After a delicious lunch of soup, bread, and meat pie, prepared and served by the cook, Mrs. Seeley, we took our coffee cups back into the parlour for hearing more of Mr. Barnum’s story. He kept talking all through the meal, and when he asked us what some of our other friends were writing about, and we said Abraham Lincoln, Charles Dickens, Lewis and Clark and Sacagawea, Hariet Beecher Stowe and Mark Twain. He was very pleased. He said he was good friends with Samuel Clemens and his wife, (who actually live next door to Hariet Beecher Stowe) and they would be coming to visit him next month. He asked if we would like to come along and meet them too. Boy, were we quick to say yes to that. And we asked if our classmate who was doing the project on Mark Twain might come too, and Mr. Barnum said, “Of course, bring the whole class if you want to.”

Then he added, "Do you know that I have had a connection with everybody that is being researched except for Lewis and Clark. I went buffalo shooting with General Custer; I visited Old Abe at the White House; I have met both Mrs. Stowe and Mr Dickens, although I can't say I spent too much time with them, but Samuel is as good a friend as a man could get. And I know that he was friends with Mr. Dickens and knew Mr. Lincoln too. What a small world we live in." 

We settled again in the parlour, and Mr. Barnum took up where he had left off.

“Not long I had left home, my grandmother died, and then my father, after a six months' illness, did too, at the age of forty-eight, leaving a wife and five children and an insolvent estate. There was literally nothing left for the family; the creditors seized everything; even the small sum which I had loaned my father was held to be the property of a minor, and therefore belonging to the estate. I was obliged to borrow money to buy the shoes I wore to the funeral. At fifteen I went out into the world not only penniless but barefooted.

“I went to Grassy Plain, a few miles northwest of Bethel, where I managed to obtain a clerkship at the magnificent salary of six dollars a month and board. I worked hard and faithfully, and so gained the esteem of my employers that they afforded me many opportunities for making money on my own account. My small speculations proved so successful that before long I found myself in possession of quite a little sum.

"I made," said Mr. Barnum,"a very remarkable trade at one time for my employers by purchasing, in their absence, a whole wagon-load of green glass bottles of various sizes, for which I paid in unsaleable goods at very profitable prices. How to dispose of the bottles was then the problem, and as it was also desirable to get rid of a large quantity of tin-ware which had been in the shop for years and was considerably shop worn. I conceived the idea of a lottery, in which the highest prize should be twenty-five dollars, payable in any goods the winner desired, while there were to be fifty prizes of five dollars each, payable in goods, to be designated in the scheme. Then there were one hundred prizes of one dollar each, one hundred prizes of fifty cents each, and three hundred prizes of twenty-five cents each.

"It is unnecessary to state that the minor prizes consisted mainly of glass and tin-ware; the tickets sold like wildfire, and the worn tin and glass bottles were speedily turned into cash.

“My mother still continued to keep the village hotel at Bethel, and I went home every Saturday night, going to church with my mother on Sunday, and returning to work Monday morning.

“In the fall of 1826, Oliver Taylor, induced me to leave Grassy Plain, offering me a clerkship in his grocery store, which offer was accepted, and before long I was intrusted with the purchasing of all goods for the store. I bought for cash, going into lower New York in search of the cheapest market, frequenting auction sales of merchandise, and often entering into combines with other grocers to bid off large lots, which were afterward divided between us. Thus we were enabled to buy at a much lower rate than if the goods had passed through the hands of wholesale dealers.

“Later on my grandfather offered to me, rent free, his carriage-house, which was situated on the main street, if I would come back to Bethel. My capital was one hundred and twenty dollars; fifty of this was spent in fixing up his store, and the remainder I invested in a stock of fruit and confectionery. Having arranged with fruit dealers of my acquaintance in New York to receive my orders, I opened my ,store on the first of May.

"The first day was so successful that long before noon I was obliged to call in one of my old schoolmates to assist in waiting on customers. The total receipts were sixty-three dollars, which sum was promptly invested in a stock of fancy goods --pocket-books, combs, knives, rings, beads, etc. Business was good all summer, and in the fall oysters were added to the list of attractions.

"My old grandfather was delighted at the success of the scheme, and after a while induced me to take an agency for lottery tickets on a commission of ten percent. Lotteries in those days were looked upon as thoroughly respectable, and the profit gained from the sale of the tickets was regarded as perfectly legitimate.

“The store soon became the great village resort, the centre of all discussions and the scene of many practical jokes.”

“Phineas, these girls don’t have a week to listen to all your stories. They want to hear something thing about the circus - not all about every little thing that happened in your life. Tell them about when you hired the Indians for your show,” said Nancy.

“This was a long time after I started. I engaged a bunch of Indians from Iowa. The party comprised of large and noble specimens of the untutored savage, as well as several very beautiful squaws, with two or three interesting papooses.

"They lived and lodged in a large room on the top floor of the Museum, and cooked their own victuals in their own way. They gave their war-dances on the stage in the Lecture Room with great vigor and enthusiasm, much to the satisfaction of the audiences. But these wild Indians seemed to consider their dances as realities. Hence, when they gave a real war-dance, it was dangerous for any parties, except for me and the interpreter to be on the stage. The moment they had finished their war-dance, they began to leap and peer about behind the scenes in search of victims for their tomahawks and scalping knives! Indeed, lest in these frenzied moments they might make a dash at the orchestra or the audience, I had a high rope barrier placed between them and the savages on the front of the stage.

"After they had been a week in the Museum," he said, "I proposed a change of performance for the week following by introducing new dances. Among these was the Indian wedding dance. At that time I printed but one set of posters per week, so that whatever was announced for Monday was repeated every day and evening during that week.

"Before the wedding dance came off on Monday afternoon, I was informed that I was to provide a large, new, red woolen blanket, at a cost of ten dollars, for the bridegroom to present to the father of the bride. I ordered the purchase to be made, but was considerably taken aback when I was informed that I must have another new blanket for the evening, inasmuch as the savage old Indian chief, father-in-law to the bridegroom, would not consent to his daughter's being approached with the wedding dance unless he had his blanket present.

"I undertook to explain to the chief, through the interpreter, that this was only a 'make believe' wedding; but the old savage shrugged his shoulders, and gave such a terrific 'Ugh!' that I was glad to make my peace by ordering another blanket. As we gave two performances per day, I was out of pocket $120 for twelve wedding blankets that week.

“One of the beautiful squaws named Do-humme died in the Museum. She had been a great favorite with many ladies. Do-humme was buried on the border of Sylvan Water, at Greenwood Cemetery, where a small monument erected by her friends, designates her last resting-place. The poor Indians were very sorrowful for many days, and desired to get back again to their Western wilds. The father and the betrothed of Do-humme cooked various dishes of food and placed them upon the roof of the Museum, where they believed the spirit of their departed friend came daily for its supply; and these dishes were renewed every morning during the stay of the Indians at the Museum.”