THE SHAKERS.
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The Shakers is the strangest religious sex I ever
met. I'd hearn tell of 'em and I'd seen 'em, with
their broad brim'd hats and long wastid coats; but
I'd never cum into immejit contack with 'em, and
I'd sot 'em down as lackin intelleck, as I'd never
seen 'em to my Show—leastways, if they cum
they was disgised in white peple's close, so I didn't
know 'em.
But in the Spring of 18—,I got swampt in the
exterior of New York State, one dark and stormy
night, when the winds Blue pityusly, and I was
forced to tie up with the Shakers.
I was toilin threw the mud, when in the dim
vister of the futer I obsarved the gleams of a taller
candle. Tiein a hornet's nest to my off hoss's tail
to kinder encourage him, I soon reached the place.
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Artemus among the Shakers. "Yay", they sed, and I Yay'd. [See
Page 28.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Artemus holding onto two Shaker women, kissing one of
them.[end figure description]
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I knockt at the door, which it was opened unto me
by a tall, slick-faced, solum lookin individooal, who
turn'd out to be a Elder.
“Mr. Shaker,” sed I, “you see before you a
Babe in the Woods, so to speak, and he axes shelter
of you.”
“Yay,” sed the Shaker, and he led the way into
the house, another Shaker bein sent to put my
hosses and waggin under kiver.
A solum female, lookin sumwhat like a last year's
bean-pole stuck into a long meal bag, cum in and
axed me was I athurst and did I hunger? to which
I urbanely anserd “a few.” She went orf and I
endeverd to open a conversashun with the old man.
“Elder, I spect?” sed I.
“Yay,” he sed.
“Helth's good, I reckon?”
“Yay.”
“What's the wages of a Elder, when he understans
his bizness—or do you devote your sarvices
gratooitus?”
“Yay.”
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“Stormy night, sir.”
“Yay.”
“If the storm continners there'll be a mess
underfoot, hay?”
“Yay.”
“It's onpleasant when there's a mess underfoot?”
“Yay.”
“If I may be so bold, kind sir, what's the price
of that pecooler kind of weskit you wear, incloodin
trimmins?”
“Yay!”
I pawsd a minit, and then, thinkin I'd be faseshus
with him and see how that would go, I slapt him on
the shoulder, bust into a harty larf, and told him
that as a yayer he had no livin ekal.
He jumpt up as if Bilin water had bin squirted
into his ears, groaned, rolled his eyes up tords the
sealin and sed: “You're a man of sin!” He then
walkt out of the room.
Jest then the female in the meal bag stuck her
hed into the room and statid that refreshments
-- 025 --
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awaited the weary travler, and I sed if it was vittles
she ment, the weary travler was agreeable, and I
follered her into the next room.
I sot down to the table and the female in the
meal bag pored out sum tea. She sed nothin, and
for five minutes the only live thing in that room
was a old wooden clock, which tickt in a subdood
and bashful manner in the corner. This dethly
stillness made me oneasy, and I determined to talk
to the female or bust. So sez I, “marrige is agin
your rules, I bleeve, marm?”
“Yay.”
“The sexes liv strickly apart, I spect?”
“Yay.”
“It's kinder singler,” sez I, puttin on my most
sweetest look and speakin in a winnin voice, “that
so fair a made as thou never got hitched to some
likely feller.” [N. B.—She was upards of 40
and homely as a stump fence, but I thawt I'd tickil
her.]
“I don't like men!” she sed, very short.
“Wall, I dunno,” sez I, “they're a rather
-- 026 --
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important part of the populashun. I don't scacely
see how we could git along without 'em.”
“Us poor wimin folks would git along a grate
deal better if there was no men!”
“You'll excoos me, marm, but I dont think that
air would work. It wouldn't be regler.”
“I'm fraid of men!” she sed.
“That's onnecessary, marm. You ain't in no
danger. Don't fret yourself on that pint.”
“Here we're shot out from the sinful world.
Here all is peas. Here we air brothers and sisters.
We don't marry and consekently we hav no domestic
difficulties. Husbans don't abooze their wives —
wives don't worrit their husbans. There's no children
here to worrit us. Nothin to worrit us here.
No wicked matrimony here. Would thow like to
be a Shaker?”
“No,” sez I, “it ain't my stile.”
I had now histed in as big a load of pervishuns
as I could carry comfortable, and, leanin back in my
cheer, commenst pickin my teeth with a fork. The
female went out, leavin me all alone with the clock.
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I hadn't sot thar long before the Elder poked his
hed in at the door. “You're a man of sin!” he
sed, and groaned and went away.
Direckly thar cum in two young Shakeresses, as
putty and slick lookin gals as I ever met. It is
troo they was drest in meal bags like the old one
I'd met previsly, and their shiny, silky har was hid
from sight by long white caps, sich as I spose female
Josts wear; but their eyes sparkled like diminds,
their cheeks was like roses, and they was charmin
enuff to make a man throw stuns at his granmother,
if they axed him to. They commenst clearin away
the dishes, castin shy glances at me all the time. I
got excited. I forgot Betsy Jane in my rapter,
and sez I, “my pretty dears, how air you?”
“We air well,” they solumly sed.
“Whar's the old man?” sed I, in a soft voice.
“Of whom dost thow speak — Brother Uriah?”
“I mean the gay and festiv cuss who calls me a
man of sin. Shouldn't wonder if his name was
Uriah.”
“He has retired.”
-- 028 --
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“Wall, my pretty dears,” sez I, “let's hav sum
fun. Let's play puss in the corner. What say?”
“Air you a Shaker, sir?” they axed.
“Wall, my pretty dears, I haven't arrayed my
proud form in a long weskit yit, but if they was all
like you perhaps I'd jine 'em As it is, I'm a
Shaker pro-temporary.”
They was full of fun. I seed that at fust, only
they was a leetle skeery. I tawt 'em Puss in the
corner and sich like plase, and we had a nice time,
keepin quiet of course so the old man shouldn't
hear. When we broke up, sez I, “my pretty dears,
ear I go you hav no objections, hav you, to a innersent
kiss at partin?”
“Yay,” thay sed, and I yay'd.
I went up stairs to bed. I spose I'd bin snoozin
half a hour when I was woke up by a noise at the
door. I sot up in bed, leanin on my elbers and
rubbin my eyes, and I saw the follerin picter: The
Elder stood in the doorway, with a taller candle in
his hand. He hadn't no wearin appeerel on except
his night close, which flutterd in the breeze like a
-- 029 --
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Seseshun flag. He sed, “You're a man of
sin!” then groaned and went away.
I went to sleep agin, and drempt of runnin orf
with the pretty little Shakeresses, mounted on my
Californy Bar. I thawt the Bar insisted on steerin
strate for my dooryard in Baldinsville and that
Betsy Jane cum out and giv us a warm recepshun
with a panfull of Bilin water. I was woke up arly
by the Elder. He sed refreshments was reddy for
me down stairs. Then sayin I was a man of sin,
he went groanin away.
As I was goin threw the entry to the room where
the vittles was, I cum across the Elder and the old
female I'd met the night before, and what d'ye
spose they was up to? Huggin and kissin like
young lovers in their gushingist state. Sez I, “my
Shaker frends, I reckon you'd better suspend the
rules, and git marrid!”
“You must excoos Brother Uriah,” sed the
female; “he's subjeck to fits and hain't got no
command over hisself when he's into 'em.”
“Sartinly,” sez I, “I've bin took that way
myself frequent.”
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“You're a man of sin!” sed the Elder.
Arter breakfust my little Shaker frends cum in
agin to clear away the dishes.
“My pretty dears,” sez I, “shall we yay agin?”
“Nay,” they sed, and I nay'd.
The Shakers axed me to go to their meetin, as
they was to hav sarvices that mornin, so I put on a
clean biled rag and went. The meetin house was
as neat as a pin. The floor was white as chalk and
smooth as glass. The Shakers was all on hand, in
clean weskits and meal bags, ranged on the floor
like milingtery companies, the mails on one side of
the room and the females on tother. They commenst
clappin their hands and singin and dancin.
They danced kinder slow at fust, but as they got
warmed up they shaved it down very brisk, I tell
you. Elder Uriah, in particler, exhiberted a right
smart chance of spryness in his legs, considerin his
time of life, and as he cum a dubble shuffle near
where I sot, I rewarded him with a approvin smile
and sed: “Hunky boy! Go it, my gay and festiv
cuss!”
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“You're a man of sin!” he sed, continnerin his
shuffle.
The Sperret, as they called it, then moved a
short fat Shaker to say a few remarks. He sed
they was Shakers and all was ekal. They was the
purest and seleckest peple on the yearth. Other
peple was sinful as they could be, but Shakers was
all right. Shakers was all goin kerslap to the
Promist Land, and nobody want goin to stand at
the gate to bar 'em out, if they did they'd git run
over.
The Shakers then danced and sung agin, and arter
they was threw, one of 'em axed me what I thawt
of it.
Sez I, “What duz it siggerfy?”
“What?” sez he.
“Why this jumpin up and singin? This long
weskit bizniss, and this anty-matrimony idee? My
frends, you air neat and tidy. Your lands is flowin
with milk and honey. Your brooms is fine, and
your apple sass is honest. When a man buys a
kag of apple sass of you he don't find a grate many
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shavins under a few layers of sass — a little Game
I'm sorry to say sum of my New Englan ancesters
used to practiss. Your garding seeds is fine, and if
I should sow 'em on the rock of Gibralter probly I
should raise a good mess of garding sass. You air
honest in your dealins. You air quiet and don't
distarb nobody. For all this I givs you credit.
But your religion is small pertaters, I must say.
You mope away your lives here in single
retchidness, and as you air all by yourselves nothing
ever conflicks with your pecooler idees, except
when Human Nater busts out among you, as
I understan she sumtimes do. [I giv Uriah a sly
wink here, which made the old feller squirm like a
speared Eel.] You wear long weskits and long
faces, and lead a gloomy life indeed. No children's
prattle is ever hearn around your harthstuns — you
air in a dreary fog all the time, and you treat the
jolly sunshine of life as tho' it was a thief, drivin it
from your doors by them weskits, and meal bags,
and pecooler noshuns of yourn. The gals among
you, sum of which air as slick pieces of caliker as
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I ever sot eyes on, air syin to place their heds agin
weskits which kiver honest, manly harts, while you
old heds fool yerselves with the idee that they air
fulfillin their mishun here, and air contented. Here
you air, all pend up by yerselves, talkin about the
sins of a world you don't know nothin of. Meanwhile
said world continners to resolve round on her
own axeltree onct in every 24 hours, subjeck to the
Constitution of the United States, and is a very
plesant place of residence. It's a unnatral, on-reasonable
and dismal life you're leadin here. So
it strikes me. My Shaker frends, I now bid you a
welcome adoo. You hav treated me exceedin well.
Thank you kindly, one and all.
“A base exhibiter of depraved monkeys and
onprincipled wax works!” sed Uriah.
“Hello, Uriah,” sez I, “I'd most forgot you.
Wall, look out for them fits of yourn, and don't
catch cold and die in the flour of your youth and
beauty.”
And I resoomed my jerney.
-- -- p482-047
HIGH-HANDED OUTRAGE AT UTICA.
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In the Faul of 1856, I showed my show in
Utiky, a trooly grate sitty in the State of New
York.
The people gave me a cordyal recepshun. The
press was loud in her prases.
1 day as I was givin a descripshun of my Beests
and Snaiks in my usual flowry stile what was my
skorn & disgust to see a big burly feller walk up to
the cage containin my wax figgers of the Lord's
Last Supper, and cease Judas Iscarrot by the feet
and drag him out on the ground. He then commenced
fur to pound him as hard as he cood.
“What under the son are you abowt?” cried I.
Sez he, “What did you bring this pussylanermus
cuss here fur?” & he hit the wax figger another
tremenjis blow on the hed.
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[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
Sez I, “You egrejus ass, that air's a wax figger—
a representashun of the false 'Postle.”
Sez he, “That's all very well fur you to say,
but I tell you, old man, that Judas Iscarrot can't
show hisself in Utiky with impunerty by a darn
site!” with which observashun he kaved in Judassis
hed. The young man belonged to 1 of the first
famerlies in Utiky. I sood him, and the Joory
brawt in a verdick of Arson in the 3d degree.
-- -- p482-049
CELEBRATION AT BALDINSVILLE IN HONOR OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE.
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
Baldinsville, Injianny, Sep the onct, 18&58.—I
was summund home from Cinsinnaty quite suddin
by a lettur from the Supervizers of Baldinsville,
sayin as how grate things was on the Tappis in that
air town in refferunse to sellebratin the compleshun
of the Sub-Mershine Tellergraph & axkin me to be
Pressunt. Lockin up my Kangeroo and wax wurks
in a sekure stile I took my departer for Baldinsville—
“my own, my nativ lan,” which I gut intwo
at early kandle litin on the follerin night & just
as the sellerbrashun and illumernashun were commensin.
Baldinsville was trooly in a blaze of glory.
Near can I forgit the surblime speckticul which met
my gase as I alited from the Staige with my
-- 037 --
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umbreller and verlise. The Tarvern was lit up with taller
kandles all over & a grate bon fire was burnin in
frunt thareof. A Transpirancy was tied onto the
sine post with the follerin wurds—“Giv us Liberty
or Deth.” Old Tompkinsis grosery was illumernated
with 5 tin lantuns and the follerin Transpirancy
was in the winder—“The Sub-Mershine
Tellergraph & the Baldinsville and Stonefield Plank
Road—the 2 grate eventz of the 19th centerry—
may intestines strife never mar their grandjure.”
Simpkinsis shoe shop was all ablase with kandles and
lantuns. A American Eagle was painted onto a flag
in a winder—also these wurds, viz—“The Constitooshun
must be Presarved.” The Skool house
was lited up in grate stile and the winders was filld
with mottoes amung which I notised the follerin—
“Trooth smashed to erth shall rize agin—YOU CAN'T
STOP HER.” “The Boy stood on the Burnin Deck
whense awl but him had Fled.” “Prokrastinashun
is the theaf of Time.” “Be virtoous & you will be
Happy.” “Intemperunse has cawsed a heap of
trubble—shun the Bole,” an the follerin sentimunt
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written by the skool master, who graduated at Hudson
Kollige. “Baldinsville sends greetin to Her
Magisty the Queen, & hopes all hard feelins which
has heretofore previs bin felt between the Supervizers
of Baldinsville and the British Parlimunt, if
such there has been, may now be forever wiped frum
our Escutchuns. Baldinsville this night rejoises
over the gerlorious event which sementz 2 grate nashuns
onto one anuther by means of a elecktric wire
under the roarin billers of the Nasty Deep. Quosque
tantrum, a butter, Caterliny, patent nostrum!”
Squire Smith's house was lited up regardlis
of expense. His little sun William Henry
stood upon the roof firin orf crackers. The old'
Squire hisself was dressed up in soljer clothes and
stood on his door-step, pintin his sword sollumly to a
American flag which was suspendid on top of a pole
in frunt of his house. Frequiently he wood take
orf his cocked hat & wave it round in a impressive
stile. His oldest darter Mis Isabeller Smith, who
has just cum home from the Perkinsville Female
Instertoot, appeared at the frunt winder in the West
-- 039 --
[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
room as the goddis of liberty, & sung “I see them
on their windin way.” Booteus 1, sed I to myself,
you air a angil & nothin shorter. N. Boneparte
Smith, the 'Squire's oldest sun, drest hisself up as
Venus the God of Wars and red the Decleration of
Inderpendunse from the left chambir winder. The'
Squire's wife didn't jine in the festiverties. She
sed it was the tarnulest nonsense she ever seed.
Sez she to the 'Squire, “Cum into the house and go
to bed you old fool, you. Tomorrer you'll be goin
round half-ded with the rumertism & won't gin us a
minit's peace till you get well.” Sez the 'Squire,
“Betsy, you little appresiate the importance of the
event which I this night commemerate.” Sez she,
“Commemerate a cat's tail—cum into the house
this instant, you pesky old critter.” “Betsy,” sez
the 'Squire, wavin his sword, “retire.” This made
her just as mad as she could stick. She retired.
but cum out agin putty quick with a panfull of
Bilin hot water which she throwed all over the'
Squire, & Surs, you wood have split your sides larfin
to see the old man jump up and holler & run
-- 040 --
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into the house. Except this unpropishus circumstance
all went as merry as a carriage bell, as Lord
Byrun sez. Doctor Hutchinsis offiss was likewise
lited up and a Transpirancy on which was painted
the Queen in the act of drinkin sum of “Hutchinsis
invigorater,” was stuck into one of the winders.
The Baldinsville Bugle of Liberty noospaper offiss
was also illumernated, & the follerin mottoes stuck
out—“The Press is the Arkermejian leaver which
moves the world.” “Vote Early.” “Buckle on
your Armer.” “Now is the time to Subscribe.”
“Franklin, Morse & Field.” “Terms $1,50 a
year—liberal reducshuns to clubs.” In short the
villige of Baldinsville was in a perfect fewroar. I
never seed so many peple thar befour in my born
days. Ile not attemp to describe the seens of that
grate night. Wurds wood fale me ef I shood try to
do it. I shall stop here a few periods and enjoy my
“Oatem cum dig the tates,” as our skool master
obsarves, in the buzzum of my famerly, & shall then
resume the show bisnis, which Ive bin into twenty-two
(22) years and six (6) months.
-- 041 -- p482-054
AMONG THE SPIRITS.
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My naburs is mourn harf crazy on the new
fangled idear about Sperrets. Sperretooul Sircles
is held nitely & 4 or 5 long hared fellers has settled
here and gone into the sperret biznis excloosively.
A atemt was made to git Mrs. A. Ward to embark
into the Sperret biznis but the atemt faled. 1 of
the long hared fellers told her she was a ethereal
creeter & wood make a sweet mejium, whareupon
she attact him with a mop handle & drove him out
of the house. I will hear obsarve that Mrs. Ward
is a invalerble womun — the partner of my goys
& the shairer of my sorrers. In my absunse she
watchis my interests & things with a Eagle Eye &
when I return she welcums me in afectionate stile.
Trooly it is with us as it was with Mr. & Mrs.
Ingomer in the Play, to whit —
2 soles with but a single thawt
2 harts which beet as 1.
-- 042 --
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My naburs injooced me to attend a Sperretooul
Sircle at Squire Smith's. When I arrove I found
the east room chock full includin all the old maids
in the villige & the long hared fellers a4sed. When
I went in I was salootid with “hear cums the benited
man” — “hear cums the hory-heded unbeleever” —
“hear cums the skoffer at trooth,”
etsettery, etsettery.
Sez I, “my frens, it's troo I'm hear, & now bring
on your Sperrets.”
1 of the long hared fellers riz up and sed he
would state a few remarks. He sed man was a
critter of intelleck & was movin on to a Gole.
Sum men had bigger intellecks than other men had
and thay wood git to the Gole the soonerest. Sum
men was beests & wood never git into the Gole at
all. He sed the Erth was materiel but man was
immaterial, and hens man was different from the
Erth. The Erth, continnered the speaker, resolves
round on its own axeltree onct in 24 hours, but as
man haint gut no axeltree he cant resolve. He
sed the ethereal essunce of the koordinate branchis
-- 043 --
[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]
of superhuman natur becum mettymorfussed as man
progrest in harmonial coexistunce & eventooally
anty humanized theirselves & turned into reglar
sperretuellers. [This was versifferusly applauded
by the cumpany, and as I make it a pint to get
along as pleasant as possible, I sung out “bully
for you, old boy.”]
The cumpany then drew round the table and the
Sircle kommenst to go it. Thay axed me if thare
was anbody in the Sperret land which I wood like
to convarse with. I sed if Bill Tompkins, who was
onct my partner in the show biznis, was sober, I
should like to convarse with him a few periods.
“Is the Sperret of William Tompkins present?”
sed 1 of the long hared chaps, and there was three
knox on the table.
Sez I, “William, how goze it, Old Sweetness?”
“Pretty ruff, old hoss,” he replide.
That was a pleasant way we had of addressm
each other when he was in the flesh.
“Air you in the show bizniz, William,” sed I.
He sed he was. He sed he & John Bunyan was
-- 044 --
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
travelin with a side show in connection with Shakspere,
Jonson & Co.'s Circus. He sed old Bun
(meanin Mr. Bunyan,) stired up the animils &
ground the organ while he tended door. Occashunally
Mr. Bunyan sung a comic song. The Circus
was doin middlin well. Bill Shakspeer had made a
grate hit with old Bob Ridley, and Ben Jonson was
delitin the peple with his trooly grate ax of hossmanship
without saddul or bridal. Thay was rehersin
Dixey's Land & expected it would knock the
peple.
Sez I, “William, my luvly frend, can you pay
me that 13 dollars you owe me?” He sed no with
one of the most tremenjis knox I ever experiunsed.
The Sircle sed he had gone. “Air you gone,
William?” I axed. “Rayther,” he replide, and I
knowd it was no use to pursoo the subjeck furder.
I then called fur my farther.
“How's things, daddy?”
“Middlin, my son, middlin.”
“Ain't you proud of your orfurn boy?”
“Scacely.”
-- 045 --
[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
“Why not, my parient?”
“Becawz you hav gone to writin for the noospapers,
my son. Bimeby you'll lose all your character
for trooth and verrasserty. When I helpt you
into the show biznis I told you to dignerfy that
there profeshun. Litteratoor is low.”
He also statid that he was doin middlin well in
the peanut biznis & liked it putty well, tho' the
climit was rather warm.
When the Sircle stopt thay axed me what I thawt
of it.
Sez I, “my frends I've bin into the show biznis
now goin on 23 years. Theres a artikil in the
Constitooshun of the United States which sez in
effeck that everybody may think just as he darn
pleazes, & them is my sentiments to a hare. You
dowtlis beleeve this Sperret doctrin while I think it
is a little mixt. Just so soon as a man becums a
reglar out & out Sperret rapper he leeves orf
workin, lets his hare grow all over his fase & commensis
spungin his livin out of other people. He
eats all the dickshunaries he can find & goze round
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
chock full of big words, scarein the wimmin folks
& little children & destroyin the piece of mind of
evry famerlee he enters. He don't do nobody no
good & is a cuss to society & a pirit on honest
peple's corn beef barrils. Admittin all you say
abowt the doctrin to be troo, I must say the
reglar perfessional Sperrit rappers — them as makes
a biznis on it air — abowt the most ornery set of
cusses I ever enkountered in my life. So sayin I
put on my surtoot and went home.
Respectably Yures,
Artemus Ward.
-- --
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-- --
"Don't Spear me agin, if you please." [See Page 50.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of an older woman on a train pushing her handkerchief towards
Artemus.[end figure description]
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-- -- p482-064
ON THE WING.
Gents of the Editoral Corpse;—
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Since I last rit you I've met with immense success
a showin my show in varis places, particly at
Detroit. I put up at Mr. Russel's tavern, a very
good tavern too, but I am sorry to inform you that
the clerks tried to cum a Gouge Game on me. I
brandished my new sixteen dollar huntin-cased
watch round considerable, & as I was drest in my
store clothes & had a lot of sweet-scented wagongrease
on my hair, I am free to confess that I
thought I lookt putty gay. It never once struck me
that I lookt green. But up steps a clerk & axes me
hadn't I better put my watch in the Safe. “Sir,”
sez I, “that watch cost sixteen dollars! Yes Sir,
every dollar of it! You can't cum it over me,
my boy! Not at all, Sir.” I know'd what the
clerk wanted. He wanted that watch himself. He
-- 050 --
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wanted to make believe as tho he lockt it up in the
safe, then he would set the house a fire and pretend
as tho the watch was destroyed with the other property!
But he caught a Tomarter when he got hold
of me. From Detroit I go West'ard hoe. On the
cars was a he-lookin female, with a green-cotton umbreller
in one hand and a handful of Reform tracks
the other. She sed every woman should have a Spear.
Them as didn't demand their Spears, didn't know
what was good for them. “What is my Spear?”
she axed, addressin the people in the cars. “Is it
to stay at home & darn stockins & be the ser-lave
of a domineerin man? Or is it my Spear to vote
& speak & show myself the ekal of man? Is there
a sister in these keers that has her proper Spear?”
Sayin which the eccentric female whirled her umbreller
round several times, & finally jabbed me in
the weskit with it.
“I hav no objecshuns to your goin into the Spear
bizness,” sez I, “but you'll please remember I ain't
a pickeril. Don't Spear me agin, if you please.”
She sot down.
-- 051 --
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At Ann Arbor, bein seized with a sudden faintness,
I called for a drop of suthin to drink. As I
was stirrin the beverage up, a pale-faced man in
gold spectacles laid his hand upon my shoulder, &
sed, “Look not upon the wine when it is red!”
Sez I, “this ain't wine. This is Old Rye.”
“It stingeth like a Adder and biteth like a Sarpent!”
sed the man.
“I guess not,” sed I, “when you put sugar into
it. That's the way I allers take mine.”
“Have you sons grown up, Sir?” the man axed.
“Wall,” I replide, as I put myself outside my
beverage, “my son Artemus junior is goin on 18.”
“Ain't you afraid if you set this example b4 him
he'll cum to a bad end?”
“He's cum to a waxed end already. He's learnin
the shoe makin bizness,” I replide. “I guess
we can both on us git along without your assistance,
Sir,” I obsarved, as he was about to open his
mouth agin.
“This is a cold world!” sed the man.
“That's so. But you'll get into a warmer one
-- 052 --
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by and by if you don't mind your own bizness better.”
I was a little riled at the feller, because I
never take anythin only when I'm onwell. I arterwards
learned he was a temperance lecturer, and if
he can injuce men to stop settin their inards on fire
with the frightful licker which is retailed round the
country, I shall hartily rejoice. Better give men
Prusick Assid to onct, than to pizen 'em to deth by
degrees.
At Albion I met with overwhelmin success. The
celebrated Albion Female Semenary is located here,
& there air over 300 young ladies in the Institushun,
pretty enough to eat without seasonin or sass.
The young ladies was very kind to me, volunteerin
to pin my handbills onto the backs of their dresses.
It was a surblime site to see over 300 young ladies
goin round with a advertisement of A. Ward's onparaleld
show, conspickusly posted onto their
dresses.
They've got a Panick up this way and refooze to
take Western money. It never was worth much,
and when western men, who know what it is,
-- 053 --
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refooze to take their own money it is about time other
folks stopt handlin it. Banks are bustin every day,
goin up higher nor any balloon of which we hav any
record. These western bankers air a sweet & luvly
set of men. I wish I owned as good a house as
some of 'em would break into!
Virtoo is its own reward.
A. Ward.
-- -- p482-069
THE OCTOROON.
[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]
It is with no ordernary feelins of Shagrin &
indignashun that I rite you these here lines. Sum
of the hiest and most purest feelins whitch actooate
the humin hart has bin trampt onto. The Amerycan
flag has bin outrajed. Ive bin nussin a Adder in
my Boozum. The fax in the kase is these here:
A few weeks ago I left Baldinsville to go to N. Y.
fur to git out my flamin yeller hanbills fur the
Summer kampane, & as I was peroosin a noospaper
on the kars a middel aged man in speckterkuls kum
& sot down beside onto me. He was drest in
black close & was appeerently as fine a man as
ever was.
“A fine day Sir,” he did unto me strateway say.
“Middlin,” sez I, not wishin to kommit myself,
tho he peered to be as fine a man as there was in
-- 055 --
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the wurld — It is a middlin fine day Square,” I
obsarved.
Sez he, “How fares the Ship of State in yure
regine of country?”
Sez I, “We don't hav no ships in our State —
the kanawl is our best holt.”
He pawsed a minit and then sed, “Air yu aware,
Sir that the krisis is with us?”
“No,” sez I, getting up and lookin under the
seet, “whare is she?”
“It's hear — it's everywhares,” he sed.
Sez I, “Why how you tawk!” and I gut up
agin & lookt all round. “I must say my fren,” I
continnered, as I resoomed my seet, “that I kan't
see nothin of no krisis myself.” I felt sumwhat
alarmed, & arose & in a stentowrian voice obsarved
that if any lady or gentleman in that there kar had
a krisis consealed abowt their persons they'd better
projuce it to onct or suffer the konsequences.
Several individoouls snickered rite out, while a
putty little damsell rite behind me in a pinc gown
made the observashun, “He, he.”
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“Sit down, my fren,” sed the man in black
close, “yu miskomprehend me. I meen that the
perlittercal ellermunts are orecast with black klouds,
4boden a friteful storm.”
“Wall,” replide I, “in regard to perlittercal
ellerfunts I don't know as how but what they is
as good as enny other kind of ellerfunts. But I
maik bold to say thay is all a ornery set & unpleasant
to hav round. They air powerful hevy
eaters & take up a right smart chans of room, &
besides thay air as ugly and revenjeful as a Cusscaroarus
Injun, with 13 inches of corn whisky in his
stummick.” The man in black close seemed to be
as fine a man as ever was in the world. He smilt
& sed praps I was rite, tho it was ellermunts instid
of ellerfunts that he was alludin to, & axed me
what was my prinserpuls?
“I haint gut enny,” sed I — “not a prinserpul.
Ime in the show biznis.” The man in black close,
I will hear obsarve, seemed to be as fine a man as
ever was in the world.
“But,” sez he, “you hav feelins into yon? You
-- 057 --
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cimpathize with the misfortunit, the loly & the
hart-sick, don't you?” He bust into teers and axed
me ef I saw that yung lady in the seet out yender,
pintin to as slick a lookin gal as I ever seed.
Sed I, “2 be shure I see her — is she mutch
sick?” The man in black close was appeerently
as fine a man as ever was in the world ennywhares.
“Draw closter to me,” sed the man in black
close. “Let me git my mowth fernenst yure ear.
Hush — SHESE A Octoroon!”
“No!” sez I, gittin up in a exsited manner,
“yu don't say so! How long has she bin in that
way?”
“Frum her arliest infuncy,” sed he.
“Wall, whot upon arth duz she doo it fur?” I
inquired.
“She kan't help it,” sed the man in black close.
“It's the brand of Kane.”
“Wall, she'd better stop drinkin Kane's brandy,”
I replide.
“I sed the brand of Kane was upon her — not
brandy, my fren. Yure very obtoose.”
-- 058 --
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I was konsiderbul riled at this. Sez I, “My
gentle Sir Ime a nonresistanter as a ginral thing, &
don't want to git up no rows with nobuddy, but I
kin nevertheles kave in enny man's hed that calls
me a obtoos,” with whitch remarks I kommenst fur
to pull orf my extry garmints. “Cum on,” sez I—
“Time! hear's the Beniki Boy fur ye!” & I
darnced round like a poppit. He riz up in his seet
& axed my pardin — sed it was all a mistake — that
I was a good man, etsettery, & sow 4th, & we fixt it
all up pleasant. I must say the man in black close
seamed to be as fine a man as ever lived in the
wurld. He sed a Octoroon was the 8th of a negrow.
He likewise statid that the female he was travelin
with was formurly a slave in Mississippy; that
she'd purchist her freedim & now wantid to purchiss
the freedim of her poor old muther, who (the
man in black close obsarved) was between 87 years
of age & had to do all the cookin & washin for 25
hired men, whitch it was rapidly breakin down her
konstitushun. He sed he knowed the minit he
gazed onto my klassic & beneverlunt fase that I'd
-- 059 --
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donate librully & axed me to go over & see her,
which I accordinly did. I sot down beside her and
sed “yure Sarvant, Marm! How do yer git
along?”
She bust in 2 teers & said, “O Sur, I'm so
retchid — I'm a poor unfortunit Octoroon.”
“So I larn. Yure rather more Roon than
Octo, I take it,” sed I, fur I never seed a puttier
gal in the hull endoorin time of my life. She had
on a More Antic Barsk & a Poplin Nubier with
Berage trimmins onto it, while her Ise & kurls was
enuff to make a man jump into a mill pond without
biddin his relashuns good by. I pittid the Octoroon
from the inmost recusses of my hart & hawled out
50 dollers ker slap, & told her to buy her old
muther as soon as posserbul. Sez she “kine sir
mutch thanks.” She then lade her hed over onto
my showlder & sed I was “old rats.” I was
astonished to heer this obsarvation, which I knowd
was never used in refined society & I perlitely but
emfattercly shovd her hed away.
Sez I “Marm, I'm trooly sirprized.”
-- 060 --
[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]
Sez she, “git out. Yure the nicist old man Ive
seen yit. Give us anuther 50!” Had a seleck
assortment of the most tremenjious thunderbolts
descended down onto me I couldn't hav bin more
takin aback. I jumpt up, but she ceased my coat
tales & in a wild voise cride, “No, Ile never desart
you—let us fli together to a furrin shoor!”
Sez I, “not mutch we wont,” and I made a
powerful effort to get awa from her. “This is
plade out,” I sed, whereupon she jerkt me back
into the seet. “Leggo my coat, you scandaluss
female,” I roared, when she set up the most
unarthly yellin and hollerin you ever heerd. The
passinjers & the gentlemunly konducter rusht to
the spot, & I don't think I ever experiunsed sich a
rumpus in the hull coarse of my natral dase. The
man in black close rusht up to me & sed “How
dair yu insult my neece, you horey heded vagabone!
You base exhibbiter of low wax figgers—yu woolf
in sheep's close,” & sow 4th.
I was konfoozed. I was a loonytick fur the time
bein, and offered $5 reward to enny gentleman of
-- 061 --
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good morrul carracter who wood tell me whot my
name was & what town I livd into. The konductor
kum to me & sed the insultid parties wood settle
for $50, which I immejitly hawled out, & agane
implored sumbuddy to state whare I was prinsipully,
& if I shood be thare a grate while myself ef
things went on as they'd bin goin fur sum time
back. I then axed if there was enny more Octoroons
present, “becawz,” sez I, “ef there is, let
um cum along, fur Ime in the Octoroon bizniss.” I
then threw my specterculs out of the winder,
smasht my hat wildly down over my Ise, larfed
highsterically & fell under a seet. I lay there sum
time & fell asleep. I dreamt Mrs. Ward & the
twins had bin carrid orf by Ryenosserhosses & that
Baldinsville had bin captered by a army of Octoroons.
When I awoked the lamps was a burnin
dimly. Sum of the passinjers was a snorein like
pawpusses & the little damsell in the pinc gown
was a singin “Oft in the Silly nite.” The onprinsipuld
Octoroon & the miserbul man in black
close was gone, & all of a suddent it flasht ore my
brane that I'de bin swindild.
-- -- p482-077
EXPERIENCE AS AN EDITOR.
[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]
In the Ortum of 18—my frend, the editor of the
Baldinsville Bugle, was obleged to leave perfeshernal
dooties & go & dig his taters, & he axed me to edit
for him doorin his absence. Accordinly I ground
up his Shears and commenced. It didn't take me a
grate while to slash out copy enuff from the
xchanges for one issoo, and I thawt I'd ride up to the
next town on a little Jaunt, to rest my Branes which
had bin severely rackt by my mental efforts. (This
is sorter Ironical.) So I went over to the Rale
Rood offiss and axed the Sooprintendent for a pars.
“You a editer?” he axed, evijently on the pint
of snickerin.
“Yes Sir,” sez I, “don't I look poor enuff?”
“Just about,” sed he, “but our Road can't pars
you.”
-- 063 --
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“Can't, hay?”
“No Sir—it can't.”
“Becauz,” sez I, lookin him full in the face with
a Eagle eye “it goes so darned slow it can't pars
anybody!” Methinks I had him thar. It's the
slowest Rale Road in the West. With a mortifi'ed
air, he told me to git out of his offiss. I pittid him
and went.
-- 064 -- p482-079
OBERLIN.
[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]
About two years ago I arrove in Oberlin, Ohio.
Oberlin is whare the celebrated college is. In fack,
Oberlin is the college, everything else in that air
vicinity resolvin around excloosivly for the benefit
of that institution. It is a very good college, too,
& a grate many wurthy yung men go there annooally
to git intelleck into 'em. But its my onbiassed'
pinion that they go it rather too strong on Ethiopians
at Oberlin. But that's nun of my bizness.
I'm into the Show bizniss. Yit as a faithful historan
I must menshun the fack that on rainy dase
white peple can't find their way threw the streets
without the gas is lit, there bein such a numerosity
of cullerd pussons in the town.
As I was sayin, I arroved at Oberlin, and called
on Perfesser Peck for the purpuss of skewerin Kolonial
Hall to exhibit my wax works and beests of
-- 065 --
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Pray into. Kolonial Hall is in the college and is
used by the stujents to speak peaces and read essays
into.
Sez Perfesser Peck, “Mister Ward, I don't know'
bout this bizniss. What are your sentiments?”
Sez I, “I hain't got any.”
“Good God!” cried the Perfesser, “did I understan
you to say you hav no sentiments?”
“Nary a sentiment!” sez I.
“Mister Ward, don't your blud bile at the thawt
that three million and a half of your culled brethren
air a clankin their chains in the South?”
Sez I, “not a bile! Let 'em clank!”
He was about to continner his flowry speech when
I put a stopper on him. Sez I, “Perfesser Peck,
A. Ward is my name & Ameriky is my nashun;
I'm allers the same, tho' humble is my station, and
I've bin in the show bizniss goin on 22 years. The
pint is, can I hav your Hall by payin a fair price?
You air full of sentiments. That's your lay, while
I'm a exhibiter of startlin curiosities. What d'ye
say?”
-- 066 --
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“Mister Ward, you air endowed with a hily practical
mind, and while I deeply regret that you
air devoid of sentiments, I'll let you hav the hall
provided your exhibition is of a moral & elevatin
nater.”
Sez I, “Tain't nothin shorter.”
So I opened in Kolonial Hall, which was crowded
every nite with stujents, &c. Perfesser Finny gazed
for hours at my Kangaroo, but when that sagashus
but onprincipled little cuss set up one of his
onarthly yellins and I proceeded to hosswhip him,
the Perfesser objected. “Suffer not your angry
pashuns to rise up at the poor annimil's little excentrissities,”
said the Perfesser.
“Do you call such conduck as those a little excentrissity?”
I axed.
“I do,” sed he, sayin which he walked up to the
cage and sez he, “let's try moral swashun upon the
poor creeter.” So he put his hand upon the Kangeroo's
hed and sed, “poor little feller — poor little
feller — your master is very crooil, isn't he, my
untootered frend,” when the Kangaroo, with a
-- 067 --
[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]
terrific yell, grabd the Perfesser by the hand and cum
very near chawin it orf. It was amoozin to see the
Perfesser jump up and scream with pane. Sez I,
“that's one of the poor little feller's excentrissities!”
Sez he, “Mister Ward, that's a dangerous quadruped.
He's totally depraved. I will retire and
do my lasserated hand up in a rag, and meanwhile
I request you to meat out summery and severe punishment
to the vishus beest. I hosswhipt the little
cuss for upwards 15 minutes. Guess I licked sum
of his excentrissity out of him.
Oberlin is a grate plase. The College opens with
a prayer and then the New York Tribune is read.
A kolleckshun is then taken up to buy overkoats
with red horn buttons onto them for the indignant
cullured people of Kanady. I have to contribit librally
two the glowrius work, as they kawl it hear.
I'm kompelled by the Fackulty to reserve front seets
in my show for the cullered peple. At the Boardin
House the cullered peple sit at the first table.
What they leeve is maid into hash for the white
-- 068 --
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peple. As I don't like the idee of eatin my vittles
with Ethiopians, I sit at the seckind table, and the
konsequence is I've devowered so much hash that my
inards is in a hily mixt up condishun. Fish bones
hav maid their appearance all over my boddy and
pertater peelins air a springin up through my hair.
Howsever I don't mind it. I'm gittin along well in
a pecunery pint of view. The College has konfired
upon me the honery title of T. K., of which I'm
suffishuntly prowd.
-- 069 -- p482-084
THE SHOWMAN'S COURTSHIP.
[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]
Thare was many affectin ties which made me
hanker arter Betsy Jane. Her father's farm jined
our'n; their cows and our'n squencht their thurst at
the same spring; our old mares both had stars in
their forrerds; the measles broke out in both famerlies
at nearly the same period; our parients (Betsy's
and mine) slept reglarly every Sunday in the same
meetin house, and the nabers used to obsarve,
“How thick the Wards and Peasleys air!” It
was a surblime site, in the Spring of the year, to
see our sevral mothers (Betsy's and mine) with
their gowns pin'd up so thay could'nt sile 'em,
affecshunitly Bilin sope together & aboozin the
nabers.
Altho I hankerd intensly arter the objeck of my
-- 070 --
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affecshuns, I darsunt tell her of the fires which was
rajin in my manly Buzzum. I'd try to do it but
my tung would kerwollup up agin the roof of my
mowth & stick thar, like deth to a deseast Afrikan
or a country postmaster to his offiss, while my hart
whanged again my ribs like a old fashioned wheat
Flale again a barn floor.
T'was a carm still nite in Joon. All nater was
husht and nary zeffer disturbed the sereen silens.
I sot with Betsy Jane on the fense of her farther's
pastur. We'd bin rompin threw the woods, kullin
flours & drivin the woodchuck from his Nativ Lair
(so to speak) with long sticks. Wall we sot thar on
the fense, a swingin our feet two and fro, blushin as
red as the Baldinsville skool house when it was fust
painted, and lookin very simple, I make no doubt.
My left arm was ockepied in ballunsin myself on
the fense, while my rite was woundid luvinly round
her waste.
I cleared my throat and tremblinly sed, “Betsy,
you're a Gazelle.”
I thought that air was putty fine. I waitid to
-- 071 --
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see what effeck it would hav upon her. It evidently
didn't fetch her, for she up and sed,
“You're a sheep!”
Sez I, “Betsy, I think very muchly of you.”
“I don't b'leeve a word you say—so there now
cum!” with which obsarvashun she hitched away
from me.
“I wish thar was winders to my Sole,” sed I,
“so that you could see some of my feelins. There's
fire enuff in here,” sed I, strikin my buzzum with
my fist, “to bile all the corn beef and turnips in
the naberhood. Versoovius and the Critter ain't a
circumstans!”
She bowd her hed down and commenst chawin the
strings to her sun bonnet.
“Ar, could you know the sleeplis nites I worry
threw with on your account, how vittles has seized
to be attractiv to me & how my lims has shrunk up,
you would'nt dowt me. Gase on this wastin form
and these 'ere sunken cheeks”—
I should have continnered on in this strane
probly for sum time, but unfortnitly I lost my
-- 072 --
[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]
ballunse and fell over into the pastur ker smash,
tearin my close and seveerly damagin myself ginerally.
Betsy Jane sprung to my assistance in dubble
quick time and dragged me 4th. Then drawin herself
up to her full hite she sed:
“I won't listen to your noncents no longer.
Jes say rite strate out what you're drivin at. If
you mean gettin hitched, I'm in!”
I considered that air enuff for all practicul purpusses,
and we proceeded immejitly to the parson's,
& was made 1 that very nite.
(Notiss to the Printer: Put some stars here.)
I've parst threw many tryin ordeels sins then,
but Betsy Jane has bin troo as steel. By attendin
strickly to bizniss I've amarsed a handsum Pittance.
No man on this foot-stool can rise & git up & say I
ever knowinly injered no man or wimmin folks,
while all agree that my Show is ekalled by few and
exceld by none, embracin as it does a wonderful
colleckshun of livin wild Beests of Pray, snaix in
-- 073 --
[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]
grate profushun, a endliss variety of life-size wax
figgers, & the only traned kangaroo in Ameriky—
the most amoozin little cuss ever introjuced to a
discriminatin public.
-- -- p482-089
THE CRISIS.
[This Oration was delivered before the commencement of the
war.]
[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]
On returnin to my humsted in Baldinsville, Injianny,
resuntly, my feller sitterzens extended a invite
for me to norate to 'em on the Krysis. I excepted
& on larst Toosday nite I peared be4 a C of
upturned faces in the Red Skool House. I spoke
nearly as follers:
Baldinsvillins: Hearto4, as I hav numerously obsarved,
I have abstrained from having any sentimunts
or principles, my pollertics, like my religion,
bein of a exceedin accommodatin character. But
the fack can't be no longer disgised that a Krysis is
onto us, & I feel it's my dooty to accept your invite
for one consecutive nite only. I spose the inflammertory
individooals who assisted in projucing this
Krysis know what good she will do, but I ain't
-- --
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-- --
"Shall the Star Spangled Banner be cut up into dishcloths?" [See
Page 80.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Artemus Ward giving a great lecture on secession to a noisy
crowd. He is standing in front of a table that holds a glass and
pitcher, with his arms outstretched and glasses on his
forehead.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- --
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-- 077 --
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'shamed to state that I don't, scacely. But the
Krysis is hear. She's bin hear for sevral weeks, &
Goodness nose how long she'll stay. But I venter
to assert that she's rippin things. She's knockt
trade into a cockt up hat and chaned Bizness of all
kinds tighter nor I ever chaned any of my livin
wild Beests. Alow me to hear dygress & stait that
my Beests at presnt is as harmless as the new-born
Babe. Ladys & gentlemen needn't hav no fears on
that pint. To resoom — Altho I can't exactly see
what good this Krysis can do, I can very quick say
what the origernal cawz of her is. The origernal
cawz is Our Afrikan Brother. I was into Barnim's
Moozeum down to New York the other day & saw
that exsentric Etheopian, the What Is It. Sez I,
“Mister What Is It, you folks air raisin thunder with
this grate country. You're gettin to be ruther more
numeris than interestin. It is a pity you coodent go
orf sumwhares by yourselves, & be a nation of What
Is Its, tho' if you'll excoose me, I shooden't care
about marryin among you. No dowt you're exceedin
charmin to hum, but your stile of luvliness isn't
-- 078 --
[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]
adapted to this cold climit. He larfed into my face,
which rather Riled me, as I had been perfeckly virtoous
and respectable in my observashuns. So sez I,
turnin a leetle red in the face I spect, “Do you hav
the unblushin impoodents to say you folks haven't
raised a big mess of thunder in this brite land, Mister
What Is It?” He larfed agin, wusser nor be4,
whareupon I up and sez, “Go home, Sir, to Afriky's
burnin shores & taik all the other What Is Its along
with you. Don't think we can't spair your interestin
picters. You What Is Its air on the pint of
smashin up the gratest Guv'ment ever erected by
man, & you actooally hav the owdassity to larf about
it. Go home, you low cuss!”
I was workt up to a high pitch, & I proceeded to a
Restorator & cooled orf with some little fishes biled
in ile — I b'leeve thay call'em sardeens.
Feller Sitterzuns, the Afrikan may be Our
Brother. Sevral hily respectyble gentlemen, and
sum talentid females tell us so, & fur argyment's
sake I mite be injooced to grant it, tho' I don't beleeve
it myself. But the Afrikan isn't our sister &
-- 079 --
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our wife & our uncle. He isn't sevral of our brothers
& all our fust wife's relashuns. He isn't our
grandfather, and our grate grandfather, and our Aunt
in the country. Scacely. & yit numeris persons
would have us think so. It's troo he runs Congress
& sevral other public grosserys, but then he ain't
everybody & everybody else likewise. [Notiss to
bizness man of Vanity Fair: Extry charg fur
this larst remark. It's a goak.—A. W.]
But we've got the Afrikan, or ruther he's got us,
& now what air we going to do about it? He's a
orful noosanse. Praps he isn't to blame fur it.
Praps he was creatid fur sum wise purpuss, like the
measles and New Englan Rum, but it's mity hard
to see it. At any rate he's no good here, & as I
statid to Mister What Is It, it's a pity he cooden't
go orf sumwhares quietly by hisself, whare he cood
wear red weskits & speckled neckties, & gratterfy
his ambishun in varis interestin wase, without havin
a eternal fuss kickt up about him.
Praps I'm bearin down too hard upon Cuffy.
Cum to think on it, I am. He wooden't be sich a
-- 080 --
[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]
infernal noosanse if white peple would let him alone.
He mite indeed be interestin. And now I think of
it, why can't the white peple let him alone. What's
the good of continnerly stirrin him up with a tenfoot
pole? He isn't the sweetest kind of Perfoomery
when in a natral stait.
Feller Sitterzens, the Union's in danger. The
black devil Disunion is trooly here, starein us all
squarely in the face! We must drive him back.
Shall we make a 2nd Mexico of ourselves? Shall
we sell our birthrite for a mess of potash? Shall
one brother put the knife to the throat of anuther
brother? Shall we mix our whisky with each
others' blud? Shall the star spangled Banner be
cut up into dishcloths? Standin here in this here
Skoolhouse, upon my nativ shore so to speak, I anser—
Nary!
Oh you fellers who air raisin this row, & who in
the fust place startid it, I'm 'shamed of you. The
Showman blushes for you, from his boots to the topmost
hair upon his wenerable hed.
Feller Sitterzens, I am in the Sheer & Yeller
-- 081 --
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leaf. I shall peg out 1 of these dase. But while I do
stop here I shall stay in the Union. I know not
what the supervizers of Baldinsville may conclude to
do, but for one, I shall stand by the Stars & Stripes.
Under no circumstances whatsomever will I sesesh.
Let every Stait in the Union sesesh & let Palmetter
flags flote thicker nor shirts on Square Baxter's close
line, still will I stick to the good old flag. The
country may go to the devil, but I won't! And next
Summer when I start out on my campane with my
Show, wharever I pitch my little tent, you shall see
floatin prowdly from the center pole thereof the
Amerikan Flag, with nary a star wiped out, nary a
stripe less, but the same old flag that has allers flotid
thar! & the price of admishun will be the same it
allers was — 15 cents, children half price.
Feller Sitterzens, I am dun. Accordinly I squatted.
-- -- p482-099
WAX FIGURES VS. SHAKSPEARE.
Onto the wing
——1859.
Mr. Editor;
[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]
I take my Pen in hand to inform yu that I'm in
good helth and trust these few lines will find yu injoyin
the same blessins. I wood also state that I'm
now on the summir kampane. As the Poit sez—
ime erflote, ime erflote
On the Swift rollin tied
An the Rovir is free.
Bizness is scacely middlin, but Sirs I manige to
pay for my foode and raiment puncktooally and without
no grumblin. The barked arrers of slandur has
bin leviled at the undersined moren onct sins heze
bin into the show bizness, but I make bold to say no
man on this footstule kan troothfully say I ever
ronged him or eny of his folks. I'm travelin with
a tent, which is better nor hirin hauls. My show
konsists of a serious of wax works, snakes, a
-- 083 --
[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]
paneramy kalled a Grand Movin Diarea of the War in
the Crymear, komic songs and the Cangeroo, which
larst little cuss continners to konduct hisself in the
most outrajus stile. I started out with the idear of
makin my show a grate Moral Entertainment, but
I'm kompeled to sware so much at that air infurnal
Kangeroo that I'm frade this desine will be flustratid
to some extent. And while speakin of morrality,
remines me that sum folks turn up their nosis at
shows like mine, sayin they is low and not fit to be
patrernized by peple of high degree. Sirs, I manetane
that this is infernul nonsense. I manetane that
wax figgers is more elevatin than awl the plays ever
wroten. Take Shakespeer for instunse. Peple
think heze grate things, but I kontend heze quite
the reverse to the konrtary. What sort of sense is
thare to King Leer who goze round cussin his darters,
chawin hay and throin straw at folks, and larfin
like a silly old koot and makin a ass of hisself
ginerally? Thare's Mrs. Mackbeth—sheze a nise
kind of woomon to have round aint she, a puttin
old Mack, her husband, up to slayin Dunkan with a
-- 084 --
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cheeze knife, while heze payin a frendly visit to their
house. O its hily morral, I spoze, when she larfs
wildly and sez, “gin me the daggurs—Ile let his
bowels out,” or wurds to that effeck—I say, this is
awl strickly propper I spoze? That Jack Fawlstarf
is likewise a immoral old cuss, take him how ye
may, and Hamlick is as crazy as a loon. Thare's
Richurd the Three peple think heze grate things, but
I look upon him in the lite of a monkster. He kills
everybody he takes a noshun to in kold blud, and
then goze to sleep in his tent. Bimeby he wakes up
and yells for a hoss so he kan go orf and kill sum
more peple. If he isent a fit spesserman for the
gallers then I shood like to know whare you find um.
Thare's Iargo who is more ornery nor pizun. See
how shamful he treated that hily respecterble injun
gentlemun, Mister Otheller, makin him for to beleeve
his wife was two thick with Casheo. Obsarve how
Iargo got Casheo drunk as a biled owl on corn
whisky in order to karry out his sneekin desines.
See how he wurks Mister Otheller's feelins up so that
he goze and makes poor Desdemony swaller a piller
-- 085 --
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which cawses her deth. But I must stop. At sum
futur time I shall continner my remarks on the
dramer in which I shall show the varst supeeriority
of wax figgers and snakes over theater plays, in a interlectooal
pint of view.
Very Respectively yures,
A. Ward, T. K.
-- -- p482-103
AMONG THE FREE LOVERS.
*
[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]
Some years ago I pitched my tent and onfurled
my banner to the breeze, in Berlin Hites, Ohio. I
had hearn that Berlin Hites was ockepied by a
extensive seck called Free Lovers, who beleeved in
affinertys and sich, goin back on their domestic ties
without no hesitation whatsomever. They was likewise
spirit rappers and high presher reformers on
gineral principles. If I can improve these 'ere
misgided peple by showin them my onparalleld show
at the usual low price of admitants, methunk, I
shall not hav lived in vane! But bitterly did I
cuss the day I ever sot foot in the retchid place. I
sot up my tent in a field near the Love Cure, as
they called it, and bimeby the free lovers begun for
-- 087 --
[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]
to congregate around the door. A ornreer set I have
never sawn. The men's faces was all covered with
hare and they lookt half-starved to deth. They
didn't wear no weskuts for the purpuss (as they
sed) of allowin the free air of hevun to blow onto
their boozums. Their pockets was filled with tracks
and pamplits and they was bare-footed. They sed
the Postles didn't wear boots, & why should they?
That was their stile of argyment. The wimin was
wuss than the men. They wore trowsis, short
gownds, straw hats with green ribbins, and all
carried bloo cotton umbrellers.
Presently a perfeckly orful lookin female presented
herself at the door. Her gownd was skanderlusly
short and her trowsis was shameful to
behold.
She eyed me over very sharp, and then startin
back she sed, in a wild voice:
“Ah, can it be?”
“Which?” sed I.
“Yes, 'tis troo, O 'tis troo!”
“15 cents, marm,” I anserd.
-- 088 --
[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]
She bust out a cryin & sed:
“And so I hav found you at larst—at larst, O
at larst!”
“Yes,” I anserd, “you have found me at larst,
and you would have found me at fust, if you had
cum sooner.”
She grabd me vilently by the coat collar, and
brandishin her umbreller wildly round, exclaimed:
“Air you a man?”
Sez I, “I think I air, but if you doubt it, you
can address Mrs. A. Ward, Baldinsville, Injianny,
postage pade, & she will probly giv you the desired
informashun.”
“Then thou ist what the cold world calls
marrid?”
“Madam, I istest!”
The exsentric female then clutched me franticly
by the arm and hollerd:
“You air mine, O you air mine!”
“Scacely,” I sed, endeverin to git loose from her.
But she clung to me and sed:
“You air my Affinerty!”
-- 089 --
[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]
“What upon arth is that?” I shouted.
“Dost thou not know?”
“No, I dostent!”
“Listin man, & I'll tell ye!” sed the strange
female; “for years I hav yearned for thee. I
knowd thou wast in the world, sumwhares, tho I
didn't know whare. My hart sed he would cum
and I took courage. He has cum—he's here—
you air him—you air my Affinerty! O 'tis too
mutch! too mutch!” and she sobbed agin.
“Yes,” I anserd, “I think it is a darn site too
mutch!”
“Hast thou not yearned for me?” she yelled,
ringin her hands like a female play acter.
“Not a yearn!” I bellerd at the top of my
voice, throwin her away from me.
The free lovers who was standin round obsarvin
the scene commenst for to holler “shame!”
“beast,” etsettery, etsettery.
I was very mutch riled, and fortifyin myself
with a spare tent stake, I addrest them as follers:
“You pussylanermus critters, go way from me and
-- 090 --
[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]
take this retchid woman with you. I'm a lawabidin
man, and bleeve in good, old-fashioned institutions.
I am marrid & my orfsprings resemble me,
if I am a showman! I think your Affinity bizniss
is cussed noncents, besides bein outrajusly wicked.
Why don't you behave desunt like other folks? Go
to work and earn a honist livin and not stay round
here in this lazy, shiftless way, pizenin the moral
atmosphere with your pestifrous idees! You wimin
folks go back to your lawful husbands if you've got
any, and take orf them skanderlous gownds and
trowsis, and dress respectful like other wimin. You
men folks, cut orf them pirattercal whiskers, burn
up them infurnel pamplits, put sum weskuts on, go
to work choppin wood, splittin fence rales, or tillin
the sile. I pored 4th my indignashun in this way
till I got out of breth, when I stopt. I shant go to
Berlin Hites agin, not if I live to be as old as Methooseler.
-- 091 -- p482-108
[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]
sellar in the coarse of a year. We sot & tawked
there sum time abowt matters & things, & bimeby I
axed him how he liked bein Prince as fur as h'ed
got.
“To speak plain, Mister Ward,” he sed, “I
don't much like it. I'm sick of all this bowin &
scrapin & crawlin & hurrain over a boy like me.
I would rather go through the country quietly &
enjoy myself in my own way, with the other boys,
& not be made a Show of to be garped at by everybody.
When the peple cheer me I feel pleesed, fur
I know they meen it, but if these one-horse offishuls
cood know how I see threw all their moves & understan
exackly what they air after, & knowd how I
larft at 'em in private, thayd stop kissin my hands
& fawnin over me as thay now do. But you know
Mr. Ward I can't help bein a Prince, & I must do
all I kin to fit myself fur the persishun I must
sumtime ockepy.”
“That's troo,” sez I; “sickness and the docters
will carry the Queen orf one of these dase, sure's
yer born.”
-- 092 --
[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]
my Gase. I hope two be dodrabbertid if them
afoursed raskals hadent gone and put a old kaved in
hat onter George Washington's hed and shuved a
short black klay pipe inter his mouth. His noze
thay had painted red and his trowsis legs thay had
shuvd inside his butes. My wax figger of Napoleon
Boneypart was likewise mawltreatid. His
sword wus danglin tween his legs, his cockd hat was
drawn klean down over his ize, and he was plased in
a stoopin posishun lookin zactly as tho he was as
drunk as a biled owl. Ginral Tayler was a standin
on his hed and Wingfield Skott's koat tales ware
pind over his hed and his trowsis ware kompleetly
torn orf frum hisself. My wax works representin the
Lord's Last Supper was likewise aboozed. Three
of the Postles ware under the table and two of um
had on old tarpawlin hats and raggid pee jackits
and ware smokin pipes. Judus Iskarriot had on a
cocked hat and was appeerently drinkin, as a Bottle
of whisky sot befour him. This ere specktercal
was too much fur me. I klosed the show and then
drowndid my sorrers in the flowin Bole.
eaf482n1* Some queer people, calling themselves “Free Lovers,” and
possessing very original ideas about life and morality, established
themselves at Berlin Heights, in Ohio, a few years since. Public
opinion was resistlessly against them, however, and the association
was soon disbanded.
-- --
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-- --
"Oh stay, Sir, stay!" sed a tall gawnt femail. [See Page
101.]
[figure description] Image of Artemus fighting off a group of women.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- -- p482-114
A VISIT TO BRIGHAM YOUNG.
[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]
It is now goin on 2 (too) yeres, as I very well,
remember, since I crossed the Planes for Kaliforny,
the Brite land of Jold. While crossin the Planes
all so bold I fell in with sum noble red men of the
forest (N. B. This is rote Sarcasticul. Injins is
Pizin, whar ever found,) which thay Sed I was their
Brother, & wantid for to smoke the Calomel of
Peace with me. Thay then stole my jerkt beef,
blankits, etsettery, skalpt my orgin grinder & scooted
with a Wild Hoop. Durin the Cheaf's techin
speech he sed he shood meet me in the Happy Huntin
Grounds. If he duz thare will be a fite. But
enuff of this ere. Reven Noose Muttons, as our
skoolmaster, who has got Talent into him, cussycally
obsarve.
I arrove at Salt Lake in doo time. At Camp
Scott there was a lot of U. S. sojers, hosstensibly
-- 096 --
[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
sent out thare to smash the mormons but really to
eat Salt vittles & play poker & other beautiful but
sumwhat onsartin games. I got acquainted with sum
of the officers. Thay lookt putty scrumpshus in
their Bloo coats with brass buttings onto um & ware
very talented drinkers, but so fur as fitin is consarned
I'd willingly put my wax figgers agin the hull
party.
My desire was to exhibit my grate show in Salt
Lake City, so I called on Brigham Yung, the grate
mogull amung the mormins, and axed his permishun
to pitch my tent and onfurl my banner to the jentle
breezis. He lookt at me in a austeer manner for a
few minits, and sed:
“Do you bleeve in Solomon, Saint Paul, the immaculateness
of the Mormin Church and the Latterday
Revelashuns?”
Sez I, “I'm on it!” I make it a pint to git
along plesunt, tho I didn't know what under the Son
the old feller was drivin at. He sed I mite show.
“You air a marridman, Mister Yung, I bleeve?”
sez I, preparin to rite him sum free parsis.
-- 097 --
[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]
“I hev eighty wives, Mister Ward. I sertinly
am marrid.”
“How do you like it as far as you hev got?”
sed I.
He sed “middlin,” and axed me wouldn't I like
to see his famerly, to which I replide that I wouldn't
mind minglin with the fair Seck & Barskin in the
winnin smiles of his interestin wives. He accordingly
tuk me to his Scareum. The house is powerful
big & in a exceedin large room was his wives &
children, which larst was squawkin and hollerin enuff
to take the roof rite orf the house. The wimin
was of all sizes and ages. Sum was pretty & sum
was plane—sum was helthy and sum was on the
Wayne—which is verses, tho sich was not my intentions,
as I don't 'prove of puttin verses in Proze
rittins, tho ef occashun requires I can Jerk a Poim
ekal to any of them Atlantic Munthly fellers.
“My wives, Mister Ward,” sed Yung.
“Your sarvant, marms,” sed I, as I sot down in
a cheer which a red-heded female brawt me.
“Besides these wives you see here, Mister Ward,”
-- 098 --
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
sed Yung, “I hav eighty more in varis parts of this
consecrated land which air Sealed to me.”
“Which?” sez I, gittin up & starin at him.
“Sealed, Sir! sealed.”
“Whare bowts?” sez I.
“I sed, Sir, that they was sealed!” He spoke
in a traggerdy voice.
“Will they probly continner on in that stile to
any grate extent, Sir?” I axed.
“Sir,” sed he furnin as red as a biled beet,
“don't you know that the rules of our Church is
that I, the Profit, may hev as meny wives as I
wants?”
“Jes so,” I sed. “You are old pie, ain't you?”
“Them as is Sealed to me—that is to say, to be
mine when I wants um—air at present my sperretooul
wives,” sed Mister Yung.
“Long may thay wave!” sez I, seein I shood git
into a scrape ef I didn't look out.
In a privit conversashun with Brigham I learnt
the follerin fax: It takes him six weeks to kiss his
wives. He don't do it only onct a yere & sez it is
-- 099 --
[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]
wuss nor cleanin house. He don't pretend to know
his children, thare is so many of um, tho they all
know him. He sez about every child he meats call
him Par, & he takes it for grantid it is so. His
wives air very expensiv. Thay allers want suthin
& ef he don't buy it for um thay set the house in a
uproar. He sez he don't have a minit's peace. His
wives fite amung theirselves so much that he has
bilt a fitin room for thare speshul benefit, & when too
of'em get into a row he has em turnd loose into
that place, whare the dispoot is settled accordin to
the rules of the London prize ring. Sumtimes thay
abooz hisself individooally. Thay hev pulled the
most of his hair out at the roots & he wares meny
a horrible scar upon his body, inflicted with mophandles,
broom-sticks and sich. Occashunly they
git mad & scald him with bilin hot water. When
he got eny waze cranky thay'd shut him up in a
dark closit, previsly whippin him arter the stile of
muthers when thare orfsprings git onruly. Sumtimes
when he went in swimmin thay'd go to the
banks of the Lake & steal all his close, thereby
-- 100 --
[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]
compellin him to sneek home by a sircootius rowt, drest
in the Skanderlus stile of the Greek Slaiv. “I
find that the keers of a marrid life way hevy onto
me,” sed the Profit, “& sumtimes I wish I'd remaned
singel.” I left the Profit and startid for the
tavern whare I put up to. On my way I was overtuk
by a lurge krowd of Mormons, which they surroundid
me & statid that they were goin into the
Show free.
“Wall,” sez I, “ef I find a individooal who is
goin round lettin folks into his show free, I'll let
you know.”
“We've had a Revelashun biddin us go into A.
Ward's Show without payin nothin!” thay showtid.
“Yes,” hollered a lot of femaile Mormonesses,
ceasin me by the cote tales & swingin me round very
rapid, “we're all goin in free! So sez the Revelashun!”
“What's Old Revelashun got to do with my
Show?” sez I, gittin putty rily. “Tell Mister
Revelashun,” sed I, drawin myself up to my full
hite and lookin round upon the ornery krowd with a
-- 101 --
[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]
prowd & defiant mean, “tell Mister Revelashun to
mind his own bizness, subject only to the Konstitushun
of the Unitid States!”
“Oh now let us in, that's a sweet man,” sed several
femails, puttin thare arms rownd me in luvin
stile. “Becum 1 of us. Becum a Preest & hav
wives Sealed to you.”
“Not a Seal!” sez I, startin back in horror at
the idee.
“Oh stay, Sir, stay,” sed a tall, gawnt femaile,
ore whoos hed 37 summirs must hev parsd, “stay,
& I'll be your Jentle Gazelle.”
“Not ef I know it, you won't,” sez I. “Awa
you skanderlus femaile, awa! Go & be a Nunnery!”
That's what I sed, jes so.
“& I,” sed a fat chunky femaile, who must hev
wade more than too hundred lbs., “I will be your
sweet gidin Star!”
Sez I, “Ile bet two dollers and a half you
won't!” Whare ear I may Rome Ile still be troo
2 thee, Oh Betsy Jane! [N. B. Betsy Jane is my
wife's Sir naime.]
-- 102 --
[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]
“Wiltist thou not tarry hear in the Promist
Land?” sed several of the miserabil critters.
“Ile see you all essenshally cussed be 4 I wiltist!”
roared I, as mad as I cood be at thare infernul noncents.
I girdid up my Lions & fled the Seen. I
packt up my duds & left Salt Lake, which is a 2nd
Soddum & Germorrer, inhabitid by as theavin &
onprinoipled a set of retchis as ever drew Breth in
eny spot on the Globe.
-- 103 -- p482-122
THE CENSUS.
[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]
The Sences taker in our town bein taken sick he
deppertised me to go out for him one day, and as he
was too ill to giv me informashun how to perceed, I
was consekently compelled to go it blind. Sittin
down by the road side I drawd up the follerin list of
questions which I proposed to ax the peple I visited:
Wat's your age?
Whar was you born?
Air yon marrid, and if so how do you like it?
How many children hav you, and do they sufficiently
resemble you as to proclood the possibility of
their belongin to any of your nabers?
Did you ever hav the measels, and if so how
many?
Hav you a twin brother several years older than
yourself?
-- 104 --
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How many parents hav you?
Do you read Watt's Hims regler?
Do you use boughten tobacker?
Wat's your fitin wate?
Air you trubeld with biles?
How does your meresham culler?
State whether you air blind, deaf, idiotic or got
the heaves?
Do you know any Opry singers, and if so how
much do they owe you?
What's the average of virtoo on the Ery Canawl?
If 4 barrils of Emptins pored onto a barn floor
will kiver it how many plase can Dion Boureicault
write in a year?
Is Beans a regler article of diet in your family?
How many chickins hav you, on foot and in the
shell?
Air you aware that Injianny whisky is used in
New York shootin galrys instid of pistils, and that it
shoots furthest?
Was you ever at Niagry Falls?
-- 105 --
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Was you ever in the Penitentiary?
State how much pork, impendin crysis, Dutch
cheeze, popler suvrinty, standard poetry, childrens'
strainer's, slave code, catnip, red flannel, ancient
histry, pickled tomaters, old junk, perfoomery, coal
ile, liberty, hoop skirt, &c., you hav on hand?
But it didn't work. I got into a row at the fust
house I stopt to, with some old maids. Disbelieven
the ansers they giv in regard to their ages I endevered
to open their mouths and look at their teeth,
same as they do with hosses, but they floo into a vilent
rage and tackled me with brooms and sich.
Takin the senses requires experiunse, like any other
bizniss.
-- -- p482-125
AN HONEST LIVING.
[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]
I was on my way from the mines to San Francisco,
with a light puss and a hevy hart. You'd
scarcely hav recognized my fair form, so kiverd was
I with dust. Bimeby I met Old Poodles, the allfirdist
gambler in the country. He was afoot and in
his shirt sleeves, and was in a wuss larther nor any
race hoss I ever saw.
“Whither goist thow, sweet nimp?” sez I, in a
play-actin tone.
“To the mines, Sir,” he unto me did say,” to the
mines, to earn an honest livin.”
Thinks I that air aint very cool, I guess, and
druv on.
-- -- p482-126
THE PRESS.
[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]
I want the editers to cum to my Show free as the
flours of May, but I don't want um to ride a free
hoss to deth. Thare is times when Patience seizes
to be virtoous. I hev “in my mind's eye, Hurrashio”
(cotashun from Hamlick) sum editers in a
sertin town which shall be nameless, who air Both
sneakin and ornery. They cum in krowds to my
Show and then axt me ten sents a lines for Puffs.
I objectid to payin, but they sed ef I didn't down
with the dust thay'd wipe my Show from the face of
the earth! They sed the Press was the Arkymedian
Leaver which moved the wurld. I put up to
their extorshuns until thay'd bled me so I was a
meer shadder, and left in disgust.
It was in a surtin town in Virginny, the Muther
of Presidents & things, that I was shaimfully
-- 108 --
[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]
aboozed by a editor in human form. He set my
Show up steep & kalled me the urbane & gentlemunly
manajer, but when I, fur the purpuss of
showin fair play all around, went to anuther offiss
to git my handbills printed, what duz this pussillanermus
editer do but change his toon & abooze me
like a Injun. He sed my wax wurks was a humbug
& called me a horey-heded itinerent vagabone. I
thort at fust Ide pollish him orf ar-lar the Beneki
Boy, but on reflectin that he cood pollish me much
wuss in his paper, I giv it up. & I wood here take
occashun to advise peple when thay run agin, as thay
sumtimes will, these miserable papers, to not pay no
attenshun to um. Abuv all, don't assault a editer
of this kind. It only gives him a notorosity, which
is jest what he wants, & don't do you no more good
than it wood to jump into enny other mud puddle.
Editers are generally fine men, but there must be
black sheep in every flock.
-- --
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-- --
"Fair Youth, do you know whot I'd do with you if you was my sun?"
[See Page 112.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Artemus, standing from his pew to chastise the young
man seated in front of him.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- -- p482-132
EDWIN FORREST AS OTHELLO.
[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]
Durin a recent visit to New York the undersined
went to see Edwin Forrest. As I'm into the moral
show bizness myself, I ginrally go to Barnum's moral
Museum, where only moral peple air admitted, partickly
on Wednesday arternoons. But this time I
thot I'd go & see Ed. Ed has bin actin out on the
stage for many years. There is varis 'pinions about
his actin, Englishmen ginrally bleevin that he is far
superior to Mister Macready; but on one pint all
agree, & that is that Ed draws like a six ox team.
Ed was actin at Niblo's Garding, which looks considerable
more like a parster than a garding, but let
that pars. I sot down in the pit, took out my spectacles
& commenced peroosin the evenin's bill. The
awjince was all-fired large & the boxes was full of
the elitty of New York. Sevral opery glasses was
leveld at me by Gothum's fairest darters. but I
-- 112 --
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didn't let on as tho I noticed it, tho mebby I did take
out my sixteen-dollar silver watch & brandish it
round more than was necessary. But the best of
us has our weaknesses & if a man has gewelry let
him show it. As I was peroosin the bill a grave
young man who sot near me, axed me if I'd ever
seen Forrest dance the Essence of Old Virginny?”
“He's immense in that,” sed the young man. “He
also does a fair champion jig,” the young man continnerd,
“but his Big Thing is the Essence of Old
Virginny.” Sez I, “Fair youth, do you know
what I'd do with you if you was my sun?”
“No,” sez he.
“Wall,” sez I, “I'd appint your funeral tomorrow
arternoon & the korps should be ready!
You're too smart to live on this yearth.” He didn't
try any more of his capers on me. But another
pussylanermuss individooul, in a red vest &
patent lether boots, told me his name was Bill Astor
& axed me to lend him 50 cents till early in the
mornin. I told him I'd probly send it round to him
before he retired to his virtoous couch, but if I
-- 113 --
[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]
didn't he might look for it next fall, as soon as I cut
my corn. The Orchestry was now fiddling with all
their might, & as the peple didn't understan anything
about it they applaudid versifrussly. Presently,
Old Ed cum out. The play was Otheller or
More of Veniss. Otheller was writ by Wm. Shakspeer.
The scene is laid in Veniss. Otheller was a
likely man & was a ginral in the Veniss army. He
eloped with Desdemony, a darter of the Hon. Mister
Brabantio, who represented one of the back districks
in the Veneshun legislater. Old Brabantio
was as mad as thunder at this & tore round considerable,
but finally cooled down, tellin Otheller, howsever,
that Desdemony had come it over her Par, &
that he had better look out or she'd come it over him
likewise. Mr. & Mrs. Otheller git along very comfortable
like for a spell. She is sweet-tempered and
luvin—a nice, sensible female, never goin in for
he-female conventions, green cotton umbrellers and
pickled beats. Otheller is a good provider and
thinks all the world of his wife. She has a lazy
time of it, the hired girl doin all the cookin and
-- 114 --
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washin. Desdemony, in fact, don't hav to git the
water to wash her own hands with. But a low cuss
named Iago, who I bleeve wants to git Otheller out
of his snug government birth, now goes to work &
upsets the Otheller family in the most outrajus
stile. Iago falls in with a braneless youth named
Roderigo & wins all his money at poker. (Iago allers
played foul.) He thus got money enuff to carry
out his onprincipled skeem. Mike Cassio, a Irishman,
is selected as a tool by Iago. Mike was a clever
feller & orficer in Otheller's army. He liked his
tods too well, howsever, & they floored him, as they
have many other promisin young men. Iago injuces
Mike to drink with him, Iago slyly throwin
his whisky over his shoulder. Mike gits as drunk
as a biled owl & allows that he can lick a yard full
of the Veneshun fancy before breakfast, without
sweatin a hair. He meets Roderigo & proceeds for
to smash him. A feller named Montano undertakes
to slap Cassio, when that infatooated person runs his
sword into him. That miserble man, Iago, pretents
to be very sorry to see Mike conduck hisself in this
-- 115 --
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way, & undertakes to smooth the thing over to
Otheller, who rushes in with a drawn sword & wants
to know what's up. Iago cunninly tells his story,
& Otheller tells Mike that he thinks a good deal of
him but he can't train no more in his regiment. Desdemony
sympathises with poor Mike & interceeds for him
with Otheller. Iago makes him bleeve she does this
because she thinks more of Mike than she does of
hisself. Otheller swallers Iago's lyin tail & goes
to makin a noosence of hisself ginrally. He worries
poor Desdemony terrible by his vile insinuations
& finally smothers her to deth with a piller.
Mrs. Iago cums in just as Otheller has finished the
fowl deed & givs him fits right & left, showin him
that he has bin orfully gulled by her miserble cuss
of a husband. Iago cums in, & his wife commences
rakin him down also, when he stabs her.
Otheller jaws him a spell & then cuts a small hole
in his stummick with his sword. Iago pints to Desdemony's
deth bed & goes orf with a sardonic smile
onto his countenance. Otheller tells the peple that he
has dun the state sum service & they know it; axes
-- 116 --
[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]
them to do as fair a thing as they can for him under
the circumstances, & kills hisself with a fish-knife,
which is the most sensible thing he can do.
This is a breef skedule of the synopsis of the play.
Edwin Forrest is a grate acter. I thot I saw
Otheller before me all the time he was actin, & when
the curtin fell, I found my spectacles was still mistened
with salt-water, which had run from my eyes
while poor Desdemony was dyin. Betsy Jane—
Betsy Jane! let us pray that our domestic bliss may
never be busted up by a Iago!
Edwin Forrest makes money actin out on the
stage. He gits five-hundred dollars a nite & his
board & washin. I wish I had such a Forrest in my
Garding!
-- -- p482-138
THE SHOW BUSINESS AND POPULAR LECTURES.
*
[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]
I feel that the Show Bizniss, which Ive stroven
to ornyment, is bein usurpt by Poplar Lecturs, as
thay air kalled, tho in my pinion thay air poplar
humbugs. Individoouls, who git hard up, embark
in the lecturin biznis. Thay cram theirselves with
hi soundin frazis, frizzle up their hare, git trustid
for a soot of black close & cum out to lectur at 50
dollers a pop. Thay aint over stockt with branes,
but thay hav brass enuff to make suffishunt kittles
to bile all the sope that will be required by the ensooin
sixteen ginerashuns. Peple flock to heer um
in krowds. The men go becawz its poplar & the
wimin folks go to see what other wimin folks have
on. When its over the lecturer goze & ragales
-- 118 --
[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]
hisself with oysters and sich, while the peple say
“What a charmin lectur that air was,” etsettery etsettery,
when 9 out of 10 of um don't have no
moore idee of what the lecturer sed than my kangeroo
has of the sevunth speer of hevun. Thare's
moore infurmashun to be gut out of a well conductid
noospaper—price 3 sents—than thare is out of
ten poplar lectures at 25 or 50 dollers a pop, as the
kase may be. These same peple, bare in mind,
stick up their nosis at moral wax figgers & sagashus
beests. Thay say these things is low. Gents, it
greeves my hart in my old age, when I'm in “the
Sheer & yeller leef” (to cote frum my Irish frend
Mister McBeth) to see that the Show biznis is pritty
much plade out, howsomever I shall chance it agane
in the Spring.
eaf482n2* It is proper to say that Mr. Ward has recently found occasion
to change his mind on this subject.
-- 119 -- p482-140
WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]
I pitcht my tent in a small town in Injianny one
day last seeson, & while I was standin at the dore
takin money, a deppytashun of ladies came up &
sed they wos members of the Bunkumville Female
Moral Reformin & Wimin's Rite's Associashun, and
thay axed me if they cood go in without payin.
“Not exactly,” sez I, “but you can pay without
goin in.”
“Dew you know who we air?” said one of the
wimin—a tall and feroshus lookin critter, with a
blew kotton umbreller under her arm—“do you
know who we air Sir?”
“My impreshun is,” sed I, “from a kersery view,
that you air females.”
“We air, Sur,” said the feroshus woman—
“We belong to a Society whitch beleeves wimin has
-- 120 --
[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]
rites—which beleeves in razin her to her proper
speer—whitch beleeves she is indowed with as
much intelleck as man is—whitch beleeves she is
trampled on and aboozed—& who will resist henso4th
& forever the incroachments of proud & domineering
men.”
Durin her discourse, the exsentric female grabed
me by the coat-kollor & was swinging her umbreller
wildly over my hed.
“I hope, marm, sez I, starting back, “that your
intensions is honorable? I'm a lone man hear in a
strange place. Besides, Ive a wife to hum.”
“Yes,” cried the female, “& she's a slave!
Doth she never dream of freedom—doth she never
think of throwin of the yoke of tyrrinny & thinkin
& votin for herself?—Doth she never think of
these here things?”
“Not bein a natral born fool,” sed I, by this
time a little riled, “I kin safely say that she dothunt.”
“O whot—whot!” screamed the female, swingin
her umbreller in the air. O, what is the price
that woman pays for her expeeriunce!”
-- 121 --
[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]
“I don't know,” sez I; “the price to my show
is 15 cents pur individooal.”
“& can't our Sosiety go in free?” asked the female.
“Not if I know it,” sed I.
“Crooil, crooil man!” she cried, & bust into
teers.
“Won't you let my darter in?” sed anuther of
the exsentric wimin, taken me afeckshunitely by the
hand. “O, please let my darter in —shee's a sweet
gushin child of natur.”
“Let her gush!” roared I, as mad as I cood
stick at their tarnal nonsense; “let her gush!”
Where upon they all sprung back with the simultanious
observashun that I was a Beest.
“My female friends,” sed I, “be4 you leeve, Ive
a few remarks to remark; wa them well. The female
woman is one of the greatest institooshuns of
which this land can boste. It's onpossible to get
along without her. Had there bin no female wimin
in the world, I should scarcely be here with my unparaleld
show on this very occashun. She is good
-- 122 --
[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]
in sickness—good in wellness—good all the time.
O, woman, woman!” I cried, my feelins worked
up to a hi poetick pitch, “you air a angle when you
behave yourself; but when you take off your proper
appairel & (mettyforically speaken)—get into
pantyloons—when you desert your firesides, & with
your heds full of wimin's rites noshuns go round
like roarin lyons, seekin whom you may devour
someboddy—in short, when you undertake to play
the man, you play the devil and air an emfatic noosance.
My female friends,” I continnered, as they
were indignantly departin, “wa well what A. Ward
has sed!”
-- 123 -- p482-144
WOULD-BE SEA DOGS.
[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]
Sum of the captings on the Upper Ohio River
put on a heep of airs. To hear 'em git orf saler
lingo you'd spose they'd bin on the briny Deep for
a life time, when the fact is they haint tasted salt
water since they was infants, when they had to take
it for worms. Still they air good natered fellers,
and when they drink they take a dose big enuff for
a grown person.
-- -- p482-145
ON “FORTS. ”
[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]
Every man has got a Fort. It's sum men's fort
to do one thing, and sum other men's fort to do
another, while there is numeris shiftliss critters goin
round loose whose fort is not to do nothin.
Shakspeer rote good plase, but he wouldn't hav
succeeded as a Washington correspondent of a New
York daily paper. He lackt the rekesit fancy and
imagginashun.
That's so!
Old George Washington's Fort was to not hev
eny public man of the present day resemble him to
eny alarmin extent. Whare bowts can George's
ekal be fownd? I ask, & boldly anser no whares,
or eny whare else.
Old man Townsin's Fort was to mark Sassyperiller.
“Goy to the world! anuther life saived!”
(Cotashun from Townsin's advertisemunt.)
-- --
[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]
-- --
Artemus rescood from the Kanawl. [See Page 128.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Artemus being plucked from the canal and held high overhead by
two burly men in a canoe.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]
-- 127 --
[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]
Cyrus Field's Fort is to lay a sub-machine tellegraf
under the boundin billers of the Oshun, and
then hev it Bust.
Spaldin's Fort is to maik Prepared Gloo, which
mends everything. Wonder ef it will mend a sinner's
wickid waze. (Impromptoo goak.)
Zoary's Fort is to be a femaile circus feller.
My Fort is the grate moral show bizniss & ritin
choice famerly literatoor for the noospapers. That's
what's the matter with me.
&c., &c., &c. So I mite go on to a indefnit extent.
Twict I've endeverd to do things which thay
wasn't my Fort. The fust time was when I undertuk
to lick a owdashus cuss who cut a hole in my
tent & krawld threw. Sez I, “my jentle Sir go
out or I shall fall onto you putty hevy.” Sez he,
“Wade in, Old wax figgers,” whareupon I went for
him, but he cawt me powerful on the hed & knockt
me threw the tent into a cow pastur. He pursood
the attack & flung me into a mud puddle. As I
aroze & rung out my drencht garmints I koncluded
-- 128 --
[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]
fitin wasn't my Fort. Ile now rize the kurtin upon
Seen 2nd: It is rarely seldum that I seek consolation
in the Flowin Bole. But in a sertin town in
Injianny in the Faul of 18——, my orgin grinder
got sick with the fever & died. I never felt so
ashamed in my life, & I thowt I'd hist in a few swallers
of suthin strengthin. Konsequents was I histid
in so much I dident zackly know whare bowts I
was. I turnd my livin wild beests of Pray loose
into the streets and spilt all my wax wurks. I then
Bet I cood play hoss. So I hitched myself to a
Kanawl bote, there bein two other hosses hitcht on
also, one behind and anuther ahead of me. The
driver hollerd for us to git up, and we did. But the
hosses bein onused to sich a arrangemunt begun to
kick & squeal and rair up. Konsequents was I was
kickt vilently in the stummuck & back, and presuntly
I fownd myself in the Kanawl with the other
hosses, kickin & yellin like a tribe of Cusscaroorus
savvijis. I was rescood, & as I was bein carrid to
the tavern on a hemlock Bored I sed in a feeble
voise, “Boys, playin hoss isn't my Fort.”
-- 129 --
[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]
Morul—Never don't do nothin which isn't your
Fort, for ef you do you'll find yourself splashin
round in the Kanawl, figgeratively speakin.
-- -- p482-153
PICCOLOMINI.
[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]
Gents—I arroved in Cleveland on Saturday P.
M. from Baldinsville jest in time to fix myself up
and put on a clean biled rag to attend Miss Picklehomony's
grate musical sorry at the Melodeon. The
krowds which pored into the hall augured well for
the show bisnis, & with cheerful sperrets I jined the
enthoosiastic throng. I asked Mr. Strakhosh at the
door if he parst the perfession, and he said not
much he didn't, whereupon I bawt a preserved seat
in the pit, & obsarving to Mr. Strakhosh that he
needn't put on so many French airs becawz he run
with a big show, and that he'd better let his weskut
out a few inches or perhaps he'd bust hisself some
fine day, I went in and squatted down. It was a sad
thawt to think that in all that vast aujience Scacely
a Sole had the honor of my acquaintance. “& this
-- 131 --
[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]
ere,” sed I Bitturly, “is Fame! What sigerfy my
wax figgers and livin wild beasts (which have no
ekals) to these peple? What do they care becawz
a site of my Kangaroo is worth dubble the price of
admission, and that my Snakes is as harmlis as the
new born babe — all of which is strictly troo —?”
I should have gone on ralein at Fortin and things
sum more, but jest then Signer Maccarony cum out
and sung a hairey from sum opry or other. He had
on his store close & looked putty slick, I must say.
Nobody didn't understand nothin abowt what he sed,
and so they applawdid him versiferusly. Then Signer
Brignoly cum out and sung another hairey.
He appeared to be in a Pensiv Mood & sung a Luv
song I suppose, tho he may have been cussin the
aujince all into a heep for aut I knewd. Then cum
Mr. Maccarony agin & Miss Picklehomony herself.
Thay sang a Doit together.
Now you know, gents, that I don't admire opry
music. But I like Miss Picklehomony's stile. I
like her gate. She suits me. Thare has bin grater
singers and there has bin more bootiful wimin, but
-- 132 --
[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]
no more fassinatin young female ever longed for a
new gown or side to place her hed agin a vest pattern
than Maria Picklehomony. Fassinatin peple is
her best holt. She was born to make hash of men's
buzzums & other wimin mad becawz thay ain't Picklehomonies.
Her face sparkles with amuzin cussedness
& about 200 (two hundred) little bit of funny
devils air continually dancin champion jigs in her
eyes, said eyes bein brite enuff to lite a pipe by.
How I shood like to have little Maria out on my
farm in Baldinsville, Injianny, whare she cood run
in the tall grass, wrastle with the boys, cut up strong
at parin bees, make up faces behind the minister's
back, tie auction bills to the skoolmaster's coat-tales,
set all the fellers crazy after her, & holler & kick
up, & go it just as much as she wanted to! But I
diegress. Every time she cum canterin out I grew
more and more delighted with her. When she
bowed her hed I bowed mine. When she powtid
her lips I powtid mine. When she larfed I larfed.
When she jerked her hed back and took a larfin
survey of the aujience, sendin a broadside of
-- 133 --
[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]
sassy smiles in among em, I tried to unjint myself
& kollapse. When, in tellin how she drempt she
lived in Marble Halls, she sed it tickled her more
than all the rest to dream she loved her feller still
the same, I made a effort to swaller myself; but
when, in the next song, she looked strate at me &
called me her Dear, I wildly told the man next to
me he mite hav my close, as I shood never want 'em
again no more in this world. [The Plain Dealer
containin this communicashun is not to be sent to
my famerly in Baldinsville under no circumstances
whatsomever.]
In conclushun, Maria, I want you to do well. I
know you air a nice gal at hart & you must get a
good husband. He must be a man of branes and
gumpshun & a good provider — a man who will luv
you strong and long — a man who will luv you jest
as much in your old age, when your voice is cracked
like an old tea kittle & you can't get 1 of your
notes discounted at 50 per sent a month, as he will
now, when you are young & charmin & full of music,
sunshine & fun. Don't marry a snob, Maria.
-- 134 --
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You ain't a Angel, Maria, & I am glad of it.
When I see angels in pettycoats I'm always sorry
thay hain't got wings so they can kin quietly fly off
where thay will be appreshiated. You air a woman,
& a mity good one too. As for Maccarony, Brignoly,
Mullenholler and them other fellers, they can
take care of theirselves. Old Mac. kin make a comfortable
livin choppin cord wood if his voice ever
givs out, and Amodio looks as tho he mite succeed
in conductin sum quiet toll gate, whare the vittles
would be plenty & the labor lite.
I am preparin for the Summer Campane. I
shall stay in Cleveland a few days and probly you
will hear from me again ear I leave to once more
becum a tosser on life's tempestuous billers, meanin
the Show Bisnis.
Very Respectively Yours,
Artemus Ward.
-- -- p482-158
LITTLE PATTI.
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The moosic which Ime most use to is the inspirin
stranes of the hand orgin. I hire a artistic Italyun
to grind fur me, payin him his vittles & close, & I
spose it was them stranes which fust put a moosical
taste into me. Like all furriners he had seen better
dase, havin formerly been a Kount. But he
aint of much akount now, except to turn the orgin
and drink Beer, of which bevrige he can hold a
churnful, easy.
Miss Patty is small for her size, but as the man
sed abowt his wife, O Lord! She is well bilt &
her complexion is what might be called a Broonetty.
Her ize is a dark bay, the lashes bein long & silky.
When she smiles the awjince feels like axing her to
doo it sum moor, & to continner doin it 2 a indefnit
extent. Her waste is one of the most bootiful
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wastisis ever seen. When Mister Strackhorse led her
out I thawt sum pretty skool gal, who had jest graduatid
frum pantalets & wire hoops, was a cumin out
to read her fust composishun in public. She cum
so bashful like, with her hed bowd down, & made
sich a effort to arrange her lips so thayd look pretty,
that I wanted to swaller her. She reminded me
of Susan Skinner, who'd never kiss the boys at
parin bees till the candles was blow'd out. Miss
Patty sung suthin or ruther in a furrin tung. I
don't know what the sentimunts was. Fur awt I
know she may hav bin denouncin my wax figgers &
sagashus wild beests of Pray, & I don't much keer
ef she did. When she opened her mowth a army
of martingales, bobolinks, kanarys, swallers, mockin
birds, etsettery, bust 4th & flew all over the
Haul.
Go it, little 1, sez I to myself, in a hily existed
frame of mind, & ef that kount or royal duke which
you'll be pretty apt to marry 1 of these dase don't
do the fair thing by ye, yu kin always hav a home
on A. Ward's farm, near Baldinsville, Injianny.
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When she sung Cumin threw the Rye, & spoke of
that Swayne she deerly luvd herself individooully,
I didn't wish I was that air Swayne. No I gess
not. Oh certainly not. [This is Ironical. I don't
meen this. It's a way I hav of goakin.] Now
that Maria Picklehominy has got married [which I
hopes she likes it] & left the perfeshun, Adeliny
Patty is the championess of the opery ring. She
karries the Belt. Thar's no draw fite about it.
Other primy donnys may as well throw up the
spunge first as last. My eyes don't deceive my earsite
in this matter.
But Miss Patty orter sing in the Inglish tung.
As she kin do so as well as she kin in Italyun, why
under the Son dont she do it? What cents is thare
in singin wurds nobody dont understan when wurds
we do understan is jest as handy? Why peple will
versifferusly applawd furrin langwidge is a mistery.
It reminds me of a man I onct knew. He sed he
knockt the bottum out of his pork Barril, & the
pork fell out, but the Brine dident moove a inch.
It stade in the Barril. He sed this was a Mistery,
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but it wasn't misterior than is this thing I'm speekin
of.
As fur Brignoly, Ferri and Junky, thay air
dowtless grate, but I think sich able boddied men
wood look better tillin the sile than dressin theirselves
up in black close & white kid gluvs & shoutin
in a furrin tung. Mister Junky is a noble
lookin old man & orter lead armies on to Battel instid
of shoutin in a furrin tung.
Adoo. In the langwidge of Lewis Napoleon
when receivin kumpany at his pallis on the Bullyvards,
“I saloot yu.”
-- -- p482-162
MISCELLANEOUS.
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"Oh that I should live to see myself a ded body!" screamed the
unfortnet man. [See Page 145.]
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CHAPTER I. — Elizy.
My story opens in the classic presinks of Bostin
In the parler of a bloated aristocratic mansion on
Bacon street sits a luvly young lady, whose hair is
cuverd ore with the frosts of between 17 Summers.
She has just sot down to the piany, and is warblin
the poplar ballad called "Smells of the Notion,"
in which she tells how with pensive thought, she
wandered by a C beat shore. The son is settin in
its horizon, and its gorjus light pores in a golden
meller flud through the winders, and makes the
young lady twict as beautiful nor what she was before
which is onnecessary. She is magnificently
dressed up in a Berago basque, with poplin
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trimins, More Antique, Ball Morals and 3 ply carpeting.
Also, considerable gauze. Her dress contains
16 flounders and her shoes is red morocker,
with gold spangles onto them. Presently she
jumps up with a wild snort, and pressin her hands
to her brow, she exclaims: “Methinks I see a
voice!”
A noble youth of 27 summers enters. He is attired
in a red shirt and black trowsis, which last air
turned up over his boots; his hat, which it is a
plug, being cockt onto one side of his classical hed.
In sooth, he was a heroic lookin person, with a fine
shape. Grease, in its barmiest days near projuced
a more hefty cavileer. Gazin upon him admirinly
for a spell, Elizy (for that was her name) organized
herself into a tabloo, and stated as follers.
“Ha! do me eyes deceive me earsight? Is it
some dreams? No, I reckon not! That frame!
them store close! those nose! Yes, it is me own,
me only Moses!”
He (Moses) folded her to his hart, with the remark
that he was “a hunkey boy.”
-- 143 --
CHAPTER II. — Was Moses of Noble Birth?
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Moses was foreman of Engine Co. No. 40.
Forty's fellers had just bin havin an annual reunion
with Fifty's fellers, on the day I introjuce
Moses to my readers, and Moses had his arms full
of trofees, to wit: 4 scalps, 5 eyes, 3 fingers, 7
ears, (which he chawed off) and several half and
quarter sections of noses. When the fair Elizy recovered
from her delight at meetin Moses, she
said: — “How hast the battle gonest? Tell me!”
“We chawed 'em up — that's what we did!”
said the bold Moses.
“I thank the gods!” sed the fair Elizy. “Thou
did'st excellent well. And, Moses,” she continnered,
layin her hed confidinly agin his weskit, “dost know
I sumtimes think thou istest of noble birth?”
“No!” said he, wildly ketchin hold of hisself.
“You don't say so!”
“Indeed do I! Your dead grandfather's sperrit
comest to me the tother night.”
“Oh no, I guess it's a mistake,” sed Moses.
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“I'll bet two dollars and a quarter he did!” replied
Elizy. “He said, `Moses is a Disguised
Juke!' ”
“You mean Duke,” said Moses.
“Dost not the actors all call it Juke!” said she.
That settled the matter.
“I hav thought of this thing afore,” said Moses,
abstractedly. “If it is so, then thus it must be!
2 B or not 2 B! Which? Sow, sow! But enuff.
O life! life!—you're too many for me!” He
tore out some of his pretty yeller hair, stampt on
the floor sevril times, and was gone.
CHAPTER III. —The Pirut Folled.
Sixteen long and weary years has elapst since the
seens narrated in the last chapter took place. A
noble ship, the Sary June, is a sailin from France to
Ameriky via the Wabash Canal. A pirut ship is in
hot pursoot of the Sary. The pirut capting isn't a
man of much principle and intends to kill all the
people on bored the Sary and confiscate the wallerbles.
The capting of the S. J. is on the pint of
-- 145 --
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givin in, when a fine lookin feller in russet boots and
a buffalo overcoat rushes forored and obsarves:
“Old man! go down stairs! Retire to the starbud
bulk-hed! I'll take charge of this Bote!”
“Owdashus cuss!” yelled the capting, “away
with thee or I shall do mur-rer-der-r-r!”
“Skurcely,” obsarved the stranger, and he drew
a diamond-hilted fish-knife and cut orf the capting's
hed. He expired shortly, his last words bein, “we
are governed too much.”
“People!” sed the stranger, “I'm the Juke
d'Moses!”
“Old hoss!” sed a passenger, “methinks thou
art blowin!” whareupon the Juke cut orf his hed
also.
“Oh that I should live to see myself a ded
body!” screamed the unfortnit man. “But don't
print any verses about my deth in the newspapers,
for if you do I'll haunt ye!”
“People!” sed the Juke, “I alone can save you
from yon bloody pirut! Ho! a peck of oats!”
The oats was brought, and the Juke, boldly mountin
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the jibpoop, throwed them onto the towpath. The
pirut rapidly approached, chucklin with fiendish delight
at the idee of increasin his ill-gotten gains.
But the leadin hoss of the pirut ship stopt suddent
on comin to the oats, and commenst for to devour
them. In vain the piruts swore and throwd stones
and bottles at the hoss—he wouldn't budge a
inch. Meanwhile the Sary Jane, her hosses on the
full jump, was fast leavin the pirut ship!
“Onct agin do I escape deth!” sed the Juke between
his clencht teeth, still on the jibpoop.
CHAPTER IV. —The Wanderer's Return.
The Juke was Moses the Says! Yes, it was!
He had bin to France and now he was home agin
in Bostin, which gave birth to a Bunker Hill!!
He had some trouble in gitting hisself acknowledged
as Juke in France, as the Orleans Dienasty
and Borebones were fernest him, but he finally conkered.
Elizy knowd him right off, as one of his
ears and a part of his nose had bin chawed off in
his fights with opposition firemen durin boyhood's
-- 147 --
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sunny hours. They lived to a green old age, beloved
by all, both grate and small. Their children,
of which they have numerous, often go up onto the
Common and see the Fountain squirt.
This is my 1st attempt at writin a Tail & it is far
from bein perfeck, but if I have indoosed folks to
see that in 9 cases out of 10 they can either make
Life as barren as the Dessert of Sarah, or as joyyus
as a flower garding, my objeck will have bin
accomplished, and more too.
-- 148 -- p482-175
To my friends of the Editorial Corpse:
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I rite these lines on British sile. I've bin follerin
Mrs. Victory's hopeful sun Albert Edward threw
Kanady with my onparaleled Show, and tho I haint
made much in a pecoonery pint of vew, I've lernt
sumthin new, over hear on British Sile, whare they
bleeve in Saint Gorge and the Dragoon. Previs to
cumin over hear I tawt my organist how to grind
Rule Brittanny and other airs which is poplar on
British Sile. I likewise fixt a wax figger up to represent
Sir Edmun Hed the Govner Ginral. The
statoot I fixt up is the most versytile wax statoot I
ever saw. I've showd it as Wm. Penn, Napoleon
Bonypart, Juke of Wellington, the Beneker Boy,
Mrs. Cunningham & varis other notid persons, &
also for a sertin pirut named Hix. I've bin so long
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amung wax statoots that I can fix 'em up to soot
the tastes of folks, & with sum paints I hav I kin
giv their facis a beneverlent or fiendish look as the
kase requires. I giv Sir Edmun Hed a beneverlent
look, & when sum folks who thawt they was smart
sed it didn't look like Sir Edmun Hed anymore
than it did anybody else, I sed, “That's the pint.
That's the beauty of the Statoot. It looks like Sir
Edmun Hed or any other man. You may kall it
what you pleese. Ef it don't look like anybody that
ever lived, then it's sertinly a remarkable Statoot &
well worth seein. I kall it Sir Edmun Hed. You
may kall it what you darn pleese!” [I had 'em
thare.]
At larst I've had a interview with the Prince, tho
it putty nigh cost me my vallerble life. I cawt a
glimps of him as he sot on the Pizarro of the hotel
in Sarnia, & elbowd myself threw a crowd of wimin,
children, sojers & Injins that was hangin round the
tavern. I was drawin near to the Prince when a
red faced man in Millingtery close grabd holt of me
and axed me whare I was goin all so bold?
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“To see Albert Edard the Prince of Wales,” sez
I; “who are you?”
He sed he was Kurnel of the Seventy Fust Regiment,
Her Magisty's troops. I told him I hoped
the Seventy Onesters was in good helth, and was
passin by when he ceased hold of me agin, and sed
in a tone of indigent cirprise:
“What? Impossible! It kannot be! Blarst
my hize, sir, did I understan you to say that you
was actooally goin into the presents of his Royal
Iniss?”
“That's what's the matter with me,” I replide.
“But blarst my hize, sir, its onprecedented. It's
orful, sir. Nothin' like it hain't happened sins the
Gun Power Plot of Guy Forks. Owdashus man,
who air yu?”
“Sir,” sez I, drawin myself up & puttin on a
defiant air, “I'm a Amerycan sitterzen. My name
is Ward. I'm a husband & the father of twins,
which I'm happy to state thay look like me. By
perfeshun I'm a exhibiter of wax works & sich.”
“Good God!” yelled the Kurnal, “the idee of
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a exhibiter of wax figgers goin into the presents of
Royalty! The British Lion may well roar with
raje at the thawt!”
Sez I, “Speakin of the British Lion, Kurnal,
I'd like to make a bargin with you fur that beast
fur a few weeks to add to my Show.” I didn't
meen nothin by this. I was only gettin orf a goak,
but you orter hev seen the Old Kurnal jump up &
howl. He actooally fomed at the mowth.
“This can't be real,” he showtid. “No, no.
It's a horrid dream. Sir, you air not a human bein—
you hav no existents—yure a Myth!”
“Wall,” sez I, “old hoss, yule find me a ruther
onkomfortable Myth ef you punch my inards in that
way agin.” I began to git a little riled, fur when
he called me a Myth he puncht me putty hard.
The Kurnal now commenst showtin fur the Seventy
Onesters. I at fust thawt I'd stay & becum a Marter
to British Outraje, as sich a course mite git my
name up & be a good advertisement fur my Show,
but it occurred to me that ef enny of the Seventy
Onesters shood happen to insert a barronet into my
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stummick it mite be onplesunt, & I was on the pint
of runnin orf when the Prince hisself kum up &
axed me what the matter was. Sez I, “Albert
Edard is that you?” & he smilt & sed it was.
Sez I, “Albert Edard, hears my keerd. I cum to
pay my respecks to the futer King of Ingland.
The Kurnal of the Seventy Onesters hear is ruther
smawl pertaters, but of course you ain't to blame
fur that. He puts on as many airs as tho he was
the Bully Boy with the glass eye.”
“Never mind,” sez Albert Edard, “I'm glad to
see you, Mister Ward, at all events,” & he tuk my
hand so plesunt like & larfed so sweet that I fell in
love with him to onct. He handid me a segar & we
sot down on the Pizarro & commenst smokin rite
cheerful. “Wall,” sez I, “Albert Edard, how's
the old folks?”
“Her Majesty & the Prince are well,” he sed.
“Duz the old man take his Lager beer reglar?”
I inquired.
The Prince larfed & intermatid that the old man
didn't let many kegs of that bevridge spile in the
-- 153 --
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sellar in the coarse of a year. We sot & tawked
there sum time abowt matters & things, & bimeby I
axed him how he liked bein Prince as fur as h'ed
got.
“To speak plain, Mister Ward,” he sed, “I
don't much like it. I'm sick of all this bowin &
scrapin & crawlin & hurrain over a boy like me.
I would rather go through the country quietly &
enjoy myself in my own way, with the other boys,
& not be made a Show of to be garped at by everybody.
When the peple cheer me I feel pleesed, fur
I know they meen it, but if these one-horse offishuls
cood know how I see threw all their moves & understan
exackly what they air after, & knowd how I
larft at 'em in private, thayd stop kissin my hands
& fawnin over me as thay now do. But you know
Mr. Ward I can't help bein a Prince, & I must do
all I kin to fit myself fur the persishun I must
sumtime ockepy.”
“That's troo,” sez I; “sickness and the docters
will carry the Queen orf one of these dase, sure's
yer born.”
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The time hevin arove fur me to take my departer
I rose up & sed: “Albert Edard, I must go, but
previs to doin so I will obsarve that you soot me.
Yure a good feller Albert Edard, & tho I'm agin
Princes as a gineral thing, I must say I like the cut
of your Gib. When you git to be King try and be
as good a man as yure muther has bin.! Be just &
be Jenerus, espeshully to showmen, who hav allers
bin aboozed sins the dase of Noah, who was the fust
man to go into the Menagery bizniss, & ef the daily
papers of his time air to be beleeved Noah's colleckshun
of livin wild beests beet ennything ever seen
sins, tho I make bold to dowt ef his snaiks was
ahead of mine. Albert Edard, adoo!” I tuk his
hand which he shook warmly, & givin him a perpetooal
free pars to my show, & also parses to take hum
for the Queen & Old Albert, I put on my hat and
walkt away
“Mrs. Ward,” I solilerquized, as I walkt along,
“Mrs. Ward, ef you could see your husband now,
just as he prowdly emerjis from the presunts of the
futur King of Ingland, you'd be sorry you called
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him a Beest jest becaws he cum home tired 1 nite
and wantid to go to bed without takin orf his boots.
You'd be sorry for tryin to deprive yure husband of
the priceliss Boon of liberty, Betsy Jane!”
Jest then I met a long perseshun of men with
gownds onto 'em. The leader was on horseback, &
ridin up to me he sed, “Air you Orange?”
Sez I, “Which?”
“Air you a Orangeman?” he repeated, sternly.
“I used to peddle lemins,” sed I, “but I never
delt in oranges. They are apt to spile on yure
hands. What particler Loonatic Asylum hev you
& yure frends escaped frum, ef I may be so bold?”
Just then a suddent thawt struck me & I sed, “Oh
yure the fellers who air worryin the Prince so &
givin the Juke of Noocastle cold sweats at nite, by
yure infernal catawalins, air you? Wall, take the
advice of a Amerykin sitterzen, take orf them
gownds & don't try to get up a religious fite, which
is 40 times wuss nor a prize fite, over Albert Edard,
who wants to receive you all on a ekal footin, not
keerin a tinker's cuss what meetin house you sleep
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in Sundays. Go home and mind yure bisness & not
make noosenses of yourselves.” With which observashuns
I left 'em.
I shall leeve British sile 4thwith.
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I don't pertend to be a cricket & consekently the
reader will not regard this 'ere peace as a Cricketcism.
I cimply desine givin the pints & Plot of a
play I saw actid out at the theater t'other nite,
called Ossywattermy Brown or the Hero of Harper's
Ferry. Ossywattermy had varis failins, one of
which was a idee that he cood conker Virginny with
a few duzzen loonatics which he had pickt up sumwhares,
mercy only nose wheu. He didn't cum it,
as the sekel showed. This play was jerkt by a
admirer of Old Ossywattermy.
First akt opens at North Elby, Old Brown's
humsted. Thare's a weddin at the house. Amely,
Old Brown's darter, marrys sumbody, and they all
whirl in the Messy darnce. Then Ossywattermy
and his 3 suns leave fur Kansis. Old Mrs.
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Ossywattermy tells 'em thay air goin on a long jurny &
Blesses 'em to slow fiddlin. Thay go to Kansis.
What upon arth thay go to Kansis fur when thay
was so nice & comfortable down there to North
Elby, is more'n I know. The suns air next seen in
Kansis at a tarvern. Mister Blane, a sinister
lookin man with his Belt full of knives & hoss
pistils, axes one of the Browns to take a drink.
Brown refuzis, which is the fust instance on record
whar a Brown deklined sich a invite. Mister Blane,
who is a dark bearded feroshus lookin person, then
axis him whether he's fur or fernenst Slavery. Yung
Brown sez he's agin it, whareupon Mister Blane,
who is the most sinisterest lookin man I ever saw,
sez Har, har, har! (that bein his stile of larfin wildly)
& ups & sticks a knife into yung Brown. Anuther
Brown rushes up & sez, “you has killed me
Ber-ruther!” Moosic by the Band & Seen changes.
The stuck yung Brown enters supported by his two
brothers. Bimeby he falls down, sez he sees his
Mother, & dies. Moosic by the Band. I lookt but
couldn't see any mother. Next Seen reveels Old
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Brown's cabin. He's readin a book. He sez freedum
must extend its Area & rubs his hands like he
was pleesed abowt it. His suns come in. One of'
em goes out & cums in ded, havin bin shot while
out by a Border Ruffin. The ded yung Brown sez
he sees his mother and tumbles down. The Border
Ruffins then surround the cabin & set it a fire.
The Browns giv theirselves up for gone coons, when
the hired gal diskivers a trap door to the cabin &
thay go down threw it & cum up threw the bulkhed.
Their merraklis 'scape reminds me of the 'scape of
De Jones the Coarsehair of the Gulf — a tail with
a yaller kiver, that I onct red. For sixteen years
he was confined in a loathsum dunjin, not tastin of
food durin all that time. When a lucky thawt
struck him! He opend the winder and got out.
To resoom — Old Brown rushes down to the footlites,
gits down on his nees & swares he'll hav
revenge. The battle of Ossawattermy takes place.
Old Brown kills Mister Blane, the sinister individcoal
aforesed. Mister Blane makes a able &
elerquent speech, sez he don't see his mother much,
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and dies like a son of a gentleman, rapt up in the
Star Spangled Banner. Moosic by the Band.
Four or five other Border ruffins air killed but thay
don't say nothin abowt seein their mothers. From
Kansis to Harper's Ferry. Picter of a Arsenal is
represented. Sojers cum & fire at it. Old Brown
cums out & permits hisself to be shot. He is tride
by two soops in milingtery close, and sentenced to be
hung on the gallus. Tabloo — Old Brown on a
platform, pintin upards, the staige lited up with red
fire. Goddiss of Liberty also on platform, pintin
upards. A dutchman in the orkestry warbles on a
base drum. Curtin falls. Moosic by the Band.
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"Twins, Marm," sez I, "Twins!" [See Page 165.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Artemus running around with his hands in the air, being
grabbed by a gaunt woman, as chickens run around at their
feet.[end figure description]
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Dear Sirs:—
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I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am
in a state of grate bliss, and trust these lines will
find you injoyin the same blessins. I'm reguvinated.
I've found the immortal waters of yooth, so to
speak, and am as limber and frisky as a two-year
old steer, and in the futer them boys which sez to
me “go up, old Bawld hed,” will do so at the peril
of their hazard, individooally. I'm very happy.
My house is full of joy, and I have to git up nights
and larf! Sumtimes I ax myself “is it not a
dream?” & suthin withinto me sez “it air;” but
when I look at them sweet little critters and hear'
em squawk, I know it is a reality—2 realitys, I
may say—and I feel gay.
I returned from the Summer Campane with my
unparaleld show of wax works and livin wild Beests
-- 164 --
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of Pray in the early part of this munth. The
peple of Baldinsville met me cordully and I immejitly
commenst restin myself with my famerly. The
other nite while I was down to the tavurn tostin my
shins agin the bar room fire & amuzin the krowd
with sum of my adventurs, who shood cum in bare
heded & terrible excited but Bill Stokes, who sez,
sez he, “Old Ward, there's grate doins up to your
house.”
Sez I, “William, how so?”
Sez he, “Bust my gizzud, but its grate doins,” &
then he larfed as if hee'd kill hisself.
Sez I, risin and puttin on a austeer look, “William,
I woodunt be a fool if I had common cents.”
But he kept on larfin till he was black in the
face, when he fell over on to the bunk where the
hostler sleeps, and in a still small voice sed,
“Twins!” I ashure you gents that the grass
didn't grow under my feet on my way home, & I
was follered by a enthoosiastic throng of my feller
sitterzens, who hurrard for Old Ward at the top of
their voises. I found the house chock full of peple.
-- 165 --
[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]
Thare was Mis Square Baxter and her three grown
up darters, lawyer Perkinses wife, Taberthy Ripley,
young Eben Parsuns, Deakun Simmuns folks, the
Skoolmaster, Doctor Jordin, etsettery, etsettery.
Mis Ward was in the west room, which jines the
kitchin. Mis Square Baxter was mixin suthin in a
dipper before the kitchin fire, & a small army of
female wimin were rushin wildly round the house
with bottles of camfire, peaces of flannil, &c. I
never seed sich a hubbub in my natral born dase.
I cood not stay in the west room only a minit, so
strung up was my feelins, so I rusht out and ceased
my dubbel barrild gun.
“What upon airth ales the man?” sez Taberthy
Ripley. “Sakes alive, what air you doin?” & she
grabd me by the coat tales. “What's the matter
with you?” she continnerd.
“Twins, marm,” sez I, “twins!”
“I know it,” sez she, coverin her pretty face
with her apun.
“Wall,” sez I, “that's what's the matter with
me!”
-- 166 --
[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]
“Wall put down that air gun, you pesky old
fool,” sed she.
“No, marm,” sez I, “this is a Nashunal day.
The glory of this here day isn't confined to Baldinsville
by a darn site. On yonder woodshed,” sed I,
drawin myself up to my full hite and speakin in a
show actin voice, “will I fire a Nashunal saloot!”
sayin whitch I tared myself from her grasp and
rusht to the top of the shed whare I blazed away
until Square Baxter's hired man and my son
Artemus Juneyer cum and took me down by mane
force.
On returnin to the Kitchin I found quite a lot of
people seated be4 the fire, a talkin the event over.
They made room for me & I sot down. “Quite a
eppisode,” sed Docter Jordin, litin his pipe with a
red hot coal.
“Yes,” sed I, “2 eppisodes, waying abowt 18
pounds jintly.”
“A perfeck coop de tat,” sed the skoolmaster.
“E pluribus unum, in proprietor persony,” sed I,
thinking I'd let him know I understood furrin
-- 167 --
[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]
langwidges as well as he did, if I wasn't a skoolmaster.
“It is indeed a momentious event,” sed young
Eben Parsuns, who has been 2 quarters to the
Akademy.
“I never heard twins called by that name afore,”
sed I, “but I spose it's all rite.”
“We shall soon have Wards enuff,” sed the
editer of the Baldinsville Bugle of Liberty, who
was lookin over a bundle of exchange papers in the
corner, “to apply to the legislater for a City
Charter?”
“Good for you, old man!” sed I, “giv that air
a conspickius place in the next Bugle.”
“How redicklus,” sed pretty Susan Fletcher,
coverin her face with her knittin work & larfin like
all possest.
“Wall, for my part,” sed Jane Maria Peasley
who is the crossest old made in the world, “I think
you all act like a pack of fools.”
Sez I, “Mis. Peasly, air you a parent?”
Sez she, “No, I aint.”
-- 168 --
[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]
Sez I, “Mis. Peasly, you never will be.”
She left.
We sot there talkin & larfin until “the switchin
hour of nite, when grave yards yawn & Josts troop
4th,” as old Bill Shakespire aptlee obsarves in his
dramy of John Sheppard, esq., or the Moral House
Breaker, when we broke up & disbursed.
Muther & children is a doin well; & as Resolushuns
is the order of the day I will feel obleeged if
you'll insurt the follerin—
Whereas, two Eppisodes has happined up to the
undersined's house, which is Twins; & Whereas I
like this, stile, sade twins bein of the male perswashun
& both boys; there4 Be it
Resolved, that to them nabers who did the fare
thing by sade Eppisodes my hart felt thanks is doo.
Resolved, that I do most hartily thank Engine
Ko. No. 17 who, under the impreshun from the fuss
at my house on that auspishus nite that thare was a
konflagration goin on, kum galyiantly to the spot,
but kindly refraned frum squirtin.
Resolved, that frum the Bottum of my Sole do I
-- 169 --
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thank the Baldinsville brass band fur givin up the
idea of Sarahnadin me, both on that great nite &
sinse.
Resolved, that my thanks is doo several members
of the Baldinsville meetin house who fur 3 whole
dase hain't kalled me a sinful skoffer or intreeted me
to mend my wicked wase and jine sade meetin house
to onct.
Resolved, that my Boozum teams with meny kind
emoshuns towards the follerin individoouls, to whit
namelee—Mis. Square Baxter, who Jenerusly refoozed
to take a sent for a bottle of camfire; lawyer
Perkinses wife who rit sum versis on the Eppisodes;
the Editer of the Baldinsville Bugle of Liberty,
who nobly assisted me in wollupin my Kangeroo,
which sagashus little cuss seriusly disturbed the Eppisodes
by his outrajus screetchins & kickins up;
Mis. Hirum Doolittle, who kindly furnisht sum cold
vittles at a tryin time, when it wasunt konvenient
to cook vittles at my house; & the Peasleys, Parsunses
& Watsunses fur there meny ax of kindness.
Trooly yures.
Artemus Ward.
-- 170 -- p482-199
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In overhaulin one of my old trunks the tother
day, I found the follerin' jernal of a vyge on the
starnch canawl bote, Polly Ann, which happened to
the subscriber when I was a young man (in the
Brite Lexington of yooth, when thar aint no sich
word as fale) on the Wabash Canawl:
(Monday 2 P. M.) Got under wa. Hosses not
remarkable frisky at fust. Had to bild fires under'
em before they'd start. Started at larst very suddent,
causin the bote for to lurch vilently and
knockin me orf from my pins. (Sailor frase.)
Sevral passenjers on bored. Parst threw deliteful
country. Honist farmers was to work sowin korn,
& other projuce in the fields. Surblime scenery.
Large red-heded gal reclinin on the banks of the
Canawl, bathin her feet.
Turned in at 15 minits parst eleving.
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Toosdy—Riz at 5 and went up on the poop deck.
Took a grown person's dose of licker with a member
of the Injianny legislater, which he urbanely insisted
on allowin me to pay for. Bote tearin threu
the briny waters at the rate of 2 Nots a hour, when
the boy on the leadin hoss shoutid,
“Sale hoe!”
“Whar away?” hollered the capting, clearin his
glass (a empty black bottle, with the bottom knockt
out) and bringing it to his Eagle eye.
“Bout four rods to the starbud,” screamed the
boy.
“Jes so,” screeched the capting. “What wessel's
that air?”
“Kickin Warier of Terry Hawt, and be darned
to you!”
“I, I Sir!” hollered our capting. “Reef your
arft hoss, splice your main jib-boom, and hail your
chambermaid! What's up in Terry Hawt?”
“You know Bill Spikes?” sed the capting of the
Warier.
“Wall, I reckin. He kan eat more fride pork
-- 172 --
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nor any man of his heft on the Wabash. He's a ornament
to his sex!”
“Wall,” continued the capting of the Kickin
Marier. “Wilyim got a little owly the tother day,
and got to prancin around town on that old white
mare of his'n, and bein in a playful mood, he rid up
in front of the Court 'us whar old Judge Perkins
was a holdin Court, and let drive his rifle at him.
The bullet didn't hit the Judge at all; it only jes
whizzed parst his left ear, lodgin in the wall behind
him; but what d'ye spose the old despot did? Why,
he actooally fined Bill ten dollars for contempt of
Court! What do you think of that?” axed the
capting of the Marier, as he parst a long black bottle
over to our capting.
“The country is indeed in danger!” sed our capting,
raisin the bottle to his lips. The wessels parted.
No other incidents that day. Retired to my
chased couch at 5 minits parst 10.
(Wensdy.) Riz arly. Wind blowin N. W. E.
Hevy sea on and ship rollin wildly in consekents of
pepper-corns havin bin fastened to the forrerd hoss's
-- 173 --
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tale. “Heave two!” roared the capting to the man
at the rudder, as the Polly giv a friteful toss. I
was sick, an sorry I'd cum. “Heave two!” repeated
the capting. I went below. “Heave two!”
I hearn him holler agin, and stickin my hed out of
the cabin winder, I hev.
The hosses became dosile eventually, and I felt
better. The sun bust out in all his splender, disregardless
of expense, and lovely Natur put in her
best licks. We parst the beautiful village of Limy,
which lookt sweet indeed, with its neat white cottages,
Institoots of learnin and other evijences of
civillizashun, incloodin a party of bald heded cullered
men who was playing 3 card monty on the stoop
of the Red Eagle tavern. All, all was food for my
2 poetic sole. I went below to breakfast, but vittles
had lost their charms. “Take sum of this,”
sed the Capting, shovin a bottle tords my plate.
“It's whisky. A few quarts allers sets me right
when my stummick gits out of order. It's a excellent
tonic!” I declined the seductive flooid.
(Thursday.) Didn't rest well last night on
-- 174 --
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account of a uprore made by the capting, who stopt
the Bote to go ashore and smash in the windows of
a grosery. He was brought back in about a hour,
with his hed dun up in a red hankercher, his eyes
bein swelled up orful, and his nose very much out
of jint. He was bro't aboard on a shutter by his
crue, and deposited on the cabin floor, the passenjers
all risin up in their births, pushin the red curtains
aside & lookin out to see what the matter was.
“Why do you allow your pashuns to run away with
you in this onseemly stile, my misgided frend?”
sed a sollum lookin man in a red flannel nite-cap.
“Why do you sink yourself to the Beasts of the
field?”
“Wall, the fack is,” sed the capting, risin hisself
on the shutter, “I've bin a little prejoodiced agin
that grosery for some time. But I made it lively
for the boys, Deacon! Bet yer life!” He larfed
a short, wild larf, and called for his jug. Sippin a
few pints, he smiled gently upon the passengers, sed
“Bless you! bless you!” and fell into a sweet
sleep.
-- 175 --
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Eventually we reached our jerny's end. This
was in the days of Old Long Sign, be4 the iron
hoss was foaled. This was be4 steembotes was goin
round bustin their bilers & sendin peple higher nor
a kite. Them was happy days when peple was intelligent
& wax figger's & livin wild beests wasn't
scoffed at.
“O dase of me boyhood
I'm dreamin on ye now!”
(Poeckry.)
A. W.
-- -- p482-205
[figure description] Page 176.[end figure description]
I hav no politics. Nary a one. I'm not in the
bisiness. If I was I spose I should holler versiffrusly
in the streets at nite and go home to Betsy
Jane smellen of coal ile and gin, in the mornin. I
should go to the Poles arly. I should stay there all
day. I should see to it that my nabers was thar.
I should git carriges to take the kripples, the infirm
and the indignant thar. I should be on guard agin
frauds and sich. I should be on the look out for
the infamus lise of the enemy, got up jest be4 elecshun
for perlitical effeck. When all was over and
my candydate was elected, I should move heving &
arth — so to speak — until I got orfice, which if I
didn't git a orfice I should turn round and abooze the
Administration with all my mite and maine. But
-- --
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-- --
An Interview with President Lincoln. [See Page 186.]
[figure description] Image of Artemus shaking hands with President Lincoln.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
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[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- 179 --
[figure description] Page 179.[end figure description]
I'm not in the bisniss. I'm in a far more respectful
bisniss nor what pollertics is. I wouldn't giv two
cents to be a Congresser. The wuss insult I ever
received was when sertin citizens of Baldinsville
axed me to run fur the Legislater. Sez I, My
frends, dostest think I'd stoop to that there?”
They turned as white as a sheet. I spoke in my
most orfullest tones, & they knowd I wasn't to be
trifled with. They slunked out of site to onct.
There4, havin no polities, I made bold to visit Old
Abe at his humstid in Springfield. I found the old
feller in his parler, surrounded by a perfeck swarm
of orfice seekers. Knowin he had been capting of
a flat boat on the roarin Mississippy I thought I'd
address him in sailor lingo, so sez I “Old Abe,
ahoy! Let out yer main-suls, reef hum the forecastle
& throw yer jib-poop over-board! Shiver
my timbers, my harty!” [N. B. This is ginuine
mariner langwidge. I know, becawz I've seen
sailor plays acted out by them New York theater
fellers.] Old Abe lookt up quite cross & sez,
“Send in yer petition by & by. I can't possibly
-- 180 --
[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]
look at it now. Indeed, I can't. It's onpossible,
sir!”
“Mr. Linkin, who do you spect I air?” sed I.
“A orfice-seeker, to be sure?” sed he.
“Wall, sir,” sed I, “you's never more mistaken
in your life. You hain't gut a orfiss I'd take under
no circumstances. I'm A. Ward. Wax figgers is
my perfeshun. I'm the father of Twins, and they
look like me — both of them. I cum to pay a
frendly visit to the President eleck of the United
States. If so be you wants to see me say so — if
not, say so, & I'm orf like a jug handle.”
“Mr. Ward, sit down. I am glad to see you,
Sir.”
“Repose in Abraham's Buzzum!” sed one of
the orfice seekers, his idee bein to git orf a goak at
my expense.
“Wall,” sez I, “ef all you fellers repose in that
there Buzzum thare'll be mity poor nussin for sum
of you!” whereupon Old Abe buttoned his weskit
clear up and blusht like a maidin of sweet 16.
Jest at this pint of the conversation another swarm
-- 181 --
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of orfice-seekers arrove & cum pilin into the parler.
Sum wanted post orfices, sum wanted collectorships.
sum wantid furrin missions, and all wanted sumthin.
I thought Old Abe would go crazy. He hadn't
more than had time to shake hands with 'em, before
another tremenjis crowd cum porein onto his premises.
His house and dooryard was now perfeckly
overflowed with orfice seekers, all clameruss for a
immejit interview with Old Abe. One man from
Ohio, who had about seven inches of corn whisky
into him, mistook me for Old Abe and addrest me
as “The Pra-hayrie Flower of the West!”
Thinks I you want a offiss putty bad. Another man
with a gold heded cane and a red nose told Old Abe
he was “a seckind Washington & the Pride of the
Boundliss West.”
Sez I, “Square, you wouldn't take a small postoffis
if you could git it, would you?”
Sez he, “a patrit is abuv them things, sir!”
“There's a putty big crop of patrits this season,
aint there Squire?” sez I, when another crowd of
offiss seekers pored in. The house, door-yard, barn
-- 182 --
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& woodshed was now all full, and when another
crowd cum I told 'em not to go away for want of
room as the hog-pen was still empty. One patrit
from a small town in Michygan went up on top the
house, got into the chimney and slid down into
the parler where Old Abe was endeverin to keep
the hungry pack of orfice-seekers from chawin him
up alive without benefit of clergy. The minit he
reached the fire-place he jumpt up, brusht the soot
out of his eyes, and yelled: “Don't make eny pintment
at the Spunkville postoffiss till you've read my
papers. All the respectful men in our town is
signers to that there dockyment!”
“Good God!” cride Old Abe, “they cum upon
me from the skize—down the chimneys, and from
the bowels of the yearth!” He hadn't more'n got
them words out of his delikit mouth before two fat
offiss-seekers from Wisconsin, in endeverin to crawl
atween his legs for the purpuss of applyin for the
tollgateship at Milwawky, upsot the President eleck
& he would hev gone sprawlin into the fire-place if
I hadn't caught him in these arms. But I hadn't
-- 183 --
[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]
morn'n stood him up strate before another man cum
crashin down the chimney, his head strikin me vilently
agin the inards and prostratin my voluptoous
form onto the floor. “Mr. Linkin,” shoutid the
infatooated being, “my papers is signed by every
clergyman in our town, and likewise the skoolmaster!”
Sez I, “you egrejis ass,” gittin up & brushin the
dust from my eyes, “I'll sign your papers with this
bunch of bones, if you don't be a little more keerful
how you make my bread basket a depot in the futer.
How do you like that air perfumery?” sez I, shuving
my fist under his nose. “Them's the kind of
papers I'll giv you! Them's the paper's you
want!”
“But I workt hard for the ticket; I toiled night
and day! The patrit should be rewarded!”
“Virtoo,” sed I, holdin' the infatooated man by
the coat-collar, “virtoo, sir, is its own reward.
Look at me!” He did look at me, and qualed be4
my gase. “The fact is,” I continued, lookin' round
on the hungry crowd, “there is scacely a offiss for
-- 184 --
[figure description] Page 184.[end figure description]
every ile lamp carrid round durin' this campane. I
wish thare was. I wish thare was furrin missions to
be filled on varis lonely Islands where eppydemics
rage incessantly, and if I was in Old Abe's place I'd
send every mother's son of you to them. What air
you here for?” I continnered, warmin up considerable,
“can't you giv Abe a minit's peace? Don't
you see he's worrid most to death! Go home, you
miserable men, go home & till the sile! Go to peddlin
tinware—go to choppin wood—go to bilin'
sope—stuff sassengers—black boots—git a clerkship
on sum respectable manure cart—go round as
original Swiss Bell Ringers—becum `origenal and
only' Campbell Minstrels—go to lecturin at 50 dollars
a nite—imbark in the peanut bizniss—write
for the Ledger—saw off your legs and go round
givin concerts, with techin appeals to a charitable
public, printed on your handbills—anything for a
honest living, but don't come round here drivin Old
Abe crazy by your outrajis cuttings up! Go home.
`Stand not upon the order of your goin,' but go to
onct! If in five minits from this time,” sez I pullin'
-- 185 --
[figure description] Page 185.[end figure description]
out my new sixteen dollar huntin cased watch,
and brandishin' it before their eyes, “Ef in five
minits from this time a single sole of you remains
on these here premises, I'll go out to my cage near
by, and let my Boy Constructor loose! & ef he gits
amung you, you'll think old Solferino has cum again
and no mistake!” You ought to hev seen them
scamper, Mr. Fair. They run orf as tho Satun hisself
was arter them with a red hot ten pronged
pitchfork. In five minits the premises was clear.
“How kin I ever repay you, Mr. Ward, for your
kindness?” sed Old Abe, advancin and shakin me
warmly by the hand. “How kin I ever repay you,
sir?”
“By givin the whole country a good, sound administration.
By poerin' ile upon the troubled waturs,
North and South. By pursooin' a patriotic,
firm, and just course, and then if any State wants
to secede, let 'em Sesesh!”
“How 'bout my Cabinit, Mister, Ward?” sed Abe.
“Fill it up with Showmen, sir! Showmen is
-- 186 --
[figure description] Page 186.[end figure description]
devoid of polities. They hain't got any principles!
They know how to cater for the public.
They know what the public wants, North & South.
Showmen, sir, is honest men. Ef you doubt their
literary ability, look at their posters, and see small
bills! Ef you want a Cabinit as is a Cabinit fill it
up with showmen, but don't call on me. The moral
wax figger perfeshun musn't be permitted to go down
while there's a drop of blood in these vains! A.
Linkin, I wish you well! Ef Powers or Walcutt
wus to pick out a model for a beautiful man, I
scarcely think they'd sculp you; but ef you do the
fair thing by your country you'll make as putty a
angel as any of us! A. Linkin, use the talents
which Nature has put into you judishusly and firmly,
and all will be well! A. Linkin, adoo!”
He shook me cordyully by the hand — we exchanged
picters, so we could gaze upon each others'
liniments when far away from one another—he at
the hellum of the ship of State, and I at the hellum
of the show bizniss—admittance only 15 cents.
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"I was ceased and tied to a stump." [See Page 193.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Artemus tied to a tree and is being attacked by a group of
young boys.[end figure description]
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You hav perhaps wondered wharebouts I was for
these many dase gone and past. Perchans you
sposed I'd gone to the Tomb of the Cappylets, tho I
don't know what those is. It's a popler noospaper
frase.
Listen to my tail, and be silent that ye may here.
I've been among the Seseshers, a earnin my daily
peck by my legitimit perfeshun, and havn't had no
time to weeld my facile quill for “the Grate Komick
paper,” if you'll alow me to kote from your
troothful advertisement.
My success was skaly, and I likewise had a narrer
scape of my life. If what I've bin threw is “Suthern
hosspitality,” 'bout which we've hearn so much,
then I feel bound to obsarve that they made two
much of me. They was altogether too lavish with
their attenshuns.
-- 190 --
[figure description] Page 190.[end figure description]
I went amung the Seseshers with no feelins of
annermosity. I went in my perfeshernal capacity.
I was actooated by one of the most Loftiest desires
which can swell the human Buzzum, viz: — to giv
the peeple their money's worth, by showin them Sagashus
Beests, and Wax Statoots, which I venter to
say air onsurpast by any other statoots anywheres.
I will not call that man who sez my statoots is humbugs
a lier and a hoss thief, but bring him be4 me
and I'll wither him with one of my scornful frowns.
But to proseed with my tail. In my travels
threw the Sonny South I heared a heap of talk
about Seceshon and bustin up the Union, but I
didn't think it mounted to nothin. The politicians
in all the villages was swearin that Old Abe (sometimes
called the Prahayrie flower) should'nt never be
noggerated. They also made fools of theirselves in
varis ways, but as they was used to that I didn't
let it worry me much, and the Stars and Stripes continued
for to wave over my little tent. Moor over, I
was a Son of Malty and a member of several other
Temperance Societies, and my wife she was a
-- 191 --
[figure description] Page 191.[end figure description]
Dawter of Malty, an I sposed these fax would secoor me
the infloonz and pertectiun of all the fust families.
Alas! I was dispinted. State arter State seseshed
and it growed hotter and hotter for the undersined.
Things came to a climbmacks in a small town in Alabamy,
where I was premtorally ordered to haul
down the Stars & Stripes. A deppytashun of redfaced
men cum up to the door of my tent ware I
was standin takin money (the arternoon exhibishun
had commenst, an' my Italyun organist was jerkin
his sole-stirrin chimes.) “We air cum, Sir,” said
a millingtary man in a cockt hat, “upon a hi and
holy mishun. The Southern Eagle is screamin
threwout this sunny land — proudly and defiantly
screamin, Sir!”
“What's the matter with him,” sez I, “don't his
vittles sit well on his stummick?”
“That Eagle, Sir, will continner to scream all
over this Brite and tremenjus land!”
“Wall, let him scream. If your Eagle can
amuse hisself by screamin, let him went!” The
men anoyed me for I was Bizzy makin change.
-- 192 --
[figure description] Page 192.[end figure description]
“We are cum, Sir, upon a matter of dooty —”
“You're right, Capting. It's every man's dooty
to visit my show,” sed I.
“We air cum —”
“And that's the reason you are here!” sez I,
larfin one of my silvery larfs. I thawt if he wanted
to goak I'd giv him sum of my sparklin eppygrams.
“Sir, you're inserlent. The plain question is,
will you haul down the Star-Spangled Banner, and
hist the Southern flag!”
“Nary hist!” Those was my reply.
“Your wax works and beests is then confisticated,
& you air arrested as a Spy!”
Sez I, “My fragrant roses of the Southern clime
and Bloomin daffodils, what's the price of whisky in
this town, and how many cubic feet of that seductive
flooid can you individooally hold?”
They made no reply to that, but said my wax figgers
was confisticated. I axed them if that was
ginerally the stile among thieves in that country, to
which they also made no reply, but sed I was
-- 193 --
[figure description] Page 193.[end figure description]
arrested as a Spy, and must go to Montgomry in iuns.
They was by this time jined by a large crowd of
other Southern patrits, who commenst hollerin
“Hang the bald-headed aberlitionist, and bust up
his immoral exhibition!” I was ceased and tied to
a stump, and the crowd went for my tent — that
water-proof pavilion, wherein instruction and amoosment
had been so muchly combined, at 15 cents per
head — and tore it all to pieces. Meanwhile dirty
faced boys was throwin stuns and empty beer bottles
at my massiv brow, and takin other improper
liberties with my person. Resistance was useless,
for a variety of reasons, as I readily obsarved.
The Seseshers confisticated my statoots by smashin
them to attums. They then went to my money
box and confisticated all the loose change therein
contaned. They then went and bust in my cages,
lettin all the animils loose, a small but helthy tiger
among the rest. This tiger has a excentric way
of tearin dogs to peaces, and I allers sposed from
his gineral conduck that he'd hav no hesitashun in
servin human beins in the same way if he could git
-- 194 --
[figure description] Page 194.[end figure description]
at them. Excuse me if I was crooil, but I larfed
boysterrusly when I see that tiger spring in among
the people. “Go it, my sweet cuss!” I inardly
exclaimed, “I forgive you for bitin off my left
thum with all my heart! Rip 'em up like a bully
tiger whose Lare has bin inwaded by Seseshers!”
I can't say for certain that the tiger serisly injured
any of them, but as he was seen a few days
after, sum miles distant, with a large and well selected
assortment of seats of trowsis in his mouth, and
as he lookt as tho he'd bin havin sum vilent exercise,
I rayther guess he did. You will therefore perceive
that they didn't confisticate him much.
I was carrid to Montgomry in iuns and placed in
durans vial. The jail was a ornery edifiss, but the
table was librally surplied with Bakin an Cabbidge.
This was a good variety, for when I didn't hanker
after Bakin I could help myself to the cabbige.
I had nobody to talk to nor nothin to talk about,
howsever, and I was very lonely, specially on the
first day; so when the jailer parst my lonely sell I
put the few stray hairs on the back part of my hed
-- 195 --
[figure description] Page 195.[end figure description]
(I'm bald now, but thare was a time when I wore
sweet auburn ringlets) into as dish-hevild a state as
possible, & rollin my eyes like a manyyuck, I cride:
“Stay, jaler, stay! I am not mad but soon shall be
if you don't bring me suthin to Talk!” He brung
me sum noospapers, for which I thanked him kindly.
At larst I got a interview with Jefferson Davis,
the President of the Southern Conthieveracy. He
was quite perlite, and axed me to sit down and state
my case. I did it, when he larfed and said his gallunt
men had been a little 2 enthoosiastic in confisticatin
my show.
“Yes,” sez I, “they confisticated me too muchly.
I had sum hosses confisticated in the same way onct,
but the confisticaters air now poundin stun in the
States Prison in Injinnapylus.”
“Wall, wall, Mister Ward, you air at liberty to
depart; you air frendly to the South, I know.
Even now we hav many frens in the North, who
sympathise with us, and won't mingle with this
fight.”
“J. Davis, there's your grate mistaik. Many of
-- 196 --
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us was your sincere frends, and thought certin parties
amung us was fussin about you and meddlin
with your consarns intirely too much. But J.
Davis, the minit you fire a gun at the piece of drygoods
called the Star-Spangled Banner, the North
gits up and rises en massy, in defence of that banner.
Not agin you as individooals, — not agin the
South even — but to save the flag. We should indeed
be weak in the knees, unsound in the heart,
milk-white in the liver, and soft in the hed, if we
stood quietly by and saw this glorus Govyment
smashed to pieces, either by a furrin or a intestine foe.
The gentle-harted mother hates to take her naughty
child across her knee, but she knows it is her dooty
to do it. So we shall hate to whip the naughty
South, but we must do it if you don't make back
tracks at onct, and we shall wallup you out of your
boots! J. Davis, it is my decided opinion that the
Sonny South is makin a egrejus mutton-hed of
herself!”
“Go on, sir, you're safe enuff. You're too small
powder for me!” sed the President of the Southern
Conthieveracy.
-- 197 --
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“Wait till I go home and start out the Baldinsvill
Mounted Hoss Cavalry! I'm Capting of
that Corpse, I am, and J. Davis, beware! Jefferson
D., I now leave you! Farewell my gay Saler
Boy! Good bye, my bold buccaneer! Pirut of
the deep blue sea, adoo! adoo!”
My tower threw the Southern Conthieveracy on
my way home was thrillin enuff for yeller covers.
It will form the subjeck of my next. Betsy Jane
and the progeny air well.
Yours respectively,
A. Ward.
-- -- p482-231
[figure description] Page 198.[end figure description]
I had a narrer scape from the sonny South.
“The swings and arrers of outrajus fortin,” alluded
to by Hamlick, warn't nothin in comparison to my
trubles. I come pesky near swearin sum profane
oaths more'n onct, but I hope I didn't do it, for I've
promist she whose name shall be nameless (except
that her initials is Betsy J.) that I'll jine the
Meetin House at Baldinsville, jest as soon as I can
scrape money enuff together so I can 'ford to be
piuss in good stile, like my welthy nabers. But
if I'm confisticated agin I'm fraid I shall continner
on in my present benited state for sum time.
I figgered conspicyusly in many thrillin scenes in
my tower from Montgomery to my humsted, and on
sevril occasions I thought “the grate komick paper”
would'nt be inriched no more with my lubrications.
-- 199 --
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Arter biddin adoo to Jefferson D. I started for the
depot. I saw a nigger sittin on a fence a-playin on
a banjo. “My Afrikan Brother,” sed I, coting
from a Track I onct red, “you belong to a very interesting
race. Your masters is going to war excloosively
on your account.”
“Yes, boss,” he replied, “an' I wish 'em honorable
graves!” and he went on playin the banjo, larfin
all over and openin his mouth wide enuff to drive
in an old-fashioned 2 wheeled chaise.
The train of cars in which I was to trust my wallerable
life was the scaliest, rickytiest lookin lot of
consarns that I ever saw on wheels afore. “What
time does this string of second-hand coffins leave?”
I inquired of the depot master. He sed direckly,
and I went in & sot down. I hadn't more'n fairly
squatted afore a dark lookin man with a swinister expression
onto his countenance entered the cars, and
lookin very sharp at me, he axed what was my principles?
“Secesh!” I ansered. “I'm a Dissoluter. I'm
in favor of Jeff Davis, Bowregard, Pickens, Capt.
-- 200 --
[figure description] Page 200.[end figure description]
Kidd, Bloobeard, Munro Edards, the devil, Mrs.
Cunningham and all the rest of 'em.”
“You're in favor of the war?”
“Certingly. By all means. I'm in favor of this
war and also of the next war. I've been in favor
of the next war for over sixteen years!”
“War to the knive!” sed the man.
“Blud, Eargo, blud!” sed I, tho them words
isn't origgernal with me. Them words was rit by
Shakespeare, who is ded. His mantle fell onto the
author of “The Seven Sisters,” who's goin to hav a
Spring overcoat made out of it.
We got under way at larst, an' proceeded on our
jerney at about the rate of speed which is ginrally
obsarved by properly-conducted funeral processions.
A hansum yung gal, with a red musketer bar on the
back side of her hed, and a sassy little black hat
tipt over her forrerd, sot in the seat with me. She
wore a little Sesesh flag pin'd onto her hat, and she
was a goin for to see her troo love, who had jined
the Southern army, all so bold and gay. So she
told me. She was chilly and I offered her my
blanket.
-- 201 --
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“Father livin?” I axed.
“Yes sir.”
“Got any Uncles?”
“A heap. Uncle Thomas is ded, tho.”
“Peace to Uncle Thomas's ashes, and success to
him! I will be your Uncle Thomas! Lean on me
my pretty Secesher, and linger in Blissful repose!”
She slept as secoorly as in her own housen, and
didn't disturb the sollum stillness of the night with'
ary snore!
At the first station a troop of Sojers entered the
cars and inquired if “Old Wax Works” was on
bored. That was the disrespectiv stile in which
they referred to me. “Becawz if Old Wax Works
is on bored,” sez a man with a face like a doublebrested
lobster, “we're going to hang Old Wax
Works!”
“My illustrious and patriotic Bummers!” sez I,
a gittin up and takin orf my Shappo, “if you allude
to A. Ward, it's my pleasin dooty to inform
you that he's ded. He saw the error of his ways
at 15 minits parst 2 yesterday, and stabbed hisself
-- 202 --
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with a stuffed sled-stake, dyin in five beautiful tabloos
to slow moosic! His larst words was: `My
perfeshernal career is over! I jerk no more!' ”
“And who be you?”
“I'm a stoodent in Senater Benjamin's law offiss.
I'm going up North to steal some spoons and things
for the Southern Army.”
This was satisfactry and the intossicated troopers
went orf. At the next station the pretty little Secesher
awoke and sed she must git out there. I bid
her a kind adoo and giv her sum pervisions. “Accept
my blessin and this hunk of gingerbred!” I
sed. She thankt me muchly and tript galy away.
There's considerable human nater in a man, and I'm
fraid I shall allers giv aid and comfort to the enemy
if he cums to me in the shape of a nice young gal.
At the next station I didn't get orf so easy. I
was dragged out of the cars and rolled in the mud
for several minits, for the purpose of “takin the
conseet out of me,” as a Secesher kindly stated.
I was let up finally, when a powerful large Secesher
came up and embraced me, and to show that
-- 203 --
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he had no hard feelins agin me, put his nose into
my mouth. I returned the compliment by placin
my stummick suddenly agin his right foot, when he
kindly made a spittoon of his able-bodied face. Actooated
by a desire to see whether the Secesher had
bin vaxinated I then fastened my teeth onto his left
coat-sleeve and tore it to the shoulder. We then
vilently bunted our heads together for a few minits,
danced around a little, and sot down in a mud puddle.
We riz to our feet agin & by a sudden and
adroit movement I placed my left eye agin the Seaesher's
fist. We then rushed into each other's
arms and fell under a two-hoss wagon. I was very
much exhaustid and didn't care about gettin up agin,
but the man said he reckoned I'd better, and I conclooded
I would. He pulled me up, but I hadn't bin
on my feet more'n two seconds afore the ground flew
up and hit me in the hed. The crowd sed it was
high old sport, but I couldn't zackly see where the
lafture come in. I riz and we embraced agin. We
careered madly to a steep bank, when I got the upper
hands of my antaggernist and threw him into
-- 204 --
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the raveen. He fell about forty feet, striking a
grindstone pretty hard. I understood he was injured.
I haven't heard from the grindstone.
A man in a cockt hat cum up and sed he felt as
though a apology was doo me. There was a mistake.
The crowd had taken me for another man!
I told him not to mention it, and axed him if his
wife and little ones was so as to be about, and got on
bored the train, which had stopped at that station
“20 minits for refreshments.” I got all I wantid.
It was the hartiest meal I ever et.
I was rid on a rale the next day, a bunch of blazin
fire crackers bein tied to my coat tales. It was a
fine spectycal in a dramatic pint of view, but I didn't
enjoy it. I had other adventers of a startlin kind,
but why continner? Why lasserate the Public Boozum
with these here things? Suffysit to say I got
across Mason & Dixie's line safe at last. I made
tracks for my humsted, but she to whom I'm harnist
for life failed to recognize, in the emashiated bein
who stood before her, the gushin youth of forty-six
summers who had left her only a few months afore.
-- 205 --
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But I went into the pantry, and brought out a certin
black bottle. Raisin it to my lips, I sed “Here's
to you, old gal!” I did it so natral that she knowed
me at once. “Those form! Them voice! That
natral stile of doin things! 'Tis he!” she cried,
and rushed into my arms. It was too much for her
& she fell into a swoon. I cum very near swoundin
myself.
No more to-day from yours for the Pepetration
of the Union, and the bringin of the Goddess of
Liberty out of her present bad fix.
-- -- p482-239
[I delivered the follerin, about two years ago, to a large and
discriminating awjince. I was 96 minits passin a given pint. I
have revised the orashun, and added sum things which makes it
approposser to the times than it otherwise would be. I have also
corrected the grammers and punktooated it. I do my own punktooatin
now days. The printers in Vanity Fair offiss can't
punktooate worth a cent.]
[figure description] Page 206.[end figure description]
Feller Citizens: I've bin honored with a invite
to norate before you to-day; and when I say that I
skurcely feel ekal to the task, I'm sure you will believe
me.
Weathersfield is justly celebrated for her onyins
and patritism the world over, and to be axed to
paws and address you on this, my fust perfeshernal
tower threw New Englan, causes me to feel—to
feel—I may say it causes me to feel. (Grate applaws.
They thought this was one of my
-- --
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-- --
Piccolomini in the "Child of the Regiment." [See Page 130.]
[figure description] 482EAF Image of a young girl handing a glass of wine to a
soldier.[end figure description]
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[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
-- 209 --
[figure description] Page 209.[end figure description]
eccentricities, while the fact is I was stuck. This between
you and I.)
I'm a plane man. I don't know nothin about no
ded languages and am a little shaky on livin ones.
There4, expect no flowry talk from me. What I
shall say will be to the pint, right strate out.
I'm not a politician and my other habits air good.
I've no enemys to reward, nor friends to sponge.
But I'm a Union man. I luv the Union — it is a
Big thing — and it makes my hart bleed to see a
lot of ornery peple a-movin heaven — no, not heaven,
but the other place — and earth, to bust it up.
Too much good blud was spilt in courtin and marryin
that hily respectable female the Goddess of Liberty,
to git a divorce from her now. My own State of
Injianny is celebrated for unhitchin marrid peple
with neatness and dispatch, but you can't git a
divorce from the Goddess up there. Not by no
means. The old gal has behaved herself too well to
cast her off now. I'm sorry the picters don't give
her no shoes or stockins, but the band of stars upon
her hed must continner to shine undimd, forever.
-- 210 --
[figure description] Page 210.[end figure description]
I'me for the Union as she air, and whithered be the
arm of every ornery cuss who attempts to bust her
up. That's me. I hav sed! [It was a very
sweaty day, and at this pint of the orashun a man
fell down with sunstroke. I told the awjince that
considerin the large number of putty gals present
I was more fraid of a DAWTER STROKE. This was
impromptoo, and seemed to amoose them very much.]
Feller Citizens — I hain't got time to notis the
growth of Ameriky frum the time when the May-flowers
cum over in the Pilgrim and brawt Plymmuth
Rock with them, but every skool boy nose our
kareer has bin tremenjis. You will excuse me if I
don't prase the erly settlers of the Kolonies. Peple
which hung idiotic old wimin for witches, bnrnt
holes in Quakers' tongues and consined their feller
critters to the tredmill and pillery on the slitest
provocashun may hav bin very nice folks in their
way, but I must confess I don't admire their stile,
and will pass them by. I spose they ment well, and
so, in the novel and techin langwidge of the nusepapers,
“peas to their ashis.” Thare was no
-- 211 --
[figure description] Page 211.[end figure description]
diskount, however, on them brave men who fit, bled
and died in the American Revolushun. We needn't
be afraid of setting 'em up two steep. Like my
show, they will stand any amount of prase. G.
Washington was abowt the best man this world ever
sot eyes on. He was a clear-heded, warm-harted,
and stiddy goin man. He never slopt over! The
prevailin weakness of most public men is to SLOP
OVER! [Put them words in large letters — A.
W] They git filled up and slop. They Rush
Things. They travel too much on the high presher
principle. They git on to the fust poplar hobbyhoss
whitch trots along, not carin a sent whether the
beest is even goin, clear sited and sound or spavined,
blind and bawky. Of course they git throwed
eventooually, if not sooner. When they see the
multitood goin it blind they go Pel Mel with it,
instid of exertin theirselves to set it right. They
can't see that the crowd which is now bearin them
triumfuntly on its shoulders will soon diskiver its
error and cast them into the hoss pond of Oblivyun,
without the slitest hesitashun. Washington never
-- 212 --
[figure description] Page 212.[end figure description]
slopt over. That wasn't George's stile. He luved
his country dearly. He wasn't after the spiles. He
was a human angil in a 3 kornerd hat and knee
britches, and we shan't see his like right away. My
frends, we can't all be Washington's, but we kin all
be patrits & behave ourselves in a human and a
Christian manner. When we see a brother goin
down hill to Ruin let us not give him a push, but
let us seeze rite hold of his coat-tails and draw him
back to Morality.
Imagine G. Washington and P. Henry in the
character of seseshers! As well fancy John Bunyan
and Dr. Watts in spangled tites, doin the trapeze
in a one-horse circus!
I tell you, feller-citizens, it would have bin ten
dollars in Jeff Davis's pocket if he'd never bin born!
* * * * * * * *
Be shure and vote at leest once at all elecshuns.
Buckle on yer Armer and go to the Poles. See
two it that your naber is there. See that the
kripples air provided with carriages. Go to the
poles and stay all day. Bewair of the infamous
-- 213 --
[figure description] Page 213.[end figure description]
lise whitch the Opposishun will be sartin to git up
fur perlitical effek on the eve of eleckshun. To the
poles! and when you git there vote jest as you darn
please. This is a privilege we all persess, and it is
1 of the booties of this grate and free land.
I see mutch to admire in New Englan. Your
gals in particklar air abowt as snug bilt peaces of
Calliker as I ever saw. They air fully equal to the
corn fed gals of Ohio and Injianny, and will make
the bestest kind of wives. It sets my Buzzum on
fire to look at 'em.
Be still, my sole, be still,
& you, Hart, stop cuttin up!
I like your skool houses, your meetin houses, your
enterprise, gumpshun &c., but your favorit Bevridge
I disgust. I allude to New England Rum. It is
wuss nor the korn whisky of Injianny, which eats
threw stone jugs & will turn the stummuck of the
most shiftliss Hog. I seldom seek consolashun in the
flowin Bole, but tother day I wurrid down some of
your Rum. The fust glass indused me to sware
like a infooriated trooper. On takin the secund
-- 214 --
[figure description] Page 214.[end figure description]
glass I was seezed with a desire to break winders,
& arter imbibin the third glass I knocht a small boy
down, pickt his pocket of a New York Ledger, and
wildly commenced readin Sylvanus Kobb's last Tail.
Its drefful stuff — a sort of lickwid litenin, gut up
under the personal supervishun of the devil — tears
men's inards all to peaces and makes their noses
blossum as the Lobster. Shun it as you would a
wild hyeny with a fire brand tied to his tale, and
while you air abowt it you will do a first rate thing
for yourself and everybody abowt you by shunnin
all kinds of intoxicatin lickers. You don't need'em
no more'n a cat needs 2 tales, sayin nothin abowt
the trubble and sufferin they cawse. But unless
your inards air cast iron, avoid New Englan's
favorite Bevrige.
My frends, I'm dun. I tear myself away from
you with tears in my eyes & a pleasant oder of
Onyins abowt my close. In the langwidge of
Mister Catterline to the Rummuns, I go, but perhaps
I shall cum back agin. Adoo, peple of Wethersfield.
Be virtoous & you'll be happy!
-- --
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-- -- p482-251
Joe Stackpole says he can lick the Seceshers in a fair stand-up
fight. [See Page 218.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of Joe Stackpole, dressed in soldier's clothes and holding a
musket and the firing device to a small cannon.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
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-- -- p482-254
[figure description] Page 217.[end figure description]
As soon as I'd recooperated my physikil system, I
went over into the village. The peasantry was glad
to see me. The skoolmaster sed it was cheerin to
see that gigantic intelleck among 'em onct more.
That's what he called me. I like the skoolmaster,
and allers send him tobacker when I'm off on a travelin
campane. Besides, he is a very sensible man.
Such men must be encouraged.
They don't git news very fast in Baldinsville, as
nothin but a plank road runs in there twice a week,
and that's very much out of repair. So my nabers
wasn't much posted up in regard to the wars,'
Squire Baxter sed he'd voted the dimicratic ticket
for goin on forty year, and the war was a dam black
republican lie. Jo Stackpole, who kills hogs for
the 'Squire, and has got a powerful muscle into his
-- 218 --
[figure description] Page 218.[end figure description]
arms, sed he'd bet $5 he could lick the Crisis in a
fair stand-up fight, if he wouldn't draw a knife on
him. So it went — sum was for war, and sum was
for peace. The skoolmaster, however, sed the Slave
Oligarky must cower at the feet of the North ere a
year had flowed by, or pass over his dead corpse.
“Esto perpetua!” he added! “And sine qua non
also!” sed I, sternly, wishing to make a impression
onto the villagers. “Requiescat in pace!” sed the
schoolmaster. “Too troo, too troo!” I anserd, “it's
a scanderlus fact!”
The newspapers got along at last, chock full of
war, and the patriotic fever fairly bust out in Baldinsville. '
Squire Baxter sed he didn't b'lieve in
Coercion, not one of 'em, and could prove by a file
of Eagles of Liberty in his garrit, that it was all
a Whig lie, got up to raise the price of whisky and
destroy our other liberties. But the old 'Squire got
putty riley, when he heard how the rebels was cuttin
up, and he sed he reckoned he should skour up
his old muskit and do a little square fitin for the Old
Flag, which had allers bin on the ticket he'd voted,
-- 219 --
[figure description] Page 219.[end figure description]
and he was too old to Bolt now. The 'Squire is all
right at heart, but it takes longer for him to fill his
venerable Biler with steam than it used to when he
was young and frisky. As I previously informed
you, I am Captin of the Baldinsville Company. I
riz gradooally but majesticly from drummer's Secretary
to my present position. But I found the ranks
wasn't full by no means, and commenced for to recroot.
Havin notist a gineral desire on the part of
young men who are into the Crisis to wear eppylits,
I detarmined to have my company composed excloosively
of offissers, everybody to rank as BrigadeerGinral.
The follerin was among the varis questions
which I put to recroots:
Do you know a masked battery from a hunk of
gingerbread?
Do you know a eppylit from a piece of chalk?
If I trust you with a real gun, how many men of
your own company do you speck you can manage to
kill durin the war?
Hav you ever heard of Ginral Price of Missouri,
and can you avoid simler accidents in case of a battle?
-- 220 --
[figure description] Page 220.[end figure description]
Hav you ever had the measles, and if so, how
many?
How air you now?
Show me your tongue, &c., &c. Sum of the
questions was sarcusstical.
The company filled up rapid, and last Sunday we
went to the meetin house in full uniform. I had a
seris time gittin into my military harness, as it was
bilt for me many years ago; but I finally got inside
of it, tho' it fitted me putty clost. Howsever, onct
into it, I lookt fine — in fact, aw-inspirin. “Do
you know me, Mrs. Ward?” sed I walkin into the
kitchin.
“Know you, you old fool? Of course I do.”
I saw at once she did.
I started for the meetin house, and I'm afraid I
tried to walk too strate, for I cum very near fallin
over backards; and in attemptin to recover myself,
my sword got mixed up with my legs, and I fell in
among a choice collection of young ladies, who was
standin near the church door a-seein the sojer boys
come up. My cockt hat fell off, and sumhow my
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coat tales got twisted round my neck. The young
ladies put their handkerchers to their mouths and
remarked: “Te he,” while my ancient female single
friend, Sary Peasley, bust out into a loud larf.
She exercised her mouth so vilently that her new
false teeth fell out onto the ground.
“Miss Peaseley,” sed I, gittin up and dustin myself,
“you must be more careful with them store
teeth of your'n or you'll have to gum it agin!”
Methinks I had her.
I'd bin to work hard all the week, and I felt rather
snoozy. I'm 'fraid I did git half asleep, for on
hearin the minister ask, “Why was man made to
mourn?” I sed, “I giv it up,” havin a vague idee
that it was a condrum. It was a onfortnit remark,
for the whole meetin house lookt at me with mingled
surprise and indignation. I was about risin to a pint
of order, when it suddenly occurd to me whare I
was, and I kept my seat, blushin like the red, red
rose — so to speak.
The next mornin I 'rose with the lark (N. B. —
I don't sleep with the lark, tho'. A goak.)
My little dawter was execootin ballids,
-- 222 --
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accompanyin herself with the Akordeon, and she wisht
me to linger and hear her sing: “Hark I hear a
angel singin, a angel now is onto the wing.”
“Let him fly, my child!” said I, a-bucklin on
my armer, “I must forth to my Biz.”
We air progressin pretty well with our drill. As
all air commandin offissers, there ain't no jelusy;
and as we air all exceedin smart, it t'aint worth
while to try to outstrip each other. The idee of a
company composed excloosively of Commanders-in-Chiefs,
orriggernated, I spose I skurcely need say,
in these Brane. Considered as a idee, I flatter myself
it is putty hefty. We've got all the tackticks
at our tongs' ends, but what we particly excel in is
restin muskits. We can rest muskits with anybody.
Our corpse will do its dooty. We go to the aid
of Columby — we fight for the stars!
We'll be chopt into sassige meat before we'll exhibit
our coat-tales to the foe.
We'll fight till there's nothin left of us but our
little toes, and even they shall defiantly wiggle!
“Ever of thee,”
A Ward.
-- -- p482-260
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Notwithstandin I haint writ much for the papers
of late, nobody needn't flatter theirselves that the
undersined is ded. On the contry, “I still live,”
which words was spoken by Danyil Webster, who
was a able man. Even the old-line whigs of Boston
will admit that. Webster is ded now, howsever,
and his mantle has probly fallen into the hands of
sum dealer in 2nd hand close, who can't sell it.
Leastways nobody pears to be goin round wearin it
to any perticler extent, now days. The rigiment of
whom I was kurnel, finerly concluded they was better
adapted as Home Gards, which accounts for your
not hearin of me, ear this, where the bauls is the thickest
and where the cannon doth roar. But as a American
citizen I shall never cease to admire the masterly
advance our troops made on Washington from Bull
-- 224 --
[figure description] Page 224.[end figure description]
Run, a short time ago. It was well dun. I spoke
to my wife 'bout it at the time. My wife sed it was
well dun.
It havin there4 bin detarmined to pertect Baldinsville
at all hazzuds, and as there was no apprehensions
of any immejit danger, I thought I would
go orf onto a pleasure tower. Accordinly I put on
a clean Biled Shirt and started for Washinton. I
went there to see the Prints Napoleon, and not to
see the place, which I will here take occasion to obsarve
is about as uninterestin a locality as there is
this side of J. Davis's future home, if he ever does
die, and where I reckon they'll make it so warm for
him that he will si for his summer close. It is easy
enough to see why a man goes to the poor house or
the penitentiary. It's becawz he can't help it. But
why he should woluntarily go and live in Washinton,
is intirely beyond my comprehension, and I
can't say no fairer nor that.
I put up to a leadin hotel. I saw the landlord
and sed, “How d'ye do, Square?”
“Fifty cents, sir,” was his reply.
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“Sir?”
“Half-a-dollar. We charge twenty-five cents for
lookin at the landlord and fifty cents for speakin to
him. If you want supper, a boy will show you to
the dinin room for twenty-five cents. Your room bein
in the tenth story, it will cost you a dollar to be
shown up there.”
“How much do you ax a man for breathin in this
equinomikal tarvun?” sed I.
“Ten cents a Breth,” was his reply.
Washinton hotels is very reasonable in their
charges. [N. B.—This is Sarkassum.]
I sent up my keerd to the Prints, and was immejitly
ushered before him. He received me kindly,
and axed me to sit down.
“I hav cum to pay my respecks to you, Mister
Napoleon, hopin I see you hale and harty.”
“I am quite well,” he sed. “Air you well,
sir?”
“Sound as a cuss!” I answerd.
He seemed to be pleased with my ways, and we
entered into conversation to onct.
-- 226 --
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“How's Lewis?” I axed, and he sed the Emperor
was well. Eugeny was likewise well, he sed.
Then I axed him was Lewis a good provider? did
he cum home arly nites? did he perfoom her bedroom
at a onseasonable hour with gin and tanzy?
Did he go to “the Lodge” on nites when there
wasn't any Lodge? did he often hav to go down
town to meet a friend? did he hav a extensiv acquaintance
among poor young widders whose husbands
was in Californy? to all of which questions
the Prints perlitely replide, givin me to understan
that the Emperor was behavin well.
“I ax these questions, my royal duke and most
noble higness and imperials, becaws I'm anxious to
know how he stands as a man. I know he's smart.
He is cunnin, he is long-heded, he is deep—he is
grate. But onless he is good he'll come down with
a crash one of these days and the Bonyparts will be
Bustid up agin. Bet yer life!”
“Air you a preacher, sir?” he inquired, slitely
sarkasticul.
“No, sir. But I bleeve in morality. I likewise
-- 227 --
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bleeve in Meetin Houses. Show me a place where
there isn't any Meetin Houses and where preachers
is never seen, and I'll show you a place where old
hats air stuffed into broken winders, where the children
air dirty and ragged, where gates have no hinges,
where the wimin are slipshod, and where maps of
the devil's “wild land” air painted upon men's
shirt-bosums with tobacco-jooce! That's what I'll
show you. Let us consider what the preachers do
for us before we aboose 'em.”
He sed he didn't mean to aboose the clergy. Not
at all, and he was happy to see that I was interested
in the Bonypart family.
“It's a grate family,” sed I. “But they scooped
the old man in.”
“How, sir?”
“Napoleon the Grand. The Britishers scooped
him at Waterloo. He wanted to do too much, and
he did it! They scooped him in at Waterloo, and
he subsekently died at St. Heleny! There's where
the gratest military man this world ever projuced
pegged out. It was rather hard to consine such a
-- 228 --
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man as him to St. Heleny, to spend his larst days in
catchin mackeril, and walkin up and down the
dreary beach in a military cloak drawn titely round
him, (see picter-books), but so it was. `Hed of the
Army!' Them was his larst words. So he had
bin. He was grate! Don't I wish we had a pair
of his old boots to command sum of our Brigades!”
This pleased Jerome, and he took me warmly by
the hand.
“Alexander the Grate was punkins,” I continnered,
but Napoleon was punkinser! Alic. wept
becaws there was no more worlds to scoop, and then
took to drinkin. He drowndid his sorrers in the
flowin bole, and the flowin bole was too much for
him. It ginerally is. He undertook to give a
snake exhibition in his boots, but it killed him.
That was a bad joke on Alic!”
“Since you air so solicitous about France and the
Emperor, may I ask you how your own country is
getting along?” sed Jerome, in a pleasant voice.
“It's mixed,” I sed. “But I think we shall
cum out all right.”
-- 229 --
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“Columbus, when he diskivered this magnificent
continent, could hav had no idee of the grandeur it
would one day assoom,” sed the Prints.
It cost Columbus twenty thousand dollars to fit
out his explorin expedition,” sed I. “If he had
bin a sensible man he'd hav put the money in a hoss
railroad or a gas company, and left this magnificent
continent to intelligent savages, who when they got
hold of a good thing knew enuff to keep it, and who
wouldn't hav seceded, nor rebelled, nor knockt Liberty
in the hed with a slungshot. Columbus wasn't
much of a feller, after all. It would hav bin money
in my pocket if he'd staid to home. Chris. ment
well, but he put his foot in it when he saled for
America.”
We talked sum more about matters and things, and
at larst I riz to go. “I will now say good bye to
you, noble sir, and good luck to you. Likewise the
same to Clotildy. Also to the gorgeous persons
which compose your soot. If the Emperor's boy
don't like livin at the Tooleries, when he gits older,
and would like to imbark in the show bizniss, let
-- 230 --
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him come with me and I'll make a man of him.
You find us sumwhat mixed, as I before obsarved,
but come again next year and you'll find us clearer
nor ever. The American Eagle has lived too
sumptuously of late—his stummic becum foul, and
he's takin a slite emetic. That's all. We're gettin
ready to strike a big blow and a sure one. When
we do strike the fur will fly and secession will be in
the hands of the undertaker, sheeted for so deep a
grave that nothin short of Gabriel's trombone will
ever awaken it! Mind what I say. You've heard
the showman!”
Then advisin him to keep away from the Peter
Funk auctions of the East, and the proprietors of
corner-lots in the West, I bid him farewell, and
went away.
There was a levee at Senator What's-his-name's,
and I thought I'd jine in the festivities for a spell.
Who should I see but she that was Sarah Watkins,
now the wife of our Congresser, trippin in the
dance, dressed up to kill in her store close. Sarah's
father use to keep a little grosery store in our town,
-- 231 --
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and she used to clerk it for him in busy times. I
was rushin up to shake hands with her when she
turned on her heel, and tossin her hed in a contemptooious
manner, walked away from me very
rapid. “Hallo, Sal,” I hollered, “can't you measure
me a quart of them best melasses? I may want
a codfish, also!” I guess this reminded her of the
little red store, and “the days of her happy childhood.”
But I fell in with a nice little gal after that, who
was much sweeter than Sally's father's melasses, and
I axed her if we shouldn't glide in the messy
dance. She sed we should, and we Glode.
I intended to make this letter very seris, but a
few goaks may have accidentally crept in. Never
mind. Besides, I think it improves a komick paper
to publish a goak once in a while.
Yours Muchly,
WARD, (Artemus.)
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-- -- p482-270
[figure description] Page 235.[end figure description]
—, Friday, —, 1860.
On the sad sea shore! Always to hear the moaning
of these dismal waves!
Listen. I will tell you my story — my story of
love, of misery, of black despair.
I am a moral Frenchman.
She whom I adore, whom I adore still, is the wife
of a fat Marquis — a lop-eared, blear-eyed, greasy
Marquis. A man without soul. A man without
sentiment, who cares naught for moonlight and music.
A low, practical man, who pays his debts. I
hate him.
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She, my soul's delight, my empress, my angel, is
superbly beautiful.
I loved her at first sight — devotedly, madly.
She dashed past me in her coupè. I saw her but
a moment — perhaps only an instant — but she took
me captive then and there, forevermore.
Forevermore!
I followed her, after that, wherever she went.
At length she came to notice, to smile upon me.
My motto was en avant! That is a French word.
I got it out of the back part of Worcester's Dictionary.
She wrote me that I might come and see her at
her own house. Oh, joy, joy unutterable, to see
her at her own house!
I went to see her after nightfall, in the soft moonlight.
She came down the graveled walk to meet me, on
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this beautiful midsummer night — came to me in
pure white, her golden hair in splendid disorder—
strangely beautiful, yet in tears!
She told me her fresh grievances.
The Marquis, always a despot, had latterly misused
her most vilely.
That very morning, at breakfast, he had cursed
the fishballs and sneered at the pickled onions.
She is a good cook. The neighbors will tell you
so. And to be told by the base Marquis — a man
who, previous to his marriage, had lived at the cheap
eating-houses — to be told by him that her manner
of frying fishballs was a failure — it was too much.
Her tears fell fast. I too wept. I mixed my
sobs with her'n. “Fly with me!” I cried.
Her lips met mine. I held her in my arms. I
felt her breath upon my cheek! It was Hunkey.
“Fly with me. To New York! I will write
romances for the Sunday papers — real French romances,
with morals to them. My style will be appreciated.
Shop girls and young mercantile persons
will adore it, and I will amass wealth with my ready
pen.
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Ere she could reply — ere she could articulate her
ecstacy, her husband, the Marquis, crept snake-like
upon me.
Shall I write it? He kicked me out of the gar-den—
he kicked me into the street.
I did not return. How could I? I,so ethereal,
so full of soul, of sentiment, of sparkling original-ity!
He, so gross, so practical, so lop-eared!
Had I returned, the creature would have kicked
me again.
So I left Paris for this place — this place, so
lonely, so dismal.
Ah me!
Oh dear!
THE END.
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-- -- p482-275
"Home Guard Drill." [See Page 241.]
[figure description] 482EAF. Image of a soldier and woman, in billowing skirt, walking together,
embracing, down the lane.[end figure description]
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[figure description] Tissue Paper.[end figure description]
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-- -- p482-278
— Broadway, Dec. 10, '61.
Dear Father and Mother:
[figure description] Page 241.[end figure description]
We are getting along very well. We mess at
Delmonico's. Do not repine for your son. Some
must suffer for the glorious Stars and Stripes, and,
dear parents, why shouldn't I? Tell Mrs. Skuller
that we do not need the blankets she so kindly sent
to us, as we bunk at the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan.
What our brave lads stand most in need of
now, is Fruit Cake and Waffles. Do not weep for
me.
Henry Adolphus.
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[figure description] Page 242.[end figure description]
The Broadway houses have given the public immense
quantities of Central Park, Seven Sisters,
Nancy Sykes and J. Cade. I suppose the Broadway
houses have done this chiefly because it has
paid them, and so I mean no disrespect when I
state that to me the thing became rather stale. I
sighed for novelty. A man may stand stewed veal
for several years, but banquets consisting exclusively
of stewed veal would become uninteresting after a
century or so. A man would want something else.
The least particular man, it seems to me, would desire
to have his veal “biled,” by way of a change.
So I, tired of the thread-bare pieces at the Broadway
houses, went to the East Side for something
fresh. I wanted to see some libertines and brigands.
I wanted to see some cheerful persons
-- 243 --
[figure description] Page 243.[end figure description]
identified with the blacksmith and sewing-machine interests
triumph over those libertines and brigands, in
the most signal manner. I wanted, in short, to see
the Downfall of Vice and Triumph of Virtue.
That was what ailed me. And so I went to the East
Side.
Poor Jack Scott is gone, and Jo. Kirby dies no
more on the East Side. They've got the blood and
things over there, but alas! they're deficient in
lungs. The tragedians in the Bowery and Chatham
street of to-day dont start the shingles on the roof
as their predecessors, now cold and stiff in death,
used to when they threw themselves upon their
knees at the footlights and roared a redhot curse after
the lord who had carried Susan away, swearing
to never more eat nor drink until the lord's vile
heart was torn from his body, and ther-rown to the
dorgs — rattling their knives against the tin lamps
and glaring upon the third tier most fearfully the
while.
Glancing at the spot where it is said Senator
Benjamin used to vend second-hand clothes, and
-- 244 -- p482-281
[figure description] Page 244.[end figure description]
regretting that he had not continued in that comparasively
honorable vocation instead of sinking to his
present position; — wondering if Jo. Kirby would
ever consent, if he were alive, to die wrapped up in
a Secession flag! — gazing admiringly upon the unostentatious
sign-board which is suspended in front
of the Hon. Izzy Lazarus's tavern; — glancing,
wondering and gazing thus, I enter the Old Chatham
theatre. The pit is full, but people fight shy
of the boxes.
The play is about a servant-girl, who comes to
the metropolis from the agricultural districts, in
short skirts, speckled hose, and a dashing little
white hat, gaily decked with pretty pink ribbons —
that being the style of dress invariably worn by servant-girls
from the interior. She is accompanied by
a chaste young man in a short-tailed red coat, who,
being very desirous of protecting her from the temptations
of a large city, naturally leaves her in the
street and goes off somewhere. Servant-girl encounters
an elderly female, who seems to be a very
nice sort of person indeed, but the young man in a
-- 245 --
[figure description] Page 245.[end figure description]
short-tailed coat comes in and thrusts the elderly female
aside, calling her “a vile hag.” This pleases
the pit, which is ever true to virtue, and it accordingly
cries “Hi! hi! hi!”
A robber appears. The idea of a robber in times
like these, is rather absurd. The most adroit robber
would eke out a miserable subsistence if he attempted
to follow his profession now-a-days. I should
prefer to publish a daily paper in Chelsea. Nevertheless,
here is a robber. He has been playing poker
with his “dupe,” but singularly enough the dupe
has won all the money. This displeases the robber,
and it occurs to him that he will kill the dupe. He
accordingly sticks him. The dupe staggers, falls,
says “Dearest Eliza!” and dies. Cries of hi! hi!
hi!” in the pit, while a gentleman with a weed on
his hat, in the boxes, states that the price of green
smelts is five cents a quart. This announcement is
not favorably received by the pit, several members
of which come back at the weeded individual with
some advice in regard to liquidating a long-standing
account for beans and other refreshments at an adjacent
restaurant.
-- 246 --
[figure description] Page 246.[end figure description]
The robber is seized with remorse, and says the
money which he has taken from the dupe's pockets,
“scorches” him. Robber seeks refuge in a miser's
drawing-room, where he stays for “seven days.”
There is a long chest, full of money and diamonds
in the room. The chest is unlocked, but misers
very frequently go off and leave long chests full of
money unlocked in their drawing rooms, for seven
days; and this robber was too much of a gentleman
to take advantage of this particular miser's absence.
By-and-by the miser returns, when the robber
quietly kills him and chucks him in the chest.
“Sleep with your gold, old man!” says the bold
robber, as he melodramatically retreats—retreats to
a cellar, where the servant girl resides. Finds that
she was formerly his gal, when he resided in the rural
districts, and regrets having killed so many persons,
for if so be he hadn't he might marry her and
settle down, whereas now he can't do it, as he says
he is “unhappy.” But he gives her a ring—a
ring he had stolen from the dupe—and flies. Presently
the dupe, who has come to life in a singular
-- --
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-- --
One of the Broadway "Seven Sisters." [See Page 242.]
[figure description] Image of a doll[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]
-- --
[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]
-- 249 --
[figure description] Page 249.[end figure description]
but eminently theatrical manner, is brought into the
cellar. He discovers the ring upon the servant
girl's finger — servant girl states that she is innocent,
and the dupe, with the remark that he sees his
mother, dies, this time positively without reserve.
Servant girl is taken to Newgate, whither goes the
robber and gains admission by informing the turnkey
that he is her uncle. Throws off his disguise,
and like a robber bold and gay, says he is the guilty
party and will save the servant girl. He drinks a
vial of poison, says he sees his mother, and dies to
slow fiddling. Servant girl throws herself upon
him wildly, and the virtuous young party in a short-tailed
coat comes in and assists in the tableau. Robber
tells the servant girl to take the party in the
short-tailed coat and be happy — repeats that he
sees his mother (they always do). and dies again.
Cries of “Hi! hi! hi!” and the weeded gentleman
reiterates the price of green smelts.
Not a remarkably heavy plot, but quite as bulky
as the plots of the Broadway sensation pieces.
-- 250 -- p482-289
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My name is Jim Griggins. I'm a low thief.
My parients was ignorant folks, and as poor as the
shadder of a bean pole. My advantages for gettin'
a eddycation was exceedin' limited. I growed up
in the street, quite loose and permiskis, you see, and
took to vice because I had nothing else to take to,
and because nobody had never given me a sight at
virtue.
I'm in the penitentiary. I was sent here onct before
for priggin'a watch. I served out my time, and
now I'm here agin, this time for stealin' a few insignificant
clothes.
I shall always blame my parients for not eddycatin'
me. Had I bin liberally eddycated I could,
with my brilliant native talents, have bin a big
thief — I b'leeve they call 'em defaulters. Instead
-- 251 --
[figure description] Page 251.[end figure description]
of confinin' myself to priggin' clothes, watches,
spoons and sich like, I could have plundered princely
sums — thousands and hundreds of thousands of dollars—
and that old humbug, the law, wouldn't have
harmed a hair of my head! For, you see, I should
be smart enough to get elected State Treasurer, or
have something to do with Banks or Railroads, and
perhaps a little of both. Then, you see, I could
ride in my carriage, live in a big house with a free
stun frunt, drive a fast team, and drink as much gin
and sugar as I wanted. A inwestigation might be
made, and some of the noosepapers might come down
on me heavy, but what the d—I would I care about
that, havin' previously taken precious good care of
the stolen money? Besides, my “party” would
swear stout that I was as innersunt as the new-born
babe, and a great many people would wink very
pleasant, and say, “Well, Griggins understands what
he's 'bout, HE does!”
But havin' no eddycation, I'm only a low thief —
a stealer of watches and spoons and sich — a low
wretch, anyhow — and the Law puts me through
without mercy.
-- 252 --
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It's all right, I s'pose, and yet I sometimes think
it's wery hard to be shut up here, a wearin'
checkered clothes, a livin' on cold vittles, a sleepin'
on iron beds, a lookin' out upon the world through
iron muskeeter bars, and poundin' stun like a galley
slave, day after day, week after week, and year after
year, while my brother thieves (for to speak candid,
there's no difference between a thief and a defaulter,
except that the latter is forty times wuss) who have
stolen thousands of dollars to my one cent, are
walkin' out there in the bright sunshine — dressed
up to kill, new clothes upon their backs and piles
of gold in their pockets! But the Law don't tech'
em. They are too big game for the Law to shoot
at. It's as much as the Law can do to take care of
us ignorant thieves.
Who said there was no difference 'tween tweedledum
and tweedledee? He lied in his throat, like a
villain as he was! I tell ye there's a tremendous
difference.
Oh that I had been liberally eddycated!
Jim Griggins.
Sing-Sing,
1860.
-- 253 -- p482-292
[figure description] Page 253.[end figure description]
It was customary in many of the inland towns of
New England, some thirty years ago, to celebrate
the anniversary of the surrender of Lord Cornwallis,
by a sham representation of that important event
in the history of the Revolutionary War. A town
meeting would be called, at which a company of men
would be detailed as British, and a company as
Americans — two leading citizens being selected to
represent Washington and Cornwallis in the mimic
surrender.
The pleasant little town of W——, in whose
schools the writer has been repeatedly “corrected,”
upon whose ponds he has often skated; upon whose
richest orchards he has, with other juvenile bandits,
many times dashed in the silent midnight; the town
of W——, where it was popularly believed these
-- 254 --
[figure description] Page 254.[end figure description]
bandits would “come to a bad end,” resolved to
celebrate the surrender. Rival towns had celebrated,
and W——determined to eclipse them in
the most signal manner. It is my privilege to tell
how W——succeeded in this determination.
The great day came. It was ushered in by the
roar of musketry, the ringing of the village church
bell, the squeaking of fifes, and the rattling of
drums.
People poured into the village from all over the
county. Never had W——experienced such a jam.
Never had there been such an onslaught upon gingerbread
carts. Never had New England rum
(for this was before Neal Dow's day) flowed so freely.
And W——'s fair daughters, who mounted
the house-tops to see the surrender, had never looked
fairer. The old folks came, too, and among them
were several war, scarred heroes, who had fought
gallantly at Monmouth and Yorktown. These brave
sons of '76 took no part in the demonstration, but
an honored bench was set apart for their exclusive
use on the piazza of Sile Smith's store. When they
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were dry, all they had to do was to sing out to Sile's
boy, Jerry, “a leetle New Englan' this way, if you
please.” It was brought forthwith.
At precisely 9 o'clock, by the schoolmaster's new
“Lepeen” watch, the American and British forces
marched on to the village green and placed themselves
in battle array, reminding the spectator of
the time when
“Brave Wolf drew up his men
In a style most pretty,
On the Plains of Abraham
Before the city.”
The character of Washington had been assigned
to 'Squire Wood, a well-to-do and influential farmer,
while that of Cornwallis had been given to the
village lawyer, a kind-hearted but rather pompous
person, whose name was Caleb Jones.
'Squire Wood, the Washington of the occasion,
had met with many unexpected difficulties in preparing
his forces, and in his perplexity he had emptied
not only his own canteen but those of most of his
aids. The consequence was—mortifying as it must
be to all true Americans—blushing as I do to tell
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it, Washington at the commencement of the mimic
struggle was most unqualifiedly drunk.
The sham fight commenced. Bang! bang! bang!
from the Americans—bang! bang! bang! from the
British. The bangs were kept hotly up until the
powder gave out, and then came the order to charge.
Hundreds of wooden bayonets flashed fiercly in the
sunlight, each soldier taking very good care not to
hit any body.
“Thaz (hic) right,” shouted Washington, who
during the shooting had been racing his horse wildly
up and down the line, “thaz right! Gin it to'
em! Cut their tarnal heads off!”
“On Romans!” shrieked Cornwallis, who had
once seen a theatrical performance and remembered
the heroic appeals of the Thespian belligerents, “on
to the fray! No sleep till mornin'.”
“Let eout all their bowels,” yelled Washington,
“and down with taxation on tea!”
The fighting now ceased, the opposing forces were
properly arranged, and Cornwallis, dismounting,
prepared to present his sword to Washington according
to programme. As he walked slowly towards
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the Father of His Country he rehearsed the little
speech he had committed for the occasion, while the
illustrious being who was to hear it was making desperate
efforts to keep in his saddle. Now he would
wildly brandish his sword and narrowly escape cutting
off his horse's ears, and then he would fall suddenly
forward on to the steed's neck, grasping the
mane as drowning men seize hold of straws. He
was giving an inimitable representation of Toodles on
horseback. All idea of the magnitude of the occasion
had left him, and when he saw Cornwallis approaching,
with slow and stately step, and swordhilt
extended toward him he inquired,
“What-'n devil you want, any (hic) how!”
“General Washington,” said Cornwallis, in dignified
and impressive tones, “I tender you my sword.
I need not inform you, Sir, how deeply—
The speech was here cut suddenly short by Washington,
who driving the spurs into his horse, playfully
attempted to run over the commander of the
British forces. He was not permitted to do this, for
his aids, seeing his unfortunate condition, seized the
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horse by the bridle, straightened Washington up in
his saddle, and requested Cornwallis to proceed with
his remarks.
“General Washington,” said Cornwallis, “the
British Lion prostrates himself at the feet of the
American Eagle!”
“Eagle? Eagle!” yelled the infuriated Washington,
rolling off his horse and hitting Cornwallis
a frightful blow on the head with the flat of his
sword, “do you call me a Eagle, you mean sneakin'
cuss?” He struck him again, sending him to the
ground, and said, “I'll learn you to call me a Eagle,
you infernal scoundrel!”
Cornwallis remained upon the ground only a moment.
Smarting from the blows he had reeeived, he
arose with an entirely unlooked for recuperation on
the part of the fallen, and in direct defiance of historical
example; in spite of the men of both nations,
indeed, he whipped the Immortal Washington until
he roared for mercy.
The Americans, at first mortified and indignant at
the conduct of their chief, now began to sympathize
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[figure description] Page 259.[end figure description]
with, him and resolved to whip their mock foes in earnest.
They rushed fiercely upon them, but the British
were really the stronger party and drove the
Americans back. Not content with this they charged
madly upon them and drove them from the field—
from the village, in fact. There were many heads
damaged, eyes draped in mourning, noses fractured
and legs lamed—it is a wonder that no one was
killed outright.
Washington was confined to his house for several
weeks, but he recovered at last. For a time there
was a coolness between himself and Cornwallis, but
they finally concluded to join the whole county in
laughing about the surrender.
They live now. Time, the “artist,” has thoroughly
white-washed their heads, but they are very jolly
still. On town meeting days the old 'Squire always
rides down to the village. In the hind part of his
venerable yellow wagon is always a bunch of hay, ostensibly
for the old white horse, but really to hide a
glass bottle from the vulgar gaze. This bottle has on one
side a likeness of Lafayette, and upon the other may be
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[figure description] Page 260.[end figure description]
seen the Goddess of Liberty. What the bottle contains
inside I cannot positively say, but it is true that'
Squire Wood and Lawyer Jones visit that bottle
very frequently on town meeting days and come
back looking quite red in the face. When this redness
in the face becomes of the blazing kind, as it
generally does by the time the polls close, a short
dialogue like this may be heard:
“We shall never play surrender again, Lawyer
Jones!”
“Them days is over, 'Squire Wood!”
And then they laugh and jocosely punch each
other in the ribs.
-- -- p482-300
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
“She must weep or she will die.”
[figure description] Page 261.[end figure description]
The propriety of introducing a sad story like the
following, in a book intended to be rather cheerful
in its character, may be questioned; but it so beautifully
illustrates the firmness of woman when grief
and despair have taken possession of “the chambers
of her heart,” that we cannot refrain from relating
it.
Lucy M—— loved with all the ardor of a fond
and faithful wife, and when he upon whom she had
so confidingly leaned was stolen from her by death,
her friends and companions said Lucy would go
mad. Ah, how little they knew her!
-- 262 --
[figure description] Page 262.[end figure description]
Gazing for the last time upon the clay-cold features
of her departed husband, this young widow—beautiful
even in her grief: so ethereal to look upon and
yet so firm!—looking for the last time upon the
dear, familiar face, now cold and still in death—Oh,
looking for the last, last time—she rapidly put on
her bonnet, and thus addressed the sobbing gentlemen
who were to act as pall-bearers: “You pall-bearers
just go into the buttery and get some rum,
and we'll start this man right along!”
-- -- p482-302
[figure description] Page 263.[end figure description]
The Elephant is the most largest Annymile in the
whole world. He eats hay and kakes. You must
not giv the Elephant Tobacker, becoz if you do he
will stamp his grate big feet upon to you and kill
you fatally Ded. Some folks thinks the Elephant is
the most noblest Annymile in the world, but as for
Me giv Me the American Egil and the Stars &
Stripes. Alexander Pottles his Peace.
-- -- p482-303
[figure description] Page 264.[end figure description]
Uncle Simon he
Clum up a tree
To see what he could see
When presentlee
Uncle Jim
Clum up beside of him
And squatted down by he.
THE END.
Back matter
-- --
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Tom Tiddler's Ground.
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Ward, Artemus, 1834-1867 [1862], Artemus Ward, his book. With many comic illustrations. (Carleton, New York) [word count] [eaf482T].
