once discovered to my cost. While we were at Annapolis, Maryland, he played a trick upon me which was fun to him, but was very nearly death to me.
We arrived on Saturday night and as I felt quite “flush” I bought a fine suit of black clothes. On Sunday morning I dressed myself in my new suit and started out for a stroll. While passing through the bar-room Turner called the attention of the company present to me and said:
“I think it very singular you permit that rascal to march your streets in open day. It wouldn’t be allowed in Rhode Island, and I suppose that is the reason the black-coated scoundrel has come down this way.”
“Why, who is he?” asked half a dozen at once.
“Don’t you know? Why that is the Rev. E. K. Avery, the murderer of Miss Cornell!”
“Is it possible!” they exclaimed, all starting for the door, eager to get a look at me, and swearing vengeance.
It was only recently that the Rev. Ephraim K. Avery had been tried in Rhode Island for the murder of Miss Cornell, whose body was discovered in a stack-yard, and though Avery was acquitted in court, the general sentiment of the country condemned him. It was this Avery whom Turner made me represent. I had not walked far in my fine clothes, before I was overtaken by a mob of a dozen, which rapidly increased to at least a hundred, and my ears were suddenly saluted with such observations as, “the lecherous old hypocrite,” “the sanctified murderer,” “the black-coated villain,” “lynch the scoundrel,” “let’s tar and feather him,” and like remarks which I had no idea applied to me till one man seized me by the collar, while five or six more appeared on the scene with a rail.
“Come,” said the man who collared me, “old chap, you can’t walk any further; we know you, and as we always make gentlemen ride in these parts, you may just prepare to straddle that rail!”
My surprise may be imagined. “Good heavens!” I exclaimed, as they all pressed around me, “gentlemen, what have I done?”
“Oh, we know you,” exclaimed half a dozen voices; “you needn’t roll your sanctimonious eyes; that game don’t take in this country. Come, straddle the rail, and remember the stack-yard!”
I grew more and more bewildered; I could not imagine what possible offence I was to suffer for, and I continued to exclaim, “Gentlemen, what have I done? Don’t kill me, gentlemen, but tell me what I have done.”
“Come, make him straddle the rail; well show him how to hang poor factory girls,” shouted a man in the crowd.
The man who had me by the collar then remarked, “Come, Mr. Avery, it’s no use, you see, we know you, and we’ll give you a touch of Lynch law, and start you for home again.”
“My name is not Avery, gentlemen; you are mistaken in your man,” I exclaimed.
“Come, come, none of your gammon; straddle the rail, Ephraim.”
The rail was brought and I was about to be placed on it, when the truth flashed upon me.
“Gentlemen,” I exclaimed, “I am not Avery; I despise that villain as much as you can; my name is Barnum; I belong to the circus which arrived here last night, and I am sure Old Turner, my partner, has hoaxed you with this ridiculous story.”
“If he has we’ll lynch him,” said one of the mob.
“Well, he has, I’ll assure you, and if you will walk to the hotel with me, I’ll convince you of the fact.”
This they reluctantly assented to, keeping, however, a close hand upon me. As we walked up the main street, the mob received a re-enforcement of some fifty or sixty, and I was marched like a malefactor up to the hotel. Old Turner stood on the piazza ready to explode with laughter. I appealed to him for heaven’s sake to explain this matter, that I might be liberated. He continued to laugh, but finally told them “he believed there was some mistake about it. The fact is,” said he, “my friend Barnum has a new suit of black clothes on and he looks so much like a priest that I thought he must be Avery.”
The crowd saw the joke and seemed satisfied. My new coat had been half torn from my back and I had been very roughly handled. But some of the crowd apologized for the outrage, declaring that Turner ought to be served in the same way, while others advised me to “get even with him.” I was very much offended, and when the mob dispersed I asked Turner what could have induced him to play such a trick upon me.
“My dear Mr. Barnum,” he replied, “it was all for our good. Remember, all we need to insure success is notoriety. You will see that this will be noised all about town as a trick played by one of the circus managers upon the other, and our pavilion will be crammed to-morrow night.”
It was even so; the trick was told all over town and every one came to see the circus managers who were in a habit of playing practical jokes upon each other. We had fine audiences while we remained at Annapolis, but it was a long time before I forgave Turner for his rascally “joke.”
CHAPTER VI.
MY FIRST TRAVELLING COMPANY
THREE MEALS AND LODGING IN ONE HOUR – TURNING THE TABLES ON TURNER – A SON AS OLD AS HIS FATHER – LEAVING THE CIRCUS WITH TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS – MY FIRST TRAVELLING COMPANY – PREACHING TO THE PEOPLE – APPEARING AS A NEGRO MINSTREL – THREATENED WITH ASSASSINATION – ESCAPES FROM DANGER – TEMPERANCE – REPORT OF MY ARREST FOR MURDER – RE-ENFORCING MY COMPANY – “BARNUM’S GRAND SCIENTIFIC AND MUSICAL THEATRE” – OUTWITTING A SHERIFF – “LADY HAYES’S” MANSION AND PLANTATION – A BRILLIANT AUDIENCE – BASS DRUM SOLO – CROSSING THE INDIAN NATION – JOE PENTLAND AS A SAVAGE – TERROR AND FLIGHT OF VIVALLA – A NONPLUSSED LEGERDEMAIN PERFORMER – A MALE EGG-LAYER – DISBANDING MY COMPANY – A NEW PARTNERSHIP – PUBLIC LECTURING – DIFFICULTY WITH A DROVER – THE STEAMBOAT “CERES” – SUDDEN MARRIAGE ON BOARD – MOBBED IN LOUISIANA – ARRIVAL AT NEW ORLEANS.
An amusing incident occurred when we were at Hanover Court House, in Virginia. It rained so heavily that we could not perform there and Turner decided to start for Richmond immediately after dinner, when he was informed by the landlord that as our agent had engaged three meals and lodging for the whole company, the entire bill must be paid whether we went then, or next morning. No compromise could be effected with the stubborn landlord and so Turner proceeded to get the worth of his money as follows:
He ordered dinner at twelve o’clock, which was duly prepared and eaten. The table was cleared and re-set for supper at half-past twelve. At one o’clock we all went to bed, every man carrying a lighted candle to his room. There were thirty-six of us and we all undressed and tumbled into bed as if we were going to stay all night. In half an hour we rose and went down to the hot breakfast which Turner had demanded and which we found smoking on the table. Turner was very grave, the landlord was exceedingly angry, and the rest of us were convulsed with laughter at the absurdity of the whole proceeding. We disposed of our breakfast as if we had eaten nothing for ten hours and then started for Richmond with the satisfaction that we fairly settled with our unreasonable landlord.
At Richmond, after performances were over one night, I managed to partially pay Turner for his Avery trick. A dozen or more of us were enjoying ourselves in the sitting room of the hotel, telling stories and singing songs, when some of the company proposed sundry amusing arithmetical questions, followed by one from Turner, which was readily solved. Hoping to catch Turner I then proposed the following problem:
“Suppose a man is thirty years of age and he has a child one year of age; he is thirty times older than
