The night was now far advanced, and as we were about retiring to bed, Barnum entered, and, after debating various subjects, the conversation turned upon the wonderful pig, Duncan. The major swore he would not part with him for his weight in gold, as he intended soon to place him under the care of Doctor Easley, who would so cultivate his knowledge of German and other languages, as to take the critics by surprise, and cause them to get up a controversy concerning his talents, which was a fashion with them. And, as neither Easley could be embarrassed with his charge, nor the charge be ashamed of his tutor, who contemplated himself the greatest living critic after Macaulay, he would prosecute his studies with every advantage to himself, since, when he was brought forward for public favor, Easley could not abandon his pupil, and, being well paid, would consider himself in duty bound to write divers panegyrics in his praise. But Barnum, who was as shrewd as the major, though, perhaps, not so great a knave, persisted that such a course of instruction, and with such a tutor, could not fail to prove a grave injury, since the pig's talents were valuable only because they were natural, and the more wonderful on that account. As to Easley, he was but a dilapidated priest, much given to such tricks as were common with them, and, being employed by numerous publishers, who held him in high esteem as a critic, thought it no harm to write profound essays on the very trashy books of very sentimental school girls of sixteen. Barnum continued in this strain until he convinced the major that it would not be safe to place so gifted an animal under instructions to so capricious a critic as Easley, who would surely damage his morals, as well as his manners. He also declared that his dealings in monstrosities had got him into numerous difficulties with editors and savans, which caused him to contemplate giving it up, though he well knew the public appetite for such things had not lessened a whit. And though the state of his affairs were somewhat chronic, he thought, if he could get another first class monstrosity, he could create an excitement that would make his fortune, and send New York mad. He had thought of getting up a clever imitation of the devil, which he was sure the public would all rush to see, and had undertaken the enterprise, but that he feared the editors would pick some flaw in him; for, though he had made them a mermaid, and a wooly horse, they still complained of his skill, and said he was not fit, when his friends suggested him for President of the United States.