[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael Hart]
This etext was produced by anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteers
The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Complete Works of
Artemus Ward (Charles Farrar Browne) Part 7
With a biographical sketch by Melville D. Landon, "Eli Perkins"
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.
In overhaulin one of my old trunks the tother day, I found thefollerin jernal of a vyge on the starnch canawl bote, Polly Ann,which happened to the subscriber when I was a young man (in theBrite Lexington of yooth, when thar aint no sich word as fale) onthe 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 larstvery suddent, causin the bote for to lurch vilently and knockin meorf from my pins. (Sailor frase.) Sevral passenjers on bored.Parst threw deliteful country. Honest farmers was to work sowinkorn, and other projuce in the fields. Surblime scenery. Largered-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 grownperson's dose of licker with a member of the Injianny legislater,which he urbanely insisted on allowin me to pay for. Bote tearinthreu the briny waters at the rate of 2 Nots a hour, when the boyon the leadin hoss shoutid—
"Sale hoe!"
"Whar away?" hollered the capting, clearin his glass (a empty blackbottle, with the bottom knockt out) and bringing it to his Eagleeye.
"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, spliceyour main jib-boom, and hail your chamber-maid! What's up in TerryHawt?"
"You know Bill Spikes?" said the capting of the Warier.
"Wall, I reckin. He can eat more fride pork nor any man of his hefton the Wa