The Complete Works of Artemus Ward, part 4 | Page 4

The Revelation of Joseph Smith.
PART IV. TO CALIFORNIA AND RETURN.
4.1. ON THE STEAMER.
New York, Oct. 13, 1868.
The steamer Ariel starts for California at noon.
Her decks are crowded with excited passengers, who instantly
undertake to "look after" their trunks and things; and what with our
smashing against each other, and the yells of the porters, and the wails
over lost baggage, and the crash of boxes, and the roar of the boilers,
we are for the time being about as unhappy a lot of maniacs as was ever
thrown together.
I am one of them. I am rushing around with a glaring eye in search of a
box.
Great jam, in which I find a sweet young lady, with golden hair,

clinging to me fondly, and saying, "Dear George, farewell!"--
Discovers her mistake, and disappears.
I should like to be George some more.
Confusion so great that I seek refuge in a stateroom which contains a
single lady of forty-five summers, who says, "Base man! leave me!" I
leave her.
By and by we cool down, and become somewhat regulated.
NEXT DAY
When the gong sounds for breakfast we are fairly out on the sea, which
runs roughly, and the Ariel rocks wildly. Many of the passengers are
sick, and a young naval officer establishes a reputation as a wit by
carrying to one of the invalids a plate of raw salt pork, swimming in
cheap molasses. I am not sick; so I roll round the deck in the most
cheerful sea-dog manner.
. . . .
The next day and the next pass by in a serene manner. The waves are
smooth now, and we can all eat and sleep. We might have enjoyed
ourselves very well, I fancy, if the Ariel, whose capacity was about
three hundred and fifty passengers, had not on this occasion carried
nearly nine hundred, a hundred, at least of whom were children of an
unpleasant age. Captain Semmes captured the Ariel once, and it is to be
deeply regretted that that thrifty buccaneer hadn't made mince-meat of
her, because she is a miserable tub at best, and hasn't much more right
to be afloat than a second- hand coffin has. I do not know her proprietor,
Mr. C. Vanderbilt. But I know of several excellent mill privileges in the
State of Maine, and not one of them is so thoroughly "Dam'd" as he
was all the way from New York to Aspinwall.
I had far rather say a pleasant thing than a harsh one; but it is due to the
large number of respectable ladies and gentleman who were on board
the steamer Ariel with me that I state here that the accommodations on
that steamer were very vile. If I did not so state, my conscience would
sting me through life, and I should have harried dreams like Richard III.
Esq.
The proprietor apparently thought we were undergoing transportation
for life to some lonely island, and the very waiters who brought us
meals, that any warden of any penitentiary would blush to offer
convicts, seemed to think it was a glaring error our not being in chains.

As a specimen of the liberal manner in which this steamer was
managed I will mention that the purser (a very pleasant person, by the
way) was made to unite the positions of purser, baggage clerk, and
doctor; and I one day had a lurking suspicion that he was among the
waiters in the dining-cabin, disguised in a white jacket and slipshod
pumps. . . . .
I have spoken my Piece about the Ariel, and I hope Mr. Vanderbilt will
reform ere it is too late. Dr. Watts says the vilest sinner may return as
long as the gas-meters work well, or words to that effect. . . . .
We were so densely crowded on board the Ariel that I cannot
conscientiously say we were altogether happy. And sea-voyages at best
are a little stupid. On the whole I should prefer a voyage on the Erie
Canal, where there isn't any danger, and where you can carry
picturesque scenery along with you--so to speak.
II.--THE ISTHMUS.
On the ninth day we reach Aspinwall in the Republic of Granada. The
President of New Granada is a Central American named Mosquero. I
was told that he derived quite a portion of his income by carrying
passengers' valises and things from the steamer to the hotels in
Aspinwall. It was an infamous falsehood. Fancy A. Lincoln carrying
carpet-bags and things! and indeed I should rather trust him with them
than Mosquero, because the former gentleman, as I think some one has
before observed, is "honest."
I intrust my bag to a speckled native, who confidentially gives me to
understand that he is the only