he finds I have humbugged
him by being buried in his new hunting-dress?" That dress was indeed the
shroud in which he was entombed.

And that was the last on earth of "Old Grizzly Adams."

FOOTNOTES:

[37-*] Although the subject of the following sketch can hardly be
classed under the head of "Humbugs," he was an original genius, and a
knowledge of some of his prominent traits seems appropriate in
connection with one or two other passages of this book.

CHAPTER V.

THE GOLDEN PIGEONS.--GRIZZLY ADAMS.--GERMAN CHEMIST.--HAPPY
FAMILY.--FRENCH NATURALIST.

"Old Grizzly Adams" was quite candid when, in his last hours, he
confessed to the clergyman that he had "told some pretty large stories
about his bears." In fact, these "large stories" were Adam's "besetting
sin." To hear him talk, one would suppose that he had seen and handled
everything ever read or heard of. In fact, according to his story,
California contained specimens of all things, animate and inanimate, to
be found in any part of the globe. He talked glibly about California
lions, California tigers, California leopards, California hyenas,
California camels, and California hippopotami. He furthermore declared
he had, on one occasion, seen a California elephant, "at a great
distance," but it was "very shy," and he would not permit himself to
doubt that California giraffes existed somewhere in the neighborhood of
the "tall trees."

I was anxious to get a chance of exposing to Adams his weak point, and
of showing him the absurdity of telling such ridiculous stories. A fit
occasion soon presented itself. One day, while engaged in my office at
the Museum, a man with marked Teutonic features and accent approached
the door and asked if I would like to buy a pair of living golden
pigeons.

"Yes," I replied, "I would like a _flock_ of 'golden pigeons,' if I
could buy them for their weight in _silver_; for there are no '_golden_'
pigeons in existence, unless they are made from the pure metal."

"You shall see some golden pigeons alive," he replied, at the same time
entering my office and closing the door after him. He then removed the
lid from a small basket which he carried in his hand, and sure enough
there were snugly ensconced a pair of beautiful living ruff-necked
pigeons, as yellow as saffron and as bright as a double eagle fresh from
the mint.

I confess I was somewhat staggered at this sight, and quickly asked the
man where those birds came fro