PART VII.

Miscellaneous.

7.1. The Cruise of the Polly Ann.

7.2. Artemus Ward's Autobiography.

7.3. The Serenade.

7.4. O'Bourcy's "Arrah-na-Pogue."

7.5. Artemus Ward among the Fenians.

7.6. Artemus Ward in Washington.

7.7. Scenes Outside the Fair Grounds.

7.8. The Wife.

7.9. A Juvenile Composition On the Elephant.

7.10. A Poem by the Same.

7.11. East Side Theatricals.

7.12. Soliloquy of a Low Thief.

7.13. The Negro Question.

7.14. Artemus Ward on Health.

7.15. A Fragment.

7.16. Brigham Young's Wives.

7.17. A. Ward's First Umbrella.

7.18. An Affecting Poem.

7.19. Mormon Bill of Fare.

7.20. "The Babes in the Wood."

7.21. Mr. Ward Attends a Graffick (Soiree.)

7.22. A. Ward Among the Mormons.—Reported by Himself—or Somebody Else.

PART VII. MISCELLANEOUS.

7.1. THE CRUISE OF THE POLLY ANN.

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. Honest farmers was to work sowin korn, and 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.

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 chamber-maid! What's up in Terry Hawt?"

"You know Bill Spikes?" said the capting of the Warier.

"Wall, I reckin. He can eat more fride pork nor any man of his heft on the Wabash. He's a ornament to his sex!"

"Wall," continued the capting of the Kickin Warier. "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 Warier, as he parst a long black bottle over to our capting.

"The country is indeed in danger!" said 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 been fastened to the forrerd hoss's 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 docile 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 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," said 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.

Thursdy.—Didn't rest well last night on 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 handkercher, 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 pushing 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?" said 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," said the capting, risin hisself on the shutter, "I've bin a little prejoodiced agin that grosery for some. 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.

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 people was intelligent & wax figgers & livin wild beests wasn't scoffed at.

"O dase of me boyhood I'm dreamin on ye now!"

(Poeckry.) A.W.

7.2. ARTEMUS WARD'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

New York, near Fifth Avenoo Hotel, Org. 31ct.

EDITER OF PLAY BILL.

Dr Sir,—Yrs, into which you ask me to send you sum leadin incidents in my life so you can write my Bogfry for the papers, cum dooly to hand. I hav no doubt that a article onto my life, grammattycally jerked and properly punktooated, would be a addition to the chois literatoor of the day.

To the youth of Ameriky it would be vallyble as showin how high a pinnykle of fame a man can reach who commenst his career with a small canvas tent and a pea-green ox, which he rubbed it off while scrachin hisself agin the center pole, causin in Rahway, N.Y., a discriminatin mob to say humbugs would not go down in their village. The ox resoom'd agricultooral pursoots shortly afterwards.

I next tried my hand at givin Blind-man concerts, appearin as the poor blind man myself. But the infamus cuss who I hired to lead me round towns in the day time to excite simpathy drank freely of spiritoous licker unbeknowns to me one day, & while under their inflooance he led me into the canal. I had to either tear the green bandige from my eyes or be drownded. I tho't I'd restore my eyesight.

In writin about these things, Mr. Editer, kinder smooth em over. Speak of 'em as eccentrissities of gen'us.

My next ventur would hav bin a success if I hadn't tried to do too much. I got up a series of wax figgers, and among others one of Socrates. I tho't a wax figger of old Sock. would be poplar with eddycated peple, but unfortinitly I put a Brown linen duster and a U.S. Army regulation cap on him, which peple with classycal eddycations said it was a farce. This enterprise was onfortnit in other respecks. At a certin town I advertised a wax figger of the Hon'ble Amos Perkins, who was a Railroad President, and a great person in them parts. But it appeared I had shown the same figger for a Pirut named Gibbs in that town the previs season, which created a intense toomult, & the audience remarked "shame onto me," & other statements of the same similarness. I tried to mollify em. I told 'em that any family possessin children might have my she tiger to play with half a day, & I wouldn't charge 'em a cent, but alars! it was of no avail. I was forced to leave, & I infer from a article in the "Advertiser" of that town, in which the Editer says,

"Atho' time has silvered this man's hed with its frosts, he still brazenly wallows in infamy. Still are his snakes stuffed, and his wax works unrelible. We are glad that he has concluded never to revisit our town, altho', incredible as it may appear, the fellow really did contemplate so doing last summer, when, still true to the craven instincts of his black heart, he wrote the hireling knaves of the obscure journal across the street to know what they would charge for 400 small bills, to be done on yellow paper! We shall recur to this matter again!"

I say, I infer from this article that a prejudiss still exists agin me in that town.

I will not speak of my once bein in straitend circumstances in a sertin town, and of my endeaverin to accoomulate welth by lettin myself to Sabbath School picnics to sing ballads adapted to the understandins of little children, accompanyin myself on a claironett—which I forgot where I was one day, singing, instid of "Oh, how pleasant to be a little child,"

"Rip slap—set em up again, Right in the middle of a three-cent pie,"

which mistake, added to the fact that I couldn't play onto the claironett except makin it howl dismal, broke up the picnic, and children said, in voices choked with sobs and emotions, where was their home and where was their Pa? and I said, Be quiet, dear children, I am your Pa, which made a young woman with two twins by her side say very angryly, "Good heavens forbid you should ever be the Pa of any of these innocent ones, unless it is much desirable for them to expire igminyusly upon to a murderer's gallus!"

I say I will not speak of this. Let it be Berrid into Oblivyun.

In your article, Mr. Editer, please tell him what sort of a man I am.

If you see fit to kriticise my Show speak your mind freely. I do not object to kriticism. Tell the public, in a candid and graceful article, that my Show abounds in moral and startlin cooriosities, any one of whom is wuth dubble the price of admission.

I hav thus far spoke of myself excloosivly as a exhibiter.

I was born in the State of Maine of parents. As a infant I attracted a great deal of attention. The nabers would stand over my cradle for hours and say, "How bright that little face looks! How much it nose!" The young ladies would carry me round in their arms, sayin I was muzzer's bezzy darlin and a sweety 'eety 'ittle ting. It was nice, tho' I wasn't old enuf to properly appreciate it. I'm a healthy old darlin now.

I have allers sustained a good moral character. I was never a Railroad director in my life.

Altho' in early life I did not inva'bly confine myself to truth in my small bills, I have been gradoolly growin respectabler and respectabler ev'ry year. I luv my children, and never mistake another man's wife for my own. I'm not a member of any meetin house, but firmly bel'eve in meetin houses, and shouldn't feel safe to take a dose of laudnum and lay down in the street of a village that hadn't any, with a thousand dollars in my vest pockets.

My temperament is billious, altho' I don't owe a dollar in the world.

I am a early riser, but my wife is a Presbyterian. I may add that I am also bald-heded. I keep two cows.

I live in Baldinsville, Indiany. My next door naber is Old Steve Billins. I'll tell you a little story about Old Steve that will make you larf. He jined the Church last spring, and the minister said, "You must go home now, Brothern Billins, and erect a family altar in your own house," whereupon the egrejis old ass went home and built a reg'lar pulpit in his sittin room. He had the jiners in his house over four days.

I am 56 (56) years of age. Time, with its relentless scythe, is ever busy. The Old Sexton gathers them in, he gathers them in! I keep a pig this year.

I don't think of anything more, Mr Ed'ter.

If you should giv my portrait in connection with my Bogfry, please have me ingraved in a languishin attitood, learnin on a marble pillar, leavin my back hair as it is now.—Trooly yours.

Artemus Ward.

7.3. THE SERENADE.

Things in our town is workin. The canal boat "Lucy Ann" called in here the other day and reported all quiet on the Wabash. The "Lucy Ann" has adopted a new style of Binnakle light, in the shape of a red-headed girl, who sits up over the compass. It works well.

The artist I spoke about in my larst has returned to Philadelphy. Before he left I took his lily-white hand in mine. I suggested to him that if he could induce the citizens of Philadelphy to believe it would be a good idea to have white winder-shutters on their houses and white door-stones, he might make a fortin. "It's a novelty," I added, "and may startle 'em at fust, but they may conclood to adopt it.

As several of our public men are constantly being surprised with serenades, I concluded I'd be surprised in the same way, so I made arrangements accordin. I asked the Brass Band how much they'd take to take me entirely by surprise with a serenade. They said they'd overwhelm me with a unexpected honor for seven dollars, which I excepted.

I wrote out my impromptoo speech severil days beforehand bein very careful to expunge all ingramatticisms and payin particuler attention to the punktooation. It was, if I may say it without egitism, a manly effort; but, alars! I never delivered it, as the sekel will show you. I paced up and down the kitchin speakin my piece over so as to be entirely perfeck. My bloomin young daughter, Sarah Ann, bothered me summut by singin, "Why do summer roses fade?"

"Because," said I, arter hearin her sing it about fourteen times, "because it's their biz! Let 'em fade!"

"Betsy," said I, pausin in the middle of the room and letting my eagle eye wander from the manuscrip—"Betsy, on the night of this here serenade, I desires you to appear at the winder dressed in white, and wave a lily-white handkercher. D'ye hear?"

"If I appear," said that remarkable female, "I shall wave a lily-white bucket of bilin hot water, and somebody will be scalded. One bald-headed old fool will get HIS share."

She refer'd to her husband. No doubt about it in my mind. But for fear she might exasperate me I said nothin.

The expected night cum. At nine o'clock precisely there was sounds of footsteps in the yard, and the Band struck up a lively air, which when they did finish it, there was cries of "Ward! Ward!" I stept out onto the portico. A brief glance showed me that the assemblage was summut mixed. There was a great many ragged boys, and there was quite a number of grown-up persons evigently under the affluence of the intoxicatin bole. The Band was also drunk. Dr. Schwazey, who was holdin up a post, seemed to be partic'ly drunk—so much so that it had got into his spectacles, which were staggerin wildly over his nose. But I was in for it, and I commenced:—

"Feller Citizens,—For this onexpected honor—"

LEADER OF THE BAND.—Will you give us our money now, or wait till you git through?"

To this painful and disgustin interruption I paid no attention.

"—for this onexpected honor, I thank you."

LEADER OF THE BAND.—"But you said you'd give us seven dollars if we'd play two choons."

Again I didn't notice him, but resumed as follows:—

"I say, I thank you warmly. When I look at this crowd of true Americans, my heart swells—"

DR. SCHWAZEY.—"So do I!"

A VOICE.—"We all do!"

"—my heart swells—"

A VOICE.—"Three cheers for the swells."

"We live," said I, "in troublous times, but I hope we shall again resume our former proud position, and go on in our glorious career!"

DR. SCHWAZEY.—I'm willin for one to go on in a glorious career! Will you join me, fellow-citizens, in a glorious career? What wages does a man git for a glorious career, when he finds himself?"

"Dr, Schwazey," said I, sternly, "you are drunk. You're disturbin the meetin."

DR. S.—Have you a banquet spread in the house? I should like a rhunossyross on the half shell, or a hippopotamus on toast, or a horse and wagon roasted whole. Anything that's handy. Don't put yourself out on me account.

At this point the Band begun to make hidyous noises with their brass horns, and an exceedingly ragged boy wanted to know if there wasn't to be some wittles afore the concern broke up? I didn't exactly know what to do, and was just on the point of doin it, when a upper winder suddenly opened, and a stream of hot water was bro't to bear on the disorderly crowd, who took the hint and retired at once.

When I am taken by surprise with another serenade, I shall, among other arrangements, have a respectful company on hand. So no more from me to-day. When this you see, remember me.

7.4. O'BOURCY'S "ARRAH-NA-POGUE."

You axe me, sir, to sling sum ink for your paper in regards to the new Irish dramy at Niblo's Garding. I will do it, sir.

I knew your grandfather well, sir. Sum 16 years ago, while I was amoosin and instructin the intellectoal peple of Cape Cod with my justly pop'lar Show, I saw your grandfather. He was then between 96 years of age, but his mind was very clear. He told me I looked like George Washington. He said I had a massiv intellect. Your grandfather was a highly-intelligent man, and I made up my mind then that if I could ever help his family in any way, I'd do so. Your grandfather gave me sum clams and a Testament. He charged me for the clams but threw in the Testament. He was a very fine man.

I therefore rite for you, which insures your respectability at once. It gives you a moral tone at the word go.

I found myself the other night at Niblo's Garding, which is now, by the way, Wheatley's Garding. (I don't know what's bcum of Nib.) I couldn't see much of a garding, however, and it struck me if Mr. Wheatley depended on it as regards raisin things, he'd run short of gardin sass. [N.B.—These remarks is yoomerous. The older I gro, the more I want to goak.]

I walked down the isle in my usual dignified stile, politely tellin the people as I parsed along to keep their seats. "Don't git up for me," I sed. One of the prettiest young men I ever saw in my life showed me into a seat, and I proceeded to while away the spare time by reading Thompson's "Bank Note Reporter" and the comic papers.

The ordinance was large.

I tho't, from a cursiry view, that the Finnigan Brotherhood was well represented.

There was no end of bootiful wimin, and a heap of good clothes. There was a good deal of hair present that belonged on the heds of peple who didn't cum with it—but this is a ticklish subjeck for me. I larfed at my wife's waterfall, which indoosed that superior woman to take it off and heave it at me rather vilently; and as there was about a half bushil of it, it knockt me over, and give me pains in my body which I hain't got over yit.

The orkistry struck up a toon, & I asked the Usher to nudge me when Mr. Pogue cum on the stage to act.

I wanted to see Pogue; but, strange to say, he didn't act during the entire evenin. I reckin he has left Niblo's, and gone over to Barnum's.

Very industrious pepl are the actors at Barnum's. They play all day, and in the evenin likewise. I meet'm every mornin, at five o'clock, going to their work with their tin dinner-pails. It's a sublime site. Many of them sleep on the premises.

Arrah-na-Pogue was writ by Dion O'Bourcicolt & Edward McHouse. They writ it well. O'Bourcy has writ a cartload of plays himself, the most of which is fust-rate.

I understand there is a large number of O'gen'tlmen of this city who can rite better plays than O'Bourcy does, but somehow they don't seem to do it. When they do, I'll take a Box of them.