The Complete Works of Artemus Ward, part 5 | Page 7

St.
Paul's Church isn't a older edifiss; he says it should be years and even
ages older than it is; but I decline to hold myself responsible for the
conduck of this idyit simply because he's my countryman. I spose every
civ'lised land is endowed with its full share of gibberin' idyits, and it
can't be helpt--leastways I can't think of any effectooal plan of helpin'
it.
I'm a little sorry you've got politics over here, but I shall not diskuss
'em with nobody. Tear me to pieces with wild omnibus hosses, and I
won't diskuss 'em. I've had quite enuff of 'em at home, thank you. I was
at Birmingham t'other night, and went to the great meetin' for a few
minits. I hadn't been in the hall long when a stern-lookin' artisan said to
me:

"You ar from Wales!"
No, I told him I didn't think I was. A hidgyis tho't flasht over me. It was
of that onprincipled taler, and I said, "Has my clothin' a Welchy
appearance?"
"Not by no means," he answered, and then he said, "And what is your
opinyin of the present crisis?"
I said, "I don't zackly know. Have you got it very bad?"
He replied, "Sir, it is sweepin' England like the Cymoon of the Desert!"
"Wall," I said, "let it sweep!"
He ceased me by the arm and said, "Let us glance at hist'ry. It is now
some two thousand years--"
"Is it, indeed?" I replied.
"Listin!" he fiercely cried; "it is only a little over two thousand years
since--"
"Oh, bother!" I remarkt, "let us go out and git some beer."
"No, Sir. I want no gross and sensual beer. I'll not move from this spot
till I can vote. Who ar you?"
I handed him my card, which in addition to my name, contains a elabrit
description of my show. "Now, Sir," I proudly said, "you know me?"
"I sollumly swear," he sternly replied, "that I never heard of you, or
your show, in my life!"
"And this man," I cried bitterly, "calls hisself a intelligent man, and
thinks he orter be allowed to vote! What a holler mockery!"
I've no objection to ev'ry intelligent man votin' if he wants to. It's a
pleasant amoosement, no doubt; but there is those whose igrance is so
dense and loathsum that they shouldn't be trustid with a ballit any
more'n one of my trained serpunts should be trusted with a child to play
with.
I went to the station with a view of returnin' to town on the cars.
"This way, Sir," said the guard; "here you ar," and he pinted to a
first-class carriage, the sole ockepant of which was a rayther
prepossessin' female of about 30 summers.
"No, I thank you," I earnestly replied, "I prefer to walk."
I am, dear Sir, Very respectivly yours, Artemus WArd.
5.3. THE GREEN LION AND OLIVER CROMWELL.
MR. PUNCH: My Dear Sir,--It is now two weeks since a rayther
strange lookin man engaged 'partments at the Green Lion. He stated he

was from the celebrated United States, but beyond this he said nothin.
He seem'd to prefer sollytood. He remained mostly in his room, and
whenever he did show hisself he walkt in a moody and morose manner
in the garding, with his hed bowed down and his arms foldid across his
brest. He reminded me sumwhat of the celebrated but onhappy "Mr.
Haller," in the cheerful play of "The Stranger." This man puzzled me.
I'd been puzzled afore several times, but never so severally as now.
Mine Ost of the Greenlion said I must interregate this strange bein, who
claimed to be my countryman.
"He hasn't called for a drop of beer since he's been in this ere Ouse,"
said the landlord. "I look to you," he added, "to clear up this dark, this
orful mistry!"
I wringed the lan'lord's honest hand, and told him to consider the mistry
cleared up.
I gained axes to the misterus bein's room, and by talkin sweet to him
for a few minits, I found out who he was. Then returnin to the lan'lord,
who was nervisly pacin up and down the bar, I said,
"Sweet ROLANDO, don't tremble no more! I've torn the marsk from
the hawty stranger's face, and dived into the recesses of his inmost sole!
He's a Trans-Mejim."
I'd been to the Beefanham theatre the previs evenin, and probly the
drammer I saw affected me, because I'm not in the habit of goin on as
per above. I like the Beefanham theatre very much indeed, because
there a enthoosiastic lover of the theatre like myself can unite the
legitermit drammer with fish. Thus, while your enrapterd soul drinks in
the lorfty and noble sentences of the gifted artists, you can eat a