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Our complaint just now is war meetin's. They've
bin havin' 'em bad in varis parts of our cheerful Republic,
and nat'rally we caught 'em here in Baldinsville.
They broke out all over us. They're better
attended than the Eclipse was.

I remember how people poured into our town last
Spring to see the Eclipse. They labored into a impression
that they couldn't see it to home, and so
they came up to our place. I cleared a very handsome
amount of money by exhibitin' the Eclipse to'
em, in an open-top tent. But the crowds is bigger
now. Posey County is aroused. I may say, indeed,
that the pra-hay-ories of Injianny is on fire.

Our big meetin' came off the other night, and our
old friend of the Bugle was elected Cheerman.

The Bugle-Horn of Liberty is one of Baldinsville's
most eminentest institootions. The advertisements
are well written, and the deaths and marriages are

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

conducted with signal ability. The editor, Mr.
Slinkers, is a polish'd, skarcastic writer. Folks in
these parts will not soon forgit how he used up the
Eagle of Freedom, a family journal published at
Snootville, near here. The controversy was about a
plank road. “The road may be, as our cotemporary
says, a humbug; but our aunt isn't bald-heded,
and we haven't got a one-eyed sister Sal! Wonder
if the Editor of the Eagle of Freedom sees it?”
This used up the Eagle of Freedom feller, because
his aunt's head does present a skinn'd appearance,
and his sister Sarah is very much one-eyed. For
a genteel home thrust, Mr. Slinkers has few ekals
He is a man of great pluck likewise. He has a fierce
nostril, and I b'lieve upon my soul, that if it wasn't
absolootly necessary for him to remain here and an-nounce
in his paper, from week to week, that “our
Gov'ment is about to take vig'rous measures to put
down the rebellion”—I b'lieve, upon my soul, this
illustris man would enlist as a Brigadier Gin'ral, and
git his Bounty.

I was fixin' myself up to attend the great war

p483-022 [figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

meetin', when my daughter entered with a young
man who was evijently from the city, and who wore
long hair, and had a wild expression into his eye.
In one hand he carried a port-folio, and his other paw
claspt a bunch of small brushes. My daughter introduced
him as Mr. Sweibier, the distinguished
landscape painter from Philadelphy.

“He is a artist, papa. Here is one of his masterpieces—
a young mother gazin' admirin'ly upon her
first-born,” and my daughter showed me a really
pretty picter, done in ile. “Is it not beautiful, papa?
He throws so much soul into his work.”

“Does he? does he?” said I—“well, I reckon I'd
better hire him to whitewash our fence. It needs it.
What will you charge, sir,” I continued, “to throw
some soul into my fence?”

My daughter went out of the room in very short
meeter, takin' the artist with her, and from the emphatical
manner in which the door slam'd, I concluded
she was summut disgusted at my remarks. She
closed the door, I may say, in italics. I went into
the closet and larfed all alone by myself for over
half an hour. I larfed so vi'lently that the preserve

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

jars rattled like a cavalry offisser's sword and things,
which it aroused my Betsy, who came and opened
the door pretty suddent. She seized me by the few
lonely hairs that still linger sadly upon my barefooted
hed, and dragged me out of the closet, incidentally
obsarving that she didn't exactly see why
she should be compelled, at her advanced stage of
life, to open a assylum for sooperanooated idiots.

My wife is one of the best wimin on this continent,
altho' she isn't always gentle as a lamb, with mint
sauce. No, not always.

But to return to the war meetin'. It was largely
attended. The Editor of the Bugle arose and got
up and said the fact could no longer be disguised
that we were involved in a war. “Human gore,”
said he, “is flowin'. All able-bodied men should
seize a musket and march to the tented field. I repeat
it, sir, to the tented field.”

A voice—“Why don't you go yourself, you old
blowhard?”

“I am identified, young man, with a Arkymedian
leaver which moves the world,” said the Editor,

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

wiping his auburn brow with his left coat-tail: “I al
lude, young man, to the press. Terms, two dollars
a year, invariably in advance. Job printing executed
with neatness and dispatch!” And with this
brilliant bust of elekance the editor introduced Mr. J
Brutus Hinkins, who is sufferin' from an attack of
College in a naberin' place. Mr. Hinkins said Washington
was not safe. Who can save our national
capeetle?

“Dan Setchell,” I said. “He can do it afternoons.
Let him plant his light and airy form onto
the Long Bridge, make faces at the hirelin' foe, and
they'll skedaddle! Old Setch can do it.”

“I call the Napoleon of Showmen,” said the Editor
of the Bugle—“I call that Napoleonic man,
whose life is adorned with so many noble virtues,
and whose giant mind lights up this warlike scene—
I call him to order.”

I will remark, in this connection, that the editor of
the Bugle does my job printing.

“You,” said Mr. Hinkins, “who live away from
the busy haunts of men do not comprehend the
magnitood of the crisis. The busy haunts of men

[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

is where people comprehend this crisis. We who
live in the busy haunts of men—that is to say, we
dwell, as it were, in the busy haunts of men.”

“I really trust that the gent'l'man will not fail to
say suthin' about the busy haunts of men, before he
sits down,” said I.

“I claim the right to express my sentiments here,
said Mr. Hinkins, in a slightly indignant tone, “and
I shall brook no interruption, if I am a Softmore.”

“You couldn't be more soft, my young friend,” I
observed, whereupon there was cries of “Order!
order!”

“I regret I can't mingle in this strife personally,”
said the young man.

“You might inlist as a liberty-pole,” said I in a
silvery whisper.

“But,” he added, “I have a voice, and that voice
is for war.” The young man then closed his speech
with some strikin' and original remarks in relation
to the star-spangled banner. He was followed by
the village minister, a very worthy man indeed, but
whose sermons have a tendency to make people sleep
pretty industriously.

p483-026

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“I am willin' to inlist for one,” he said.

“What's your weight, parson?” I asked.

“A hundred and sixty pounds,” he said.

“Well, you can inlist as a hundred and sixty
pounds of morphine, your dooty bein' to stand in
the hospitals arter a battle, and preach while the
surgical operations is bein' performed! Think how
much you'd save the Gov'ment in morphine.”

He didn't seem to see it; but he made a good
speech, and the editor of the Bugle rose to read the
resolutions, commencin' as follers:

Resolved, That we view with anxiety the fact that
there is now a war goin' on, and

Resolved, That we believe Stonewall Jackson
sympathizes with the secession movement, and that
we hope the nine-months men—

At this point he was interrupted by the sounds of
silvery footsteps on the stairs, and a party of wimin,
carryin' guns and led by Betsy Jane, who brandish'd
a loud and rattlin' umbereller, burst into the
room.

“Here,” cried I, “are some nine-months wimin!”

“Mrs. Ward,” said the editor of the Bugle—

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

“Mrs. Ward, and ladies, what means this extr'ord'n'ry
demonstration?”

“It means,” said that remarkable female, “that
you men air makin' fools of yourselves. You air
willin' to talk and urge others to go to the wars, but
you don't go to the wars yourselves. War meetin's
is very nice in their way, but they don't keep Stonewall
Jackson from comin' over to Maryland and
helpin' himself to the fattest beef critters. What
we want is more cider and less talk. We want you
able-bodied men to stop speechifying, which don't'
mount to the wiggle of a sick cat's tail, and go to
fi'tin'; otherwise you can stay to home and take
keer of the children, while we wimin will go to the
wars!”

“Gentl'men,” said I, “that's my wife! Go in, old
gal!” and I throw'd up my ancient white hat in perfeck
rapters.

“Is this roll-book to be filled up with the names
of men or wimin'?” she cried.

“With men—with men!” and our quoty was
made up that very night.

There is a great deal of gas about these war

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

meetin's. A war meetin', in fact, without gas,
would be suthin' like the play of Hamlet with the
part of Othello omitted.

Still believin' that the Goddess of Liberty is about
as well sot up with as any young lady in distress
could expect to be, I am

Yours more'n anybody else's,

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If I'm drafted I shall resign.

Deeply grateful for the onexpected honor thus
confered upon me, I shall feel compeld to resign the
position in favor of sum more worthy person. Modesty
is what ails me. That's what's kept me
under.

I meanter-say, I shall hav to resign if I'm drafted
everywheres I've bin inrold. I must now, furrinstuns,
be inrold in upards of 200 different towns.
If I'd kept on travelin' I should hav eventooaly becum
a Brigade, in which case I could have held a
meetin' and elected myself Brigadeer-ginral quite
unanimiss. I hadn't no idea there was so mauy of
me before. But, serisly, I concluded to stop exhibitin',
and made tracks for Baldinsville.

My only daughter threw herself onto my boosum,
and said, “It is me, fayther! I thank the gods!”

She reads the Ledger.

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“Tip us yer bunch of fives, old faker!” said Artemus,
Jr. He reads the Clipper.

My wife was to the sowin' circle. I knew she
and the wimin folks was havin' a pleasant time slanderin'
the females of the other sowin' circle (which
likewise met that arternoon, and was doubtless enjoyin'
theirselves ekally well in slanderin' the fustnamed
circle), and I didn't send for her. I allus like
to see people enjoy theirselves.

My son Orgustus was playin' onto a floot.

Orgustus is a ethereal cuss. The twins was bildin'
cob-houses in a corner of the kitchin'.

It'll cost some postage-stamps to raise this fam'ly,
and yet it 'ud go hard with the old man to lose any
lamb of the flock.

An old bachelor is a poor critter. He may have
hearn the skylark or (what's nearly the same thing)
Miss Kellogg and Carlotty Patti sing; he may
have hearn Ole Bull fiddle, and all the Dodworths
toot, an' yet he don't know nothin' about
music—the real, ginuine thing—the music of the
laughter of happy, well-fed children! And you may
ax the father of sich children home to dinner, feelin

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werry sure there'll be no spoons missin' when he
goes away. Sich fathers never drop tin five-cent
pieces into the contribution box, nor palm shoe-pegs
off onto blind hosses for oats, nor skedaddle to
British sile when their country's in danger—nor do
anything which is really mean, I don't mean to
intimate that the old bachelor is up to little games
of this sort—not at all—but I repeat, he's a poor
critter. He don't live here; only stays. He ought
to 'pologize, on behalf of his parients, for bein' here
at all. The happy marrid man dies in good stile at
home, surrounded by his weeping wife and children.
The old bachelor don't die at all—he sort of rots
away, like a pollywog's tail.

My townsmen were sort o' demoralized. There
was a evident desine to ewade the Draft, as I
obsarved with sorrer, and patritism was below Par—
and Mar, too. [A jew desprit.] I hadn't no
sooner sot down on the piazzy of the tavoun than I
saw sixteen solitary hossmen, ridin' four abreast,
wendin' their way up the street.

“What's them? Is it calvary?”

Artemus is introduced by his daughter, to a distinguished landscape painter, who has long hair and a wild expression in his eye. See page 15. [figure description] 483EAF. Image of Artemus being introduced to a painter, who is holding painting supplies, by his daughter.[end figure description]

[figure description] Blank Page.[end figure description]

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“That,” said the landlord, “is the stage. Sixteen
able-bodied citizens has lately bo't the stage
line 'tween here and Scotsburg. That's them.
They're stage-drivers. Stage-drivers is exempt!”

I saw that each stage-driver carried a letter in his
left hand.

“The mail is hevy, to-day,” said the landlord.
“Gin'rally they don't have more'n half a dozen
letters 'tween 'em. To-day they've got one apiece!
Bile my lights and liver!”

“And the passengers?”

“There ain't any, skacely, now-days,” said the
landlord, “and what few there is, very much prefier
to walk, the roads is so rough.”

“And how ist with you?” I inquired of the editor
of the Bugle-Horn of Liberty, who sot near me.

“I can't go,” he sed, shakin' his head in a wise
way. “Ordinarily I should delight to wade in gore,
but my bleedin' country bids me stay at home. It
is imperatively necessary that I remain here for the
purpuss of announcin' from week to week, that our
Gov'ment is about to take vigorous measures to put
down the rebellion!”

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I strolled into the village oyster-saloon, where I
found Dr. Schwazey, a leadin' citizen, in a state of
mind which showed that he'd bin histin' in more'n
his share of pizen.

“Hello, old Beeswax,” he bellered: “How's yer
grandmams? When you goin' to feed your stuffed
animils?”

“What's the matter with the eminent physician?”
I pleasantly inquired.

“This,” he said; “this is what's the matter. I'm
a habitooal drunkard! I'm exempt!”

“Jes' so.”

“Do you see them beans, old man?” and he pinted
to a plate before him. “Do you see 'em?”

“I do. They are a cheerful fruit when used
tempritly.”

“Well,” said he, “I hain't eat anything since last
week. I eat beans now because I eat beans then. I
never mix my vittles!”

“It's quite proper you should eat a little suthin'
once in a while,” I said. “It's a good idee to occasionally
instruct the stummick that it mustn't depend
excloosively on licker for its sustainance.”

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“A blessin',” he cried; “a blessin' onto the hed of
the man what inwented beans. A blessin' onto his
hed!”

“Which his name is Silson! He's a first family
of Bostin,” said I.

This is a speciment of how things was goin' in my
place of residence.

A few was true blue. The schoolmaster was
among 'em. He greeted me warmly. He said I
was welkim to those shores. He said I had a massiv
mind. It was gratifyin', he said, to see that
great intelleck stalkin' in their midst onct more. I
have before had occasion to notice this schoolmaster.
He is evidently a young man of far more than ord'nary
talents.

The schoolmaster proposed we should git up a
mass meetin'. The meetin' was largely attended.
We held it in the open air, round a roarin' bonfire.

The schoolmaster was the first orator. He's
pretty good on the speak. He also writes well, his
composition bein' seldom marred by ingrammatticisms.
He said this inactivity surprised him. “What

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do you expect will come of this kind of doin's?
Nihil fit—'

“Hooray for Nihil!” I interrupted. “Fellowcitizens,
let's giv three cheers for Nihil, the man
who fit!”

The schoolmaster turned a little red, but repeated—
“Nihil fit.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Nihil fit. He wasn't a
strategy feller.”

“Our venerable friend,” said the schoolmaster,
smilin' pleasantly, “isn't posted in Virgil.”

“No, I don't know him. But if he's a able-bodied
man he must stand his little draft.”

The schoolmaster wound up in eloquent style, and
the subscriber took the stand.

I said the crisis had not only cum itself, but it had
brought all its relations. It has cum, I said, with a
evident intention of makin' us a good long visit. It's
goin' to take off its things and stop with us. My
wife says so too. This is a good war. For those
who like this war, it's just such a kind of war as
they like. I'll bet ye. My wife says so too. If the
Federal army succeeds in takin' Washington, and

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

they seem to be advancin' that way pretty often, I
shall say it is strategy, and Washington will be safe.
And that noble banner, as it were—that banner, as
it were—will be a emblem, or rather, I should say,
that noble banner—as it were. My wife says so too.
[I got a little mixed up here, but they didn't notice
it. Keep mum.] Feller citizens, it will be a proud
day for this Republic when Washington is safe.
My wife says so too.

The editor of the Bugle-Horn of Liberty here
arose and said: “I do not wish to interrupt the
gentleman, but a important despatch has just bin
received at the telegraph office here. I will read it.
It is as follows: Gov'ment is about to take vigorous
measures to put down the rebellion!” [Loud applause.
]

That, said I, is cheering. That's soothing. And
Washington will be safe. [Sensation.] Philadelphia
is safe. Gen. Patterson's in Philadelphia. But
my heart bleeds partic'ly for Washington. My wife
says so too.

There's money enough. No trouble about money.
They've got a lot of first-class bank-note engravers

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

at Washington (which place, I regret to say, is by
no means safe) who turn out two or three cords of
money a day—good money, too. Goes well. These
bank-note engravers made good wages. I expect
they lay up property. They are full of Union sentiment.
There is considerable Union sentiment in
Virginny, more specially among the honest farmers
of the Shenandoah valley. My wife says so too.

Then it isn't money we want. But we do want
men, and we must have them. We must carry a
whirlwind of fire among the foe. We must crush
the ungrateful rebels who are poundin' the Goddess
of Liberty over the head with slung-shots, and
stabbin' her with stolen knives! We must lick 'em
quick. We must introduce a large number of first-class
funerals among the people of the South. Betsy
says so, too.

This war hain't been too well managed. We all
know that. What then? We are all in the same
boat—if the boat goes down, we go down with her.
Hence we must all fight. It ain't no use to talk now
about who caused the war. That's played out.
The war is upon us—upon us all—and we must all

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

fight. We can't “reason” the matter with the foe.
When, in the broad glare of the noonday sun, a
speckled jackass boldly and maliciously kicks over a
peanut-stand, do we “reason” with him? I guess
not. And why “reason” with those other Southern
people who are tryin' to kick over the Republic?
Betsy, my wife, says so too.

The meetin' broke up with enthusiasm. We
shan't draft in Baldinsville if we can help it.

p483-041

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The stoodent and connyseer must have noticed and
admired in varis parts of the United States of America,
large yeller hanbills, which not only air gems
of art in theirselves, but they troothfully sit forth
the attractions of my show—a show, let me here
obsarve, that contains many livin' wild animils,
every one of which has got a Beautiful Moral.

Them hanbils is sculpt in New York.

& I annoolly repair here to git some more on'
um;

&, bein' here, I tho't I'd issoo a Address to the
public on matters and things.

Since last I meyandered these streets, I have bin
all over the Pacific Slopes and Utah. I cum back
now, with my virtoo unimpared, but I've got to git
some new clothes.

Many changes has taken place, even durin' my
short absence, & sum on um is Sollum to

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

contempulate. The house in Varick street, where I used to
Board, is bein' torn down. That house, which was
rendered memoriable by my livin' into it, is “parsin'
away! parsin' away!” But some of the timbers
will be made into canes, which will be sold to my
admirers at the low price of one dollar each. Thus
is changes goin' on continerly. In the New World
it is war—in the Old World Empires is totterin' &
Dysentaries is crumblin'. These canes is cheap at a
dollar.

Sammy Booth, Duane street, sculps my hanbills,
& he's a artist. He studid in Rome—State of New
York.

I'm here to read the proof-sheets of my hanbils as
fast as they're sculpt. You have to watch these ere
printers pretty close, for they're jest as apt to spel
a wurd rong as anyhow.

But I have time to look round sum & how do I
find things? I return to the Atlantic States after a
absence of ten months, & what State do I find the
country in? Why I don't know what State I find
it in. Suffice it to say, that I do not find it in the
State of New Jersey.

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

I find sum things that is cheerin', partic'ly the resolve
on the part of the wimin of America to stop
wearin' furrin goods.

I never meddle with my wife's things. She may
wear muslin from Greenland's icy mountins, and
bombazeen from Injy's coral strands, if she wants
to; but I'm glad to state that that superior woman
has peeled off all her furrin clothes and jumpt into
fabrics of domestic manufactur.

But, says sum folks, if you stop importin' things
you stop the revenoo. That's all right. We can
stand it if the Revenoo can. On the same principle
young men should continer to get drunk on French
brandy and to smoke their livers as dry as a corncob
with Cuby cigars because 4-sooth if they don't,
it will hurt the Revenoo! This talk 'bout the Revenoo
is of the bosh, boshy. One thing is tol'bly
certin—if we don't send gold out of the country we
shall have the consolation of knowing that it is in
the country. So I say great credit is doo the wimin
for this patriotic move—and to tell the trooth, the
wimin genrally know what they're 'bout. Of all
the blessins they're the soothinist. If there'd never

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

bin any wimin, where would my children be to-day?

But I hope this move will lead to other moves
that air just as much needed, one of which is a
genral and therrer curtainment of expenses all round.
The fact is we air gettin' ter'bly extravagant, &
onless we paws in our mad career in less than two
years the Goddess of Liberty will be seen dodgin'
into a Pawn Broker's shop with the other gown
done up in a bundle, even if she don't have to Spout
the gold stars in her head-band. Let us all take
hold jintly, and live and dress centsibly, like our
forefathers, who know'd moren we do, if they warnt
quite so honest! (Suttle goaketh.)

There air other cheerin' signs. We don't, for
instuns, lack great Gen'rals, and we certinly don't
lack brave sojers—but there's one thing I wish we
did lack, and that is our present Congress.

I venture to say that if you sarch that earth all
over with a ten-hoss power mikriscope, you won't
be able to find such another pack of poppycock
gabblers as the present Congress of the United
States of America.

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

Gentlemen of the Senit & of the House, you've
sot there and draw'd your pay and made summercomplaint
speeches long enuff. The country at large,
incloodin' the undersined, is disgusted with you.
Why don't you show us a statesman—sumbody who
can make a speech that will hit the pop'lar hart
right under the Great Public weskit? Why don't
you show us a statesman who can rise up to the
Emergency, and cave in the Emergency's head?

Congress, you won't do. Go home, you mizzerable
devils—go home!

At a special Congressional 'lection in my district
the other day I delib'ritly voted for Henry Clay.
I admit that Henry is dead, but inasmuch as we
don't seem to have a live statesman in our National
Congress, let us by all means have a first-class
corpse.

Them who think that a cane made from the timbers
of the house I once boarded in is essenshal to
their happiness, should not delay about sendin' the
money right on for one.

And now, with a genuine hurrar for the wimin
who air goin' to abandin furrin goods, and another

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

for the patriotic everywheres, I'll leave public matters
and indulge in a little pleasant family-gossip.

My reported captur by the North American savijis
of Utah, led my wide circle of friends and
creditors to think that I had bid adoo to earthly
things and was a angel playin' on a golden harp.
Hents my rival home was onexpected.

It was 11, P. M., when I reached my homestid and
knockt a healthy knock on the door thereof.

A nightcap thrusted itself out of the front chamber
winder. (It was my Betsy's nightcap.) And a
voice said:

“Who is it?”

“It is a Man!” I answered, in a gruff vois.

“I don't b'lieve it!” she sed.

“Then come down and search me,” I replied.

Then resumin' my nat'ral voice, I said, “It is your
own A. W., Betsy! Sweet lady, wake! Ever of
thou!”

“Oh,” she said, “it's you, is it? I thought I
smelt something.”

But the old girl was glad to see me.

In the mornin' I found that my family were

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

enter-tainin' a artist from Philadelphy, who was there paintin'
some startlin' water-falls and mountins, and I
morin suspected he had a hankerin' for my oldest
dauter.

“Mr. Skimmerhorn, father,” sed my dauter.

“Glad to see you, Sir!” I replied in a hospittle
vois. “Glad to see you.”

“He is an artist, father,” sed my child.

“A whichist?”

“An artist. A painter.”

“And glazier,” I askt. “Air you a painter and
glazier, sir?”

My dauter and wife was mad, but I couldn't help
it, I felt in a comikil mood.

“It is a wonder to me, Sir,” said the artist, “considerin'
what a wide-spread reputation you have,
that some of our Eastern managers don't secure
you.”

“It's a wonder to me,” said I to my wife, “that
somebody don't secure him with a chain.”

After breakfast I went over to town to see my
old friends. The editor of the Bugle greeted me
cordyully, and showed me the follerin' article he'd

p483-048 [figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

just written about the paper on the other side of
the street:

“We have recently put up in our office an entirely
new sink, of unique construction—with two holes
through which the soiled water may pass to the new
bucket underneath. What will the hell-hounds of
The Advertiser say to this? We shall continue to
make improvements as fast as our rapidly-increasing
business may warrant. Wonder whether a
certain editor's wife thinks she can palm off a brass
watch-chain on this community for a gold one?”

“That,” says the Editor, “hits him whar he lives.
That will close him up as bad as it did when I wrote
an article ridicooling his sister, who's got a cock-eye.”

A few days after my return I was shown a young
man, who says he'll be Dam if he goes to the war.
He was settin' on a barrel, & was indeed a Loathsum
objeck.

Last Sunday I heard Parson Batkins preach, and
the good old man preached well, too, tho' his
prayer was ruther lengthy. The Editor of the
Bugle, who was with me, said that prayer would
make fifteen squares, solid nonparil.

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

I don't think of nothin' more to write about. So,
“B'leeve me if all those endearing young charms,”
&c., &c.