more molasses candy to conquer."
During that first visit to the metropolis the boy doubtless many times passed the corner of Ann street and Broadway, where, in after years, his famous museum stood. After a week in town he returned to Bethel, riding with Brown in his sleigh, and found himself a social lion among his young friends. He was plied with a thousand questions about the great city which he had visited, and no doubt told many wondrous tales. But at home his reception was not altogether glorious. His brothers and sisters were disappointed because he brought them nothing, and his mother, discovering that during his journey he had lost two handkerchiefs and a pair of stockings, gave him a spanking and put him to bed.
A settled aversion to manual labor was strongly developed in the boy as he grew older, which his father considered simple laziness. Instead of trying to cure him of his laziness, however, the father decided to give up the farm, and open a store, hoping that the boy would take more kindly to mercantile duties. So he put up a building in Bethel, and in partnership with one Hiram Weed opened a "general store," of dry goods, hardware, groceries, etc., and installed young Phineas as clerk. They did a "cash, credit and barter" business, and the boy soon learned to drive sharp bargains with women who brought butter, eggs, beeswax and feathers to exchange for dry goods, and with men who wanted to trade oats, corn, buckwheat, axehelves, hats and other commodities for ten-penny nails, molasses or New England rum. It was a drawback upon his dignity that he was obliged to take down the shutters, sweep the store and make the fire. He received a small salary for his services and the perquisites of what profit he could derive from purchasing candies on his own account to sell to their younger customers, and, as usual, his father insisted that he should clothe himself.
There was much to be learned in a country store, and principally, as he found, this: that sharp tricks, deception and dishonesty are by no means confined to the city. More than once, in cutting open bundles of rags, brought to be exchanged for goods, he found stones, gravel or other rubbish wrapped up in them, although they were represented to be "all pure linen or cotton." Often, too, loads of grain were brought in, warranted to contain so many bushels, but on measuring them they were found five or six bushels short.
In the evenings and on stormy days the store was a general meeting place for the idlers of the village, and young Barnum derived much amusement from the story-telling and joke-playing that went on among them. After the store was closed at night he would generally go with some of the village boys to their homes for an hour or two of sport, and then, as late, perhaps, as eleven o'clock, would creep slyly home and make his way upstairs barefooted, so as not to wake the rest of the family end be detected in his late hours. He slept with his brother, who was sure to report him if he woke him up on coming in, and who laid many traps to catch Phineas on his return from the evening's merry-making. But he generally fell fast asleep and our hero was able to gain his bed in safety.
Like almost every one in Connecticut at that time he was brought up to go regularly to church on Sunday, and before he could read he was a prominent member of the Sunday-school. His pious mother taught him lessons in the New Testament and Catechism, and spared no efforts to have him win one of those "Rewards of Merit" which promised "to pay to the bearer One Mill." Ten of them could be exchanged for one cent, and by securing one hundred of them, which might be done by faithful attendance and attention every Sunday for two years, the happy scholar could secure a book worth ten cents!
There was only one church or "meeting-house" in Bethel, and it was of the Presbyterian faith; but every one in town attended it, whatever their creed. It was a severely plain edifice, with no spire and no bell. In summer it was comfortable enough, but in winter it was awful! There was no arrangement for heating it, and the congregation had to sit in the cold, shivering, teeth chattering, noses blue. A stove would have been looked upon as a sacrilegious innovation. The sermons were often two hours long, and by the time they were ended the faithful listeners well deserved the nickname of "blue-skins" which the scoffers gave to them. A few of the wealthier women carried "foot-stoves" from their homes to their pews.
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