As an illustration—the “Australian Golden Pigeons” which deceived Old Adams were the occasion of another ludicrous incident. A shrewd lady, one of my neighbors in Connecticut, was visiting the Museum, and after inspecting the “Golden Angel Fish” swimming in one of the aquaria, she abruptly addressed me:
“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 in the water; and if it would, it would kill him.”
She left the Museum not more than half convinced, and in the afternoon of the same day I met her in the California Menagerie. She knew I was part proprietor in the establishment, and seeing me in conversation with Old Adams, she came to me, her eyes glistening with excitement, and exclaimed—
“Oh, Mr. Barnum, I never saw anything so beautiful as those elegant “Golden Pigeons”; you must give me some of their eggs for my own pigeons to hatch; I should prize them beyond measure.”
“Oh, you don’t want ‘Golden Pigeons,’ ” I said; “they are painted.”
“No, they are not painted,” said she, with a laugh, “but I half think the ‘Angel Fish’ is.”
I could scarcely control my laughter as I explained: “Now, Mrs. H., I never spoil a good joke, even when the exposure betrays a Museum secret. I assure you, upon honor, that the “Australian Golden Pigeons,” as they are labelled, are really painted; I bought them for the sole purpose of giving Old Adams a lesson; in their natural state they are nothing more than common white ruff-neck pigeons.” She was convinced, and to this day she blushes whenever any allusion is made to the “Angel Fish” or the “Golden Pigeons.”