2. "How much can an elephant plow in a day?"
3. "How much can he draw?"
4. "How much does he eat?"—this question was invariably asked, and was a very important one.
5. "Will elephants make themselves generally useful on a farm?"
6. "What is the price of an elephant?"
7. "Where can elephants be purchased?"
Then would follow a score of other inquiries, such as, whether elephants were easily managed; if they would quarrel with cattle; if it was possible to breed them; how old calf elephants must be before they would earn their own living; and so on indefinitely.
Barnum presently began to be alarmed lest some one should buy an elephant and thus share the fate of the man who drew one in a lottery and did not know what to do with him. "Accordingly," he says, "I had a general letter printed, which I mailed to all my anxious inquirers. It was headed 'strictly confidential,' and I then stated, begging my correspondents 'not to mention it,' that to me the elephant was a valuable agricultural animal, because he was an excellent advertisement to my museum; but that to other farmers he would prove very unprofitable for many reasons. In the first place, such an animal would cost from $3,000 to $10,000; in cold weather he could not work at all; in any weather he could not earn half his living; he would eat up the value of his own head, trunk and body every year; and I begged my correspondents not to do so foolish a thing as to undertake elephant farming."
The result of this experiment in advertising was highly successful. Newspaper correspondents sent highly colored accounts of it all over the world, and numerous pictures of the elephant harnessed to a plow appeared in the illustrated papers and magazines. After the field had been plowed over fifty or sixty times, Barnum concluded that the elephant had been "worked for all he was worth," and sold him to Van Amburgh's menagerie.
In 1851 Mr. Barnum became a part owner of the steamship "North America," which he proposed to run between America and Ireland as a passenger and freight vessel. This idea was presently abandoned, and the ship was sent around Cape Horn to San Francisco and put into service on the Pacific Mail Line, Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt having purchased a one-half interest in it and Mr. Barnum retaining one-third interest in the remaining half. After she had made several trips Barnum called upon Mr. Vanderbilt at his office and introduced himself. It was their first meeting, and this is Barnum's own account of the interview: