'He's played out!' was the brief reflection of Barnum. As he said this the door opened, and there entered a manifest German, who bore a covered cage.
'Vat you bedinks of dat! exclaimed the Deutscher, removing the cloth.
It was a beautiful bird; of perfect pigeon shape, but of an exquisite golden yellow lustre, such as no fowl which Mr. Barnum had ever seen—and his ornithological observations had not been limited—ever wore.
'I sells her dretful cheap,' remarked the bearer, 'verflucht cheap. I gifs him to you for 'pout den or sieben thaler.'
'H'm—no—don't want it,' replied Barnum.
'Den I goes down mit mine brice to five thaler and dere I stops.'
'No—got birds enough,' said Barnum. 'They don't pay. Now, if it was the great Japanese earthworm, a yard long—'
'Goot py. I sorry you no pys it. I dinks I colored her foost rate.'
'Ha!—what!—HOW!' cried Barnum, deeply interested; 'artificially colored! Good! I must have that!'
The German smiled a heavy, beery, winky, Limburgy smile, with both eyes shut tightly.