he regularity of a pair of bellows. From her
earnest, confident manner, I saw it would be useless to attempt to
disabuse her mind on the subject. I therefore very candidly acknowledged
that she was quite too sharp for me, and I must plead guilty to the
imposition; but I begged her not to expose me, for I assured her that
she was the only person who had discovered the trick.

It was worth more than a dollar to see with what a smile of satisfaction
she received the assurance that nobody else was as shrewd as herself;
and the patronizing manner in which she bade me be perfectly tranquil,
for the secret should be considered by her as "strictly confidential,"
was decidedly rich. She evidently received double her money's worth in
the happy reflection that she could not be humbugged, and that I was
terribly humiliated in being detected through her marvelous powers of
discrimination! I occasionally meet the good lady, and always try to
look a little sheepish, but she invariably assures me that she has never
divulged my secret and never will!

On another occasion, a lady equally shrewd, who lives neighbor to me in
Connecticut, after regarding for a few minutes the "Golden Angel Fish"
swimming in one of the Aquaria, abruptly addressed me with:

"You can't humbug me, Mr. Barnum; that fish is painted!"

"Nonsense!" said I, with a laugh; "the thing is impossible!"

"I don't care, I know it is painted; it is as plain as can be."

"But, my dear Mrs. H., paint would not adhere to a fish while in the
water; and if it would, it would kill him. Besides," I added, with an
extra serious air, "we never allow humbugging here!"

"Oh, here is just the place to look for such things," she replied with a
smile; "and I must say I more than half believe that Angel Fish is
painted."

She was finally nearly convinced of her error, and left. In the
afternoon of the same day, I met her in Old Adams' California Menagerie.
She knew that I was part-proprietor of that establishment, and seeing me
in conversation with "Grizzly Adams," she came up to me in some haste,
and with her eyes glistening with excitement, she said:

"O, Mr. B., I never saw anything so beautiful as those elegant 'Golden
Pigeons' from Australia. I want you to secure some of their eggs for me,
and let my pigeons hatch them at home. I should prize them beyond all
measure."

"Oh, you don't want 'Golden Australian Pigeons,'" I replied; "they are
painted."

"No, they are not pai