few days at longest he would be "done" with
this world altogether, and, to gratify him, I cheerfully drew and signed
the paper.

"Come, old Yankee, I've got you this time--see if I hain't!" exclaimed
Adams, with a broad grin, as he took the paper.

I smiled, and said:

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

We parted, and he went to Neponset, a small town near Boston, where his
wife and daughter lived. He took at once to his bed, and never rose from
it again. The excitement had passed away, and his vital energies could
accomplish no more.

The fifth day after arriving home, the physician told him he could not
live until the next morning. He received the announcement in perfect
calmness, and with the most apparent indifference; then, turning to his
wife, with a smile, he requested her to have him buried in the new
hunting suit.

"For," said he, "Barnum agreed to let me have it until I have done with
it, and I was determined to fix his flint this time. He shall never see
that dress again."

His wife assured him that his request should be complied with. He then
sent for the clergyman, and they spent several hours in communing
together.

Adams told the clergyman he had told some pretty big stories about his
bears, but he had always endeavored to do the straight thing between man
and man. "I have attended preaching every day, Sundays and all," said
he, "for the last six years. Sometimes an old grizzly gave me the
sermon, sometimes it was a panther; often it was the thunder and
lightning, the tempest, or the hurricane on the peaks of the Sierra
Nevada, or in the gorges of the Rocky Mountains; but whatever preached
to me, it always taught me the majesty of the Creator, and revealed to
me the undying and unchanging love of our kind Father in heaven.
Although I am a pretty rough customer," continued the dying man, "I
fancy my heart is in about the right place, and look with confidence to
the blessed Saviour for that rest which I so much need, and which I have
never enjoyed upon earth." He then desired the clergyman to pray with
him, after which he grasped him by the hand, thanked him for his
kindness, and bade him farewell.

In another hour his spirit had taken its flight; and it was said by
those present that his face lighted up into a smile as the last breath
escaped him, and that smile he carried into his grave. Almost his last
words were: "Won't Barnum open his eyes when