen of that sort of backward locomotion. How far I profited by his instructions and example, will presently appear.

We were conducted through a long corridor to a broad flight of marble steps, which led to the Queen's magnificent picture gallery, where Her Majesty, and Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, and twenty or thirty of the nobility, were awaiting our arrival. They were standing at the farther end of the room when the doors were thrown open, and the General toddled in, looking like a wax-doll gifted with the power of locomotion. Surprise and pleasure were depicted on the countenances of the royal circle, at beholding this mite of humanity so much smaller than they had evidently expected to find him.

The General advanced with a firm step, and as he came within hailing distance made a very graceful bow, and exclaimed, "Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

A burst of laughter followed this salutation. The Queen then took him by the hand, led him about the gallery, and asked him many questions, the answers to which kept the party in an unintermitted strain of merriment. The General familiarly informed the Queen that her picture gallery was "first-rate," and told her he should like to see the Prince of Wales. The Queen replied that the Prince had retired to rest, but that he should see him on some future occasion. The General then gave his songs, dances, imitations, etc., and after a conversation with Prince Albert and all present, which continued for more than an hour, we were permitted to depart.

Before describing the process and incidents of "backing out," I must acknowledge how sadly I broke through the counsel of the Lord in Waiting. While Prince Albert and others were engaged with Tom, the Queen was gathering information from me in regard to his history, etc. Two or three questions were put and answered through the process indicated in my drill. It was a round-about way of doing business not at all to my liking, and I suppose the Lord in Waiting was seriously shocked, if not outraged, when I entered directly into conversation with Her Majesty. She, however, seemed not disposed to check my boldness, for she immediately spoke directly to me in obtaining the information which she sought. I felt entirely at ease in her presence, and could not avoid contrasting her sensible and amiable manners with the stiffness and formality of upstart gentility at home or abroad.

The Queen was modestly attired in plain black, and wore no ornaments. Indeed, surrounded as she was by ladies arrayed in the highest style of magnificence, their dresses sparkling with diamonds, a stranger would have selected her as the last person in the circle who could have been the Queen of England.

The Lord in Waiting was perhaps mollified toward me when he saw me following his illustrious example in retiring from the royal presence. He was accustomed to the process, and therefore was able to keep somewhat a-head (or rather a-back) of me, but even I stepped rather fast for the other member of the retiring party. We had a considerable distance to travel in that long gallery before reaching the door, and whenever the General found he was losing ground, he turned around and ran a few steps, then resumed the position of "backing out," then turned around and ran, and so continued to alternate his methods of getting to the door, until the gallery fairly rang with the merriment of the royal spectators. It was really one of the richest scenes I ever saw, especially the concluding section. Running, under the circumstances, was an offence sufficiently heinous to excite the indignation of the Queen's favorite poodle-dog, and he vented his displeasure by barking so sharply as to startle the General from his propriety. He however recovered immediately, and with his little cane commenced an attack on the poodle, and a funny fight ensued, which renewed and increased the merriment of the royal party.

This was near the door of exit. We had scarcely passed into the ante-room, when one of the Queen's attendants came to us with the expressed hope of Her Majesty, that the General had sustained no damage -- to which the Lord in Waiting playfully added, that in case of injury to so renowned a personage, he should fear a declaration of war by the United States!

The courtesies of the Palace were not yet exhausted, for we were escorted to an apartment in which refreshments had been provided for us. We did ample justice to the viands, though my mind was rather looking into the future than enjoying the present. I was anxious that the "Court Journal" of the ensuing day should contain more than a mere line in relation to the General's interview with the Queen, and, on inquiry, I learned that the gentleman who had charge of that portion of the daily papers was then in the Palace. He was sent for by my solicitation, and promptly acceded to my request for such a notice as would attract attention. He even generously desired me to give him an outline of what I sought, and I was pleased to see, afterwards, that he had inserted my notice verbatim.

This increased attraction required me to obtain a more commodious hall for my exhibition. I accordingly removed to the larger room in the same building, for some time previously occupied by our countryman, Mr. Catlin, for his great Gallery of Portraits of American Indians and Indian Curiosities, all of which remained as an adornment.

On our second visit to the Queen, we were received in what is called the "Yellow Drawing Room," a magnificent apartment, surpassing in splendor and gorgeousness any thing of the kind I had ever seen. It is on the north side of the gallery, and is entered from that apartment. It was hung with drapery of rich yellow satin damask, the couches, sofas and chairs being covered with the same material. The vases, urns and ornaments were all of modern patterns, and the most exquisite workmanship. The room was panelled in gold, and the heavy cornices beautifully carved and gilt. The tables, pianos, etc., were mounted with gold, inlaid with pearl of various hues, and of the most elegant devices.

We were ushered into this gorgeous drawing-room before the Queen and royal circle had left the dining-room, and, as they approached, the General bowed respectfully, and remarked to Her Majesty that "he had seen her before," adding, "I think this is a prettier room than the picture gallery; that chandelier is very fine."

The Queen smilingly took him by the hand, and said she hoped he was very well.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, "I am first-rate."

"General," continued the Queen, "this is the Prince of Wales."

"How are you, Prince?" said the General, shaking him by the hand; and then standing beside the Prince, he remarked, "The Prince is taller than I am, but I feel as big as any body" -- upon which he strutted up and down the room as proud as a peacock, amid shouts of laughter from all present.

The Queen then introduced the Princess Royal, and the General immediately led her to his elegant little sofa, which we took with us, and with much politeness sat himself down beside her. Shortly rising from his seat, he went through his various performances as before, and the Queen handed him an elegant and costly souvenir, which had been expressly made for him by her order -- for which, he told her, "he was very much obliged, and would keep it as long as he lived."

The Queen of the Belgians (daughter of Louis Philippe) was present on this occasion. She asked the General where he was going when he left London?

"To Paris," he replied.

"Whom do you expect to see there?" she continued.

Of course all expected he would answer, "The King of the French," but the little fellow replied:

"I shall see Monsieur Guillaudeu in Paris."

The two Queens looked inquiringly to me, and when I informed them that Mons. G. was my French naturalist, who had preceded me to Paris, they laughed most heartily.

On our third visit to Buckingham Palace, Leopold, King of the Belgians, was also present. He was highly pleased, and asked a multitude of questions. Queen Victoria desired the General to sing a song, and asked him what song he preferred to sing.

"Yankee Doodle," was the prompt reply.

This answer was as unexpected to me as it was to the royal party. When the merriment it occasioned somewhat subsided, the Queen good-humoredly remarked, "That is a very pretty song, General. Sing it, if you please." The General complied, and soon afterwards we retired.

I ought to add, that after each of our three visits to Buckingham Palace, a handsome douceur was sent to me, of course by the Queen's command. This, however, was the smallest part of the advantage derived from these interviews, as will be at once apparent to all who consider the force of Court example in England.

The British public were now fairly excited. Not to have seen General Tom Thumb was voted to be decidedly unfashionable, and from the 20th of March until the 20th of July the levees of the little General at Egyptian Hall were continually crowded -- the receipts averaging during the whole period about $500 per day, sometimes going considerably beyond that sum. At the fashionable hour, between fifty and sixty carriages of the nobility have been counted at one time standing in front of our exhibition rooms in Piccadilly.

Portraits of the little General were published in all the pictorial papers of the time. Polkas and quadrilles were named after him, and songs were sung in his praise. He was an almost constant theme for the "London Punch," which served the General and myself up so daintily that it no doubt added vastly to our receipts.

The expenses of the hall were only £44 per month, and our family expenses (as we now kept house) averaged but one pound per week each. Altogether I reckon our entire disbursements, including printing, and every thing appertaining to the exhibition, at $50 per day.

Besides his three public performances per day, the little General attended from three to four private parties per week, for which we were paid eight to ten guineas each. Frequently we would visit two parties in the same evening, and the demand in that line was much greater than the supply.

The Queen Dowager Adelaide requested the General's attendance at Marlborough House one afternoon. He went in his court dress, consisting of richly embroidered brown silk-velvet coat and short breeches, white satin vest with fancy-colored embroidery, white silk stockings and pumps, wig, bag-wig, cocked hat, and a dress sword.

"Why, General," said the Dowager Queen, "I think you look very smart to-day."

"I guess I do," said the General complacently.

A large party of the nobility were present. The old Duke of Cambridge offered the little General a pinch of snuff, which he declined.

The General sang his songs, performed his dances, and cracked his jokes, to the great amusement and delight of the distinguished circle of visitors.

"Dear little General," said the kind-hearted Queen, taking him upon her lap, "I see you have got no watch. Will you permit me to present you with a watch and chain?"

"I would like it very much," replied the General, his eyes glistening with joy as he spoke.

"I will have them made expressly for you," responded the Queen Dowager; and at the same moment she called Lord H--- , her friend, and desired him to see that the proper order was executed. A few weeks thereafter we were called again to Marlborough House.

A number of the children of the nobility were present, as well as some of their parents. After passing a few compliments with the General, Queen Adelaide presented him with a beautiful little gold watch, placing the chain around his neck with her own hands. The little fellow was delighted, and scarcely knew how sufficiently to express his thanks. The good Queen gave him some excellent advice in regard to his morals, which he strictly promised to obey. Indeed, I am happy to say in this place that I never knew the General to utter a profane or vulgar word in his life. His morals in all respects are unobjectionable, and his disposition is most amiable.

After giving his performances, we withdrew from the royal presence, and the elegant little watch presented by the hands of Her Majesty the Queen Dowager was not only duly heralded, but was also placed upon a pedestal in the hall of exhibition, together with the present from Queen Victoria, and covered with a glass vase. These presents, to which were soon added an elegant gold snuff-box mounted with turquoise, presented by his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, and many other costly gifts of the nobility and gentry, added greatly to the attractions of the exhibition. The Duke of Wellington called frequently to see the little General at his public levees. The first time he called, the General was personating Napoleon Bonaparte, marching up and down the platform, and apparently taking snuff in deep meditation. He was dressed in full military uniform. I introduced him to the "Iron Duke," who inquired the subject of his meditations. "I was thinking of the loss of the battle of Waterloo," was the little General's immediate reply. That brilliant display of wit was chronicled through the country, and was of itself worth thousands of pounds to the exhibition.

While we were in London in June, 1844, the Emperor of Russia visited Queen Victoria. I saw him on several public occasions.

I was present on the 5th of June at a grand review of the Queen's troops in Windsor Park, in honor and in presence of the Emperor of Russia and the King of Saxony. General Tom Thumb had visited the latter royal personage, as well as Ibrahim Pacha, the week previous.

The way to Windsor presented an almost uninterrupted line of vehicles and pedestrians, reminding me of the Epsom road on the Derby day, which races I attended, but have not room to describe. The Queen and her illustrious visitors arrived at the great Windsor Park about twelve o'clock. The approach of the royal cortege from the Great Walk was intimated by the shouts of hundreds of spectators. In one of the carriages were the Prince of Wales and the Royal Princesses. The Emperor of Russia preceded the Queen's carriage on horseback, with Prince Albert (who wore his field-marshal's uniform) on the left, and the King of Saxony on his right. The Emperor's dress was a Russian uniform, the color dark green, and a black helmet with white feathers. The Duke of Wellington rode immediately behind the Emperor, surrounded by noble-men and officers in uniform. Sir Robert Peel rode amongst them, and his usual blue frock-coat and buff waistcoat contrasted strikingly with the splendid dresses around him. The Duke of Cambridge rode near the Emperor.

At the various parties which we attended, we met, in the course of the season, nearly all of the nobility. That a single member of the nobility failed to see General Tom Thumb either at their own houses, the house of a friend, or at his public levees at Egyptian Hall, I do not believe.

With some of the first personages in the land he was a great pet. Among these may be mentioned Sir Robert and Lady Peel, the Duke and Duchess of Buckingham, Duke of Bedford, Duke of Devonshire, Count d'Orsay, Lady Blessington, Daniel O'Connell, Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, Lord Chesterfield, Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Bates, of the firm of Baring Brothers & Co., etc., etc.

We had the free entrée to all the theatres, public gardens, and places of entertainment, and frequently met the principal artists, editors, poets, and authors of the country.

Albert Smith was and is a particular friend of mine. He wrote a play for the General called "Hop o' my Thumb," which he played with great success at the Lyceum Theatre, London, and in several of the provincial theatres. We were absent from America over three years, and visited nearly every town in England and Scotland, besides Belfast and Dublin, in Ireland. (3) In Dublin our receipts on the last day, after having exhibited the previous week in the great Rotunda Hall, were £261, or $1305. Besides that, we received £50, or $250, for playing the same evening at the Theatre Royal. We also visited nearly every town in France, and Brussels and several other towns in Belgium, at which latter city we appeared before King Leopold and the Queen at their palace.

In France we visited King Louis Philippe and the royal family on four different occasions, besides attending at the Palace of the Tuileries by invitation, for our own amusement, to witness the fire-works, etc., on the King's birth-day. Louis Philippe and the Queen, as also the King's sister, Princess Adelaide, were unusually partial and friendly to the General, and gave him numerous valuable presents, as also did the Duchess d'Orleans and other members of the royal family. Louis Philippe conversed with me quite freely regarding America, told me he had slept in the wigwams of several tribes of Indians, and the whole family conversed as freely and were as void from ceremony as any well-bred family

On the last occasion of our visiting this excellent family, which was at the Palace of St. Cloud, five miles from Paris, I saw a sight which gladdened my eyes, and which might afford a good lesson to the English nobility, as well as our American aristocracy.

The little General spent an hour with the royal family, which on that evening included not only the King and Queen and Princess Adelaide, but also the Duchess d'Orleans and her son the Count de Paris, Prince de Joinville, Duke and Duchess de Nemours, the Duchess d'Aumale, etc. They each gave him a present at parting, and almost smothering him with kisses bade him a "bon voyage," and wished him a long and happy life. On that only occasion in France (and that by particular request of the King) did the General represent Napoleon Bonaparte in full costume. After bidding the royal party adieu, we retired to another portion of the palace to make a change of the Generals costume, and partake of some refreshments which were prepared for us. Half an hour afterwards, as we were about leaving the palace, we went through a hall leading to the front door, and in doing so passed the sitting-room in which the royal family were spending the evening. The door was open, and some of them happening to espy the General, called out for him to come in and shake hands with them once more. We entered the apartment, and there found the royal ladies sitting around a square table, each provided with two candles, and every one of them, including the Queen, was engaged in working at embroidery, while a young lady was reading aloud for their edification. I am sorry to say, I believe this is a sight seldom seen in families of the aristocracy on either side of the water. At the church fairs in Paris, I had frequently seen pieces of embroidery for sale, which were labelled as having been presented and worked by the Duchess d'Orleans, Princess Adelaide, Duchess de Nemours, etc.

In Paris the General made a great hit as an actor. He performed for two months at one of the leading theatres, in a French play, written expressly for him, entitled "Petit Poucet." (4)

From Paris we made the tour of France. For this purpose we purchased several travelling carriages, including one covered wagon on springs, which carried the little General's small Shetland ponies and miniature carriage. We went first to Rouen, and from thence to Toulon, visiting all the intermediate towns, including Orleans, Nantes, Brest, Bordeaux, Toulouse, Montpellier, Nismes, Marseilles, etc., thence branching off to Lille, and crossing into Belgium.

While at Bordeaux, I witnessed a review by the Dukes de Nemours and d'Aumale, of twenty thousand troops which were encamped within a few miles of the city. The evolutions of horse and foot, and a regiment of flying artillery, were very perfect and highly interesting.

We were in the south of France in the vintage season. Nothing can well surpass the richness of that country at that time of the year. We travelled for many miles where the eye could see nothing but the beautiful vineyards loaded with luscious grapes and groves of olive trees in full bearing. It is strictly a country of wine and oil.

While I was in Brussels I could do no less than visit the battlefield of Waterloo. I proposed that our party should be composed of Professor Pinte, (our interpreter,) Mr. Stratton, father of Gen. Tom Thumb, Mr. H. G. Sherman, and myself. Going a sight-seeing was quite a new business to Stratton, and as it was necessary to start by four o'clock in the morning in order to accomplish the distance, (sixteen miles,) and return in time for our afternoon performance, he demurred. "I don't want to get up before daylight and go off on a journey for the sake of seeing a darned old field of wheat," said Stratton. "Sherwood, do try to be like somebody once in your life, and go," said his wife. The appeal was irresistible, and he consented. We engaged a coach and horses the night previous, and started punctually at the hour appointed. We stopped at the neat little church in the village of Waterloo for the purpose of examining the tablets erected to the memory of some of the English who fell in the contest. Thence we passed to the house in which the leg of Lord Uxbridge (Marquis of Anglesey) was amputated. A neat little monument in the garden designates the spot where the shattered member had been interred. In the house is shown a part of the boot which is said to have once covered the unlucky leg. The visitor feels it but considerate to hand a franc or two to the female who exhibits the monument and limb. I did so, and Stratton, though he felt that he had not received the worth of his money, still did not like to be considered penurious, so he handed over a piece of silver coin to the attendant. I expressed a desire to have a small piece of the boot to exhibit in my Museum; the lady cut off; without hesitation, a slip three inches long by one in width. I handed her a couple more francs, and Stratton desiring, as he said, to "show a piece of the boot in old Bridgeport," received a similar slip and paid a similar amount. I could not help thinking that if the lady was thus liberal in dispensing pieces of the "identical boot" to all visitors, this must have been about the 99,867th boot that had been cut up as the "Simon pure" since 1815.

With the consoling reflection that the female purchased all the cast-off boots in Brussels and its vicinity, and rejoicing that somebody was making a trifle out of that accident besides the inventor of the celebrated "Anglesey leg," we passed on towards the battle-field, lying about a mile distant.

Arriving at Mont Saint Jean, a quarter of a mile from the ground, we were beset by some eighteen or twenty persons who offered their services, as guides to indicate the most important localities. Each applicant professed to know the exact spot where every man had been placed who had taken part in the battle, and each of course claimed to have been engaged in that sanguinary contest, although it had occurred thirty years before, and some of these fellows were only, it seemed, from twenty-five to twenty-eight years of age! We accepted an old man who, at first, declared that he was killed in the battle, but perceiving our looks of incredulity, consented to modify his statement so far as to assert that he was horribly wounded and lay upon the ground three days before receiving assistance.

Once upon the ground, our guide with much gravity pointed out the place where the Duke of Wellington took his station during a great part of the action; the locality where the reserve of the British army was stationed; the spot where Napoleon posted his favorite guard; the little mound on which was erected a temporary observatory for his use during the battle; the portion of the field at which Blucher entered with the Prussian army; the precise location of the Scotch Greys; the spot where fell Sir Alexander Gordon, Lieut. Col. Canning, and many others of celebrity. I asked him if he could tell me where Captain Tippitiwichet of the Connecticut Fusileers was killed. "Oui, Monsieur," he replied, with perfect confidence, for he felt bound to know, or to pretend to know, every particular. He then proceeded to point out exactly the spot where my unfortunate Connecticut friend had breathed his last. After indicating the locations where some twenty of my other fictitious friends from Coney Island, New-Jersey, Cape Cod and Saratoga Springs, had given up the ghost, we handed him his commission and declined to give him further trouble. Stratton grumbled at the imposition as he handed out a couple of francs for the information received.

Upon quitting the battle-field we were accosted by a dozen persons of both sexes with baskets on their arms or bags in their hands, containing relics of the battle, for sale. These consisted of a great variety of implements of war, pistols, bullets etc., besides brass French eagles, buttons, etc. I purchased a number of them for the Museum, and Stratton was equally liberal in obtaining a supply for his friends in "Old Bridgeport." Then we purchased maps of the battle-ground, pictures of the triumphal mound surmounted by the colossal Belgic Lion in bronze, etc., etc. These frequent and renewed taxations annoyed Stratton very much, and as he handed out a five franc piece for a "complete guide-book," he remarked, that "he guessed the battle of Waterloo had cost a darned sight more since it was fought than it did before!"

But his misfortunes did not terminate here. When we had proceeded four or five miles upon our road home, crash went the carriage. We alighted, and found that the axle-tree was broken. It was now a quarter past one o'clock. The little General's exhibition was advertised to commence in Brussels at two o'clock, and could not take place without us. We were unable to walk the distance in double the time required, and as no carriage was to be got in that part of the country, I concluded to take the matter easy, and forego all idea of exhibiting before evening. Stratton however could not bear the thought of losing the chance of taking in six or eight hundred francs, and he determined to take matters in hand, in order, if possible, to get our party into Brussels in time to save the afternoon exhibition. He hastened to a farm-house accompanied by the interpreter Professor Pinte, Sherman and myself leisurely bringing up the rear. Stratton asked the old farmer if he had a carriage. He had not. "Have you no vehicle?" he inquired.

"Yes, I have that vehicle," he replied, pointing to an old cart filled with manure, and standing in his barn-yard.

"Thunder! is that all the conveyance you have got?" asked Stratton. Being assured that it was, Stratton concluded that it was better to ride in a manure cart than not get to Brussels in time.

"What will you ask to drive us to Brussels in three-quarters of an hour?" demanded Stratton.

"It is impossible," replied the farmer; "I should want two hours for my horse to do it in."

"But ours is a very pressing case, and if we are not there in time we lose more than five hundred francs," said Stratton.

The old farmer pricked up his ears at this, and agreed to get us to Brussels in an hour, for eighty francs. Stratton tried to beat him down, but it was of no use.

"Oh, go it, Stratton," said Sherman; "eighty francs you know is only sixteen dollars, and you will probably save a hundred by it, for I expect a full house at our afternoon exhibition to-day."

But I have already spent about ten dollars for nonsense," said Stratton, "and we shall have to pay for the broken carriage besides."

"But what can you do better?" chimed in Professor Pinte.

"It is an outrageous extortion to charge sixteen dollars for an old horse and cart to go ten miles. Why, in old Bridgeport I could get it done for three dollars," replied Stratton in a tone of vexation.

"It is the custom of the country," said Professor Pinte, "and we must submit to it."

By the way, that was a favorite expression of the Professor's. Whenever we were imposed upon, or felt that we were not used right, Pinte would always endeavor to smooth it over by informing us it was "the custom of the country."

"Well, it's a thundering mean custom, any how," said Stratton, "and I won't stand such an imposition."

"But what shall we do?" earnestly inquired Mr. Pinte. "It may be a high price, but it is better to pay that than to lose our afternoon performance and five or six hundred francs."

This appeal to the pocket touched Stratton's feelings; so submitting to the extortion, he replied to our interpreter, "Well, tell the old robber to dump his dung-cart as soon as possible, or we shall lose half an hour in starting."

The cart was "dumped," and a large lazy-looking Flemish horse was attached to it with a rope harness. Some boards were laid across the cart for seats, the party tumbled into the rustic vehicle, a red-haired boy, son of the old farmer, mounted the horse, and Stratton gave orders to "get along." "Wait a moment," said the farmer, "you have not paid me yet." "I'll pay your boy when we get to Brussels, provided he gets there within the hour," replied Stratton.

"Oh, he is sure to get there in an hour," said the farmer, "but I can't let him go unless you pay me in advance." The minutes were flying rapidly, the anticipated loss of the day exhibition of General Tom Thumb flitted before his eyes, and Stratton, in very desperation, thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth sixteen five-franc pieces, which he dropped, one at a time, into the hand of the farmer, and then called out to the boy, "There now, do try to see if you can go ahead."

The boy did go ahead, but it was with such a snail's pace that it would have puzzled a man of tolerable eyesight to have determined whether the horse was moving or standing still. To make it still more interesting, it commenced raining furiously. As we had left Brussels in a coach, and the morning had promised us a pleasant day, we had omitted our umbrellas. We were soon soaked to the skin. We grinned and bore it awhile without grumbling. At length Stratton, who was almost too angry to speak, desired Mr. Pinte to ask the red-haired boy if he expected to walk his horse all the way to Brussels.

"Certainly," replied the boy; "he is too big and fat to do any thing but walk. We never trot him."

Stratton was terrified as he thought of the loss of the day exhibition; and he cursed the boy, the cart, the rain, the luck, and even the battle of Waterloo itself. But it was all of no use, the horse would not run, but the rain would -- down our backs.

At two o'clock, the time appointed for our exhibition, we were yet some seven miles from Brussels. The horse walked slowly and philosophically through the pitiless storm, the steam majestically rising from the old manure-cart, to the no small disturbance of our unfortunate olfactories. "It will take two hours to get to Brussels at this rate," growled Stratton. "Oh, no," replied the boy, "it will only take about two hours from the time we started."

"But your father agreed to get us there in an hour," answered Stratton.

"I know it," responded the boy, "but he knew it would take more than two."

"I'll sue him for damage, by thunder," said Stratton.

"Oh, there would be no use in that," chimed in Mr. Pinte, "for you could get no satisfaction in this country."

"But I shall lose more than a hundred dollars by being two hours instead of one," said Stratton.

"They care nothing about that; all they care for is your eighty francs," remarked Pinte.

"But they have lied and swindled me," replied Stratton.

"Oh, you must not mind that, it is the custom of the country."

Stratton gave "the country," and its "customs," another cursing.

All things will finally have an end, and our party did at length actually arrive in Brussels, cart and all, in precisely two hours and a half from the time we left the farmer's house. Of course we were too late to exhibit the little General. Hundreds of visitors had gone away disappointed.

With feelings of utter desperation, Stratton started for a barber's shop. He had a fine, black, bushy head of hair, of which he was a little proud, and every morning he submitted it to the curling-tongs of the barber. His hair had not been cut for several weeks, and after being shaved, he desired the barber to trim his flowing locks a little. The barber clipped off the ends of the hair, and asked Stratton if that was sufficient. "No," he replied, "I want it trimmed a little shorter; cut away, and I will tell you when to stop."

Stratton had risen from bed at an unusual hour, and after having passed through the troubles and excitements of the unlucky morning, he began to feel a little drowsy. This feeling was augmented by the soothing sensations of the tonsorial process, and while the barber quietly pursued his avocation, Stratton as quietly fell asleep. The barber went entirely over his head, cutting off a couple of inches of hair with every clip of his scissors. He then rested for a moment, expecting his customer would tell him that it was sufficient; but the unconscious Stratton uttered not a word, and the barber thinking he had not cut the hair close enough, went over the head again. Again did he wait for an answer, little thinking that his patron was asleep. Remembering that Stratton had told him to "cut away, and he would tell him when to stop," the innocent barber went over the head the third time, cutting the hair nearly as close as if he had shaved it with a razor! having finished, he again waited for orders from his customer, but he uttered not a word. The barber was surprised, and that surprise was increased when he heard a noise which seemed very like a snore coming from the nasal organ of his unconscious victim. The poor barber saw the error that he had committed, and in dismay, as if by mistake, he hit Stratton on the side of the head with his scissors, and woke him. He started to his feet, looked in the glass, and to his utter horror saw that he was unfit to appear in public without a wig! He swore like a trooper, but he could not swear the hair back on to his head, and putting on his hat, which dropped loosely over his eyes, he started for the hotel. His despair and indignation were so great that it was some time before he could give utterance to words of explanation. His feelings were not allayed by the deafening burst of laughter which ensued. He said it was the first time that he ever went a sight-seeing, and he guessed it would be the last!

As an evidence of how little interest Stratton usually feels in public events, I will mention that in the months of May and June, 1843, he spent six weeks in Boston, the General being exhibited at that time at Kimball's Museum. Stratton had nothing to do but stroll about and see the city if he desired it, but he did not. He was there on the 17th June, on which occasion President Tyler and Cabinet attended. Thousands of persons went hundreds of miles to attend that celebration, to listen to the speech of Mr. Webster, and to see the monument. Stratton remained in the hotel wholly unemployed, and he has never seen Bunker Hill Monument yet!

Several months subsequent to our visit to Waterloo, I was in Birmingham, and there made the acquaintance of a firm who manufactured to order, and sent to Waterloo, barrels of "relics" every year. At Waterloo these "relics" are planted, and in due time dug up, and sold at large prices as precious remembrances of the great battle. Our Waterloo purchases looked rather cheap after this discovery.

We returned from Brussels to London, where the General again opened his "Levees" with undiminished success, and also played at the theatres in "Hop o' my Thumb." He also performed in the Surrey Zoological Gardens, under the direction of its proprietor and my particular friend, Mr. TYLER. From London we went to Scotland, stopping to exhibit in important places by the way, and finally all returned to America in February, 1847.

The General had been absent for somewhat more than three years, during which space, leaving him in charge of faithful agents, I had twice visited the United States. (5)

The first of these visits was in October, 1844. Twenty months of pecuniary prosperity appeared to have effected some change in the views or conduct of certain people regarding me -- a change which I afterwards alluded to in one of my letters to the Sunday Atlas in the following terms:

"A source of great amusement to me on my return to New-York, was the discovery of many new friends. I could hardly credit my senses, when I discovered so many wealthy men extending their hands to me and expressing their delight at seeing me again, who before I left New-York would have looked down on me with disdain had I presumed to speak to them. I really forgot, until they forced the truth upon my mind, that since I left them I had accumulated a few more dirty dollars, and that now therefore we stood on equal ground! On the other hand, I met some honest friends in humble circumstances, who approached me with diffidence never before exhibited -- and then again I felt ashamed of human nature. What a pitiful state of society it is, which elevates a booby or a tyrant to its summit, provided he has more gold than others -- while a good heart or a wise head is contemptuously disregarded if their owner happens to be poor!

"No man can be truly happy who, because he chances to be rich, mounts upon stilts, and attempts to stride over his fellow-beings. For my own part, the only special benefit which, as I conceive, wealth can confer upon an individual is, that while it enables him to secure the comforts and conveniences of life, it affords him an opportunity to contribute to the wants of his fellow-beings. My sincere prayer is, that I may be reduced to beggary, rather than become a pampered, purse-proud aristocrat.

"This coat, I am sorry to say, will fit many of my acquaintances in New-York. I beg them, for their own sakes and for mine, to wear it. I wish them, and all the world, to know that my father was a tailor, and that I am 'a showman' by profession, and all the gilding shall make nothing else of me. When a man is ashamed of his origin, or gets above his business, he is a poor devil, who merits the detestation of all who know him. The idea that a shoemaker or a tinker cannot be a gentleman, is simply ridiculous; but it is not as much so as that which assumes every man necessarily to be a gentleman if he happens to be wealthy. Money should in no sense be made the standard of respectability or honor. We should never worship 'golden calves.'"

In my account of our European tour, I have confined myself principally to incidents connected with the exhibition of Tom Thumb. It must not be supposed that I had no recreation meanwhile, or that I restricted myself to a circle of observation with a golden rim. Of course, I constantly had "an eye to business," but this still left me an eye to look around upon men and things, without respect to my vocation of a showman. Every part of Europe which we visited was indeed a great "curiosity shop" to me, and I had great pleasure in viewing its many departments. Usually it was done in "double quick time," though thoroughly. I shall here mention one of the occasions, and I cannot do better than to call it

A DAY WITH ALBERT SMITH.

While in London, my friend ALBERT SMITH, who is a jolly companion, as well as a witty and sensible author, promised that when I reached Birmingham he would come and spend a day with me in "sight-seeing," including a visit to the house in which Shakspeare was born.

Early one morning in the month of September, 1844, the sun rose in unusual splendor for that country, finding my friend Smith and myself on the box-seat of an English mail-coach, whirling at the rate of twelve miles an hour over the magnificent road leading from Birmingham to Stratford. The distance is thirty miles. At a little village four miles before reaching Stratford, we found that the genius of the bard of Avon had travelled thus far, for we noticed a sign over a miserable barber's shop, "Shakspeare hair-dressing -- a good shave for a penny." In twenty minutes more we were set down at the door of the Red Horse Hotel in Stratford. The coach-man and guard were each paid half a crown as their perquisites.

While breakfast was preparing, we called for a guide-book to the town, and the waiter brought in a book, saying that we should find in it the best description extant of the birth and burial-place of Shakspeare. I was not a little proud to find this volume to be no other than the "Sketch-Book" of our illustrious countryman, Washington Irving; and in glancing over his humorous description of the place, I discovered that he had stopped at the same hotel where we were then awaiting breakfast.

After examining the Shakspeare House, as well as the tomb and the church in which all that is mortal of the great poet rests, we ordered a post-chaise for Warwick Castle. While the horses were being harnessed, a stage-coach stopped at the hotel, and two gentlemen alighted. One was a sedate, sensible-looking man; the other an addle-headed fop. The former was mild and unassuming in his manners; the latter was all talk, without sense or meaning-in fact, a regular Charles Chatterbox. He evidently had a high opinion of himself; and was determined that all within hearing should understand that he was -- somebody. Presently the sedate gentleman said:

"Edward, this is Stratford. Let us go and see the house where Shakspeare was born."

"Who the devil is Shakspeare?" asked the sensible young gentleman.

Our post-chaise was at the door; we leaped into it, and were off, leaving the "nice young man" to enjoy a visit to the birth-place of an individual of whom he had never before heard. The distance to Warwick is fourteen miles. We went to the Castle, and approaching the door of the Great Hall, were informed by a well-dressed porter that the Earl of Warwick and family were absent, and that he was permitted to show the apartments to visitors. He introduced us successively into the "Red Drawing-Room." "The Cedar Drawing-Room," "The Gilt Room," "The State Bed-Roon," "Lady Warwick's Boudoir," "The Compass Room," "The Chapel," and "The Great Dining-Room." As we passed out of The Castle, the polite porter touched his head (he of course had no hat on it) in a style which spoke plainer than words, "Half a crown each, if you please, gentlemen." We responded to the call, and were then placed in charge of another guide, who took us to the top of "Guy's Tower," at the bottom of which he touched his hat a shilling's worth; and placing ourselves in charge of a third conductor, an old man of severity, we proceeded to the Greenhouse to see the Warwick Vase. The old gentleman mounted a rostrum at the side of the vase and commenced a set speech, which we began to fear was interminable; so tossing him the usual fee, we left him in the middle of his oration.

Passing through the porter's lodge on our way out, under the impression that we had seen all that was interesting, the old porter informed us that the most curious things connected with the Castle were to be seen in his lodge. Feeling for our coin, we bade him produce his relics, and he showed us a lot of trumpery, which, he gravely informed us, belonged to that hero of antiquity, Guy, Earl of Warwick. Among these were his sword, shield, helmet, breast-plate, walking-staff and tilting-pole, each of enormous size -- the horse armor nearly large enough for an elephant, a large pot which would hold seventy gallons, called "Guy's Porridge Pot," his flesh-fork, the size of a farmer's hay-fork, his lady's stirrups, the rib of a mastodon which the porter pretended belonged to the great "Dun Cow," which, according to tradition, haunted a ditch near Coventry, and after doing injury to many persons, was slain by the valiant Guy. The sword weighed nearly 200 pounds, and the armor 400 pounds!

I told the old porter he was entitled to great credit for having concentrated more lies than I had ever before heard in so small a compass. He smiled, and evidently felt gratified by the compliment.

"I suppose," I continued, "that you have told these marvellous stories so often, that you almost believe them yourself?"

"Almost!" replied the porter, with a grin of satisfaction that showed he was "up to snuff" and had really earned two shillings.

The "Warwick races" were then coming off within half a mile of the village. We therefore went down and spent an hour with the multitude.

There was very little betting or excitement regarding the races, and we concluded to take a tour through the "penny shows," the vans of which lined one side of the course for the distance of a quarter of a mile. On applying to enter one van, which had a large pictorial sign of giantesses, white negro, Albino girls, learned pig, big snakes, etc., the keeper exclaimed, "Come, Mister, you is the man what hired Randall, the giant, for 'Merika, and you shows Tom Thumb; now can you think of paying loss than sixpence for going in here?"

The appeal was irresistible; so, satisfying his demands, we entered. Upon coming out, a whole bevy of showmen from that and neighboring vans surrounded me, and began descanting on the merits and demerits of General Tom Thumb.

"Oh," says one, "I knows two dwarfs what is better ten times as Tom Thumb."

"Yes," says another, "there's no use to talk about Tom Thumb while Melia Patton is above the ground."

"Now, I've, seen Tom Thumb," added a third, "and he is a fine little squat, but the only 'vantage he's got is he can chaff so well. He chaffs like a man; but I can learn Dick Swift in two months so that he can chaff Tom Thumb crazy."

"Never mind," added a fourth, "I've got a chap training what you none on you knows, what'll beat all the 'thumbs' on your grapplers."

"No he can't," exclaimed a fifth, "for Tom Thumb has got the name, and you all know the name's every thing. Tom Thumb could n't never shine, even in my van, 'long side of a dozen dwarfs I knows, if this Yankee hadn't bamboozled our Queen -- God bless her -- by getting him afore her half a dozen times."

"Yes, yes -- that 's the ticket," exclaimed another; "our Queen patronizes every thing foreign, and yet she would n't visit my beautiful wax-works to save the crown of Hingland."

"Your beautiful wax-works!" they all exclaimed with a hearty laugh.

"Yes, and who says they haint beautiful?" retorted the other; "they was made by the best Hitalian hartist in this country."

"They was made by Jim Caul, and showed all over the country twenty years ago," rejoined another; "and arter that they laid five years in pawn in old Moll Wiggins's cellar, covered with mould and dust."

"Well, that's a good 'un, that is!" replied the proprietor of the beautiful wax-works, with a look of disdain.

I made a move to depart, when one of the head showmen exclaimed, "Come, Mister, don't be shabby; can you think of going without standing treat all round?"

"Why should I stand treat?" I asked.

"'Cause 'taint every day you can meet such a bloody lot of jolly brother-showmen," replied Mr. Wax-works.

I handed out a crown, and left I them to drink bad luck to the "foreign vagabonds what would bamboozle their Queen with inferior dwarfs, possessing no advantage over the natyves but the power of chaffing."

While in the showmen's vans seeking for acquisitions to my Museum in America, I was struck with the tall appearance of a couple of females who exhibited as the "Canadian giantesses, each seven feet in height." Suspecting that a cheat was hidden under their unfashionably long dresses, which reached to the floor and thus rendered their feet invisible, I attempted to solve the mystery by raising a foot or two of the superfluous covering. The strapping young lady, not relishing such liberties from a stranger, laid me flat upon the floor with a blow from her brawny hand. I was on my feet again in tolerably quick time, but not until I had discovered that she stood upon a pedestal at least eighteen inches high.

We returned to the hotel, took a post-chaise, and drove through decidedly the most lovely country I ever beheld. Since taking that tour, I have heard that two gentlemen once made a bet, each, that he could name the most delightful drive in England. Many persons were present, and the two gentlemen wrote on separate slips of paper the scene which he most admired. One gentleman wrote, "The road from Warwick to Coventry;" the other had written, "The road from Coventry to Warwick."

In less than an hour we were set down at the outer walls of Kenilworth Castle, which Scott has greatly aided to immortalize in his celebrated novel of that name.

This once noble and magnificent castle is now a stupendous ruin, which has been so often described that I think it unnecessary to say any thing further about it here. We spent half an hour in examining the interesting ruins, and then proceeded by post-chaise to Coventry, a distance of six or eight miles. Here we remained four hours, during which time we visited St. Mary's Hall, which has attracted the notice of many antiquaries. We also took a peep at the effigy of the celebrated "Peeping Tom," after which we visited an exhibition called the "Happy Family," consisting of about two hundred birds and animals of opposite natures and propensities, all living in harmony together in one cage. This exhibition was so remarkable that I bought it for $2500, (£500) and hired the proprietor to accompany it to New-York, where it has ever since been an attractive feature in my Museum.

We took the cars the same evening for Birmingham, where we arrived at ten o'clock, my friend Albert Smith remarking, that never before in his life had he accomplished a day's journey on the Yankee go-ahead principle, he afterwards published a chapter in Bentley's Magazine, entitled "A Day with Barnum," in which he said we accomplished business with such rapidity, that when he attempted to write out the accounts of the day, he found the whole thing so confused in his brain that he came near "locating" Peeping Tom in the house of Shakspeare, while Guy of Warwick would stick his head above the ruins of Kenilworth -- the Warwick Vase appearing in Coventry, etc.

During our journey, I amused him with many of my adventures, including the history of Joice Heth, the Mermaid, the Buffalo Hunt, etc., which he afterwards served up in his "Scattergood Family," making me the hero. At this time my friend was an author, dramatist and dentist, but subsequently he was exalted to the dignity of a "showman," and I am most happy to learn that he has accumulated a fortune from the exhibition of the panorama illustrating his extraordinary ascent of Mont Blanc.

I introduce the foregoing merely as a sample of my many adventures in examining the great curiosity shop of Europe. Indeed, I have in my possession sufficient material, as shadowed forth in my letters to the New-York Atlas, to form volumes.

I was not wholly free from the usual infirmity of travellers, viz., a desire to look at the old castles of feudal times, whether in preservation or in ruins; but there was one of our party, Mr. H. G. Sherman, who had a peculiar and irresistible taste for the antique. He gathered trunks full of stone and timber mementoes from every place of note which we visited; and if there was any thing which he admired more than all else, it was an old castle. He spent many hours in clambering the broken walls of Kenilworth, in viewing the towers and dungeons of Warwick, and climbing the precipices of Dumbarton. When travelling by coach, Sherman always secured an outside seat, and, if possible, next to the coachman, so as to be able to make inquiries regarding every thing which he might happen to see.

On our journey from Belfast to Drogheda, Sherman occupied his usual seat beside the driver, and asked him a thousand questions. The coachman was a regular wag, with genuine Irish wit, and he determined to have a little bit of fun at the expense of the inquisitive Yankee. As we came within eight miles of Drogheda, the watchful eye of Sherman caught the glimpse of a large stone pile, appearing like a castle, peering up among some trees in a field half a mile from the road-side.

"Oh, look here! what do you call that?" exclaimed Sherman, giving the coachman an elbowing in the ribs which was anything but pleasant.

"Faith," replied the coachman, "you may well ask what we call that, for divil a call do we know what to call it. That is a castle, sir, beyond all question the oldest in Ireland -- indade, none of the old books nor journals contain any account of it. It is known, however, that Brian Borrhoime inhabited it some time, though it is supposed to have been built centuries before his day."

"I'll give you half-a-crown to stop the coach long enough for me to run and bring a scrap of it away," said Sherman.

Sure, and is n't this the royal mail coach? and I would not dare detain it for half the Bank of Ireland," replied the honest coachman.

"How far is it to Drogheda?" inquired Sherman.

"About eight miles, more or less," answered the coachman.

"Stop your coach, and let me down, then," replied Sherman; "I'll walk to Drogheda, and would sooner walk three times the distance than not have a nearer view, and carry off a portion of the oldest castle in Ireland."

With that Sherman dismounted, and raising his umbrella to protect him from the cold rain which was falling in torrents, he marched off in the mud, calling out to me that I might expect him in Dublin by the next train to that which would take us from Drogheda -- the railroad being then completed only to that point from Dublin.

We arrived in Dublin about five o'clock, cold and uncomfortable; but warm apartments and good fires were in waiting for us, and in a few hours we had partaken of an excellent supper, and were as happy as lords. About nine o'clock in the evening, the door of our parlor was opened, and who should come in but poor Sherman, drenched to the skin with cold rain -- the legs of his boots pulled over the bottoms of his pantaloons, and covered with thick mud to the very tops, and himself looking like a half-famished, weary and frozen traveller.

"For heaven's sake let me get to the fire!" exclaimed Sherman, and we were too much struck with his suffering appearance not to heed it.

"Well, Sherman," I remarked, "that must have been a tedious walk for you -- eight long Irish miles, through the rain and mud."

"I guess you would have thought so, if you had walked it yourself," replied Sherman doggedly.

"I hope you have brought away trophies enough from the castle to pay you for all this trouble," I continued.

"Oh, curse the castle!" exclaimed Sherman.

"What do you mean by that?" I replied in astonishment.

"Oh, you need not look surprised," replied Sherman, "for I have no doubt that you and that bog-trotting Irish coachman have had fun enough at my expense before this time."

I assured him that I positively had not heard the coachman speak on the subject, and begged him to tell use what had occurred to vex him in this manner.

"Why, if you do n't already know," replied Sherman, "I would not have you know for twenty pounds, for you would be sure to publish it. However, now your curiosity is excited, you would be certain to find it all out if you had to hire a post-chaise and ride there on purpose; so I may as well tell you."

"Do tell me," I replied, "for I confess my curiosity is excited, and I am unable to guess why you are so angry, for I know you love to see old castles -- and that pleasure you surely have enjoyed, for I caught a glimpse of one myself"

"No, you have not seen a castle to-day, nor I either!" exclaimed Sherman.

"What on earth was it, then?" I asked.

"A thundering old lime kiln!" exclaimed Sherman; "and I only wish I could pitch that infernal Irish coachman into it while it was under full blast!"

It was many a long day before Sherman heard the last of the lime kiln; in fact this trick of the Irish coachman rendered him cautions in making inquiries of strangers.

One day we rode to Donnybrook, the place so much celebrated for its fairs and its black eyes -- for it would be quite out of character for Pat to attend a fair without having a flourish of the shilelah, and a scrimmage which would result in a few broken heads and bloody noses.

Near Donnybrook we saw something on the summit of a hill which appeared like a round stone tower. It was probably sixty feet in circumference and twenty-five feet high.

"I would like to know what that is," said Sherman.

I advised him to inquire of the first coachman that came along, but with a forced smile he declined my advice.

"It can't be a lime kiln, at any rate," continued Sherman; "it must be a castle of some description."

The more we looked at it the more mysterious did it appear to us, and Sherman's castle-hunting propensities momentarily increased. At last he exclaimed: "A man who travels with a tongue in his head is a fool if he don't use it; and I am not coming within a hundred rods of what may be the greatest curiosity in Ireland without knowing it."

With that he turned our horse's head towards a fine-looking mansion on our right, where we halted. Sherman jumped from the carriage, opened the small gate, proceeded up the alley of the lawn fronting the house, and rang the bell. A servant appeared at the door; but Sherman, knowing the stupidity of Irish servants, was determined to apply at head-quarters for the information he so much desired.

"Is your master in?" asked Sherman.

"I will see, sir. What name, if you plaze?"

"A stranger from the United States of America!" replied Sherman.

The servant departed, and in a minute returned and invited Sherman to enter the parlor, he found the gentleman of the mansion sitting by a pleasant fire, near which were also his lady and several visitors and members of the family. Sherman was not troubled with diffidence. Being seated, he hoped he would he excused for having called without an invitation -- but the fact was, he was an American traveller, desirous of picking up all important information that might fall in his way.

The gentleman politely replied that no apology was necessary, that he was most happy to see him, and that any information which he could impart regarding that or any other portion of the country should be given with pleasure.

"Thank you," replied Sherman; "I will not trouble you except on a single point. I have seen all that is important in Dublin and its vicinity, and in and about Donnybrook; there is but one thing respecting which I want information, and that is the stone tower or castle which we see standing on the hill about a quarter of a mile south of your house. If you could give me the name and history of that pile, I shall feel extremely obliged."

"Oh, nothing is easier," replied the gentleman, with a smile. "That 'pile,' as you call it, was built some forty years ago by my father -- and it was a lucky 'pile' for him, for it was the only windmill in these parts, and always had plenty to do; but a few years ago a hurricane carried off the wings of the mill, and ever since that it has stood as it now does, a memorial of its former usefulness. Is there any other important information that I can give you?" asked the gentleman with a smile.

"Not any," replied Sherman, rising to depart; "but perhaps I can give you some, and that is, that Ireland is beyond all dispute the meanest country I ever travelled in. The only two objects worthy of note that I have seen in all Ireland, are a lime kiln and the foundation for a wind-mill!"

Upon resuming his seat in the carriage, Sherman laughed immoderately, although he evidently felt somewhat chagrined by this second mistake in searching for ancient castles.

For my own part, I was exceedingly pleased with the Irish people. The educated classes are as refined and courteous as any persons I ever was acquainted with, and the poorer classes are blessed with a "mother-wit" which softens the rigors of their sorrowful necessities.

I had abundant reason to be pleased also with the English and the Scotch, though I acknowledge that the hilarity of the French character was more in unison with the merriment of my own spirit. I must therefore devote a few pages to incidents of our tour in la belle France.

In Paris, we found great difficulty in procuring a proper interpreter for the General's public exhibitions. We engaged half a dozen different ones, each of whom proved more incompetent than his predecessor; for they were all English, and their pronunciation of the French was so bad that they were sure to he laughed at. At last I engaged a Frenchman, who was a professor of one if the colleges, and although he spoke English indifferently, he, of course, gave the public pure French. He was, withal, a perfect gentleman, and I found some difficulty in engaging him, as he feared it would be compromising his dignity. I however, at last, convinced him that to be the preceptor and interpreter of "Gen. Tom Pouce" would not be considered a menial office, and he accepted the situation. On arriving at the Belgian frontier, he had no passport, whereupon I remarked, "Monsieur Pinte, you will never be a good showman till you learn to remember every thing, and not thus be caught in a scrape through your own negligence or forgetfulness."

"Do you consider me a showman, then?" asked Monsieur Pinte, whose dignity was evidently wounded.

"Certainly," I replied, laughing; "we are all showmen, and you can make nothing else of it."

The poor fellow was in a brown study for the next four hours. He felt that his dignity had departed, and that the quondam "professor" was now nothing more nor less than a travelling showman. He, however, at last concluded to suffer the indignity, for he was quite a philosopher, and a good fellow at heart.

After a few hours, he good-naturedly said to me, "Mr. B., what are the requisite qualifications of a good showman?"

I smilingly replied, that "the first qualification necessary was a thorough knowledge of human nature, which of course included the faculty of judiciously applying soft soap."

"And what is that you call 'sof sup?'" eagerly inquired the anxious professor Pinte.

I told him it was the faculty to please and flatter the public so judiciously as not to have them suspect your intention.

In passing the custom-house we had a large quantity of medals, books, and engravings, (lithographs of the General.) I knew that these were subject to duty, but I was very prodigal in presenting them to the custom-house officers, and by that means got them through duty-free.

"Is that what you call 'sof sup?'"inquired Professor Flute.

"Exactly," I replied.

After passing the frontier, the directors and servants of the rail-way, who had witnessed my liberality in giving away the engravings, came begging for some. I could do no less than give them.

"The people have very dirty hands in this country, to require so much 'sof sup' to keep them clean," remarked Monsieur Pinte, with a laugh, which seemed to indicate that he was fast becoming reconciled to his lot as a "showman."

We did not always escape difficulty at the custom-houses. At Courtrai, a frontier town in Belgium, we had to endure the pleasures of a search and tax. They demanded a duty for the General's ponies and carriage; but when I showed them a document proving that the French government allowed them to enter duty-free, they did the same. At the custom-house at Lille, it was deemed necessary to measure and describe the ponies, in order to prevent our substituting other ponies on our return to France. As the General's beautiful equipage was passing through the custom-house, the chief officer, eyeing the General's petit coachman and footman in livery, seriously asked if the General was a prince in his own country.

"Certainly!" replied Sherman, with much gravity, "he is Prince Charles the First, of the dukedom of Bridgeport and kingdom of Connecticut."

The officer made a profound bow, and swallowed it all for gospel truth!

A person may frequently travel through the larger towns in France, for days together, without being called on for his passport; but it not unfrequently happens that in a little insignificant village, he is waited on quite unexpectedly by a gendarme, who demands permission to see the precious document. Such was one day the case with me.

I was quietly enjoying my dinner, at a neat little rustic inn, when the door was suddenly opened, and a full-accoutred, heavy-moustachioed gendarme entered, and demanded my passport.. It was in my trunk on the top of the diligence, and so I told him; but he insisted on seeing it. Not taking the trouble of getting it, I searched my pockets, and finding an old insurance policy, which I had accidentally brought from America, I drew it forth, and, excelaiming, "Oh, here is my passport!" handed it to the officer. He eyed it rather closely, and looked very wise while turning it backwards and forwards, but it was all Greek to him, for he could not read a word of English. After retaining it for a minute or two, he politely handed it back, with a "Très Bien!" ("Very well!") and took his leave!

This is not always a safe trick, however, as most of the gendarmes know the stamp of the Prefecture of Police at Paris; and, as that stamp is not always found on an old American insurance policy, it would be rather unpleasant for a man to attempt to travel in France with no other passport. In my case, however, if I had been detected, I could easily have rectified the mistake.

Whenever I dined at a French table d'hote, (and I always did so when I could, on account of the excellence and great variety of dishes,) I usually expected to partake of about six dishes with which I was acquainted, and of as many as sixteen of the composition of which I had not the remotest conception. If a person asked me if I ever ate serpents or lizards, or any thing else, I dare not answer no; for I did not know what I had not eaten in France!

While we were in Brussels, Mrs. Stratton, the mother of the General, tasted some sausages which she declared the best things she had eaten in France or Belgium; in fact, she said "she had found little that was fit to eat in this country, for every thing was so Frenchified and covered in gravy, she dared not eat it; but there was something that tasted natural about these sausages; she had never eaten any as good, even in America." She sent to the land-lady to inquire the name of them for she meant to buy some to -- take along with her. The answer came that they were called "saucisse de Lyons," (Lyons sausages,) and straightway Mrs. Stratton went out and purchased half a dozen pounds. Mr. Sherman soon came in, and, on learning what she had in her package, he remarked: "Mrs. Stratton, do you know what Lyons sausages are made of?"

"No," she replied; "but I know that they are first rate!"

"Well," replied Sherman, "they may be good, but they are made front donkeys!" which is said to be the fact. Mrs. Stratton said she was not to be fooled so easily, that she knew better, and that she should stick to the sausages.

Presently Mr. Pinte, our French interpreter, entered the room. "Mr. Pinte," said Sherman, "you are a Frenchman, and know every thing about edibles; pray tell me what Lyons sausages are made of."

"Of asses," replied the inoffensive professor.

Mrs. Stratton seized the package, the street window was open, and, in less than a minute, a large brindle dog was bearing the "Lyons sausages" triumphantly away.

Such trifling incidents as these served to amuse us occasionally in a land of strangers, but I frequently had much more than amusement in that journey of ours in a foreign land. On several occasions I felt entirely at home, especially on the fourth of July, 1844.

Being that day in Grenelle, outside the barriers of Paris, I remembered that I had the address of Monsieur Regnier, an eminent mechanician, who lived in the vicinity. Wishing to purchase a variety of instruments such as he manufactured, I called at his residence. He received me very politely, and I soon was deeply interested in this intelligent and learned man. He was a member of many scientific institutions, was "Chevalier of the Legion of Honor," etc.

While he was busy in making out my bill, I was taking a cursory view of the various plates, drawings, etc., which adorned his walls, when my eyes fell on a portrait which was familiar to me. I was certain that I could not be mistaken, and on approaching nearer it proved to be, as I expected, the engraved portrait of Benjamin Franklin. It was placed in a glazed frame, and on the outside of the glass were placed thirteen stars made of metal, forming a half circle round his head.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, "I see you have here a portrait of my fellow-countryman, Dr. Franklin."

"Yes," replied M. Regnier, "and he was a great and an excellent man. When he was in Paris in '98, he was honored and respected by all who knew him, and by none more so than the scientific portion of the community. At that time, Dr. Franklin was invited by the President of the Society of Emulation to decide upon the merits of various works of art submitted for inspection, and he awarded my father, for a complicated lock, the prize of a gold medal.

"While my father was with him at his hotel, a young Quaker called upon the Doctor. He was a total stranger to Franklin, but at once proceeded to inform him that he had come to Paris on business, had unfortunately lost all his money, and wished to borrow six hundred francs to enable him to return to his family in Philadelphia. Franklin inquired his family name, and upon hearing it immediately counted out the money, gave the young stranger some excellent advice, and bade him adieu. My father was struck by the generosity of Dr. Franklin, and as soon as the young man had departed, he told the Doctor that he was astonished to see him so free with his money to a stranger; that people did not do business in that way in Paris; and what he considered very careless was, that Franklin took no receipt nor even a scratch of a pen from the young man. Franklin replied that he always felt a duty and pleasure in relieving his fellow-men, and especially in this case, as he knew the family, and they were honest and worthy persons. My father, himself a generous man," continued M. Regnier, "was affected nearly to tears, and begged the Doctor to present him with his portrait. He did so, and this is it. My father has been dead some years. He bequeathed the portrait to me, and there is not money enough in Paris to buy it."

I need not say that I was delighted with this recital. I remarked to M. Regnier that he should double the number of stars, as we now (in 1844) had twenty-six States instead of thirteen, the original number.

"I am aware of that" he replied; "but I do not like to touch the work which was left by my father. I hold it sacred; and;" added he, "I suppose you are not aware of the uses we make of these stars?" Assuring him in the negative -- "Those stars," said he, "are made of steel, and on the night of every anniversary of American Independence, (which is this night,) it was always the practice of my father, and will always be mine, to collect our family and children together, darken the room, and by means of electricity, these stars, which are connected, are lighted up, and the portrait illuminated by electricity, Franklin's favorite science -- thus forming a halo of glory about his head, and doing honor to the name of a man whose fame should be perpetuated to eternity."

In continuing the conversation, I found that this good old gentleman was perfectly acquainted with the history of America, and he spoke feelingly of what he believed to be the high and proud destiny of our republic. He insisted on my remaining to supper, and witnessing his electrical illumination. Need I say that I accepted the invitation? Could an American refuse?

We partook of a substantial supper, upon which the good old gentleman invoked the blessing of our Father in Heaven, and at the conclusion he retuned hearty thanks. At nine o'clock the children and family of M. Regnier and his son-in-law were called in, the room was darkened, the electrical battery was charged, and the wire touched to one of the outer stars. The whole thirteen became instantly bright as fire, and a beautiful effect was produced.

What more simple and yet beautiful and appropriate manner could be chosen to honor the memory of Franklin? And what an extraordinary coincidence it was that I, a total stranger in Paris, should meet such a singular man as M. Regnier at all, and more especially on that day of days, the anniversary of our Independence! At ten o'clock I took my leave of this worthy family, but not till we had all joined in an excellent bottle of champagne, drinking the following toast proposed by M. Regnier:

"Washington, Franklin, and Lafayette -- Heroes, philosophers, patriots, and honest men. May their names stand brightest on the lists of earthly glory, when in after ages this whole world shall be one universal republic, and every individual under heaven shall acknowledge the truth that man is capable of self-government."

It will not be considered surprising that I should feel at home with Monsieur Regnier. Both the day and the man conspired to excite and gratify my patriotism, and the presence of Franklin my love of my "native land."

The companionship of two distinguished "live Americans" in Paris, did not diminish this feeling. They were fine specimens of Yankee character, and illustrated the fruits of perseverance, backed by intelligence, genius, and probity. I refer to the celebrated dentist Dr. C. S. BREWSTER, whose prosperous professional career in Russia and France is well known, and HENRY SUMNER, Esq., whose success in challenging the courtesy of Nicholas was equalled only by the high position he occupied in the social and literary circles of Paris. To both these gentlemen, as well as to Mr. John NIMMO, an English gentleman connected with "Galignani's Messenger," Mr. LORENZO DRAPER, the American Consul, and DION BOURCICAULT, Esq., I was largely indebted for attention, and I cannot better close this account of my European tour, than by here recording their names. In London, two gentlemen especially merit in this place my warm acknowledgments for many valuable favors. I refer to THOMAS BRETTELL, Esq., publisher, Haymarket; and Mr. R. FILLINGHAM, Jr., Fenchurch street. I was also indebted MR. G. P. PUTNAM, at that time a London publisher, for much useful information.

It will naturally be supposed that I promptly made use of General Tom Thumb's European reputation, on our arrival in New-York, in February, 1847. He immediately appeared in the American Museum, and for four weeks drew such crowds of visitors as had never been seen there before. He afterwards spent a month in Bridgeport, with his kindred. To prevent being annoyed by the curious who would be sure to throng the houses of his relatives, he exhibited two days at Bridgeport. The receipts, amounting to several hundred dollars, were presented to the Bridgeport Charitable Society. The Bridgeporters were much delighted to see their old friend "little Charlie" again. They little thought, when they saw him playing about the streets a few years previously, that he was destined to create such a sensation among the crowned heads of the old world; and now returning with his European reputation, he was of course a great curiosity to his former acquaintances, as well as the public generally. His Bridgeport friends found that he had not increased in size during the four and a half years of his absence, but they discovered that he had become sharp and witty, abounding in "foreign airs and native graces;" in fact, that he was quite unlike the little diffident country fellow whom they had formerly known.

"We never thought Charlie much of a phenomenon when he lived among us," said one of the first citizens of the place, "but now that he has become 'Barnumized,' he is a rare curiosity."

"How old are you, General?" asked asked of his acquaintances.

"As Mr. Barnum makes it out, I am fifteen," said the General, laughing, for he was aware that the inquirer knew his true age to be only nine!

I was surprised to find that I had also become a curiosity during my absence. If I showed myself about the Museum or wherever else I was known, I found eyes peering and fingers pointing at me, and could frequently overhear the remark, "There's Barnum," "That's old Barnum," etc. By the way, I can't understand how it is that most people whom I do not know, and many whom I do, will insist upon calling me "Old Barnum." I am now but forty-four years of age, and I have been called "old Barnum" these ten years.

On one occasion, soon after my return from abroad, I was sitting in the ticket-office reading a newspaper. A man came and purchased a ticket of admission. "Is Barnum in the Museum?" he asked. The ticket-seller, pointing to me, answered, "This is Mr. Barnum." Supposing the gentleman had business with me, I looked up from the paper. "Is this Mr. Barnum?" he asked. "It is," I replied. He stared at me for a moment, and then, throwing down his ticket, he exclaimed, "It's all right. I have got the worth of my money;" and away he went, without going into the Museum at all!

I should before have said that after the 1st of January, 1845, my engagement with General Tom Thumb on a salary having ceased, we made a new arrangement, by which we were to be equal partners -- the General (or his father for him) taking one half of the profits and myself the other half. A reservation, however, was made of the first four weeks after our arrival in New-York, during which he was to exhibit at my Museum for $200.

When we returned to America, Mr. Stratton (the General's father) had acquired a handsome fortune, and settling a large sum upon the little General personally, he placed the balance at interest, secured by bond and mortgage, excepting $30,000, with which he purchased land near the city limits of Bridgeport, and erected a large and substantial mansion, where he now resides, and in which his only two daughters have been married, one in 1850, the other in 1853. His only son, besides the General, is three years old. All the family, except "little Charlie," are of the usual size.

After spending a month in visiting his friends, it was determined that the General and his parents should travel through the United States. I agreed to accompany them one year, sharing the profits equally, as in England. We proceeded to Washington city, where the General held his levees in April, 1847, visiting President Polk and lady at the White House -- thence to Richmond, returning to Baltimore and Philadelphia. Our receipts in Philadelphia in twelve days were $5594.91. The tour for the entire year realized about the same avenge. The expenses were from $25 to $30 per day. From Philadelphia we went to Boston, Lowell, and Providense. Our receipts on one day in the latter city were $976.97. We then visited New-Bedford, Fall River, Salem, Worcester, Springfield, Albany, Troy, Niagara Falls, Buffalo, and intermediate places, and in returning to New-York we stopped at the principal towns on the Hudson river. After this we visited New-Haven, Hartford, Portland, Me., and intermediate towns.

In November, 1847, we started for Havana, taking the steamer from New-York to Charleston, where the General exhibited, as well as at Columbia, Augusta, Savannah, Milledgevile, Macon, Columbus, Montgomery, Mobile, and New-Orleans. At this latter city we remained three weeks, including Christmas and New Year's. We arrived in Havana by the schooner Adams Gray in January, 1848, and were introduced to the Captain-General and the Spanish nobility. We remained a month in Havana and Matanzas, the General proving an immense favorite, and frequently receiving a doubloon for his autograph. In Havana he was the especial pet of Count Santovania. In Matanzas we were very much indebted to the kindness of a princely American merchant, Mr. Brinckerhoff. J. S. Thrasher, Esq., the American patriot and gentleman, was also of great assistance to us, and placed me under deep obligations.

The hotels in Havana are not good. An American who is accustomed to substantial living finds it difficult to get enough to eat. We stopped at the Washington House, which at that time was "first-rate bad." It was filthy, and kept by a woman who was drunk most of the time. Several Americans boarded there who were regular gormandizers. One of them, seeing a live turkey on a New-Orleans vessel, purchased and presented it to the landlady. It was a small one, and when it was carved there was not enough of it to "go round." An American (a large six-footer and a tremendous eater) who resided on a sugar plantation near Havana, happened to sit near the carver, and seeing an American turkey so near him, and feeling that it was a rare dish for that latitude, kept helping himself so that when the caning was finished, he had eaten about one half of the turkey. Unfortunately the man who bought it was sitting at the further end of the table, and did not get a taste of the coveted bird, he was indignant, especially against the innocent gormandizer from the sugar plantation, who of course was not acquainted with the history of the turkey. When they arose from the table, the planter smacked his lips, and patting his stomach, remarked, "That was a glorious turkey. I have not tasted one before these two years. I am very fond of them, and when I go back to my plantation I mean to commence raising turkeys."

"If you don't raise one before you leave town, you'll be a dead man!" replied the disappointed poultry-buyer.

Among the passengers on board the vessel which took us from Havana to New-Orleans, was a Yankee who had a large quantity of Spanish tobacco for the American market. I learned from him that this tobacco was grown in Connecticut, and shipped to New-Orleans via Havana. Of course the New-Orleans purchasers, buying it from an Havana packet, supposed they were purchasing Cuba tobacco, and little dreamed that it was raised ii, the "wooden-nutmeg" State. Verily, as the old proverb has it, "there's cheating in all trades but ours."

From New-Orleans we proceeded to St. Louis, stopping at the principal towns on the Mississippi river, and returning via Louisville, Cincinnati, and Pittsburgh. We reached the latter city early in May, 1848. From this point it was agreed between Mr. Stratford and myself, that I should go home and henceforth travel no more with the little General. I had competent agents who could exhibit him without my personal assistance, and I preferred to relinquish a large portion of the profits, rather than be any longer a travelling showman.

I reached my residence in Bridgeport, Ct., the latter part of May, and was rejoiced to find my family and friends in good health. I had now been a straggler from home most of the time for thirteen years, and I cannot describe the feelings of gratitude with which I reflected, that having by the most arduous toil and deprivations succeeded in securing a satisfactory competence, I should henceforth spend my days in the bosom of my family. I was fully determined that no pecuniary temptation should again induce me to forego the enjoyments only to be secured in the circle of home.

The years 1848 and 1849 were chiefly spent with my family. A portion of my time and attention, however, was occupied in looking after the interests of the American Museum, and also in opening a new Museum in Philadelphia, the particulars of which are given in another section of this book.