The Complete Works of Artemus Ward, part 4 | Page 7

by the banditti all along
the road to the City of Mexico. They steal clothes as well as coin. A
few days since the mail coach entered the city with all the passengers
stark-naked! They must have felt mortified.
4.4. CALIFORNIA.
We reach San Francisco one Sunday afternoon. I am driven to the
Occidental Hotel by a kind-hearted hackman, who states that inasmuch
as I have come out there to amuse people, he will only charge me five
dollars. I pay it in gold, of course, because greenbacks are not current
on the Pacific coast.
Many of the citizens of San Francisco remember the Sabbath day to
keep it jolly; and the theatres, the circus, the minstrels, and the music
halls are all in full blast to-night.
I "compromise," and go to the Chinese theatre, thinking perhaps there
can be no great harm in listening to worldly sentiments when expressed
in a language I don't understand.
The Chinaman at the door takes my ticket with the remark, "Ki hi-hi ki!

Shoolah!"
And I tell him that on the whole I think he is right.
The Chinese play is "continued," like a Ledger story, from night to
night. It commences with the birth of the hero or heroine, which
interesting event occurs publicly on the stage; and then follows him or
her down to the grave, where it cheerfully ends.
Sometimes a Chinese play lasts six months. The play I am speaking of
had been going on for about two months. The heroine had grown up
into womanhood, and was on the point, as I inferred, of being married
to a young Chinaman in spangled pantaloons and a long black tail. The
bride's father comes in with his arms full of tea-chests, and bestows
them, with his blessing, upon the happy couple. As this play is to run
four months longer, however, and as my time is limited, I go away at
the close of the second act, while the orchestra is performing an
overture on gongs and one-stringed fiddles.
The door-keeper again says, "Ki hi-hi ki! Shoolah!" adding, this time
however, "Chow-wow." I agree with him in regard to the ki hi and hi ki,
but tell him I don't feel altogether certain about the chow-wow.
To Stockton from San Francisco.
Stockton is a beautiful town, that has ceased to think of becoming a
very large place, and has quietly settled down into a state of serene
prosperity. I have my boots repaired here by an artist who informs me
that he studied in the penitentiary; and I visit the lunatic asylum, where
I encounter a vivacious maniac who invites me to ride in a chariot
drawn by eight lions and a rhinoceros.
John Phoenix was once stationed at Stockton, and put his mother
aboard the San Francisco boat one morning with the sparkling remark,
"Dear mother, be virtuous and you will be happy!"
. . . .
Forward to Sacramento--which is the capital of the State, and a very
nice old town.
They had a flood here some years ago, during which several blocks of
buildings sailed out of town and had never been heard from since. A
Chinaman concluded to leave in a wash tub, and actually set sail in one
of those fragile barks. A drowning man hailed him piteously, thus:
"Throw me a rope, oh throw me a rope!" To which the Chinaman
excitedly cried, "No have got--how can do?" and went on, on with the

howling current. He was never seen more; but a few weeks after his tail
was found by some Sabbath-school children in the north part of the
State.
. . . .
I go to the mountain towns. The sensational mining days are over, but I
find the people jolly and hospitable nevertheless.
At Nevada I am called upon, shortly after my arrival, by an athletic
scarlet-faced man, who politely says his name is Blaze.
"I have a little bill against you, sir," he observes.
"A bill--what for?"
"For drinks."
"Drinks?"
"Yes, sir--at my bar, I keep the well known and highly respected
coffee-house down the street."
"But, my dear sir, there is a mistake--I never drank at your bar in my
life."
"I know it, sir. That isn't the point. The point is this: I pay out money
for good liquors, and it is people's own fault if they don't drink them.
There are the liquors--do as you please about drinking them, BUT
YOU MUST PAY FOR THEM! Isn't that fair?"
His enormous body (which Puck wouldn't put a girdle around for forty
dollars) shook gleefully while I read this eminently original bill.
Years ago Mr. Blaze was an agent of the California Stage Company.
There was a formidable and well-organized opposition to the California
Stage Company at that time, and Mr.