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With Comic Illustrations bv Mullen. JiepHuted/rom the American CopyHgU Edition. EICHAED WOMHINGION, 80 GEEAT ST. JAMES STREET. PRIITTBD BY JOBS lOVELi. V ^ "^1 if it I I \ » TO J TO AN OLD AND TKIKD FRIEND: A RABE COMIC ARHI8T: A GENIAL AND EXCELLENT GENTLEMAN', Mr. DAN. SETCHELL, of Bostoa. I.' ^\ !k mi I .^. CONTENTS. PART I.-MISCELLANEOUS. I.— A War Meeting p^o, II.— The Draft in Baldinwille , ^ III— Things in New York y......'. ^^ IV.— In Canada 15 V.-The Noble Eed Man..... ^^ VI.— The Serenade 22 m-A Ro-ance-^a:^;^;:;;: y;;; p,,;- f^ vm— A Komance— The Conscript ""'' IX.-A Komance-Only a Mechanic /..... 3...... ^^ X. — Boston 28 XI.-A Mormon Romance-Keglnald Gbverso7/."". H XII.-Artemus Ward in Richmond.... ^ XIII.-Artemus Ward to the Prince of Wales ^^ XIV.-Affairs Round the Village Green ^^ XV.— Agriculture 43 47 PART II._TO CALIFOIiNiA A.VD BACK. I. — On the Steamer. II.-The Isthmus ^^ III.— Mexico 55 IV.— California 58 v.— Washoe ..[[[[ 60 VI.— Mr. ^ per 63 VIL-Hoic... Greeley's Ride to Placervilie ^^ VIII.— To Reese River 66 IX.— Great Salt Lake City ^^ X.— The Mountain Fever.... ^^ XL— «I am Here" ^^ XII.—Brigham Young 75 XIII.— A Piece is Spoken . '^^ XIV.— The Ball 80 XV.-Phelphs'sAlmanr......Z...'.".".'.'.'."."'^^ ^^ XVL— Hurrah for the Road [[,[][[ ^^ XVIL— Very much Married ^^ XVIIL-The Revelation of JosephSmiA ^^ 90 M I i / / I UST OF ILLUSTRATIONS, I—Artemus Writing his Travels m.-A„ Object who Won't g„ to the War ,! IV.--neKoHeKeaMa„an.P„tt,W*;OiH:: V.-Betsey Jane and her Warriors VI— Reginald on the Die .. . ^^ VII.-Hamlet Dying to Slow Music ^^ VIII.-Artemus Strolling about his Farm '' i^-An Angeli. CahforrJa Miner ^^ X.-Horace Greeley's Memorable Kide" ' ^^ Xl.^The Boston Man Gets Agitated.. '' All — The Noble Rp,? \r. i ^5 ^oDieKed Man becomes civilized.. o7 \ rAoa . 1 . 9 . 19 . 23 29 36 41 47 55 67 75 87 PART I. MISCELLANEOUS. .1 \-l i ArtemuB is Odr CC They've I our cheer caught 'e broke out tended t? I remer town last ARTEMUS WARD HIS TRAVELS. ArtemuB is introduced by his dauglitcr to a distinguished landscape painter, who lias long'.hair.and a wild expression in his eye. PART I. A WAR MEETING, Odr complaint just now is war meetin's. They've bin hnvin' 'em bad in varis parts of our cheerful itepublio, and nat'rally we caught 'em here in Baldinsville. They broke out all over us. They're better at- tended t? I the Eclipse was. I remember how people poured into our town last Spring to see the Eclipse. They labored into a impression that they couldn't see it to home, and so they came up to our place. I cleared a very handsome amount of money by exhibitin' the Eclipse to 'em, in an open-top tent. But the crowds is bigger now. Posey Oounty is aroused. I may say, indeed, that the pra-hav-ories of Injianny is on fire. /i 10 A WAR MEETING. Our big meetin' came off the other night, and our old friend of the Bugle was elected Cheerman. The Bugle-Horn of L iberty is one of Bald- insville's most eminentest institootions. The advertisements arc well written, and the deaths and marriages are conducted with signal ability The editor, Mr. Slinkers, is a polish'd, skarcastic writer. Folks in these parts will not soon forgit how he used up the Eagle of Freedom, a family journal published at Snootville, near here. The controversy was about a plank road. " The road may be, as our cotemporary says, a humbug; but our aunt isn't bald-headed, and we haven't got a one-eyed sister Sal! Wonder if the Editor of the Eagle of Freedom sees it ?' ' This used up the Eagle of Freedom feller, because his aunt's head does present a skinn'd appearance, and his sister Sarah is very much one-eyed. For a genteel home-thrust, Mr. Slinkers has few ekals. He is a man of great pluck likewise. He has a fierce nostril, and I b'lieve upon my soul, that if it wasn't absolootly necessary for him to remain here and announce in his paper, from week to week, that " our Gov'ment is about to take vig'rous mea- .sures to put down the rebellion " — I b'lieve upon my soul, this illustris man would en- list as a Brigadier Gin'ral, and git his Bounty. I was fixin' myself up to attend the great war meetin', when my daughter entered with a young man who was evijently from the city, and who wore long hair, and had a wild expression into his eye. In one hand he carried a port-folio, and his other paw claspl a bunch of small brushes. My daughter introduced him as Mr. SwEiBlER, the distinguished landscape painter from Philadelphy. "He is a artist, papa. Here is one of his master-pieces — a young mother gazin' admirin'ly upon her firstrboni," and my •daughter showed me a really pretty picter, done in ile. "Is it not beautiful, papa? He throws so much soul into his work." " Does he ? does he ?" said I—" well, I reckon I'd better hire him to whitewash our fence. It needs it. What will you charge sir," I continued, " to throw some soul into my fence." My daughter went out of the room' in very short meeter, takin' the artist with her, and from the emphatical manner in which the door slam'd, I concluded she was summut disgusted at my remarks. She closed the door, I may say, in italics. 1 went into the closet and larfed all alone by myself for over htvlf an hour. I larfed so vi'lently that the preserve jars rattled like a cavalry offisser's sword and things, which it aroused my Betsy, who came and opened the door pretty suddent. She seized me by the few lonely hairs that still linger sadly upon my barefooted hed, and dragged me out of the closet, incidentally obsarving that she dm't exactly see why she should be compelled, at her advanced stage of life, to open a assylum for sooperanooated idiots. My wife is one of the best wimin on this continent, altho' she isn't always gentle as a lamb, with mint sauce. No, not always. But to return to the war meetin'. It was largely attended. The Editor of the Bugle arose and got up and said the fact could no longer be disguised that we were involved in a war. " Human gore," said he, is flowin'. All able-bodied men should seize a musket and march to the tented field. I repeat it, sir, to the tented field." A voice — " Why don't you go yourself, you old blowhard?" " I am identified, young man, with a Ar- kymedian leaver which moves the world, " said the li^ditor, wiping his auburn brow with his left coat-tail : " I allude, young man, to the press. Terms, two dollars a year, invariably in advance. Job printing exe- cuted with neatness and despatch I " And with this brilliant bust of elekance the edi- I tor introduced Mr. J. Brutus Hinkins, who ] A WAR MEETING. 11 tiful, papa? .3 work." I_" well, I whitewash bat will you throw some the room" in ; artist with il manner in ided she was marks. She a italics. 1 1 all alone by I larfed so 3 rattled like things, which e and opened le seized me 1 still linger , and dragged illy obsarving she should be age of life, to ated idiots, wimin on this lys gentle as a not always. meetin'. It Editor of the said the fact that we were n gore," said )d men should le tented field. field." a go yourself, m, with a Ar- s the world, " )urn brow with , young mini, dollars a year, printing exe- latch I " And ikance the edi- i Hinkins, who is sufferin' from an attack of College in a naberin' place. Mr. Hinkins said Wash- ington was not safe. Who can save our national capeetle ? " Dan Setciiell,' I said. " He can do it afternoons. Let him plant his light and airy form onto the Long Bridge, make faces at the hirelin' foe, and they'll sked- addle ! Old Setch can do it." " I call the Napoleon of Showmen," said the Editor of the Bugle—" 1 call that Napoleonic man, whose life is adorned with so many noble virtues, and whose giant mind lights up this warlike scene — I call him to order." I will remark, in this connection, that the editor of the Bugle does my job printing. " You," said Mr. Hinkins, " who live away from the busy haunts of men, do not comprehend the magnitood of the crisis. The busy haunts of men is where people comprehend this crisis. We who live in the busy haunts of men— that is to say, we dwell, as it were, in the busy haunts of men." " I really trust that the gent'l'man will not fail to say suthin' about the busy haunts of men, before he sits down," said li^' " I claim the right to express niy senti. ments hero, said Mr. Hinkins, in a slighHy indignant tone, " and I shall brook no in- terruption, if I am a Softmore." "You couldn't be more sn/(, my young friend," I observed, whereupon there was cries of "Order! order!" " I regret I can't mingle in this strife personally," said the young man. "You might inlist as a liberty-pole," said I in a silvery whisper. " But," he added, " I have a voice, and that voice is for war." The young man then closed his speech with some strikin' and original remarks in relation to the star- spangled banner. He was followed by the village minister, a very worthy man indeed, but whose sermons have a tendency to make people sleep pretty industrious]". '• I am willin' to inlist for one," he said. " What's your weight, parson ?" I asked. " A hundred and sixty pounds," he said. ^ " Well, you can inlist as a hundred and sixty p)unds of morphine, your dooty bein' to stand in the hospitals arter a battle, and preach while the surgical operations is bein' performed ! Think how much you'd save the Gov'ment in morphine." lie didn't seem to see it; but he made a good speech, and the editor of the Bugle rose to read the resolutions, connnencin' as follers : Resolved, That' we view with anxiety the fact that there is now a war goin' on and Resolved^lh.Siiyic believe StonewallJACK- SON sympathizes with the secession move- ment, and that we hope the nine-months men — At this point he was interrupted by the sounds of silvery footsteps on the stairs, and a party of wimin, carryin' guns and led by Betsy Jane, who brandish'd a loud and rattlin' umbereller, burst into the room " Here," cried I, " are some nine-months wimen !" " Mrs. Ward." said the editor of the Bugle— ^mv^. Warp, and ladies, what means this extr'ord'n'ary demonstration?" " It means," said that remarkable female, '• that you men air makin' fools of your- selves. You air willin' to talk and urge others to go to the wai-s, but you don't go to the wars yourselves. War meetins is very nice in their way, but they don't keep Stonewall Jackson from comin' over to Maryland and helpin' himself to the fattest beef critters. What we want is more cider and less talk. We want you able- bodied men to stop speechifying, which don't 'mount to the wiggle of a sick cat's tail, and go to fi'tin' ; otherwise you can stay to home and take keer of the children, while .0 wimin will go to the wars!" "Gentl'men," said I, "that's my wife I Go in, old g.il i" and I throw'd up mj ancient white hat in perfeck rapters. ^ Ik 12 A WAR MEETING. "Is this roU-book to be filled up with the names of men or wimin' ?" she cried " With men— with men !" and our quoty was made up that very night. There is a great deal of gas about these war meetins. A war meetin', in fact without gas, would be suthin' like the play of Hamlet with the part of Othello omitted. Still believin' that the Goddess of Lib- erty is about as well sot up with as any young lady in distress could expect to be, I am Yours more'n anybody else's, A. Ward. n. 1 » w oddesB of Lib- ip with as any d expect to be, else's A. Ward. II. If Fm drafted I shall resign Deeply grate, al for the onexpected honor hus confered upon me, I shall feel compeld to resign the position in favor of sum more worth pe Modesty is .hat ails me. -That s what s kept me under Imeaater-say, Ishallhavto resign if I m drafted everywheres I've bin inrcJd T nu,st now furrinstuns, be inrold in upa;ds ot JOO different towns. If I'd konf n„ Brigade, in wl.-Vl, „„„„ t __ , , , . '* THE DRAFT IN BALDINSVILLE. T> • 1 . — -'viiiuuitiiy necuin a Brigade, in which ease I could have held a meetin and elected myself Brigadcer-ginral quite unanimiss. I hadn't no idea there was so many of me before. But, serisly, I concluded to stop exhibitin', and made tracks for Baldinsvillc. My only daughter threw herself onto my boosumand said, " It is ,„e, fayther - I thank the gods! " > j- "ci . x She reads the Ledger. " Tip us yer bunch of fives, old faker I " -dA™r.s,Jr. He reads' the ^/.>;,, My wife was to the sowin' circle. Ik„ew «te and the wimin folks wa« havin' a pleT -t t.„eslanderin' the females of the ot ternoon and was doubtless enjoyin' their selves ekally well in slanderi-V fuT namedcircle),andIdidn'tsendforhe' I alius like to see people enjoy theirselver g^My son ORonsTUs was playin' onto a kitchin'. '^'^°"-" '•■■'• H corner of the ^ It'll cost some postage-stamps to rd,e this ' fam'ly, and yet it 'ud .^o hard wi'I, the od ' »^- to lose any lamb of the flock " I An old bachelor is a poor critter He ™ay have hearn the skylark or whS nearly the same thing) Miss Kvl} . OLE Bnr T fi/^i / ' ™"^ ^""^^ l^earn music I , '"^ "°''"'n' about mu ic-the real, ginuine thing-the music And you may ax the father of sichchildrnn -leto dinner, feelinwerrysi^ett'l be no spoons missin' when he ZT Sich fathers never dron Un fi ^ '^"^- ,- f^ ii P *'" nve-cent nieces I'ito the contribution box nor ,. i i pe^s off nnf^ kr . . °^' "O'^ palm shoe- pi-os on onto blind hossos fm- «„* ' critter. He dnn'f ]• ? ' ^ "" P°'*'" Panents, lor bein' here at all. The Wv -anud man dies in good stile at homf^^^^ --de by hi. weeping wife and Chi don Tbe old bachelor don't die at all-he ort" of rots away, like a pollywog's tail. % townsmen were sort o' demoralized. There was a evident desine to ewade the Diaft, as I obsarved with sorrer, and patri jewdesprit.] I hadn't no sooner sot doln on the piazzy of the tavoun than I saw six- teen solitary hossmen, ridin' fou^ abreast wcndin their way up the street ' ' "What's them? Is it calvary ?" % 14 THE DRAFT IN BALDINSVILLE. " That," said the landlord, " is the stage. Sixteen able-bodied citizens has lately bo't the stage line 'tween here and Scotsburg. That's them. They're stage-drivers. Stage- drivers is exempt! " I saw that each stage-driver carried a letter in his left hand. "The mail is bevy, to-day," said the landlord. " Gin'rally they don't have more'n half a dozen letters 'tween 'em. To- day they've got ona apiece ! Bile my lights and liver ! " "And the passengers ? " " There ain't any,^ skacely, now-days," said the landlord, " and what few there is, very much prefer to walk, the roads is so rough." " And how ist with you ? " I inquired of the editor of the Bugh-IIorn of Liberty ^ who sot near me. " I can't go," he sed, shakin' his head in a wise way. " Ordinarily I should delight to wade in gore, but my bleedin' country bids me stay at homo. It is imperatively necessary that I remain here for the purpuss of announcin' from week to week, that our Gov'ment is about to take vigorous mea- sures to put down the rebellion ! " I strolled into the village oyster-saloon, where I found Dr. Schwazey, a leadin' citizen, in a state of mind which showed that he'd bin histin' in more'n his share of pizen. "Hello, old Beeswax," ho bdlered ; " How's yer grandmam ? Wiien you goin' to feed your stuffed animils ? " " What's the matter with the eminent physician?" I pleasantly inquired. "This," he said; "this is what's the matter. I'm a habitooal drunkard! I'm exempt!" "Jes'so." " Do you see them beans, old man ? " and he pinted to a plate before him. " Do you see 'em ? " " I do. They are a cheerful fruit when used tempritly." "Well," said he, " I hain't eat anything since last week. I eat beans now became I eat beans then, t never mix my vittles ! " " It's quite proper you should eat a little authin' once in a while," I said. " It's a good idee to occasionally instruct the stum- niick that it mustn't depend excloosively on licker for its sustainanco.". " A blessin'," he cried : " a blessin' on- to the bed of the man what inwented beans. A blessing' onto his bed !" " Which his name is Gilson ! He's a first family of Bostin," said I. This is a speciment of how things was goin' in my place of residence. A few was true blue. The schoolmaster was among 'em. He greeted me warmly. He said I was welkim to those shores. He said I had a massiv mind. It was grati- fyin', he said, to see that great intelleck stalkin' in their midst onct more. I hare before had occasion to notice this school- master. He is evidently a young man of far more than ordinary talents. The schoolmaster proposed we should git up a mass meetin'. The meeting was argely attended. We held it in the open air, round a roarin' bonfire. The schoolmaster was the first orator. He's pretty good on the speak. He also writes well, his composition being seldom marred by ingrannuatticisms. He said this inactivity surprised him. " What do you expect will come of this kind of doin's ? Nihiljit ' " Hooray for Nihil !" I interrupted. " Fellow-citizens, let's giv three cheers for Nihil, the man who fit !" The schoolmaster turned a little red, but repeated—" Nihiljit." " Exactly," I said. Nihil y?^ He was- n't a strategy feller." " Our venerable friend," said the school- master, smilin' pleasantly, " isn't posted in Virgil." " No, I don't know him. But if he's a m THE DKAFT IN BALDINSVILLE. in't eat anything ians now because nix ray vittles ! " hould eat a little I said. " It's a struct the stum- 1 excloosively on " a blessin' on- inwented beans. 15 ILSON I 11. He's a how things was ice. he schoolmaster ted me warmly. ose shores. He . It was grati- great intelleck ' more. I have tice this school- young man of Its. :d we should git ; meeting was it in the open he first orator, peak. He also I being seldom . He said this ' What do you ind of doin's ? I interrupted, hree cheers for a little red, but il Jit. He was- said the school- isn't posted in But if he's a I able-bodied man he must stand his little draft." The schoolmaster wound up in eloquent style, and the subscriber took the stand. I said the crisis had not only cum itself, but it had brought all its relations. It has cum, I said, with a evident intention of makin' us a good long visit. It's goin' to take oflF its things and stop with us. My wife says so too. This is a good war. For those who like this war, it's just such n kind of war a.s they like. I'll bet ye. i^iy wife says so too. If the Federal army suc- ceeds in takin' Washington, and they seem to be advancin' that way pretty often, I shall say it is strategy, and Washington will be safe. And that noble banner, as it were— that banner, as it were— will be a emblem, or rather, I should say, that noble banner— as it were. 3Iy wife says so too. [I got a little mixed up here, but they did n't notice it. Keep mum.] Feller citi- zens, it will be a proud day for this Re- public when Washington is safe. My wife says so too. The editor of the Bugk-Horn of Liberty I here arose and said ; " I do not wish to interrupt the gentleman, but a important despatch has just bin received at the tele- graph office here. I will read it. It is as follows : Gov'ment is about to take vigor- ous measures to put down the rebellion ./" [Loud applause.] That, said I, is cheering. That's sooth- ing. And Washington will be safe. [Sen- sation.] Philadelphia is safe. Gen. Pat- terson 's in Philadelphia. But my heart bleeds partic'ly for Washington. My wife says so too. There's money enough. No trouble about money. They've got a lot of first- class bank-note engravers at Washington (which place, I regret to say, is by no means safe) who turn out two or three cords of money a day-good money, too. Goes well. These bank-note engravers made good wages. I expect they "lay up property. They are full of Union senti- ment. There is considerable Union senti- ment in Virginny, more specially among the honest farmers of the Shenandoah valley! 3Iy wife says so too. Then it isn't money we want. But wc> do want men, and we must have them. We must carry a whirlwind of fire among the foe. We must crush the ungratelul rebels who are poundin' the Goddess of Liberty over the head with slung-shots, and I stabbin" her with stolen knives I We must lick 'em quick. We must introduce a large number of first-class funerals among the people of the South. Betsy says so too. This war hain't been too well managed We all know that. What then ? We are all in the same boat-if the boat goes down we go down with her. Hence we must all fight. It ain't no use to talk now about who caused the war. That's played out. j The war is upon us-upon us all— and we I must all fight. We can't "reason the ] matter with the foe." When, in the broad j glare of the noonday sun, a speckled jack- 1 ass boldly and maliciously kicks over a I peanut-stand, do we " reason " with him ? j I guess not. And why "reason " with i those other Southern people who are tryin' to kick over the Ilepublic ? Betsy, my wife, says so too. The n)ectin' broke up with enthusiasm. We shan't draft in Baldinsville if we can help it. ■/ft ih Bin Pi I III. THINGS IN NEW YORK. The stoodent and connysecr must have noticed and admired in varis parts of the United States of America, large yeller hanbills, which not only air gems of art in theirselves, but they troothfuUy sit forth tlie attractions of my show — a show, let me here obsarve, that contains many livin' wild animils, every one of which has got a Beautiful Moral. Them hanbils is sculpt in New York. & I annoolly repair here to git some more or. 'um; &, bein' here, I tho't I'd issoo a Address to the public on matters and things. Since last I meyandered these streets, I have bin all over the Pacific Slopes and Utah. I cum back now, with my virtoo unimpared, but I've got to git sjaie new clothes. Many changes has taken place, even durin' my short absence, & sum on um is Solium tf contempulate. The house in Yarick street, where I used to Board, is bein' torn down. That house, which was rendered memoriable by my livin' into it, is " parsin' away ! parsin' away ! " But some of the timbers will be made into canes, which will be sr-'d to my admirers at the low price of one dollar each. Thus is changes goin' on continerly. In the New World it is war in the Old World Empires is totterin'. & Dysentaries is crumblin'. These canes is cheap at a dollar. Sammy Booth, Duane street, sculps my hanbils, & he's a artist. He studid in Kome — State of New York. I'm here to rend the proof-sheets of my hanbils as fast as they're sculpt. You have to watch these ere printers pretty close, for they're jest as apt to spel a wurd rong as anyhow. But I have time to look round sum & how do I find things ? I return to the Atlantic States after a absence often months, & what State do I find the country in ? Why I don't know what State I find it in. SuflSce it to say, that I do not find it in the State of New Jersey. I find sum things that is cheerin', par- tic'ly the resolve on the part of the wimin of America to stop wearin' furrin goods. I never medle ^''*h my wife's things. She may wear muslm from Greenland's icy mounting, and bombazeen from I'nj'ya coral strand, if she wants to ; but I'm glad to state that that superior woman has peeled oflr all her furrin clothes and jumpt into fabrics of domestic manufacture. But, says sum folks, if you stopimportin' things you stop the revenoo. That's all right. We can stand it if the Revenoo can. On the same principle young men should continer to get drunk on French brandy and to smoke their livers as dry as a corncob with Cuby cigars because 4-sooth if tliey don't, it will hurt the Revenoo! This talk'bout the Revenoo is of the bosli, boshy. One thing is tol'bly certin— if we don't send gold out of the contry we shall have the consolation of knowing that it is in the country. So I say great credit is doo the wimin for this patriotic move— and to tell the trooth, wimin genrally know what they're 'bout. Of all the blessins they're the soothinist. If there'd never bin any wimin, where would my children be to day ? But J I other mc J line of wJ I tainment i is we air :,' loss we ps ( two year? >L'en (lodj with the ( even if si stars in lie jiiitly, and forefathers they war goaketh.) There i don't, for i we certinlj tliere's one that is our I vcntur i.'arth all ov ■scope, you ther pack ol sent Congi America. Gentlemc you've .sot t made summc The country Mucd, is di-s" ■ sliow us a f niake a .speec ■ right under t ■ don't you slu j uptotheEuK ■ fiency's head Congress, ; \ niizzcrablc de \ At a specia district the ot Henry Clay. : but inasmuch pive statesman ^s by all meai Them who jthe timbers of |s essenshal to THINGS IN NEW YORK. Btty close, for vurd rong as ound sum & eturn to the )f ten months, country in ? ! I find it in. lot find it in 3heerin', par- of the wimin rin goods. I things. She enland's icy I'nj'ya coral I'm glad to 1 has peeled jumpt into e. X)pimportin' That's all he Revenoo young men on French 3rs as dry as ause 4-sooth le Revenoo! of the hosh, ertin — if we try we shall ig that it is credit is doo )ve — and to know what isins they're er bin any 1 be to day ? But I hope this move will lead to other moves that air just as n.uch needed, one of which is a general and therrer cur- tainment of expenses all round. The fact J.^ we air gettin' tei'bly extravagant, & on- css we paws in our mad career, in less than two years the Goddess of Liberty will be «een .lodgin' into a Pawn Broker's shop with the other gown done up in a bundlJ^ cvenif she don't have to Spout the gold ■stars ,n her head-band. Let us all take hold ,)'»t y, and live and dress eentsibly, like our forefathers, who know'd morcn we do if tl'ey wamt quite so honest! (SuUle goaketh.) ^ There air other cheorin' si^ns Wo ^lon't, for instuns, lack great Generals, and we eertinly don't lack brave sojers-but there s one thing I wish we did lack, and tnat is our present Congress. I venture to say that if you sarch the oarth all over with a ten-hoss power mikri- Hcopo, you won't be able to find such ano- ther pack of poppycock gabblers as the pre- sent Congress of the United States of America. Gentlemen of the Sunit & of the House you've .sot there and draw'd your pay and made summer-complaint speeches long enuff. The country at large, incloodirt' the under- Mued, IS disgusted with you. Why don't you ^how us a statesnian-sumbody who can make a speech that will hit the poplar hart right under the Great Public woskit ? Wliy don't you show us a statesman who can rise up to the Emergency, and cave in the Emer- gency's head? Congress, you won't do. Go home, you |mizzerablc devils— go home ! At a special Congressional 'lection in my khstnct the other day I delib'ritly voted for Uienry Clay. I admit that Henry is dead but inasmuch as we don't seem to have a Pive statesman in our National Congress, let •us by all means have a fii-st.class corpse. Them who think that a c-ne made from Jhe timbers of the house I once boarded in f « essenshal to their happiness, should not delay about sendin' the money right on for And now, with a genuine hurrar for the wimm who air goin' to abandin furrin goods nd another for the patriotic evei^wteres,' in leave public matters and indulge in a little pleasant family gossip. % reported captur by the North Anie- ncansavijis of Utah, led my wide circle of frinds and creditors to think that I had bid adoo to earthly things and was a angel Playin on a golden harp. Hents my rival nome was onexpectcd. It was 11, p. M., when I reached my homestid and knockt a healthy knock on the door thereof A nightcap thrusted itself out of the trout chamber winder. (It was my Betsy's nightcap.) And a voice said: '■'Who is it?" ;' It is a Man ! " I answered in a oruff vois. ° " I don't b'lievo it ! " she sed. "Then come down and search mo " I replied. ' Then resumin'my nat'ral voice, I said, It IS your own A. W., Betsy! Sweet lady, wake! Ever of thou!" "Oh," she said, "it's you, is it? I thought I smelt something." But the old girl was glad to -see me. In the mornin' I found that my family were entertainin a artist from Philadclphy who was there paintin' some startlin' water- falls and mountins, and I morin suspected he had a hankerin' for my oldest dauter. '■ 3Ir. Skimmerhorn, fater, ' sed my dau- ter. " Glad to see you, Sir!" I replied in a hospittle vois. " Glad to see you." " He is an artist, father," said my child, " A whichist ?" "An artist. A painter." "And glazier," I askt. "Air you a painter and glazier, sir?" 3Iy dauter and wife was mad. hut I couldn't help it, I felt in a comikil'mood. B / *^ 18 THINGS IN NEW YORK. I "It is a wonder to mc, Sir," said the artist, " considcrin what a wide-spread re- putation you have, that some of our Eas- tern managers don't secure you." " It's a wonder to me," said I to my wife," that somebody don't secure him with a chain." After breakfast I went over to town to see my old friends. Tlie editor of the Bu- gle greeted me cordyully, and showed me the follerin' article he'd just written about the paper on the other side of the street : " We have recently put up in our office an entirely new sink, of unique construc- tion — with two holes through which the soiled water may pass to the new bucket underneath. What will the hell-hounds of The Advertiser say to this? We shall continue to make improvements as fast as our rapidly-increasing business may warrant. Wonder whether a certain editor's wife thinks she can palm off a brass watch-chain on this community for a gold one?" "That," says the Editor, "hits him whar he lives. That will close him up as bad as it did when I wrote an article ridi- cooling his sister, who's got a cock-eye.' ' A few days after my return I was shown a young man, who says ee'll be Dam if he goes to the war. He was settin' on a bar- rel, & was indeed a Loathsum objeck. Last Sunday I heard Parson Batkins preach, and the good old man preached well too, tho' his prayer was ruther lengthy. The Editor of the Bugle, who was with me, said that prayer would make fift<^cn squares, soliu nonparil. I don't think of nothin' more to write about. So, " B'leeve me if all those endear- ing young charms," &c., &c. A. Ward. rass watch-chuin ildone?" tor, "hits him close him up as 3 an article ridi- t a cock-eye." urn I was shown 11 he Dam if he scttin' on a har- im objeck. Parson Batkins an preached well ruther lengthy. rho was with me, e fift<'cn squares, i' more to write all those endear- A. Ward. An Objeck who says he won't go to the war. ,! See page 18. fori If n^' '^•''^"' ""•^^'- ^ '"•'-ikal fomofGovWnt. In other words I'm .' vehn among the crowned heds of Canady, cont ry, they air exeeedin' good people. " T JH' *!r^ "'' ^'^''^'^ of many blessins. boon o^ '"'V'' '"'''''''' *^« P"«^Ie«« cou V'r/'^- , ^'^^ ^^^^'^'^ -y Ameri- -o'! ^0 oneham, and they hain't eot a Fourth of July to their backs ^ IV. IN CANADA. Altho' this is a monikal form of Gov- me.t I am onable to perceeve moch moni- faiiedto"' "VP'-« - Toronto, but Mrs. Vic. „ who is Queen of Eng- land, and has all the luxuries of th. mar- kets, xncloodin' game in its season, don't bother herself Tnn^h"»-—i^ '- ' ' her do -bout as she's mighter. She, hot ever, gm'rally keeps her supplied with a 20 IN CANADA. III! if ( i I lord, who's called a Oov'ner Gin'rul. Sonio- times the politicians of Canady make it lively for this lon^ — fo. Canady has politi- cians, and I expect they don't differ from our politicians, scuc of em bem' gifted and talented liars, uo doubt. The present Gov'ncr Gin'ral of Canady is Lord Monck. I saw him review some volunteers at Montreal. Ho was accompa- nied by some other lords and dukes and ge- neral." and those sort of thingn. He i Je a little bay horse, and his close wasn't any better than mine. You'll always notiss, by the way, that the higher up in the world » man is, the less good harness ho puts on. Hence Gin'ral Halleck walks the streets in plain citizen's dress, while the second lieutenant of a vol'intecr regiment piles all the brass things he can find onto his back, and drags a forty-pcund sword after him. Monck has been in the lord bisniss some time, and I understand it pays, tho' I don't know what a lord's wages is. Tho wages of sin is death and postage-stamps. But this has nothing to do with Monck. One of Lord Monck's daughters rode with him on the field. She has golden hair, a kind good face, and wore a red hat. I should be very happy to have her pay me and my family a visit at Baldinsville. Come and bring your kiiittin', 31iss Monck. Mrs. Ward will do the fair thing by you. She makes the best slap-jacks in America. As a slap-jackist, she has no ekal. She wears the Belt. What the review was all about, I don't know. I haven't a gigantic intellcck, which can grasp great questions at onct I am not a Webster or a Seymour. I am not a Washington or a Old Abe. svl from it. I am not as gifted a man as Hen- ry Ward Beeciier. Even the congrega- tion of Plymouth Meetin'-House in Brook- lyn will admit that. Yes, I should think so. But while I don't have the slitest idee as to what the reveew was fur, I will state that the sojers looked pooty scrumptious in their red and green close. Come with me, jentlc reader, toQuebeck. Quebeck w;is surveyed and laid out by a gentleman who had been afflicted with tho delirium tremens from childhood, and hence his idees of things was a iiitlo irreg'ler. The streets don't lead anywheres in partic'- lar, but evcrywhcres in gin'ral. The city is bilt on a variety of perpendicler hills, each hill b^in' a trifle wuss nor t'other one. Quebeck is full of stone walls, and arches, and citadels and things. It is said no foo could ever git mto Quebeck, and I guess they couldn't. And I don't see what the'yd ivant to get in there for. Quebeck has seen livei_y times in a war- like way. The French and Britishers had a set-to there in iT'O. Jiai Wolfe com- manded tho latters, and Jo. Montcalm the formers. Both were hunky boys, and fit nobly. But Wolfe was too many measles for Montcalm, and the French was slew'd. Wolfe and Montcalm was both killed. In arter years a common mo- nyment was erected by the gen'rous people of Quebeck, aided by a bully Earl named George Daliiousie, to these noble fellows. That was well done. Durin' the Revolutionary War B. Ar- nold made his way, through dense woods and thick snows, from Maine to Quebeck, which it was one of the hunkiest things ever done in the military line. It would have been better if B. Arnold's funeral had come oif immediatly on his arrival there. On the Plains of Abraham there was onct some tall titin', and ever since theu there has been a great demand for the bones of the slew'd en that there occasion, t'ut . le real ginoome bones was long ago carried off, and now the boys make a haa- sum thing by cartin' the bones of bosses and sheep out there, and sellin' em to intel- ligent American toweristes. Takin' a per- fessional view of this dodge, I must say that it betrays genius of a lorfty character. It reminded me of a inspired feet of my own. I used to exhibit a wax figger of L.-^ ttdcr, to Quebeck. rul laid out by a afflicted with the Idhood, and hence a liitlo irreg'ler. wheres in partic'- n'ral. The city ;rpendicier hills, s nor t'other one. alls, and arches, It ia said no foe !ck, and I guess tseewhntthe'yd times in a war- d Britishers had lit Wolfe cora- Jo. Montcalm unky boys, and was too n;any ind the French Montcalm was s a common nio- gen'rous people lly Earl named ese noble fellows. y War B. Ar- ^h dense woods no to Quebeck, lunkiegt things line. It would lnold's funeral on his arrival IN CANADA. 21 liENRy WiLKiNS, the Boy Murderer. IlE.NnY had, in a moment of inadvertence, killed hia Uncle EruKAM, and walked off with tl old man .■( money. Well, this Stat too was lost somehow, and not »iwmi' it would make any particler difference, I sub- stitooted tl, full-grown stattoo of one of my distinguished piruts for the Boy Mur- derer. One night I exhibited to a poor but honest audience in the town of Htone- ham, Maine. "This, ladies and gentle- men." -aid I, pointing my umbrella (that weapon which is indispensable to every troo American) to the stattoo, "this is a l''''.>. like wax figger of the notorious Henry WiLiciNs, who in the dead of night murdered his Uncle P^piiram in cold blood. A sad warning to all uncles havi^' mnr- derers for nephews. When a mere child this Henry Wilkins was compelled to go to the Sunday-school. He carried no Sunday-school book. The teacher told him to go home and bring one. He went rnd returned with a comic song-book. A depraved proceedin'." '• But," says a man in the audience, " when you was here before your wax fisger represented Henry Wilkins as a boy. Now, Henry was hung, and yet you show him to us now as a full-grown man ! How's that ?" '•The figger has gro J, sir— it Ims growd," I said. T was angry. If it ha, jcon in these times I think I should have .nfcrmed agia him as a traitor to his flag, and had him put in Fort Lafayette. I say adoo to Quebeck with regret. It is old fogyish, but chock full of interest. Young gentlemen of a romantic turn of mind, who air botherin' their heads as how they can spend their father's money, had better see Quebeck. Altogether I like Canady. T.ood people and lots of pretty girls. T wouldn't mind comin' over liere to live in the capacity of a Duke, provided a vacancy occurs, and pro- vided further I could be allowed a few star- spangled banners, a eagle, a boon of HI orty, etc. Don't think I've skedaddled. Not at all. I'm coming home in a week. Let's hiivc the Union restored as it was, if we can ; but if we can't 7'm in favor of the Union as it warn':. But the Union anyhow. Gentlemen of the editorial corpse, if you would be happy be virtoous ! I, who am the emblem of virtoo, tell you so. (Signed,) A. Ward.' dam there was 2ver since theu nd for the bones ;here occasion. ; was long ago s make a han- ones of bosses lin' em to intel- Takin' a per- [ must say that character, ired feet of my wax figger of /^ Y. THE NOBLE RED MAN. ?( ! Ih ■ The red man of the forest was form'ly a very respectful person. Justice to the nobk' iiboorygine warrants me in sayin' that orrigemerly he was a majestic cuss. At the time Cimis. arrovo on these shores (I allood to Chris. Columbus), the savajis was virtoous and happy. They were innocent of secession, rum, draw- poker, and sinfulness gin'rally. They didn't discuss the slavery question as a custom. They had no Congress, faro banks, delirium tremens, or Associated Press. Their habits was consequently good. Late suppers, dyspepsy, gas com- panies, thieves, ward politicians, pretty waiter-girls, and other metropolitan refine- ments, were unknown among them. No savage in good standing would take postage- stamps. You couldn't have bo't a coon skin with a barrel of 'em. The female Aboorygine never died of consumption, be- cause she didn't tic her waist up in whale- bone things ; but in loose and flowin' gar- ments she bounded, with naked feet, over hills and plains like the wild and frisky antelope. It was a onlucky moment for us when Chris, sot his foot onto these 'ere shons. It would have been bet*^fir br us of the present day if the :njins had Hven him a warm meal and sent him home ore the ragin' fillers. For the savages owned the country, and Columbus was a filii- buster. Cortez, Pizabro, and Walker were one-horse fillibustors— Columbus was a four-horse team fiUibuster, and a large yaller dog under the waggin. I say, in view of the mess we are makin' of things, it would have been better for us if Columbus had staid to homo. It would have been better for the show bisniss. The circula- tion of Vanity Fair would be larger, and the proprietors would all have boozum pins ! Yes, sir, and perhaps a ten-pin alley. By which I don't wish to be understood as intimatin' that the scalpin' wretches who are in the injin bisniss at the present day are of any account, or calculated to make home happy, especially the Sioxes of Miu- nesoty, who desarve to be murdered in the first degree, and if Pope will only stay in St. Paul and not go near 'cm himself, I reckon they will bo. Things i ennal boat " i other day i Wabash. I J a new style c [of a red-hea( |compass. It The artist li'etumed to P ■took his lily- Igestcd to hin Jcitizens of P ■be a good idea Ion their hous onto those 'ere m bot<-er jr us ijins had Hveu him home ore savages owned us -was a fiUi- , and Walker IJoLUJiBu.s was ', and a large n. I say, in in' of things, it i if Columbus uld liave been The eircula- bc larger, and boozum pins ! in alley, be imderstood wretches who e present day ated to make ioxes of Miu- irdered in the 1 only stay in n himself, I :'JULtP5 Lo! The poor Ked man and a "pretty waiter girl." Scc page 22. Yl. THE SERENADE. Things in our town is workin'. The canal boat " Lucy Ann" called in here the pother day and reported all quiet on the Wabash. The "Lucy Ann" has adopted a new style of Binnaklo light, in the shape of a red-headed gal who sits up over the [compass. It works well. The artist I spoke about in my larst has i-etumed to Philadelphy. Before lie left I took his lily-white hand in mine. T su-v. gested to him that if he could induce the citizens of Philadelphy to l>elieve it would be a good idea to have white winder-sliutters jon their houses and white door-stones, he might make ajfortin. " It's a novelty," I added, " and may startle 'em at fust, but they may conclond to adopt it." As several of our public men are con- stantly being surprised witli 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 ^ike me entirely by surprise with a serenade. They said they'd overwhelm me with a un- expected honor for seven dollars, which I excep<:ed. -- T wrote out my impromtoo speech sevoril days beforehand, bein' very careful to ex- 24 THE SERENADE. pungc all ingramatticisms and payin' parti- cular attention to the punktooation. It was, if I may say it without egitibm, a manly effort but, alars! I never delivered it, as the sekel will show you. I paced up and down the kitein speakin' my piece over so as to be entirely pcrfeck. My blooming young daughter Sarah Ann ?»othered me sum° mut by Bingin', " Why do summer roses fade?" " Because," said I, arter hearin' her sing it about fourteen times, "because it's their biz! Let 'cm 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 ap- pear at the winder dressed in white, and wave a lily-white handkercher. Dy'e 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 Ms 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 9 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 "AVard! Ward!" Isteptout I onto the portico. A brief glance showed | me that the asseniblage was summet mi;.ed. j There was a great many ragged boys, and ; there was quite a number of grown up per- | sons evigently under the affluence of the in- j toxicatin' bole. The Band was also drunk, i Dr. Schwazey, who was holdin' up a post, j seemed to be partic'ly drunk— so much so i 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 lienor " Leader of the Band.— .\ym you give us our money now, or wait till you get through ? ^ To this painful and disgustin' interrup- tion I paid no attention. " for this onexpected honor I thank you." Leader of the Ba7id.~Bat 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. Schwazei/.~So do I ! A voice.— We all do ! " my heart swells- I A voice.— Three cheers for the swells. 1 " Y^ ^^^>" said I, " in troublous times. , but I hope we shall again resume our I former proud position, and go on in our I glorious career!" i L>r. Schwazei/. —I'm willin' for one to I go on in a glorious career. Will you join i 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'.'' I Dr. S.—Huve you a banquet spread in : the house? I should like a rhynossyross on the half shell, or a hippopotamus on : toast, or a horse and wagon roasted whole. i Anything that's handy. Don't put your- : self out on my account. At this pint the Band begun to make j hidyous noises with their brass horns, and a exceedingly ragged boy wanted to know if there wasn't to be some wittles afcre the concern broke up ? I didn't exactly know what to do, and was just on the pint 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 froni me to-day. When this you see, remember me. ^ disgustin' interrup- ected honor I thank gain resume our and go on in our willin' for one to er. Will you join I glorious career ? git for a glorious iself? id I sternly, " you rbin' themeetin'.'' •anquet spread in iQ a rhynossyross hippopotamus on on roasted whole, Don't put your- 1 begun to make brass horns, and y wanted to know 3 wittles afcre the In't exactly know it on the pint of winder suddenly )t water was bro't crowd, who took ce. y surprise with 11, among otlier pectful company 'roni me tn-day, iber me. " No, William Barker, you cannot have my daughter's hand in marriage until you are her equal in wealth and social posi- tion." ^ The speaker was a haughty old man of some sixty years, and the person whom he addressed was a fine looking young man of twenty-five. With a sad aspect the young man withdrew from the stately mansion. II. Six months l^^er the young man stood in the presence of the haughty old man. '■ What ! ijou here again ? " angrily cried the old man. "Ay, old man," proudly exclaimed William Barker. "I am hero, your daughter's equal and yours ? " The old man's lips curled with scorn. A derisive smile lit up his cold features; when, casting violently upon the marble centre table an enormous roll of green- backs, William Barker cried— " See! Look on this wealth. And I've tenfold more! Listen, old man! You spurned me from your door. But I did not despair. I secured a contract for furnishing the Army of the with beef " " les, yes ! " eagerly exclaimed the old man. " -and I bought up all the disabled cavalry horses I could find " " I see ! I see ! " cried the old man. " And good beef they make, too." "They do! they do! and the profits are immense." " I should say so ! " " And now, sir, I claim your daughter's fair hand ! " " Boy, she is yours. But hold ! Look me in the eye. Throughout all this have you been loyal? " " To the core ! " cried AVilliam Barker. " And," continued the old ma^, in a voice husky with emotion, " are you in fiivor of a vigorous prosecution of the war?" " I am, I am ! " " Then, boy. take her ! Maria, child, come hither. Your William claims thee. Be happy, my children ! and whatever our lot in life may be, ht us all support the Government ! " VIII. A ROMANCE— THE CONSCRIPT. [Which may bother the reader a little unless he is femiliar with the music of the day.] Chapter I. Philander Reed struggled with spool- thread and tape in a dry-goods store at Ogdensburgh, on the St. Lawrence Iliver, State of New York. He rallied Round the Flag, Boys, and HaUcd Columbia every time she passed that way. One day a regi- ment returning from the war Came March- ing Along, bringing An Intelligent Contra- band with them, who left the South about the time Babylon was a-Fallin', and when it was apparent to all well-ordered minds that the Kingdom was Coming, accom- panied by the Day of Jubiloo. Philander left his spool-thread and tape, rushed into the street, and by his Long-Tail Blue, said, "Let me kiss him for his Mother." Then, with patriotic jocularity, he inquired, " How is your High Daddy in the Morn- ing?" to which Pomp of Cudjo's Cave replied, " That poor Old Slave has gone to rest, we ne'er shall see him more ! But U. S. G. is the man for me, or Any Other Man." Then he Walked Round. " And your Master," said Philander, "where is he?" " Massa's in the cold, cold ground — at least I hope so! " said the gay contraband. " March on, March on ! all hearts re- joice ! " cried the Colonel, who was mounted on a Bob-tailed nag — on which, in times of Peace, my soul, Peace ! he had betted his money. "Yaw," said a German Bold Sojer Boy, " we don't-fights-mit-Segel as much as wo did." The regiment]marched on, and Philander betook himself to his mother's Cottage Near the Banks of that Lone River, and rehear- sed the stirring speech he was to make that night at a war meeting. " It's just before the battle, Mother," he said, " and I want to say something that wiU encourage Grant." Chapter II. — Mabel. Mabel Tucker was an orphan. Her father, Dan Tucker, was run over one day by a train of cars, though he needn't have been, for the kind-hearted engineer told him to Git Out of the Way. Mabel early manifested a marked in- clination for the millinery business, and at the time we introduce her to our readers she was Chief P]ngineerof a Millinery Shop and Boss of a Sewing Machine. Philander Reed loved Mabel Tucker, and Ever of her was Fondly Dreaming; and she used to say, " Will you love me Then as Now ! " to which he would answer that he would, and iftV/iouUhe written con- sent of his parents. She sat in the parlor of the Cot wliero she was Born, one Summer's eve, with pensive thought, when Somebody came Knocking at the Door. It was Philander. Fond Embrace and things. Thrilling emo- tions. P. very pale and shaky in the legs. Also, sweaty. " Where hast thou been ? " she said. " Hast been gathering shells from youth to age, and then leaving them like a che-eild ? Why this tremors? Why these Sadfulness ?" " Mabeyu They've Dn An Order ;ays, " Com ng ; " and \ P's) and I examining { Mabel fai rorse than I Chaptei Philander lollars, being iiust either 1 cho are Con lundred thou he St. Law jmc. As hi one a radica lurse, and w [vift-rolling t •ied, " the si ! near, and 'm a able-boi Landing, h itive kiss on asked bin ■other now ? at on this Li Chaptef It was even vcning, Beat ■orning the hich have cl er since this Philander Si g with his ^ take the me lico ; when I rang from a Jeting was od square fa last Philanc id, " Do the] ;y ever think of the daj-.] , and Philander 's Cottage Near 7cr, and rehear- as to make that Ic, Mother," ho something that ABEL. orphan . Her n over one day le needn't have igineer told him a marked in- lusiness, and at to our readers Millinery Shop inc. Mabel Tucker, dly Dreaming; 11 you love me ic would answer the written con- thc Cot wliero er's eve, with omebody came was Philander. Thrilling emo- iky in the legs. ti ? " she said. i from youth to like a che-eild ? seSadfulness?" A ROMANCE. 27 "Mabeyuell" he cried, "Mabcyuel! They've Drafted me into the Army ! " An Orderly Seargeant now appears and ays, " Come, Philander, let's be a march- and he tore her from his embrace P's) and marched the conscript to the Examining Surgeon's office. Mabel fainted in two places. It was Torse than Brothers Fainting at the Door. Chapter III.— The Conschipt. Philander Reed hadn't three hundred ollars, being a dead-broken Re:^d, so he lust either become one of the no>.le Band rho are Coming, Father Abraham, three lundred thousand more, or skeddadle across I ho St. Lawrence River to the Canada ; jine. As his opinions had recently under- one a radical change, he chose the latter )urse, and was soon Afloat, Afloat, on the [vift-rolling tide. "Row, brothers, row," he ried, " the stream runs fast, the Seargeant ! near, and the 'Zaniination's past, and 'm a able-bodied man." Landing, he at once imprinted a conser- Jtive kiss on the Canada Line, and feeling. {asked himself, "Who will care for other now ? But I propose to stick it at on this Line, if it takes all Summer. Chapter IV.— The Meeting. It was evening, it was. The Star of the vcning. Beautiful Star, shone brilliantly, orning the sky w'th those Neutral tints lich have characterized all British skies er since this War broke out. Philander sat on the Canada Line, play- g with his Yardstick, and perhaps about take the measure of an unmade piece of lico ; when Mabel, with a wild cry of joy, rang from a small-boat to his side. The icting was too much. They divided a od square faint between them this time. last Philander found his utterance, and id, " Do they think of me at Home, do sy ever think of me ? " " No," she replied, " but they do at thr recruiting office." "Ha.^ 'tis well." " Nay, dearest," Mabel pleaded, "come home and go to the war like a man ! I will take your place in the Dry Goods store. True, a musket is a little heavier than a yardstick, but isn't it a rather more manly weapon ? " " I don't see it," was Philandcr's reply ; " besides this war isn't conducted accordin' to the Constitution and Union. When it is— when it is, Mabeyuel, I will return and enlibc as a Convalescent!" " Then, Sir," slio said, with much Ameri- can disgust in her countenance, " then, sir, farewell !" " Farewell !" he said, " and When this Cruel War is Over, pray that we may meet again !" " Nary !" cried Mabel, her eyes flashing warm fire,—" nary ! None but the brave deserve the Sanitary Fair ! A man who will desert his country in its hour of trial would drop Faro checks into the Contribu- tion Box on Sunday. I ain't Got time to tarry— I hain't got time to stay! — but here's a gift at parting : a White Feather : wear it into your hat !" and She was gone from his gaze, like a beautiful dream. Stung with remorse and mosquitoes, this miserable young man, in a fit of frenzy, unsheathed his glittering dry-goods scis- sors, cut off four yards (good measure) of the Canada Line, and hanged himself on a Willow Tree. Rcqniescat In Tajje. His stick drifted to My Country 'tis of thee I and may be seen, in connexion with many others, on the stage of any New York theatre every night. The Canadians won't have any line pretty soon. The skedaddlers will steal it. Then the Canadians wont know whether they're in the United States or not, in which case they may be drafted. Mabel married a Brigadier-General, and is happy. A Il-il IX. A ROMANCE— ONLY A MECHANIC. In a sumptuously furnished parlor ia I'ifth Avenue, New York, sat a proud and haughty belle. Her name was Isabel Saw- telle. Her father was a millionnaire, and his ships, richly laden, ploughed many a sea. By the side of Isabel Sawtelle, sat a young man with a clear, beautiful eye, and a massive brow. " I must go," he said, " the foreman will wonder at my absence." " The/oreman V asked Isabel in a tone of surprise. " Yes, the foreman of the shop where I work." " Foreman — shop — work I What ! do you work ?" " Aye, Miss Sawtelle ! I am a cooper I" and his eyes flashed with honest pride. " What's that ?" she asked; "it is some- thing about barrels, isn't it !" " It is !" he said, with a flashing nostril. " And hogsheads." " Then go !" she said, in a tone of dis- dain — "go away V " Ha 1" he cried, " you spurn me then, because I am a mechanic. Well, be it so.! though the time will come, Isabel Sawtelle," he added, and nothing could exceed his looks at this moment — " when you will bitterly remember the cooper you now so cruelly cast off ! Farewell !" Years rolled on. Isabel Sawtelle mar- ried a miserable aristocrat, who recently died of delirium tremens. Her father failed, and is now a raving maniac, and wants to bite little children. All her bro- thers (except one) were sent to the peni' tentiary for burglary, ai.\ \iir mother ped dies clams that are stoler r her by little George, her only son that aas his freedom Isabel's sister Bianca rides an immoral spotted horse in the circus, her husband having long since been hanged for murder- ing his own uncle on his mother's side, Thus we see that it is always best to marry a mechanic. Tho Edil Dear Be Boston, " tl denomyunatt those air. I this city. I' .«oprit headiui blems of Troi ton correspon. The windf The Editor of " The Cuglo " is interrupted by Betsey Jaue and her femi lo warioi s. Seepage 11, nged for murderJ is mother's side' ays best to marry] X. BOSTON. A. W. TO Ills WIFE. Dear Betsy : I write you this from Boston, "the Modern Atkins," as it is denomyunated, altho' I skurcly know what those air. I'll give you a kursoory view of this city. I'll klassify the paragrafs under seprit headins, arter the stile of those Em- blems of Trooth and Poority, the Washing- ton correspongdents : COPPS' IIILL. The winder of my room commands a ' ^g exilerutin view of Copps' Hill, where Cot- ton Mather, the fatlier of the Refonners and sifh, lies berrid. There is men even now who worship Cotton, and there is wimin who wear him next their harte. But I do not weep for him. He's bin ded too lengthy, I aint goin to be absurd, like old Mr. Skillins, in our naberhood, who is ninety- six years of age, and gets drunk every 'lection day, and weeps bitturly because he haint got no Parents, He's a nice Orphan^ IS. 30 BOSTON. nCNKER HILL. Bunker Hill is over yonder in Charleston. In 177G a thrillin' dramy was acted out over there, in which the "Warren Combi- nation" phiyed star parts. MR. FANUEL. Old Mr. Fanuel is ded, but his Hall is still into full blarst. This is the Cradel in which the Goddess of Liberty was rocked, my Dear. The Goddess hadn't bin very well durin' the past few years, and the num'ris quaek doctors she called in diden't help lier any ; but the old gal's jili y^ieians now are men who understand their b usiuess, Major-generally speaking, and I think the day is near when she'll be able to take her three meals a day, and sleep nights as comf bly as in the old time. THE COMMON, It is here, as ushil; and the low cuss who called it a Wacant Lot, and wanted to know why they didn't ornament it with .sum Bildins', is a onhappy Outcast in Naponsit. THE LEGISLATUR. The State House is filled with Statesmen, but some of 'em wear queer hats. They buy'em, I take it, of hatter.j who carry on hat stores down stairs in Dock Square, and ■whose hats is either ten years abed of the prevalin' stile, or ten years behind it— just as a intellectooal person sees fit to think about it. I had the pleasure of talkin' with sevril members of the legislatur. I told 'em the eye of 1,000 ages was onto we American people of to-day. They seemed deeply impressed by the remark, and wantid to know if I had seen the Grate Oririn V HARVARD COLLEGE. This celebrated institootion of learnin' is pleasantly situated in the Bar-room of Parker's, in School street, and has poopils from all over the country. I had a letter, ycs'd'y by the way, from our mootual son, Artemus, Jr., wlio is at Bowdoin College in Maine. He writes that he's a Bowdoin Arab. & is it cum to this 'f Is this Boy, as I nurtuered with a Parent's care into his childhood's hour— is he goin' to be a Great American humorist? Alars ! I fear it is too troo. Why didn't I bind him out to the Patent Travellm' Vegetable Pill Man, as was struck with his appearance at our last County Fair, i*^ wanted him to go with him and be a Pillist v Ar, these Boys— they little know how the old folks worrit about 'em. But my father ho never had no occasion to worrit about me. You know, Betsy, that when I fust commenced my career as a moral exhibitor with a six-legged cat and a Bass drum, I was only a simple pesant child— skurce U Sunmiers had flow'd over my yoothful bed. But I had some mind of my own. My father understood this. " Go," he .said —"go, my son, and hog the public !" (he ment, " knock em," but the old man was illus a little given to slang). He put his withered han' tremblinly onto my hed, and went sadly into the hou,--. I thought I saw tears tricklin' down his venerable chin, but it might hav' been tobacker jooce. He chaw'd. LITERATOOR. The Atlantic Monthh/, Betsy, is a reg'lav visitor to our wcstun home. I like it be- cause it has got sense. It don't print stories with piruts and honist young men into 'em, making the piruts splendid fellers and the honist young men dis'gree'ble idiots— so that our darters very nat'rally prefer tho piruts to the honist young idiots; but it gives us good square American literatoor. The chaps that write for the Atlantic, Betsy, understand their business. They can sling ink, they can. I went in and saw 'em. I told 'em that theirs was a high and holy mission. They seemed quite gratifyed, and asked me if I had seen the Grate Orgin WHERE THE FUST BLUD WAS SPILT. I went over to Lexington yes'd'y. M}' I Boosum hnve with solium emotions. " & BOSTON. 31 aine. He writes b. & is it cum to nurtuered with a ildhood's hour — is uerican humorist? TOO. Why didn't Patent Travel'iii' as struciv with his County Fair, i n and be a Pillist ? tie know how the 1. But iny father 1 to worrit about that Avhen I fuHt a moral exhibitor 1 a Bass drum, I child — skurce 15 'er my yoothful aind of my own. i. "Go," he said the public!" (he the old man was g). He put his into uiy hed, and I thought I saw nerable chin, but cker jooce. He »R. Betsy, is a reg'lav } e. I like it be- 1 ion'l print stories ing men into 'em. 1 fellers and the ee'ble idiots — so i'rally prefer the g idiots; but it| erican literatoor, ir the Atlantic, business. They I went in and saw •s was a liigh and I quitegratifyed,! the Grate Orgin. fD WAS SPILT. on yes'd'y. emotions. this," I said to a man who was drivin' a yoke of oxen, " this is where our revolu- tionary foicfathers asserted their indepen- dence and spilt their Blud. Classic ground !" "Wall," the man said, ''it's good for white beans and potatoes, but as regards rasiu' wheat t'ain't worth a dam. But liav' you seen the Grate Orgit?" THE POOTY CURL IN SPECTACf-KS. I returned in the Ho.ss Cars, part way. j\ iwoty girl in .spectacles .sot near me, and was tellin' a young man how much he re- minded her of a man she used to know in Waltham. Pooty soon the young man got out, and, smilin' in a seductiv' manner. I said io the girl in spectacles, '• Don't / re- mind you of some boddy you used to kuow T ' "Yes," she said, " you do remind me of one man, but he was sent to the peniten- tary for stolin' a Bar'l mackeril— he died there, so I conclood you ain't him." I didn't pursoo the conversation. I only heard lier silvery voice once more durin' the remainder of the jerney. Turnin' to a respectable lookin' female of advanced summers, she asked her if she had seen the Grate Orgin. We old chaps, my dear, air apt to forget that it is sum time since we was in- fants, and et lite food. Nothiu' of further int'rist took place on the cars cxcep' a colored gentleman, a total stranger to me, asked if I'd lend him my diamond Brestpin to wear to a funeral in South Boston. I told him I wouldn't- -not ci 2)ur2)uss. WILD GAME. Altho' fur from the prahaories, there is abundans of wild game in Boston, such as quails, snipes, plover and Props. COMMON SKOOLS. A excellent skool sistim is in vogy here. John Slurk, my old partner. ha.s n. little son who has only bin to skoll two months, and yet he exhibertid his father's performia' Bear in the show all last summer. I hope they pay partic'lar 'tention to Spclin' in these Skools, bee -ise if a man can't Spel wel he's of no 'kount. summin' up. I ment to have allooded to the Grate Orgin in this letter, but I haven't seen it, Mr. Reveer, whose tavern I stop at, informed me that it can be distinctly heard through a smoked glass in his nativ town in New Hampshire, any clear day. But settin' the Grate Orgin aside (and indeed, I don't think I lieard it mentioned all the time I was there), Boston is one of tlie grandest, sure-footedest, clearheadedest, comfortables cities on the globe. Onhke ev'ry other large city I was ever in, the most of tlie liackmen d'on't seem to hav' bin speshully intended by uatur for the Burglery perfession, and it's about the only large city I know of where you don't enjoy a brilliant opportunity of bein' swindled in sum way, from the Risin of the sun to the goin down thereof There4 I say, loud and continnered applau's for Boston ! DOMESTIC MATTERS. Kiss the children for me. What you telle me bout the Twins greeves me sorely. Whem I sent 'em that Toy Enjine I had not contempyulated that they would so fur forgit what was doo the dignity of our house as to squirt dish-water on the Incum Tax Collector. It is a disloyal act, and shows a prematoor leamin' tords cussedness that alarms me. I send to Amelia Ann, our oldest dawtcr, sum new music, viz., " I am Lonely sints My Mother-in law Died " ; 'Dear M^er, What t'ho' the Hand that Spanked me in my Childhood's Hour is withered now?" &c. These song writers, by the way, air doin' the Uothet Bisiness rather too muchly. Your Own Troo husban', Artemus Ward. ■/^ / Iii|i XI. A MORMON ROMANCE.— REGINALD GLOVERSON. i*( Chapter I. THE :.iORMON's DEPARTURE. The morning on whicli Reginald Glo- verson vas to leave Great Salt Lake City with a mule-train, dawned beautifully. Reginald Gloverson was a young and thrifty Mormon, with an interesting family of twenty young and handsome wives. His unions had never been blessed with children. As often as once a year he used to go to Omaha, in Nebraska, with a mulctrain for goods ; but although he had performed the rather jwrilous journey many times with entire safety, his heart was strangely s,id on this particular morning, and filldo with gloomy forebodings. The time for his departure had arrived. The high-spirited mules were at the door, impatiently champing their bits. The 3Iormon stood sadly among his weeping ■wives. " Dearest ones," he said, " I am singu- larly sad at heart, this morning; but do not let this depress you. 1 he journey is a perilous one, but — p.'^haw ! I have always come back safely heretofore, and why sliould I fear ? Besides, I know that every night, as I lay down on the broad starlit prairie, your bright faces will come to me in my dreams, and make my slumbers sweet and gentle. Yoa, Emily, with your mild blue eyes ; and you, Henrietta, with your splen- did black hair ; and you, Nelly, with your hair so brightly, beautifully golden ; and you, MoUie, with your cheeks so downy; and you, Betsey, with your wine-red lips — far more delicious, though, than any wine I ever tasted — and you, 3Laria, with your WiGSOiiie voice ; and you, Susan, with your — with your —that is to say, Susan, with your and the other thirteen of you, each so good and beautiful, will come to nie in sweet dream.s, will you not, Dearestists ? " " Our own, " they lovingly chimed, " wo will I " " And so farewell ! "' cried Reginald. " Cfme to my arms, my own ! " he said, " that is, as many of you as can do it con- veniently at once, for I must away. " He folded several of them to his throb- bing breast, and drove sadly away. But he had not gone far when the trace of the off-hind mule became unhitched. Dismounting, he essayed to adjust the trace ; but ere he had fairly commenced the task, the mule, a singularly refractory animal — snorted wildly, and kicked Reginald fright- fully ia the stomach. He arose with diffi- culty, and tottered feebly towards his mother's house, which was near by, foiling dead in Jier yard, with the remark, " Dear 3Iother, I've come home to die ! " " So I see," she said ; "where's the mules! " Alas ! Reginald Gloverson could give no answer. In vain the heart-strickeu mother threw herself upon his inanimate form, crying, '' Oh, my son — my son ! only toll mo where the mules are, and then you may die if you want to." In vain— in vain ! Reginald had passed on. Chapter II. FUNERAL TRAPPINGS. The mules were never found. Reginald's heart-broken mother took the body home to her unfortuna* j son's widows. But before her arrival she mdiacreetly sent A MOIIMOX ROMANCE. 33 a boy to Bust the iiews^'ontly to the afflict- ed wives, which he did by intbrminfj; them, in a hoarse whisper, that their " old man had gone in." The wives felt very badly indeed. 'Ho was devoted to me," sobbed Emily. "And tome," said xMaria, "Yes," said Emily, "he thought consid- crably of you, but not so much as ho did of me." "I say he did!" " And I say he didn't I" "Ho did!" "He didn't!" " Don't look at me, with your squint eyes. " Don't shake your red liead at me 1" "Sisters!" said the black-haired Ilen- yard that ho was on the Die, but if I'd only tliu.ik to ask him about them mules ere hia livntlo .sprit took flight, it would have been four thou.sand dollars in our pockot.«, and no mistake ! E.^cu.so those real tears, but you've never felt a parent's feelin's." ■' ^''^ "» over-sight," sobbed Maria. '• Don't blame us!" rietta, " cease this unseomh- wranglin". as his first wife shall strew flowera on his grave." " No you won't," s;aid Susan. " I, as his last wife, shall strew flowers on his' grave. It's my business to strew !" "You shan't, so there !" said Henrietta. "You bet I will!" said Susan, with a tear-suifused cheek. " Well, as for me," said the practical Betsy, " I ain't on the Strew, much, but I shall ride at the head of the funeral pro- cession!" " Not if I've been introduced to myself you won't," said the golden-hairud Nelly ; that's my position. You bet your bonnet strings it is." "Children," said Reginald's mother, " you must do some crying, you know, on' the day of the funeral; and how many pocket-handkerchers will it take to go round? Betsy, you and Nelly ought to make one do between you." "I'll tear her eyes out if she perpetuates a sob on my liandkereher!" said Nelly. '■' Dear daughters-in-law," said Reginald's mother, "how unseemly is this "anger. Mules is five hundred dollars a span, and every identical mule my poor boy had has been gobbled up by the red man. T know jwhen my Reginald sti isrt jered into the door- Chapter III. DUST TO DUST, The funeral pas,sed off in a very pie • ant manner, nothing occurring to mar th< -<■. niony of the occasion. By a hapi)y tho.^ of Reginald's mother the wives walked'to the grave twenty a-breast, which rendered thiit part of the ceremony thoroughly im- partial. That night the twenty wives, witli heavy hearts, .sought their twenty respective couches. But no Reginald occupie.l those twenty respective couches— Reginald would nevermore linger all night in blissful repose in those twenty respective couches— Regin- i..d's head would nevermore press the twenty respective pillows of those twenty respective couches — never, nevermore ! ****** :fj * In another house, not many leagues from tlic House of Mourning, a gray-haired woiiiiin was weeping passionately. ''He did." she cried, " he died without .sig- erfyin'. in any respect, where them mules went to!" Chapter IV. MARRIED AGAI\, Two years are supposed to elapse between tlie third and fourth chapters of this orig- inal American romance. A manly Mormon, one evening, as the sun was preparing to set among a select apartment of gold and crimson clouds in the western horizon— although for that matter the sun hag a right to " set " where it wants to, and so, I may add, has a hen /•I 84 A MORMON ROMANCE. f — a manly Monnon, I say, tapped gently at the duor of the luaaiiioa of tho lute Reginald Oloveraon. The door was opened by Mrs. Susan Glovcrson. " Is this the house of tho widow Giovcr- son ?" — the Mormon asked. " It is," said Susan, " And how many is there of she?" in- quired tho Mormon. " There is about twenty of her, includ- ing me," courteously returned tho fair Su- san. "Can I see her?" "You can." " Madam," he softly said, addressing the twenty dinconsolate widows, " I have seen part of you before ! And although I have already twenty-five wives, whom I respect and tenderly care for, I can truly say that I uevor felt lovj's holy thrill till I saw thee! Be mine — Be mine I" he enthusiastically cried, " and wo will show tho world a strik- ing illustration of the beauty and truth of the noble lines, only a good deal more so — " Twont/-one souls with a single thought, Twenty-ono hearts that boat as ono !" They were united, they were ! Gentle reader, does not the moral of this romance show that — does it not, in fact, show that however many there may be of a young widow woman, or rather does it not show that whatever number of persons one woman may consist of — well never mind what it shows. Only this writing Monnon romances is confusing to the intellect. You try it and see. Afore I ( late rebil capi I have seen a papers from hissolf oionzo Ithor. I did ( m truly say that 11 till I wiw th<3e ! enthuHiuHticiiUy ho world H Htrik- uty iuid truth of d deal more »o — a singlo thought, beat as ono !" •< I knew when my Keglnald etaggerod Into the dooryard that he was on the Die." Sitpag, 33. XII. ARTEMUS WARD IN RICHxMOND. Richmond, Va., Mat— 18 A OLONZO WABD. 65. Afore I Comments this letter from the I late rebil capitol I desire tocimply say that II have seea a low and skurrilus noat in the I papers from a certain pusson who singes |lii&iolf olonzo Ward, & sez he is my berru- Ither. I did once have a berruther of that name, but I do not recusrnise him now. To me he is wuss than dedl I took him from coUigo sum 16 years ago, and gave him a good situation as the Bearded "Wo- man in my Show. How did he repay me for this kindness? He basely undertook (one day while iu a Backynalian mood on rum, & right in sight of the aujience in the tent) to stand upon his hed, whareby he betraye'd his sex on account of his boots n 36 ARTEMUS WARD IN RICHMOND. li l< & his Beard fallin' oif his face, thus roonin' my prospecks in chat town, & Hkewise incurriu' the seris displeasure of tlie Press, which sed boldly I was trifliu' with the feeliu's of a iutelli^ent public. I know no such man as Olouzo Ward. I do not ever wish his name breathed in luy presents. I do not recognise him. I perfectly dis- gust him. RICHMOXD. The old man finds hisself once more in a Sunny climb. I cum here a few days ar- ter the city catterpillertulated. My naburs seemed surprised & astonisht at this darin' bravery onto the part of a man at my time of life, but our family was never know'd to quale in danger's stormy hour. My father was a sutler in the Revoloo- tion War. My father once had a intervoo with Gin'ral La Fayette. He asked La Fayette to lend him five dollars, promisin' to pay him in the Fall, but Lafy said " he couldn't see it in those lamps." Lafy was French, ;md his know- ledge of our lungwidge was a Itttle shaky. Innnejutly on my 'rival here I perceoded to the Spotswood House, and calliu' to my assistans i' young man from our to^vn who writes a good runnin' hand, I put my orto- graph on the Register, and handin' my um- brella to a bald-heddcd man behind the counter, who I s'posed was iMr. Spotswood, I said, " Spotsy, how does she run ? " He called a cuUud purson, and said, " Show thegcn'lman to the cowyard, and giv' him cart number 1." " Isn't Grant here ?" I said. " Peihaps Ulyssia wound't mind my turnin' in with him." " Do you know the Gin'ral ?" inquired Mr. Spotswood. " Wall, no, mt 'zackly ; but he'll remem- ber me. His brother-in-law's Aunt bought he. rye meal cf my uncle Levi all one winter, My uncle Levi's rye meal was i " Pooh ! pooh !" said Spotsy, " don't bo- ther me," and he shuv'd my umbrella onto the floor. Obsarvin' to him not to be so keerless with that wepin, I accompanid the African to my loi':,'ins. " 3Iy brother," I sed, " air you aware that you've bin 'mancipated ? Do you rea- lise how glorus it is to be free? Tell me, my dear brother, does it not seem like some dreams, or do your realise the great fact in all its livin' and holy magnitood?" He sed he would take some gin. I was show'd to the cowyard and laid down under a one-mule cart. The hotel was orful crowded, and I was sorry I hadn't gone to the Libby Prison. Tho' I should hav' slept comf'ble enuft' if the bed-clothes hadn't bin pulled off mo durin' the night, by a scoundrul who cum and hitched a mule to the cart and druv it off. I thus lost my cuverin', and my throat feels a lit- tle husky this mornin. Gin'ral Hulleck offers me the hospitali ty of the city, givin' me my choice of hos- pitals. He has also very kindly placed at my disposal u small-pox amboolance. UNION SENTIMENT. There is raly a great deal of Union sen- timent in this city. I see it on ev'ry hand I met a man to-day — I am not at libertj to tell his name, but ho is a old and iiifloocn- tooial citizen of Richmond, and sez he, '• Why ! we've bin fiightin' agin the Old Flag! Lor' bless me, how sing'iarl" He thou borrar'd tivo dollars of me, and buit into a flood of tears. Sed another (a man of standin and for merly a bitter rebuel), " Let us at once sto] this effooshun of Bind 1 The Old Fhig is: good enuff for me. Sir," he added, " you air from the North ! Hav you al dou^■hnut or a piece of custard pie aboulj you?" I told him no, but I knew a man from Verj mont who had just organized a sort of rest rant, where he could go and make a vcd comfortable and cheese, and askin' Garrison's ai he walked oi Said anoi endous Uni( But we was Have you a i lips about y me four doll; once more a Jeff. Davi regarded as a I'm told he ' ran away froi never bin b a good deal ol what his cone female apper his sex, &yo as frekent as so hisself. Robert Lee He was oppc and draw'd 1: fact, he wouL all, only he 1 clothes on ha waste. Ho S' and he will ate Sabbath Schoc THE C The surren and others, lea •uther shattei consists of Kij Bass drum, an iTexis. A PROUD At Feeliu' a li Jeatin' house to-i jinau with long llle didn't wea: )otsy, " don't bo- y umbrella onto ini not to be so ucconipanid the " air you aware 1 ? Do you rea- free? Tell me, it seem like some the great fact in itood?" )nic gin. •wyard and laid art. The hotel IS sorry I hadn't Tho' I should the bed-clothes luriu' tho night, 1 and hitched a ■ it off. I thus hroat feels a lit- me the hospital! y choice of hos- y placed at my lance. ENT. al of Union sen- it on ev'ry hand am not at libertj old and infloocn- id, and sez he, i' agin the Old siug'iarl" He of me, and bujjt standin and for et us at once sto] 'he Old Fhig is: r," he added L ! Hav you al Lstard pie about a man from Veri d ;i Kurtof rostaii id make a vcd ARTEMUS WARD IN RICH3I0ND. 87 comfortable breakftist on New England rum and cheese. He borrowed fity cents of me, and askiu' me to send him Wm. Lloyd Garrison's ambrotype as soon as I got home, he walked off. Said another, "There's bin a tremen- endous Union feelin' here from the fust. But we was kept down by a rain of terror. Have you a daggerretype of Wendell Phil- lips about your person ? and will you lend me four dollars for a few days till we air once more a happy and united people." JEFF. DAVIS. Jeff. Davis is not pop'lar here. She is regarded as a Southern sympathiser. & yit I'm told he was kind to his Parents. She ran away from 'em many years ago, and has never bin back. This was showin' 'em a good deal of consideration when we refleck what his conduck has been. Her captur in female apperal confooses me in regard to his sex, & you see I speak of him as a her as frekent as otherwise, & I guess he feels so hisself. K. LEE. Robert Lee is regarded as a noble feller. He was opposed to the war at the fust, and draw'd his sword very reluctant. In fact, he wouldn't hav' drawd his sword at all, only he had a large stock of military clothes on hand, which he didn't want to waste. Ho sez the colored man is ri«-ht and he will at once go to New York and open Sabbath School for negro ministrels. THE CONFEDERATE ARMY. The surrender of R. Lee, J. Johnston, and others, leaves the Confederit Army in a •uther shattered state. That army now consists of Kirby Smith, four mules and a iBass drum, and it is movin rapidly to'rds Texis. A PROtTD AND HAUOHTY SUTHERNER. Feeliu' a little peckish, I went into a |eatin' house to-day, and encountered a younc jnau with long black hair and slender frame. jHe didn't wear much clothes, and them as he did wear looked onhcalthy. He frowned on me, and sed, kinder scornful, " So, Sir —you come here to taunt us in our hour of trouble, do you ?" "No," said I, "I cum here for hash!" " Pish-haw !" he said sneeringly, " J mean you air in this city for the purpiiss of glothin' over a fallen people. Others may basely succumb, but as for me, I will never yield — never, never /" " Hav' suithin' to eat ?" I pleasantly suggested. " Tripe and onions !" he sed furcely ; then he added, "I eat with you, but Ihat^ you. You're a low-lived Yankee ?" To which I pleasantly replied, " How'l you have your tripe?" " Fried, mudsill ! with plenty of ham- fat !" He et very ravenus. Poor feller ! He had lived on odds and ends for several days, eatin' crackers that had bin turned over bv revelers in the bread tray at the bar. He got full at last, and his hart softened a little to-ards me. " After all," he sed, "you hav sum people at the North who air not wholly loathsum bciists?" " Well, yes," I sed, " we hav' now and then a man among us who isn't a cold-blud- ded scomidril. Young man," I mildly but gravely sed, "this crooil war is over, and you're lickt ! It's rather necessary for sum- body to lick in a good square, lively fito, and in this 'ere case it happens to the United States of America, You fit splended, but we was too many for you. Then make tho best of it, & let us all give in and put tho Republic on a firmer basis nor ever. "I don't gloat over your misfortins, my young fren'. Fur from it. I'm an old man now, & my hart is softer nor it once was. You sec my spectacles is niisten'd with suthin' very like tears, I'm thinkin' of the sea of good rich Bind that has been split on both sides in this dredful war! I'm thinkin' of our widders and orfuns North, and of vour'n in the South, I kin cry for both. B'leevo me, my young fren', I kin place my old 38 ARTEMUS WARD IN RICHMOND. hands tenderly on the fair yung hed of the A'^irginny maid whose lover was laid low in the battle dust by a fed'ral bullet, and say, as fervently and piously as a vener'ble sinner like me kin say anythin', God be good to you, my poor dear, my poor dear." I riz up to go, & tal:in' my yung South- ern fren' kindly by the' hand, I sed, " Yung man, adoo ! You Southern fellers is probly my brothers, tho' you've occa- eionally had a cussed queer way of showin' it! It's over now. Let us all jine in and make a country on this continent that shall giv' all Europe the cramp in the stumniuck ev'ry time they look at us!: Adoo, adoo ! " And as I am through, I'll likewise say adoo to you, jentle reader, merely remarkin' that the Star-Spangled Banner is wavin' round loose again, and that there don't seem to be anything the matter with the Goddess of Liberty beyond a slite cold. Artemus Ward. XIII. ARTEMUS WARD TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. EMUS Ward. Friend Wales, — You remember me. I saw you in Canady a few years ago. I remember you too. I seldim forgit a per- son. I hearn of your marrige to the Printcis Alexandry, & ment ter writ you a congra- toolatory letter at the time, but I've bin bildin a barn this summer, & hain't had no time to write letters to folks. Excoos me. Numeris changes has tooken place since we met in the body politic. The body politic, in fack, is sick. I sumtimes think it has got biles, friend Wales. In my country we've got a war, while your country, in conjunktion with Cap'n Sems of the Alaharmy, manetanes a nootrol position ! I'm fraid I can't write goaks when I sit about it. Oh no, I guess not I Yes, Sir, we've got a war, and the troo Patrit has to make sacrifisses, you bet. I have alreddy given two cousins to the war, & I stand reddy to sacrifiss my wife's brother ruther 'n not see the rebelyin krusht. And if wuss cums to wuss I'll shed ev'ry drop of blud my able-bodid relations has got to prosekoot the war. 1 think sumbody oughter be prosekooted,& it may as well be the war as any body else. When I crit a goakin fit onto me it's no use to try tcr atop me. You hearn about the draft, friend Wales, no doubt. It causd sum squirmin', but it was fairly conducted, I think, for it hit all classes. It is troo that Wcndill Phillips, who is a American citizen of African scent, d'scape, but so did Vallandiggum, who is Congervativ, and who was resutitly sent South, tho' he would have bin sent to the Dry Tortoogus if Abe had 'sposed for a minit that the Tortoogusses would keep him. We hain't got any daily pappr in our town, but we've got a female sewin' circle, which ansers the same purpuss, and we wasn't long in suspents as to who was drafted. One young man who was drawJ claimed to be exemp because he was the only son of a widow'd mother who supported him. A few able-bodid dead men was drafted, but whether their heirs will have to pay 3 hundrid dollars a peace for 'em is a question for Whitin', who 'pears to be tinkerin' up this draft bizniss righi smart. I hope he makes good wages. I think most of the conscrips in this place will go. A few will go to Canady, stoppin' on their way at Concord, N. H., where I understan there is a Muslum of Harts. You see I'm sassy, friend Wales, hittiu' all sides; but no offense is ment. You know I ain't a politician, and never was. I vote for Mr. Union — that's the only can- didate I've got. I claim, howsever, to have a well-balanced mind ; tho' my idees of a well-balanced mind differs from the idees of a partner I once had, whose name it was Billson. Billson and me orjanized a strollin' dramatic company, & we played The Drunkard, or the Falling Saved, with a real drunkard. The play didn't take particlarly, and says Billson to me. Let's giv 'em some immoral dramy. Wo had a large troop onto our hands, consistin' of eight tragedians and u bass drum, but L says, No, Billson ; and then says I, Billson,, 40 A. WART> TO TlIK TUTNCK OF WALES. Ifflp f )l you hain't, jjot a woll-haliinood luiiul. S.iys ho, YoH. T havo, oM lioss-fly (lu was a low cuss) — yos, I hiivi'. I liavo a niiml, says ho, tliat balances in any (liri'<'tii>i\ that the public rokiivs. That's wot I calls a woll- balancotl mind. 1 sold out and hid aduo to \ IJillson. llo is now an outcast in tln>. State of Vermont. Tho miser'hlo man oiu'(> > played Hauilot. There wasn't any orclics- : try, and wishin' to oxjiire to slow nioosic, ; ho died playin" on a claironott liiniscH', in- terspersed with hart-rendin' jjroans.iSc such is tho world ! Ahirs! alars ! how onthaiik- ful wo air to that l'rovi(ieneo which kindly allows us to live and borrow money, and Tail and do biziniss I But to return to our subjeek. With oui- rosunt u;r;\te triuni|)son {\w Mississijipi, tin- Tather of Waters (and thoin is waters no Father need feel 'shamed of — twip; the wit- tikisni?), and the ehoorin' lookof thini^s in other places, 1 reckon we shan't want any Musluni of Marts. And what upon airtli do the people of (Concord, N. II., want a Muslum of Hart-; for ? Hain't you .i;ot tlio State House now ? & what more do you want ? But nil thia is furrin to the purpuss of this note, artcr all. IMy objcck in now nddressin' you is to u^iv you sum adwicc, friend Wales, about manaij;in' your wif(>, a bizniss I've had over thirty years experience in. You had a ii;ood weddin. The papers hav a good deal to say about " vikins " in connexion tharewith. Not knowings what that air and so I frankly tolls you. my noble lord dookof the throne, J can't zackly Bay whether wo had 'cm or not. Wo was both very much flustratod. But I never injoyed myself better in my life. Dowtless, your supper was ahead of our'n. As regards eatiu' uses Baldinsvillo was allers shaky. But you can git a good meal in New York, e you may bo able to overkum this jircjoodiss. I regret to obsarvo that r didn't commence arly enuff. I wouldn't havo you s'])iise T was ever kicked out of bod. Not at all. 1 simply ftny, in regard to bildin' lircs, that I didn't eon.- menee .arly enuff. It was !i rulhor cold mornin' when I fust pro|iose(l the ideo to Ui't.sy. It w.isn't wt'll rt^ceived, and I found myself layin' on the iloor jnitty suddent. I thought I git up and bild tln^ fire myself. Of course now you'n^ marrid you can eat onions. / alius did, and il" 1 know my own hart, V alius will. My daughter, who is goin' on 17 and tlic iilco to I'd, and 1 found itty siiddont. I ic lirn niy.sclf. iiarrid yoii can I il' i know my daughter, who says tlicy's , and if I civcir Ir ve another reorganiz- in' job on hand I shall let it out. My wife is r>li years old and has alius hu8- taned a good character. She's a good (!ook. Her mother lived to a vcner'bleago, and clied whihs in the JUit of frying slap-jackH for the (Jounty OommissiomTS. And may no rood hand pluk a flour from h(!r toom- stun ! We hain't got any pictor of the old lady, becaus(! she'd never stand for her am- brotipe, and therefore I can't giv Ikt like- ness to tile world through the meejum of the illustrated papers ; but as she wasn't a 'I If 42 A. WAKD TO THE PRINCE OF WALES.' ": brigadier-gin'ral, particerly, I don't s'pose they'd publish it, any how. It's best to give a woman consid'blo lee- way. But not too much. A naber of mine, Mr. Roofus Minkins, was once very sick with the fever, but his wife moved his bed into the door yard while she was cleanin' house. I told Roofus this wasn't the thing, 'specially as it was rainin' vi'lently; but he said he wanted to give his wife " a little lee-way." That was 2 ■ I told Mrs. Minkins that her Rooii, die if he staid out there into the ra. .^uch longer, when she said, "it shan't be my fault if he dies unprepaired," at the same time tossin him his mother's Bible. It was orful 1 I stood by, however, and nussed him as well's I could, but I was a putty wet-nuss I tell you. There's varis ways of managin' a wife, friend Wales, but the best and only safe way is to let her do jist about as she wants to. I 'dopted that there plan sum time ago, and it works like a charm. Remember me kindly to Mrs. Wales, and good luck to you both ! And as years roll by, and accidents begin to happen to you — among which I hope there'll be Twins — you will agree with me that family joys are the only ones a man can bet on with any oertin- ty of vinnin'. It may interest you to know that I'm- pro.«perin' in a pecoonery pint of view. I make 'bout as much io the cours of a year as a Cab'net oflSsser does, & I understan' my bizniss a good deal better than sum of 'em do. Respecks to St. George & the Dragon. "Ever be happy," A. Ward. ut as she wants ilaa sum time 111. Irs. "Wales, and d as years roll fippen to you — be Twins — you ly joys are the ith any oertin- now that I'm- int of view. I urs of a year as understan' my n sum of 'em the Dragon, be happy," A. Ward. XIY. AFFAIRS ROUND THE VILLAGE GREEN. It isn't every one who has a village green to write about. I have one, although I have not seen much of it for some years past. I am back again, now. In the language of the duke who went round witl\ a motto about him, "lam here!" and I fnncy I am about as happy a peasant of the vale as ever garnished a melodrama, although I have not as yet danced on my village green as tjie melo-dramatic peasant usually does on his. It was the case when Rosina Mea- dows left home. The time rolls by serenely now — so se- renely that I don't care what time it is, which is fortunate, because my watch is at present in the hands of those " men of New "> ' ■ ,110 are called rioters." We met by *. uance, the usual way — certainly not by ap- pointment — and I brought the interview to a close with all possible despatch. Assur- ing them that I wasn't Mr. Greeley, par- ticularly, and that he had never boarded in the private family where I enjoy the com- forts of a home, I tendered them my watch, and begged they would distribute it judi- ciously among the labouring classes, as I had seen the rioters styled in certain public prints.' Why should I loiter feverishly in Broad- way, stabbing the hissing hot air with the splendid gold-headed cane that was pre- sented to me by the citizens of Waukegan, Illinois, as a slight testimonial of their esteem ? Why broil in my rooms ? You said to me, Mrs. Gloverson, when I took possession of those rooms, thnt no matter how warm it might be, a breeze had a way of blowing into them, and that they were, withal, quite countryfied ; but I am bound io say, Mrs. Gloverson, that there was notjing about them that ever reminded me, 'n the remotest degree, of daisies or new-mown hay. Thus, with sarcasm, do I smash the deceptive Gloverson. Why stay in New York when I had a village green ? I gave it up, the same as I would an intricate conundrum — and, in short, I am here. Do I miss the glare and crash of the imperial thoroughfare? the milkman, the fiery, untamed omnibus horses, the soda fountains. Central Park, and those things? Yes, I do ; and I can go on missing 'em for quite a spell, and enjoy it. The village from which I write to you is small. It does not contain over forty houses, all told ; but they are milk-white, with the greenest of blinds, and for the most part are shaded with beautiful elms and willows. To the right of us is a moun- tain—to the left a lake. The village nest- les between. Of course it does. I never read a novel in my life in which the vil- lages didn't nestle. Villages invariably nestle. It is a kind of way they have. We are away from the cars. The iron- horse, as my little sister aptly remarks in her composition On Nature, is never heard to shriek in our midst ; and on the whole I am glad of it. The villagers are kindly people. They are rather incoherent on the subject of the war, but not more so, perhaps, than are people filsowhcrc. One citizen, who used to sustain a good character, subscribed for the Weekly New York Herald, a few 44 AFFATUS HOUND TIIH VILLAflK (IRKKN. I' I « ii months since, imd went to stmlvinfjc tlio inilitnrv iii;i|is in tliat well-knmvn junrn.'il for tli'.> liirsido. I ncoil not inl'orni you tlint Ills intellect now tottors, luul ho has iuorti::ii:;('(l his farm. In a literary j)oint of view we are rather hloo of butter on the floor, ills lather, a white-hairiid old man, who was a little boy when the Uovolnlion-^ ary war closod, but who doesn't ri'inemlKu- Washington inurh, oai.io round in the eve- ning and settled for the damages. " My son," he said, " has eonsideniblo origina- lity." I will mention that this same son onoo told mo that ho uo>dd liek me witli ono arm tied behind him, and I was so thorouglily satisfied he e(nild, tiiat I told hiiu he needn't mind going for a rope. Sometimes I go a-visiting to a farm- house, on wliieh ocoasions the pari t is opened. Tlie windows hav(! been close- shut ever since the last visitor was tliere, and there is a dingy smell that I struggle as cahnly .as possible with, until I am led to the b;in(|uet of steaming hot biscuit and custard pi(!. If they would (udy let me sit in the (hiar old-fashioned kitdusn, or on tho door-stone — if tluiy kncnv bow dismally tho new black furnituris looked— but, never mind, 1 am not a reformer. No, I should rather think not. Gloomy enough, this living on a farm, you perhaps say, in which case you are wrong. 1 can't exactly say that I pant to bo an aj.'rioulturist, but I do know that in tho main it is an independent, calmly happy sort of life. I can sec how tho pros- perous farmer can go joyously a-(ield wil,h tho rise of the sun, and how his heart may swell Avilh prido over bounteous harvests and .sleek oxen. And it must bo rather jolly for him on winter evenings to sit before tho brigb.t kitebo!! fire and watch Lia rosy boys and girls aa they study out the charadis in the weekly j)aper, and gradually fmd out why my lirst is somo- Ihing that grows in a garden, and iiiy si^ciMid is a fish. On the grei'ii hillside over yonder, thero is a (piivoring of sm>wy drapery, and Itright hair is flashing in tho morning sunlight, ft is recess, and tho Hominary girls aro running in the tall grass. A goodly scmimiry to look at outsider certaiidy, althongb I am pained to loarn, as I do on unprc juditiiid authority, that Mrs. llig'4ins, the i'rineiiial, is a tyrant, who seeks to crush the girls and trample upon them ; but my sorrow is somewhat assiiagcd by [(earning that Skimmerborn, the pianist, is perfeelly splendid. liooking at thes(! girls naninds mi: that I loo, was once young — and where are the friends of my youth 'f I have- found on(! of 'em, eerlairdy. J saw him ride in tho circus th(! oth((r day on a bareltaek horse, inid even now his name stares at me I'rom yonder bo.ard i'cnee, in green, and blm^, and red, anil yellow letters. Dasbington, tho youth with whom I used to read tho ablo orations of (Jicero, and who, as a declaimor on exhibilion days, uscmI to wipe tlu^ n^st of us boys pretty handsomely out - well, Dasli- ington is idenlitied with tiie halibut and coil interest -drives a lish-earl, in fact, from !i certain town on the coast, back into the interior. llurbertson, the utterly stupid boy — the lunkhead, who never had ills lesson — he's alamt the ablest lawyer a sistcir State cm boast. Mills is a news- paper man, and is just now editing a iMajor- (icneral down South. Singlinson, thci sweet-voiced boy, whoso face was .always wasluid and who was real good, and who Wiis never rude — lir is in tho penitentiary for putting his uncle's auto- graph to a financial docun-ent. Hawkins, the clergyman's son, is an actor, and Wil- liamson, the good little boy who divided his bread and butter with the biiggar-man, i.^ a failing mereh.-Uit, utid uiake.-i motiey by it. Tom Slink, who used to smoke sbortr 46 AFFAIRS ROUND THE VILLAGE GREEN. Li-i sixes, nnd };et ncqunintcd with tlio litt'.o circus boys, is popularly supposed U> bo the proprietor of a ciieap gauiiii^ eHtablisli- luent ill Boston, where the bouutiful but uncertain prop is nightly tossed. Re sure, the Army is represented by nmny of the friends of my youth, the most of whom have given a good account of themselves. But Chalmerson hasn't done much. No, Chahnerson is rather of a liiiluro. He plays on the guitar and sing, lovo songs. Not that he is a bad man. A kinder- hearted creature never lived, and they say ho hasn't yet got over crying for his little curly haired sister who died ever so long ago. Rut ho knows nothing about business, politics, the world, nnd those things. Ho is dull at trade, — indeed, it is a eciininon remark that " everybody cheats (Jlialnior- 8on." Ho panic to the party tl-.e other evening, and brought his guitar. They wouldn't have hiip. for a tenor in the opera, certainly, for ho is shaky in his upper notes ; but if his simple melodies didn't gu.sh straight from the heart, wliy were my trained eyes wot ? And although .some of the girls giggled, and somo of the men seemed to pity him, I could not help fancy- iiig that poor Chalmorson was nearer heaven than any of us all I I: ■>■> I Art( Tho Bi oty havin tliis voluu of their n President Dear Sib I have receipt of which you before you I feel Q Perhapi lOHt business, thiiijis. IFo is II ciiititititti nta (Jliniiiior- ty tl'.o (iflior litiir. Tiioy in tho oponi, upper notes ; didn't }:;ush liy wore my ouf^li soino of of the men ot help fiincy- uourcr heaven ArtemuB flndi it pluMant striilliiiK nbout lila fnrm witli (ImMinff-gnwn nnd cigar. Seepage 48. ^i^'^^^*^ XV. AGRICULTURE. Tho Barchiy County An;riculturnl Soci- ety havinj; seriously ipvitod the author of tliis volume to address tlieui on tho occasion of their next annual Fair, ho wroto tho Prosideut of that Society as follows : New York, June, 12, 1865. Dear Sir : — I have tho honor to acknowlcdij;o tlie receipt of your letter of the 5th inst., in which you invito mo to deliver an address before your excellent aj,'ricultural society. I feel flattered, and think I will coine. Perhaps, meaawhile, a brief history of my oxpcrienco as an af^riculturist will bo acceptable; and as that history no doubl contains HUgf^estions of valuo to the entiru agricultural community, I have concludod to write to you through tho Press. I have been an honest old farmer for some four • cars. My farm is in tho interior of Maine. Unfortunately my lands are eleven milcB from tho railroad. Eleven miles is (juitc a distance to haul immenso quantities of wheat, corn, rye, and oats ; but as T hav'n't nfiy to haul, I d*. not, after ail, suffer mush on that account. 1 46 VORTCUI.TURE. I! M II My fiirin is more cspccinlly a prass fiiTin. My iicij;Iib(trH told iiic ho at lirHt, ami uh an evidence that they were sincore i" that opinion, they turned thcii cows on to it the moment I went • ff " lecturing." These cows arc now (juito fut. I take pride in these cows, in fact, and am glad I own a grass farm. Two years ago I tried sheep-raising. I bought fifty lambs, and turned them loose on my broad and beautiful acres. It was pleasant on bright mornings to stroll leisuiely out on to the farm in my dressing-gown, with a cigar in my mouth, and watch those innocent little lambs us they danced gaily o'er the hillside. Watch- ing their saucy capers reminded mo of caper sauce, and it occurred to me I should have some very fine eating when they grow up to be " muttons." My gentle sliephcrd, Mr. Eli Perkins. said, " We must have some shepherd dogs." I had no very precise idea as to what shepherd dogs were, but I assumed a rather profound look, and said I " We nmst Eli. I spoke to you about this some time ago 1" I wrote to my old friend, Mr. Dexter II. FoUett, of Boston, for two shepherd dogs. Mr. F. is not an honest old farmer himself, but I thought he knew about shepherd dogs. lie kindly forsook fur more import- ant business to accommodate, and the dogs came forthwith. They were splendid creatures— snuff-colored, hazel-eyed, long- tailed, and shapely-jawed. We led them proudly to the fields. " Turn them in, Eli," I said, Eli turned them in. They went in at once, and killed twenty of my best lambs in about four minutes and a half. My friend had made a trifling mistake in the breed of these dogs. These dogs were not partial to sheep. Eli Perkins was astonished, and observed ; " Waal ! did you ever ?" I certainly never had. There were pools of blood on the grcen- s vard, and fragments of wool and raw lamb cliops lay round in confused iieaps. The dogs would have been siMit to Boston that night, had tiiey not rather suddenly died that afternoon of a throat-distemper. It wasn't n swelling of the throat. It wasn't diphtheria. It was a violent open- ing of the throat, extending from car to ear. Thus closed their life-stories. Thus ended their interesting tails. I failed as a raiser of lambs. As a sheep- ist, I was not a success. Last summer Mr. Perkins said, " I think we'd better cut some grass this season, sir." We cut some grass. To me the new-mown hay is very sweet and nice. The brilliant George Arnold sings about it, in l)eautiful verso, down in Jersey every summer ; so does the brilliant Aldrich, at Portsmouth, N. IT. _And yet I doubt if either of these men knows the price of a ton ol hay to-day. But new- mown hay is a really fine thing. It is good for man and beast. We hired four honest farmers to assist us, and I led them gaily to the meadows. I was going to mow, myself. I saw the sturdy peasants go round c ere I dipped my flashing scythe into the tall green grass, " Are vou ready?" said B. Perkins. " I am here 1" " Then follow us !" I followed them. Followed them rather too closely, evi- dently, for a white-haired old man, who immediately followed Mr. Perkins, called upon us to halt. Then in a low firm voice he said to his son, who was just ahead of me, "John, change places with me. I hain't got long to live, anyhow. Yonder berryin' ground will soon have these old bones, and it's no matter whether I'm caP" vied there with one leg off and terrible irashcH in the ot! ■lolin — i/oii are yo Tlio old man ( son. A smile of his wrinkled face, am ready I" " What mean y " I moan that i 'isli that l)lade as i it, you'll slash h— lore we're n hour There was son this white-haired It was true thai mowing off his 8( was perhaps natur I went ami sat never know'd a lit overheard the old anything." Mr. I'crkiiiH w.i this season as I 1 Every afternoon I fuild regularly, an two hours. He s; inherited it from 1 was often taken in great deal. At the endof tl would reappear w up in a large we better." One afternoon soon followed the as I nearcd the voice energetical!; It was the voice ( added, " I'll holle " Oh no, Nanci Perkins soothing AcailCULTUI 49 u'aMhcH in tilt! otlior or not ! Mut yoii, .lohn — jinu lire yoiin^." Tlie old iniiii cli!in<,'e(l plnccs with his -^on. A Hnillc of culm ri',si>;nntion lit up ills wiiiikli>(l fact', lis hi' miid, ".Now, nir, I ,un rc'idy !" " What moan you, old man ?" I waiil. " I moan that if you contiunor to bran- 'ish that blade an you have been l)ran'ishin' it, you'll slanh h out of .sonic of us bo- fore we're a hour older !" There was some reason min^Kul wit!> this white-haired old peasant's profanity. It was true that I had twice esisapcd mowinf^ off his son's lejjs, and his father was perhaps naturally alarmed. I wi'ut and sut ditwn undiu' a tree. " I never know'd a literary man in my life," I ovcrhcMrd the old man say, " tha' know'd anythin}:;." Mr. I'erkins was not as vahuildc to jne this sca.son as I had fancied he mit^iit be. Every afternoon he disappeared from the field rci^ularly, and nMiiainiiil about some two hours. He said it was headaciie. lie inherited it from his mother. His mother was often taken in that way, and suffered a groat deal. At the end of the two hours Mr. Perkins would reappear with his head neatly done up in a, large wet rag, and say he " felt better." One afternoon it .so happened that I soon followed the invalid to the house, and as I ncarcd the porch I heard a female voice energetically observe, "You stop!" It was the voice of the hired girl, and she added, " I'll holler for Mr. Brown !" " Oh no, Nancy," I heard the invalid E. Perkins soothingly say, " Mr. Brown knows I love you, Mr. Brown approves of it!" This was plca.sunl for Mr. IJrown I I peered cautiously through tlic kitchen bliiuls, and, however unnatural it may appear, the lips of Eli I'erkins and my hired girl were very near together. She miid, "You shan't do so, " and he (fo-itoid. Slic also said she would get right up and go away, and as an evideneo that she was thoroughly in earnest about it, she remain- ed where she was. They are married now, and Mr. IVrkins is troubled no more witii the headache. This year we are planting corn. Mr. Perkins wrilcs me that " on accounts of no skarc krows bein put up krows cum and digged first crop up but soon gotnother in. Old Bisbee who w:is frade yotid cut his sons li'ggs of Ses you bet go and stan up in feeld yrself with drcssin gownd on & gcsscs krows will keep away, this made Boys in store larf no More terday from " Yours " respecful " Eli I'erkins, " his letter." My friend Mr. D. T. T. Moore, of the liiinil New Vor/i( ■, thinks if I " kcepon " 1 will get in the poor house in about two years. If you think the Jionest old farmers of Barclay County want me, I will conic. Truly Yours, Charles F. Brownb. 1 I I PART II. TO CALIFORNIA AND BACK I The steam at noon. Iler deck passengers, ^\ after " their with our siuf the yells of i lost baggage the roar of t being about were ever th I am one with a glarii Great jam lady, with fondly, and well!"— Dis pears. I should 1 Confusior a state-room of forty-live man ! leave By-and-b; somewhat c; When thi are fairly roughly, an of the pass naval office wit by can plate of raw molasses. the deck : manner. I. ON THE STEAMER. New York, Oct. 13, 18G3. The steamer Ariel starts for California at noon. Her decks are crowded with excited passengers, who insanely 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 arc for the time being about as unhappy a lot of maniacs as were ever thrown together. I am one of them. I am rushing round witli 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, fare- well!'' — Discovers her mistake and disap- pears. I should like to be George some more. Confusion so great that I seek refuge in a state-room 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 cgulated. Xcxt Day. When the gong sounds for breakfast we arc 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 tlie most cheerful sea-dog manner. The next day and the next pass by in a serene manner. The waves arc smooth now, and we can all eat and sleep. Wo miglit liave 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 Semmcs captured the Ariel once, and it is to be deeply regretted that that thrifty buccaneer hadn't made mince-meat of her, because slic is a miserable tub at best, and hasn't much more right to be afloat than a second-hand cuflfin 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 Damd as he was all the way from New York to Aspinwall. I had for rather say a pleasant thing than a harsh one; but it is due to the large number of respectable ladies and gentle- men who were on board tiic steamer Ariel with me, that I state here that the accom- modations on that steamer were very vile. If I did not so state, my conscience would sting me through life, and I should have horrid dreams like llichard III. Es(|. Tlie proprietor apparently thought we were undergoing transportation for life to some lonely island, and the very waiters who brouglit us meats that any warden of any penitentiary would blush to oft'er con- victs, 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 m 54 ON THE STEAMER. person, by the way) vim luiulc to unite the positions of purser, baggage clerk, and doc- tor; and I one day had a lurking suspicion that ho was among the waiters in the dining-cabin, disguised in a white jacket and slipshod pumps. sinner may return as long as the gas-meters work well, or words to that effect. I have spoken my piece about the Ariel, and I hope Mr. Vauderbilt will relbrm ere it is too late. Di: Watts says the vilest Wo were so densely crowded on board the Ariel that T cannot conscientiously say we were altogether happy. And sea- voyages at best arc 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 picturesijue scenery along with you — so to speak. unci the gas-meters Hoot. (It'll on board icntioui^ly nay id sea-voyaged On the whole ic Eric Canal, T, and where iccucry along An inebriated Caliloniinn miner desires to lie nn nnnel, luid willi llie un; I infer that she is from the hills of Old New of me, shedding tears as lie put it in his England, like the Hutchinscjn fiunily. j pocket. I At Panama wc lost several of our pas- sengers, and among them three Peruvian ladies, who go to Lima, the city of volcanic irruptions and veiled black eyed beauties. The Scnoritas who leaves us at Panama are splendid creatures. They learned mc Spanish, and in the soft moonlight we walk- ed on dei.k and talked of the land of Pizar- ro. (You know old Piz. conquered Peru I and althfiugh he was not educated at West Point, he had still some military talent.) I feel as though I had lost all my relations, including my grandmother and the cooking stove, when these gay young Scnoritas go away. They do not go to Peru on a Peruvian bark, but on an English steamer. The Central American h lazy. The only exercise he ever takes is to occasion- ally produce a Ilevolution. When his feet begin to swell, and there arc premonitory j symptoms of gout, he " revolushes" a spell, | and then serenely returns to his cigarette and hammock under the palm trees, These Central American Ilepublics are queer concerns. I do not of course precise- ly know what a last year's calf's ideas of immortal glory may be, but probably they are about as lucid as those of a Central American in regard to a republican form of government. And yet I am told they are a kindly peo- ple in the main. I never met but one of tVicm — a Costa Ilican, on board the Ariel. He lay sick with fever, and I went to him and took his hot hand gently jin mine. I shall never forget his look of gratitude. And the next day he borrowed five dollars We find the St. Louis, the steamer awaiting us at Panama, a cheerful and well appointed-boat, and commanded by Capt. Hudson. Americanos," pleasantly re- j it be before igain." )n the Panama )ugh which wo it will not do breeds fevers :rs, at all seti- rl we most all fair but false, ong the route, B patronizingly s. An elderly be much scaii- :' these peopk', ;lect men don't and a remark : lior son will' line which will in ten minutes, I IJ III. PI' MEXICO. Wk iiiako Aciipuli'd, a Moxicati coast town of soino importance, in a fow days, iind all j^o ashore. The pretty peasant girls poadle neek- laces made of shells, and oran-es. in the streets of Aeapuleo, „n steamer days. They are quite naive about it. Ifandinii' you 11 necklace they will say, -uMo ,uive you pres-e?i^ Senor." and thoii retire with a low curtsey. Keturnin-, liowever. in a few inomeuts, they say quite sweetly, '• Y^ni give me pros-e;;^, Senor, of (|uarterd..llar l" which you at once do. unless you have a lieart of stone. Aeapuleo was shelled by tlie i«'rench a year or so before our arrival there, and they effected a landin-. ]Jut the -..y and gal- lant ISIexicans peppered them so persistent- ly and effectually from the mountains neai by, that they concluded to sell out and leave. Napoleon has 210 right in Jlexici.. Mex- ico may deserve a licking. That is pos.si- ble enough. 3Iost people do. Hut nobody has any right to lick Mexico but the Unit- ed States. We have a riglit, I flatter my- self, to hek this entire continent, including ourselves, any time we want to. The signal gun is tired at 1 1, and we go off to the steamer in small boats. lu our boat is an inebriated United States official, who flings his spectacles overboard and sings a flippant and absurd song about his grandmothers spotted calf, with his ri fol-lol-tiddery-i-do. After which he crumb- les, in an iiiconipreliensible manner, into the bottom of the boat, and howls dismal- ly- We reach Manzanillo, another coast place, twenty-lbur liours after leavinu Aeapuleo! Manzanillo is a little Mexican village, and looked very wretched indeed, sweltering away there on the hot sands. Kut it is a jxu't of s(.me iiiiportanc<> nevertheless, be- I cause a great deal of merchandise finds its way to the interior from there. The whito and green flag of 3rexico floats from a red steam tug (the navy of Mexico, by the way, consists <.f two tugs, a disabled raft, and a basswood life-preserver) and the (!aptaiu ol' the l»ort comes off to us in iiis .small boat, climbs up the side of the St. L.mis, and folds the healthy form of Captain Hudson to his breast. There is no wharf here, and we have to anchor off the town. 'I'heiv was a wharf, but the enterprising Mexican peasantry, who subsist by poling merchandise ashore in dug-outs, indignant" ly tore it up. We take on here .some young Mexicans, from Colima, who are going to Ciilifornia. They are of the better das.s, and one young man (who was educated in Madrid) speaks Kngli.sh ratlier better than I write it. lie careful not to admire any article of an educated Mexicans dress, be- cause if you do he will take it right off and give It to you, and sometimes this might bo awkward. t said: -What a beautiful cravat you wear!" -^ "It is yours!" lie exclaimed, quickly un- buckhng it: and I could not induce him to take it back again. I am glad I did not tell liis sister, who nmmicr, into liowls tlimnal- lior coast plaoo, iriL!,' At'apulfo. II villas^'o, anil 3(1, .swoltoriiij^ Hut it is it icftholows, bo- idiso finds its L'. Tho whit« ts from a rod ■0, by tho way, !d ral't, and a ho (laptaiu of is small boat, . Louis, and •tain Hudson larf horo, and n. ontorprisini;; ist by polino' is, indi^naut- ) somo youiifj,' ire .i^oin^' to better class, educated in r bettor than admire any IS dress, be- rij-htoff and liis might bo '. cravat you quickly un- iducc him to sister, who MEXICO. 6D was with lilm, and with whom i was lucky Reports roach us hero of hi-h-handod enough to net ao((uaintod, what :> beautiful robberies by the banditti all alon.^ the road white hand she had. She mijibt have -iv- ' t(. the City <.f Mexico. Thoy steal clothes on it to mo on tho spot ; and that, as she as well as coin. A lew days sine- tho mail had soft eyes, a -nu-eniy form, and a half coach outorod the city with all the pas,>i my time is of the second rforniing an ijrcil fiddles. Ki hi-hi ki ! e liowever, iiii iu regard lim I don't : chow-wow. isco. n, that has very largo own into a ive my boots nfbrm.s me ary ; and 1 I encounter nie to ride i and a rlii- Bd at Stock- d the San the .spark- irtuous and ieh is the Y nice old years ago, buildings been heard eluded to .sei; sail in drowning '■ Throve To which ■No have I, on with CALIFORNIA. ei the howling current. lie was never seen more ; but a few wcek.s after his tail was found by some Sabbath-school children in the north part of the State. T go to the mountain towns. The sen- sational mining days are over, but I find ' the people jolly and hospitable nevertheless. At Nevada I ani 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 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, hut you must pay for them ! Isn't that fair?" His enormousbody (which Puck wouldn't put a girdle round for forty dollars) shook gleefully while I read this eminently orig- inal 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. Blaze rendered them such signal service in his capacity of agent that they were very sorry when he tendered his resignation. " You are some sixteen hundred dollars behind in your accounts, Mr. Blaze," said the President, " but in view of your faith- ful and efficient services, we shall throw off eight hundred dollars of that amount." Mr. Blaze seemed touched by this gener- osity. A tear stood in his eye and his bosom throbbed audibly. " You will throw off eight hundred dol- lars — you willf' ho at last cried, seizing the President's hand and pressing it passion- ately to his lips. " I will," returned the President. « Well, sir," said Mr. Blaze, " I'm a gentleman, I nm, you bet! Aid I won't allow no Stage Couq.any to surpass mo in politeness. Fll throw off the othir eight hunJred dollars, and well call It square t N'T gratitude, sir — no thanks; it is my uucy." t get back to San Francisco in a few- weeks, and am to start home Overland from hero. The distance fron Sacramento to Atchi- son, Kansas, by the Overland stage route, is twenty-two hundred miles, but you can happily accomplish a part of the journey by railroad. The Pacitic railroad isfpii- pleted twelve miles to Folsom, leaving only two thousand and one hundred and eighty- eight miles to go by stage. This breaks the monotony ; but as it is midwinter, and as there are well substantiated reports of Overland passengers freezing to death, and of tlie Piute savages being iu one of their sprightly moods when they scalp people, I Jo not — I may say that I do not leave the Capital of CalU'ornia in a light-hearted and joyous manner. But "leaves have their time to fall," and I have my time to leave, which is now. We ride all day and all night, and ascend and descend some of the most frightful hills I ever saw. AVe make Johnson's Pass, which is G7.52 feet high, about two o'clock in the niorning, and go down the great Kingsbury grade with locked wheels. The driver, with whom I sit outside, in- forms me, as we slowly roll down this fear- ful mountain road, which looks down on either side into an appalling ravine, that he has met accidents in his time, and cost the California stage company a great deal of money ; " because," he says " juries is agia us on principle, and every man who sues s^ r 62 CALIFORNIA. us is sure to recover. Hut it will never be HO iigin, not -.vith i)u , you bet." '• How is tluit ?" [ said. ^ It wa.s fVi-l.truIly (lark. It was ^nowiii- withal, mid notwithstandin-,' the brakes were k(te did this driver cheer me up. We reacli (' ill the mornin Silver-produeir They shoot the law is rati tirst-cliiss niuri I visit the Warden yKiinti to me, thus: '■ Tliis mui He is here for '• This mai liere for three But shootii as it once \v used to have ; moming. A that he suppc to stock a gn luor.sc," he me! But I hain't killed What'U yer ] (led, dealing- There use uotoriouB det without kill] lor liquor a iiuybody dee (ince comme; shot a man I Nicholas dri ]iany present lean drink enough to r lather than his revolver I kill a man , but maimed tno I Imvc 11 koerfully ex- as is dead, I s imitilatod J ! Bfiid Iblii.s r ' driver chcop V. WASHOE. Wo reach Carson City al)out nine o'elock ill the morniii-. It is the capital of tlie Silver-producing territory of Nevada. They f^hoot iblkw liere somewhat, and the law is rather ]muial than otherwise to tirst-class murderers. I visit the territorial I'ri.-on, and the Warden jwints out the proinineiit convicts to me, thus: '• This man's crime was liorse-steuliDji^. He is here for life. '• This man is in for murder. He is here for three years." But shootiiifi isn't as popuL^r in Nc\ada as it once was. A few years since they used to have a dead man for breakfast e\ery morning. A reformed desperado told me that he supposed he had killed men enough to stock a grave-yard. '■ A feeling of re- morse," he said, •'sometimes comes over me ! But Tm an altered man now. T hain't killed a man for over two weeks! AVhat'U ycr poison yourself with?" he ad- ded, dealing a resonant blow on the bar. There used to live near Carson City a notorious desperado, who never visited town without killing somebody, lie would call lor liquor at some drinking-housc, and if iinybody declined joining him he would at (mce commence shooting. ]?ut one day he shot a man too many. Going into the St. Nicholas drinking-housc he a.sked the Com puny present to join him in a North Amer- ican drink. One individual was rash enough to refuse. With a loolw of sorrow rather than of auger the desperado revealed his revolver and said, " Good God ! Must I kill a man every time I come to Car.son ?" and ,so saying he fired an.l killed the indi- vidual on the Sjwt But this waH the last murder the bloodthirsty miscreant ever com- mitted, for tlie arou,Hed citizens pursued him with rifles and shot him down in liia own door-yard. I lecture in the theatre at Carson, which opens out of a drinking and gambling house. On each side of the door where my ticket- taker stands there arc monte-boards and sweut-doths, but they are deserted to-night, the gamblers being evidently of a literary turn of mind. Five years ago there was only a pony-path over the precipitous hills on which now stands the marvellf)us city of Virginia, with its population of twelve thousand persons and perhaps more. Virginia, with its stately warehouses and gay shops; its splendid streets, paved with silver ore; its banking houses and faro- banks; its attractive coffee- houses and elegant theatre ; its music halls and its three daily uewspap(.>rs. Virginia is very wild, but I believe it is now pretty generally believed that a mining city nmst go through with a cercain amount of unadulterated cussedness before it can settle down and behave itself in a ' mserva- tivc and seemly manner. Virri 'a has urown up in the heart of the richest silver regions in the world, the El Dorado of the hour ; and of the immense xuunbers who are swarming ihither not more than half carry their mother's Bible or any settled religion with them. The gambler and the strange m 64 WASHOE. woman as naturally seek the new sensational town as ducks take to that eleniciit which is so useful for making cocktails ami bath- ing one's feet ; and these people make the new town rather warm for awhile. But by- and-by the earnest and honest citizens get tired of this ungodly nonsense, and organize a Vigilance Connuittee, which hangs the more vicious of the pestiferous crowd to a sour apple-tree; and then come good nmni- cipal laws, ministers, meetinghouses, and a tolerably sober police in blue coats with brass buJons. About five thousand able- bodied men are in tlie mines underground here; some as far down as five hundred feet. The Gould & Curry Mine employs nine hundred men, and annually turns out about twenty million dollars worth of "demnition gold and silver," as Mr. i\Iantalini might express it — though silver chiefly. There are many other mines here and at Gold-Hill (another startling silver city, a mile from here), all of which do nearly as well. The silver is melted down into bricks of the size of common house bricks ; then it is loaded into huge wagons, each drawn by eight and twelve mules, and sent off to San Francisco. To a young person fresh from the land of green-backs this careless manner of carting oflFsoHd silver is rather of a startler. It is related that a young man who came Overland from New Hampshire a few month* before my arrival became so excited about it that he fell in a fit, vith the name of his Uncle Amos on his lips . The hardy miners supposed he wanted his uncle there to see the great sight, and faint with him. But this was pure conjecture after all. I visit several of the adjacent miniti" towns, but I do not go to Aurora. No I think not. A lecturer on psyp^- jlogy was killed there the other night by the playful discliarge of a horse-pistol in the hands ofa degenerate and intoxicated Spaniard. This circumstance and a rumor that the citizen? are agin literature, induce me to go back to Virginia. I had pointed out to me at a Restaurant a man who liad killed four men in stroit broils, and who had that very day cut hi> own brother's breast open in a dangerou-^ manner with a small supper knife. He was a gentleman, however. I heard him tell some men .so. He admitted it himself. And I don't think he would lie about aUttle thing like that. The theatre at Virginia will attract th. attention of the stranger, because it is an imusually elegant affair of the kind, an.] would be so regarded anywhere. It was built, of course, by Mr. Thomas Maguiro the Napoleonic manager of the Pacific, and who has built over twenty theatres in hi- time, and will perhaps build as many more, unless somebody stops him— which, by the way, will not be a remarkably easy thing to do. As soon as a mining camp begins to as- sume the proportions of a city ; at about the time the whisky vender draws his cork, or the gambler spreads his green cloth, Maguire opens a theatre, and with a hastily- organized " Vigilance Committee " of ac- tors, commences to execute Shakespeare. My arrival ized by the fol I had no soc c;arret of the was called uj who said he w rare it was foi blighting inflv malt liquors, doubtfully. ] " What nai Wait !" he I heard hit down the hall In ten mini djaccnt miniiiw Aurora. No I psy^ology was t by the playful 1 the hands ol' u ipaniard. Tbi- hat the citizeng lie to jro back to at a Restaurant ' men in strcit ery day cut hi> in a dangcrmiv knife. He wa-^ heard liini ttii ted it himse!!'. ie about a little vil] attract tht ecause it is uii the kind, aii'l vhere. It w;is amas Maguin", he Pacific, and theatres in hi< as many more, -which, by the y easy thing to ) begins to as- ;ity ; at about draws his cork, s green cloth, with ahastily- iiittee " of ac- ?hakespearc. VI. MR. PEPPER. My arrival at Virginia City was signal- ized by the following incident : I had no sooner achieved my room in the i;arret of the International Hotel than I was called upon by an intoxicated man, who said he was an Editor. Knowing how rare it was for an Editor to be under the blighting influence of either spirituous or malt liquors, I received tliis statement tloubtfully. But I said : "What name?" Wait !" he said, and went out. I heard him pacing unsteadily up and down the hall outside. In teu minutes he returned, and said : . t" " Pepper Pepper was indeed his name. He had been out to see if he could remember it ; and he was so flushed with his succo»s that he repeated it joyously several times, and then, with a short laugh, he wet. away. I had often heard of a man being " so drunk that he didn't know what town he lived in," but here was a man so hideously Inebriated that he didn't know what his name was. I saw him no more, but I heard from him. For he published a notice of my lecture, in which he said I had a dissipated air ! I I YII. HORACE GREELEY'S RIDE TO PLACERVILLE. li II When Mr. Greeley was in Californi:!, ovations awaited him at every town. He had written powerful leaders in the Tribune in favor of the Pacific Railroad, wliich has greately endeared him to the citizens of the Golden State. And therefore they made much of him when he went to see them. At one town the cnthusastic populace tore his celebrated white coat to pieces, and carried the pieces home to remember him by. The citizens of Plaeerville prepared to fete the great journalist, and an extra coach, with extra relays of horses, was chartered of the California Stage Company to carry him from Fclsom to Plaeerville— distance, forty miles. The extra was in some way delayed, and did not leave Folsom until late in the afternoon. Mr. Greeley was to be feted at 7 o'clock that evening by the citizens of Plaeerville, and it was altogether neces- sary that he should be there by that hour. So the Stage Company said to Henry Monk, the driver of the extra, " Henry, this great man must be there by 7 to-night." And Henry answered, « The great man shall be there.' "The roads were in an awful state, and during the first few miles out of Folsom slow progress was made. " Sir, said Mr. Greely, " are you aware that I must be at Plaeerville at 7 o'clock to-night V" "I've got my orders!" laconically re- turned Henry ]\Ionk. Still the coach dragged slowly forward. "Sir," said Mr. Greeley, " this is not a trifling matter, I must be thereat 7 !" Again came the answer, " I've got mv orders!" ^ But the speed was not increased, and Mr. Greeley chafed away another half hour ; when, as he was again about to remonstrate with the driver, the horses suddenly started into a furious run, and all sorts of encourag- ing yells filled the air from the throat of Henry Monk. '• That is right, my good fellow I" cried Mr. Greeley. '' I'll oive you ten dollars when we get to Plaeerville. Now we «„j "oin"'!" They were indeed, and at a terrible r,peed. Crack, crack I went the whip, and again " that voice" split the air. •' Git up I Hi yi! G'long! Yip— yip I" And on they tore, over stones and ruts, up hill and down, at a rate of speed never before acheived by stage horses. Mr. Greeley, who had been bouncing from one end of the coach to the other like an india-rubber ball, managed to get his licad out of the window, wlien he said : "Do — on't— on't— on'tyou— u— u think we— e— e— e shall get there by seven if wc do — on't — on't go so fast V" "I've got my orders!" That was all Henry Monk said. And on tore the cnaeli. It was becoming serious. Already the journalist was extremely sore from the terrible jolting, and again his head "might have been seen" at the window. "Sir," he said, '•! don't care— care— aiV if we don't get there at seven I" ^ "I have got my orders I" Fresh horses. Forward again, faster than before. Over rocks and stumps, on one of which the coach narrowly escaped turning a suraerset. " See here ! " shrieked Mr. Greeley, "I don't care if wo don't gt-t there at all I " " I've got my orders I I work for the .^ HORACE GREELEY'S RIDE TO PLACERVILLE. 67 ts of encouras- I: Uoract' Greeley's gay and festivo adventures on the overland route from California.-See/Jfrrjrc 60. Culifoniy Stage Conipany, /do. That's wot I Kork for. They said, ' git this man through by scving.' An' this man's goin' through. You bet ! Gerlong ! Whoo-ep ! " Another frightful jolt, and Mr. Greeley's bald head suddenly found its way through tiie roof of the coach, amidst the crash of small timbers and the ripping of strong canvas. " Stop, you maniac ! " he roared. Agaiu answered Henry IMonk : " I've got my orders ! Keep //our scat, Horace / " At Mud Springs, a village a few miles from Placerville, they met a large delegation of the citizens of Placerville, who had come out to meet the celebrated editor, and escort him into town. There was a military com- pany, a brass band, and a six-horse "wagon- load of beautiful damsels in milk-white dresses, representing all the States in the Union. It was nearly dark now, but the delegation were amply provided with torches, and bonfires blazed all along the road to Placerville. The citizens met the coach in the {out- skirts of ISIud Springs, and Mr. Monk reined in his foam-covered steeds. " Is Mr. Greeley on board? " asked the chairman of the committee. " He was a few miles hack ! " said Mr. Moir.; "yes," he added, after looking 68 HORACE GREELEY'S RIDE TO PLACERVILLE. down through the hole which the fearful jolting had made in the coachroof— " yes, I can see him ! He is there ! " " 3Ir. Greeley," said the Chairman of the Committee, presenting himself at the window of the coach, " Mr. Greeley, sir ! We are come to most cordially welcome you, sir why, God bless me, sir, you are bleeding at the nose ! " " I've got my orders ! " cried Mr. Monk. " My orders is as follers : Git him there by seving! It wants a quarter to seving. Stand out of the way! " " But, sir," exclaimed the Committtee- man, seizing the off leader by the reins — " Mr. Monk, we are come to escort him into town ! Look at the procession, sir, and the brass band, and the people, and the young women, sir ! " " Fve got my orders ! " screamed Mr. Monk. ' My orders don't say nothin' about no brass bands and young women. My orders says, ' git him there by seving ! ' Let go them lines ! Clear the way there ! Whoo-ep! Keep YOUR SEAT, Horace!" and the coach dashed wildly through the procession, upsetting a portion of the bras,-, band, and violently grazing the wagon which contained the beautiful young women in white. Years hence grey-haired men, who were little boys in this procession, will tell their grandchildren how this stage tore through Mud Springs, and how Horace Greeley's bald head ever and anon showed itself, like a wild apparition, above the coach-roof Mr. Monk was on time. There is a tradition that Mr. Greeley was very indig- nant for awhile; then he laughed, and finally presented Mr. Monk with a bran new suit of clothes. Mr. Monk himself is still in the employ of the California Stage Company, and is rather fond of relating a story that has made him famous all over the Pacific coast. But he says he yields to no man in Lis admiration for Horace Greeley. I leave Vir City, via the 1 There are c the CO rich — -^ coach, but a C Among the th') np.iae of wile spread i unpleasant bes of California, Reese River i We ride ni the land of ' reach us that ges are on t uiand of a re who seems tc much as he i from the reg seceding savi shall kill at makes our ft in that secti( lit all the stc iind our pass pistols and knives in th( see if the ke containing r had rather weapons up pod with t behind. T this carele Ryder gives with which \\v beloved I am not u changing 1 \ lt, Horace ! " lly through the ion of the brass ing the wagon il young women men, who were 1, will tell their ;e tore through )race Greeley's )wed itself, like coach-roof. !. There is a yas very indi"- laughed, and rith a bran new in the employ mpany, and is itory that has J Pacific coast. 10 man in his ey. VIII. TO REESE RIVER. I LEAVE Virginia for Great Salt Lake City, via the Reese River Silver Diggings. There are eight passengers of us inside the corich— vhich, by the way, isn't a coach, but a Concord covered mud wagon. Amonfj; the passengers is a genial man of th') np.iiie of Ryder, who has achieved a wile spread reputation as a strangler of unpleasant bears in the mountain fastnesses of California, and who is now an eminent Reese River miner. We ride night and day, passing through the land of the Piute Indians. Reports reach us that fifteen hundred of these sava- ces are on the Rampage, under the com- mand of a red usurper named Buifalo-Jim, who seems to be a sort of Jeff Davis, inas- much as he and his followers have seceded from the regular Piute organization. Th' seceding savages have announced that they shall kill and scalp all pale-faces (which makes our faces pale, I reckon) found loose in that section. We find the guard doubled at all the stations where we change horses, and our passengers nci vously examine their pistols and readjust the long glittering knives in their belts. I feel in my pockets to see if the key which unlocks the carpet-bag containing ray revolvers is all right — for I had rather brilliantly locked my deadly weapons up in that article, which was strap- ped with the other baggage to the rack behind. The passengers frown on me for this carelessness, but the kind-hearted Ryder gives me a small double-barrelled gun, with which I narrowly escape murdering ! m" beloved friend Hinsrston in cold blood. I am not used to guns and things, and in changing tie position of this weapon I pulled the trigger rather harder than was necessary. When this wicked rebellion first broke out I was among the first to stay at home —chiefly because of my utter ignorance of firearms. I should be valuable to the Army as a Brigadier-General only so far as the moral influence of my name went. However, we pass safely through the land of the Piutes, unmolested by Buffalo James. This celebrated savage can read and write, and is quite an orator, like Metamora, or the last of the Wampanoags. He went on to Washington a few years ago, and called Mr. Buchanan his Great Father, and the members of the Cabinet his dear Brothers. They gave him a great many blankets, and he returned to his beautiful huntin;^ grounds and went to killing stage-drivers. He made siich a fine impression upon Mr. Buchanan du."ing his sojourn in Washington that that statesman gave a young English tourist, who crossed the plains a few years since, a lett,er of introduction to him . The great Indian chief read the English person's letter with con- siderable emotion, and then ordered him scalped, and stole his trunks. Mr. Ryder knows me only as " Mr. Brown," and he refreshes mc during the journey by quotations from my books and lectures. < Never seen Ward ? " he said. " Oh no." " Ward says he likes little girls, but he likes large girls just as well. Haw, haw haw ! I should like to see the d- -fooll 70 t lllii TO REESE lUVER. He referred to inc. He even woke im- vp i„ tlio miildlo of the ni-ht to toll mo one ol' Ward's jokes. T lecture at Bi-; (hvek. Big Crook i.s a ,>,sirod. The lecturer ..poke from behind the drinking bar. Rehind him loi.o 1-ow.s of docauter.s olfstoned ; above him hung pictures of race-horses aud prize-fight- ers; and beside him. in ]m shirt-sleeves, and wearing u cheerful sinilo, .stood the bar- keeper. My speeches at the Jiar before fhi* had been of an elegant charaetcr, jwr- haps, but quite brief They never extend- cd beyond '-I don't care if I do," " No sugar in mine," and short gems of a like character. I had a good audience ;it Ria- Creek who seemed to be pleased, the bL-keeper ospeeially; for at the close of any "point " that I sought to make, he would deal the counter a vigorous blow with his fist and exclaim, " Good boy from the New En-iin, States! li.sten to William W. Shake.s,K.aro Rack to Austin. We lose our way .,„ hitching our horses to a tree, go in searc ct some Imman boin-s. The nioht is ,,,•■ dark. Wc^oonstmnble upon a camp-fire ,n,l an unpleasantly modulated voice a.sks ih I .'^ay our prayers, a.hiin- that we are on tl.o point of .oing to (ilory with our boots.,,, I think perhaps there may be some truH 1" »hi,s, as the mouth of a horse-pistol ,1 "lost -razes my f.rehead, while. iinmodiaU.. ly behind the butt of that death-deali.,. weapon 1 perceive a large man with black whiskers. Other large men begin to assen,. I)le, ai.so with horse-pistols. Dr. Tlirnvstoi, Jiastily explains, while I o,, baok to th, carnage to say my prayers, where there j. >i'ore room. The men were miners on ,, prospecting t.mr, and as we a.lvanced upon them without sending .hem word they took us for highway robbers. I must not forget to say that my brav,. and kind-licartod friend Ryder, of the mail coach, who had so often alluded to " Ward" in our ride frt)m A'irginia to Austin, wii> anion- my hearers at Rig Creek. He had discovered who I wa.s, and informed mo that he had debated whotlier to wallop m, or give me some rich silver claims.. IIow was T luons ? Tha tlon with nu jiliiins that a mine (writtc greatly inccnf the Sacramc! few days be! which a Sa' dearly intinii now '/ion niij ate my dinnc ciirars. The six. They i were procure Lake House 1 .smoke in iningle with l)r. Hinr: wrote againf in search of back at nigl against nic. heard that t and are on t Under th The next the Taberni ernacle is lo a long rakii seating som There is a large pulpit at the othei choir. A ; Sloan proa* to which a objected. enacted a tlio New Enoian, iV. ShakcHjK'aro lose our way, (in, •■w, go in scare riio iiiiilit is vor >ii a camp-fire, ,111 I Vdiee a-sks tis 1, lit wo are on tlio itli our boots m y be .some triul « horse-pistol id vliilc iiiiuu'diatf :'t (loath-dealiiiL '"i'l" witli black begin to assoni- Dr. Hingstoii ^•o back to tliu . wlierc there i> 3re miners on ;, advaneeil upon word they took (hat my bravr tier, of the mail led to " Ward" to Austin, wii> I'oek. He hail 1 informed nio r to wiijlop nil' jlaims.. IX. GREAT SALT LAKE CITY. How was T to 1)0 greeted by the Mor- mons ? That was rather an exeltiug ques- tion with lue. I had l)een told on the iilidn:- that a certain humorous sketch of mine (written .ane y^ars before) had greatly incensed the Saints, and a copy of the Sacramento Unr ■< newspaper had a lew days before fallen into my hands, in which a Salt ' ukc cornsponiU^nt (juitc clearly intimated that my reception at the now '/ion might be unplea-mtly warm. I ate my dinner moodily and sent out for some ciirars. The venerable clerk brought me Hx. They cost only two dollars. They were procured at a store near by. The Salt Lake House .sells ncitl, r cigars nor fKiuors. 1 smoke in my room, having no heart to mingle with the people in the office. l)r. Hingston "thanks God he never wrote against the IMormons," and goes out in search of a brother Knulishman. Comes back at night and says there is a prejudice against me. Advises me to keep in. Has heard that the IMormons thirst tor my blood and arc on the look out for me. Fndcr these circumstances I keep in. The next day is Sunday, and wc go to the Tabernacle, in the morning. Tlic Tab- ernacle is located on street, and is a long rakish building of adobe, capable of seating some twenty-live hundred persons. There is a wide pliitform and a rather large pulpit at one end of the building, and at the other end is another platlbrm for the choir. A young Irishman of the name of Sloan preaches a sensible sort of discourse, to which a Presbyterian could hardly have olyected. Laslnight this same Mr. Sloan enacted a character in a rollicking Irish farce at the theatre! And he played it well, I was told : not so well of course as the groat Dan Bryant could, but T fancy he was more at home in the iMormon pulpit than Daniel would have been. The jVIormons.by the way,are preeminent- ly an amusc-ment-loving people, and the El- ders pray for the success of their theatre with as much earnestness as they pray for anything else. The congregation doesn't startle us. It is known, I lancy, that the heads of the church are to be absent to-day, and the at- ' tendance is slim. There arc no ravishing- ly beautiful women present, and no positive- ly ugly ones. The men are fair to middling. They will never be slayn in cold blood for their beauty, nor shut up in jail for their homeliness There arc some good voices in the choir to-day, but the orchestral accompaniment is unusually slight. Sometimes they introduce a full brass and string band in Church. Urigham Young says the devil has mono- polized the good music long enough, and it is high time the Lord had a portion^ of it. Therefore trombones are tooted on Sundays in Utah as well as on other days ; and there are some splendid nmsicans there. The or- chestra in Brigham Young's theatre is quite equal to any in Broadway. There is a youth in Salt Lake City (I forget his name) who plays, the comet like a North American angel. Mr. Stenhouse relieves me of any anxi- ety I had felt in regard to having my swan- like throat cut by thcDanites, but thinks my wholesale denunciation of a people I had never seen was rather hasty. The follow- ing is the paragraph to which the Saints 72 GRKAT SALT LAKE CITY. objcctod. It occurs in nn " Artonms Wnrd" I^pcr o» Urigham Young, written «on.o years ago : " Igirdod up n.y Li(,nH and flod the Seen lacked upniyduds and left Salt Lake winch i.a - \ Soddum and Gennorer, iu^ Imbitedbyasthcavin'&onprincipleda set ' c^reteh^aseverdrewBrethinenys^ton I I had forgotten all about this, an.. ,. Eiler Stenhouse read it to me « my feeii,,.', "lay be better imagined than described " t„ u«> language I think I have lu-ard beibro I pleaded, however, tliat it wns a purely burle«,,ue sketch, and that this stron.- J- agraph should not be interpreted liUMally "tall. The elder didn't seem to sec it in that light, but we parted plcasiintly. X. THE MOUNTAIN FEVER. I fi^o back to my hotel and go to bed, and r do not got up again tor two weary wcekn, 1 have the mountain fevor (so called in I'.tah though it cloHcly rcHeniblcs the old style, typhus) and in my case is pronounced danger- I nus. I don't regard it so. I don't in I'act regard anything. I am all right myself. My poor Kingston shakes his head sadly, ;iud Dr. Williamson, from Camp Douglas, [wurs all kinds ol' bitter stuff down my throat. I drhik his health in a dose oi" the clieerful beverage known as jalap, and thresh the sheets with my hot hands. T siddress large usseniblnges, who liave somehow got into my room, and I charge Dr. Williamson with the murder of Luce, and Mr. Irwin the actor with the murder of Shakspeare. I have a lucid spell now and then, in one of which James Townscnd, the landlord, enters, lie whispers, but I hear wliat he says far too distinctly : '' This man can have any- thing and everything he wants ; but I'm no hand for a sick room. / never amid see anybody die' That was cheering, I thought. 'I'he no- ble Californian, Jerome Davis — he of the celebrated ranch — sticks by mo like a twin brother, although I fear that in my hot frenzy I more tlum once anathematized his kindly eyes. Nurses and watchers, Gentile and Mormon, volunteer their service in hoops, and rare wines are sent to me from iiU over the city, which if I can't drink, the venerable and Excellent Thonms can easy. I lay there in this wild broiling way for nearly two weeks, when one morning I woke up with my head clear and an immense plaster on my stomach. The plaster had operated. I was so raw that I could by no means say to Dr Williamson, Well done, thou good and faitiiful servant. I wislied lie hail lathered me beibre he plastered me. I was tearfully weak. I was frightfully thin. With either one of my legs you could have cleaned the stem of a meer- schaum pip\ My backbone had the appear- ance of a ehithesline wiUi a (juantity of Knglish walnuts strung uixm it. My face was almost gone. My nose was so sharp that I didn't Jare stick it into other people's liusiness for fear it would stay there. Hut by borrowing nny agent's over- coat I Kucceeded in producing a shadow. I have been looking at Zion all day, and my feet are sore and my legs are weary. I go back to the Salt Lake IFouse, and have a talk with landlord Townscnd about the State of Maine. He came from that bleak region, having .skinned his infantile eyes in York County. He was at Nauvoo, and was forced to sell out his entire property there for 850. He has thrived in Utah, however, and is much thought of by tlic Church. He is an Elder, and preaches occasionally. lie has only two wives. I hear lately that he has sold his property for $25,000 to Brigham Young, and gone to England to make converts. How impres- sive he may bo as an expounder of the Mor- mon gospel, I don't know. His beef stcak.s and chicken-pies, however, were first-rate. James and I talk about Maine, and cor- dially agree that so far as pine boards and horse-mackerel arc concerned it is equalled by few and excelled by none. There is no i '^ H« 74 THE MOUNTAIN FEVER. place like hoiiiP, as Clara, the Maid of Milan, very justly observes; nihl while .1. Town- send would be unhappy in Maine, hi, heart evidently boats back there now and then. I heard tholovoof home oddly illustrated in Oro-on.ono ni^ht, in a country bar room. hciuo K.lldr. , ,-icd men, in a state of strong drink, ..ore boasting of their respective places of nativity. "I," .said one, "was born in Mississippi, where the sun ever shines and the nia-no- Ua.s bloom all the happy year round. " " " And I," said .■innlher, ' wn? born in Kentucky— Kentucky, the home of impa.s- .sioned oratory : the liome of Clay : the State of splendid women, of f,'allant men !" " And I," Haid another, "watt bom in \'irginia, the home of Wa.-^' ington : the birthplace of statesmen : the ritatoofchj. viilric deeds and noble hospitality !" " AndT," said a yellow-haired and sallow- faced man, who was not of this party at all. imd who had boon quietly smoking n short blaek pipe by the fire during their iiingni- ficent eonversation- and I wi^ '.(^"111 the p'lrdon spot of America." " Vhcrei^ that?" they said. " tSA-eouy^an Maine f" he replied ; " kin I .sell you a razor strop ?" ifgullant men!' r, "was born in Vos'ington: the the ritatoof chi. litaliry !" aired and sallow- litis party at all. smoking n short i.i; their iiuif,'tii- l \V!th liorn in said . I' replied ; " kin TVio H'ston iiiiiii gets into « atuto of oxcllonioiit with the mulc-ililvor. XI. '^ A HERE." TllKRK is 11(1 mistake aliout tliiit. there is a good prosjicet of my staying lu re for some time to come. The snow is deep tlie ground, and more is lisllin The D'ftor looks liliiiu. and spi aks of his ill-stuned countr\..i;ni. Sir .1. Franklin, who went to tlic Arctic mice too mw- >■ " A good thing happmed down 1. e the Other day," said a miner from New Hamp- shire to lie. "A man of Boston drcssin' went through there, and at one of the sta- tions there was'nt any mules. Says the man, ■:vhn wa-s Uxed out to kill i' his Boston dressin', ' Where's thnn mucl; Siys the driver, ' Them mules is into thesafte-hrush. You ,0 catch 'cm — that's wot you lo.' Hays tlh mnnnf Boston dressin, ' Oh . !' Say. the iliiver, 'Oh yesl' and he took his long ciiach-whiit and lickeil the man of Uoston flirssin till he went and caught them nmles. llo' does that strike yuu as a joke ?' " It didn't strike me is much of a joke to pay a hundred and seventy-five dollar^ in gold fare, and then he hors. whipped by stage-drivers, for declining t' 'hasc mules. But people' ideas of Inunor .litlor, just as people'^* ideas differ in regard to slirewJ 76 I AM HERE. m\ ness— which " reminds mo ofa little story " Sitting in a Now England country store one day, I overheard the foliowino dialoirue between two brothers ; " Say, iiiii, wot you done with that air sorrel mare of yourn ?" "Sold her," said William, with a smile of 8ntis*uction. " V/ot 'd you git ?" '• Hund'd an- Sfty dollars, cash deown !" "Show! Ilund'd an' fifty ft,- that kickm'spavin'd critter? Who'd you sell her to?" ^ " Sold her to mother I' " Wot!" exclaimed broti.er No. 1 " did you railly sell that kickin' spavin'n critter to mother ? Wall, you a!r a shrewd one !" A Sensation-Arrival by the Overland : Stage of two Missouri girls, who have conio unescorted all the way through. They are ! going to Nevada territory to join their ; "tl"'-. IlKT nro pretty, but, merciful I heavens ! how they 'hrow the meat and potatoes down their throats. " This is the first Squar' meal we've had since we left Rocky Thompson's," said the eldest. Then addressing herself to me, she said : _^ " Air you the literary man ?" I politely replied that I was one of " them fellers." " Wall, don't make fun of our clothes ir the papers. We air goin' right straight through in these here clothes, n-c air I We ain't goin' to ra^ out till we git to y ^vady I Pass thenrsasslges !" men " stake XII. BRIGIIAM YOUNG. Brioiiam Youno sends word that I may see him to-morrow. So I go to bed sing- ing tlie popular Mormon hymn : I.it the clioru!< still lie simp, Long llvo llrotlier llrigliain Voimji, A nd bl«ge(>(l bo tlip vale of 1 )t'»ur('t— lOt- And blesBfd bo the vale oCDosori-t. ■••■■t I At two o'clock the next al'ternoor Mr. Hiram B. Clawson, Brigham Young's son- in-law and chief business manager, calls for me with the Prophet's private sleigh, and we start for that distinguished person's block. I am shown into the Prophet's chief office. He comes forward, greets me cor- dially, and introduces me to several influ- ential Mormons who are present. Brigham young is 02 years old, of me- dium height, and with sandy hair and whiskers. An active iron man, with a clear sharp eye. A man of consummate shrewdness — of great executive ability. He was born in the State of Vermont, and so by the way was Heber C. Kimball, who will wear the Mormon Belt when Brigham leaves the ring. Brigham Young is a man of great natu- ral ability. If you ask me, How pious is he ? I treat it as a conundrum, and give it up. Personally he treated me with mark- ed kindness throughout my sojourn in Utah. His power in Utah is quite as absolute as tliat of any living sovereign, yet he uses it with such consummate shrewdness that his people are passionately devoted to Mm. He was an elder at the first formal Mor- mon " stake" in this country, at Kirtland, Ohio, and went to Nauvoo with Josepli Smith. That distinguished Mormon hand- ed his mantle and tiie Prophet business over to Brigham when he died at Nauvoo. Smith did a more flourishing business in the Prophet line than B. Y. does, Smith used to have his little Revelation almost every day — sometimes two before dinner. B. Y. only takes one once in awhile. The gateway of his block is surmounted by a brass American eagle, and they say (" they say" here means anti-Mormons) thit he receives his spiritual dispatches through this piece of patriotic poultry. They also say that he receives revelations from a stuffed white calf that is trimmed with red ribbons and kept in an iron box. I don't suppose these things are true. Rumor says that when the Lion House was ready to be shingled, Brigham received a message from the Lord stating that the carpenters must all take hold and shingle it, and not charge a red cent for their services. Such carpenters as refused to shingle would go to hell, and no postponement on account of the weather. They say that Brig- ham, whenever a train of emigrants arrives in Salt Lake City, orders all the women to nif.rch up and down before his block, while he stands on the portico of the Lion House, and gobbles up the prettiest ones. He is an immensely wealthy man. His wealth is variously estimated at from ten to twenty millions of dollars. He owns saw mills, grist mills, woollen factories, brass and iron foundries, farms, brick-yards, &c,, and superintends them all in person, A man m Ltah indiViuually .owns wuat he grows and makes, with the exception of a 78 BRIGHAM YOUNG. one tenth part: that must go to the Church; and Brigham Young, as the first President, is the Church's treasurer. Gen- tiles of course say tliat he abuses this blind confidence of his people, and speculates with their money, and absorbs the iutere),t I ' ^n't the principal. The Mormons < nd say whatever of their money h- ^J is for the good of the Church ; t . ^e defrays the expenses of emigrants from far ove.- the seas; that he is fore- most in all local enterprises tending to de- velop the resources of the territory, and , that, in short, he is incapable of wron^ iu any shape. ^ ' Nobody seems to know how many wives Brigham Young has. Some set the num- berjas high 'as eighty, in wbioii case his children must be too numercus to mention. Each wife has a room to herself. These rooms are large and airy, and I suppose they are supplied with all the modern im- provements. But never having been in- vited to visit them I can't speak very defi- nitely about this. When I left the Prophet he shook me cordially by the hand, and invited mo to call again. This was fiatter- jng, because if he dislikes a man at the first j laterview he never sees him a-ain. Ho riade no allusion to the '■ letter" I had written about his community. Outside guards were pacing up and down before the gateway, but they smiled upon mo sweetly The veiandali wa^ crowded with Gentile miners, who seemed to bo suprised that I didn't return in a wooden overcoat, w th my throat neatly laid open from ear to ear. I go to the Theatre to-night. The play is Othello. This is a really fine play, and was a favorite of G. Washington, the father of his country. On this stage, as upon all other stages, the good old conventionalities are strictly adhered to. The actors cross each other at oblique ang'es from L. U. E. n f",,^' ^'' ^'^ ^^'^ '''S'i*<''t provocation. Othello howls, lago scowls, and tho hny« .Ji I stay to see charming Mrs. Irwin (Desdemona) die wiucli she does very sweetly, ' t^ Edwin Forrest at a theatre in Phi/adei- P'lia. 1 played a pantomimic part I ,., moved the chairs between scenes, and I did It so neatly that Mr. y. «aid I would make a cabinet-maker if I " applied" myself. laugh when lioderigo dies. The parquette of the theatre is occupied exclusively by the Mormons and their wivevand children. They wouldn't let a (^entile in there any more than they would a serpent. In the side seats are those of Pr-'^entloung'swiveswhogototheplay and a large and varied assortment of chil dren.. It is an odd sight to see a jovial old Mormon file down the parquette aisle with tenor twenty robust wives at his heels i et this spectacle nuy be witnessed every night the theatre is opened. The dre<< cii cle is chiefly occupied by the oflicers from Camp Douglas and the Gentile Merchant^ The upper circles are filled by the pri- vato soldiers and 3Iormon boys I fed bound to say that a Mormon audience is quite as appreciative as any other kind of an audience. They prefer comedy to tra- gedy. Sentimental plays, for obvious rea- »^ons, are unpopular with them. It will be remembered that when C. Melnotto, in the Lady of Lyons, comes home from the wars he tolds Pauline to his heaving heart and makes several remarks of an impassioned and slobbering character. One night when the Lady of Lyons was produced here, an aged Mormon arose and went out with his twenty-four wives, angrily stating that he wouldn't sit and see a play where a man made such a cimed /,m over one woma,i. The prices of tho theatre are: Parq.'ctte 75 cents; dress circle, $1, 1st upper cir- cle, 50; 2nd and brd upper circles, 25 In an audience of two thousand persons (and there arc almost always that number pre' sent) probably a thousand will pay in cash' BRIGHAM YOUNG. 79' 'd the other thousand in grain and a va- ;iety of articles ; all which will command money, however. Brigham Young usually sits in the mid- dle of the parquette, in a rocking-chair, and with his hat or. He does not escort his wives to the theatre. They go alone. When the play drags he either falls into a tranquil sleep or walks out; He wears in winter time a green wrapper, and his hat is the style introduced into this country by Louis Kossuth, Esq., the liberator of Hun- garia. (I invested a dollar in the liberty of Hungaria nearly fifteen years ago.) XIII. A PIECE IS SPOKEN. A piece hath its victories no less than war. " Blessed are the Piece makers." That is Scripture. The night of the " comic oration" is come, and the speaker is arranging his back hair in the star-dressing-room of the tlioatre. The orchestra is playing selections from the Gentile opera of Un Ballo in Ma^chera, and the house is full. Mr. John F. Caine,' the excellent stage-managor, ]ias given me an-elegant drawing-room scene in which to ' speak my little piece. [Inlowalon«* kctured in a theatre, and the heartless manager gave me a Dun- geon scene,] The curtain goes up, and I stand before a Salt Lake of upturned faces. I car, only say that I was never listened to more attentively and kindly in my life than I was by this audience of Mormons. Among my receipts at the box-office this night were — 20 bushels of wheat. 5 bushels of corn. 4 " " potatoes. 2 " " oats. 4 " " salt. 2 hams. 1 live pig (Dr. Kingston chained him in the box-office). 1 wolf-skin. 5 pounds honey in the comb. 16 strings of sausages— 2 pounds to the string. 1 cat-skin 1 churn (two families went in on this ; it is an ingenious churn, and fetches butter m five minutes by rapid grinding). 1 set children's under-garrricnts, embroid- ered. 1 firkin of butter. 1 keg of apple sauce. One man undertook to pass a dog (a cross between a Scotch terrier and a Weigh rabbit) at the box-office, and another pre sented a German-silver coffin-plate, but thf Doctor very justly repulsed them both. ^li I XIV. THE BALL. The Mormons are fond of dancing. Brigham and Heber C. dance. So do Da- niel H. "\7ells and tlie other heads of the Church. Balls are opened with prayer, and when they break up a benediction is pronounced. I am invited to a ball at Social Hall, and am escorted thither by Brothers Stenl-ouse and Clawson. Social Hall is a spacious and cheerful room. The motto of "Our Mountain Home" in brilliant evergreen capitals adorns one end of the hall, while at the other a platform is erected for the musiciims, behind whom there is room for those who don't dance, to sit and look at 'the festivities. Brother Stenhouse, at the request of President Young, formally introduces me to company from the platform. There is a splendor of costumery about the dancers I had not expected to see. Quadrilles only are danced. The Mazourka is considered sin- ful. Even the old-time round waltz is ta- boed. I dance. The Saints address each other here as elsewhere, as Brother and Sister. " This way, Sister !" " Where are you going, bro- ther ?" etc. etc, I am called Brother Ward. This pleases me, and T dance with renewed vigor. The Prophet has some very charming daughters, several of whom are present to- night. I was told they spoke French and Spa- nish. The prophet is more industrious than "raceful as a dancer. He exhibits, how- ever, a spryness of legs quite remarkable in a man at his time of life. I didn't sei He- ber C. Kimball on the floor. I am toll he is a loose and reckless dancer, and hat many a lily-white toe has felt the crushing weight of his cowhide monitors. The old gentleman is present, however, with a large number of wives. It is said he calls them his "heifers." " Ain't you goin' to dance with soino of my wives ?" said a Mormon to me. These things make a Mornion ball more spicy than a Gentile one. The supper is sumptuous, and bear and beaver adorn the bill of fare. I <'o away at the early hour of two in the morning. The moon is shining brightly on the snow-covered streets. The lamps are out, and the town is still as a grave yard. xv. PIIELP'S ALMANAC. Therb is an eccentric Mormon at Salt Lake City of the name of VV. W. Phelps. He is from Cortland, State of New York, and has been a Saint for a good many years. It it said he enacts the character of the Devil, with a pea-green tail, in the Mormon initiation ceremonies. He also publishes an Almanac, in which he blends astronomy with short moral essays, and suggestions in regard to the proper management of hens. He also contributes i. poem entitled " The Tombs" to his Almanac for the current year, from which I quote the last verse : " tlioose yc; to rest with stately grooms; Just such ft place there is for elccping ; AVhere everything, in c ramon keeping, Is free from want and worth and weeping: There folly's harvest is a reaping, Down in the grave, among the tombs." Now, I know that poets and tin-pedlars are " licensed," but why does W. W. P. advise us to sleep in the barn with the ostlers ? These arc the most dismal Tombs on record, not excepting the Tomb of the Capulets, the Tombs of New York, or the | Toombs of GeorKia. Under the head of " Old Sayings," Mr. P. publishes the following. There is a modesty about the last "saying" which will be pretty apt to strike the reader : '• The Lord does good and Satan evil, said Mosca. Suii 'ind Moon, see mo conquer, said Joshua. Virtue exalts a woman, .said David. Koold and folly frolic, said Solomon. Judgments belong to God, said Isaiah. The path of the just is plain, said Jeremiah. The soul that sins dies, said Kzekiel. The wicked do wicked, said Daniel. Kphraira lied and hid, said Hosea. The Gentiles war and waste, said Joel. The second reign is peace and plenty, said Amos /ion is the house of the God.*, said Obadiali. A lish saved uie, said Jonah. Our Lion will be terrible, .«aid Slicah. Doctor, cure yourselr, h,\id the Saviour. Live to live again, said Vir. W. Phelps." XVJ. HURRAH FOR THE ROAD Time, Wednesday afternoon, February i 10. The Overland Stage, Mr. William I Glover on the box, stands before theveran- 1 da of the Salt Lake House. The genial I Nat Stein is arranging the way-bill. Our bag-'age (the overland passenger is only 'allowed t.venty-6ve pounds) is being put aboard, and we are shaking hands, at a rate altogether furious, wiai Mormon and Gentile. Amoi,- the former are brothers Stenhouse, Caine, Clawsonand Townsend; and among the latter are Harry Riccard, the bi-hearted English mountaineer (though onw he wore white kids and swallow-tails in Hegent street, and in his boyhood went to school to Miss Edgeworth, the novelist) ; tl.e daring explorer Hood, from Wisconsin ; the Rev. James McCormick, missionary, who distributes pasteboard tracts among the Pannock miners; and the pleasing child of gore, Capt. D. B. Stover, of the Commissary department. j We "0 away on wheels, but the deep ,„ow compels us to substitute runners twelve miles out. There are four passengers of us. VVe pierce the Wahsatch mountains by Parley's canon. . A snow storm overtakes us as the night thickens, and the wind shrieks like a bri- -radc of strong-lunged maniacs. Never mind. We we well covered up-our cigars are good- 1 have on deerskin pantaloons, a deerski. overcoat, a beaver cap and buf- falo overshoes ; and so, as I tersely observed before Nevermind. Let us laugh the winds to scorn, brave boys ! But why is William Glover, driver, lying flat on bis back by the roadside, and why am I turning a hand- spring in the road, and why are the horses tearing wildly down the Wahsatch moun- tains? Itis because William Glover has been thrown from his seat, & the horses are running away. I see him fall off, and it occurs to me that I had better get out. In doing so, such is the velocity of the sleigh, I turn a handspring. Far ahead I hear the runners clash with the rocks, and I see Dr. Hingston's lantern (he always loould have a lantern) bobbing about like the binnacle light of an oyster sloop, very loose in a chopping sea. There- fore I do not laugh the winds to scorn as much as I did, brave boys. William G. is not hurt, and together we trudge on after the runaway?, in the hope of overtaking them, which we do some two miles off. They are in a snowbank, and " nobody hurt." We are soon on the road again, all serene ; though I believe the doctor did observe that 1 such°a thing could not have occurred under a monarchical form of government. We reach Weber station, thirty miles from Sslt Lake City, and wildly situated at the foot of the grand Echo Canon, at 3 o'clock the following morning. We remain over a day herewith James Biomley, agent of the Overland Stage line, and who is better known on the plains than Shakspeare althou'^h Shakespeare has done a good is deal for the stage. James Bromley has seen the Overland line grow up from its ponyicy ; and as Fitz-Grcen Halleck happily observes, none know him but to like his style. He was intended for an agent. In his infancy he used to lisp the refrain, (, « „^^* t_a ho an i^j^f*^^' And witU the agents stand." 84 HURRAH FOR THE ROAD. I part with this kind-hearted geatleman, to whose industry and ability the Overland line owes much of its success, with sincere regret ; and I hope he will soon get rich enough to transplant his charming wife from the Desert to the " White Settlements." Forward to Fort Bridger, in an open sleigh. Night clear, cold, and moonlit. Driver, Mr. Samuel Smart. Through Echo Canon to Hanging,Rock Station. The snow is very deep, there is no path, and we liter- ally shovel our way to Robert Pollock's station, which we achieve in the Course of Time. Mr. P. gets up and kindles a fire, and a snowy nightcap and a pair of very bright black eyes beam upon us from the bed. That is Mrs. Robert Pollock. The lof cabin is a comfortable one. I make coffee in my French coffee-pot, and let loose some of the roast chickens in my basket, (Tired of fried bacon ar.d saleratus bread, — the principal bill of fiire at the stations, — we had supplied ourselves with chicken, boiled ham, onions, sausages, sea-bread, canned butter, cheese, honey, &c., &c., an example all Overland traders would do well to follow.) Mrs. Pollock tells me where I can find cream for the coffee, and cups and saucers for the same, and appears so kind, that I regret our stay is so limited that we can't see more of her. On to Yellow Creek Station. Then Needle Rock — a desolate hut onthe Desert, house and barn in one building, The sta- tion-keeper is a miserable, toothle.ss wretch with shaggy yellow hair, but says he's going to get marrid. I think I see him. To Boar River. A pleasant Mormon named Myers keeps this station, and he gives us a first-rate breakfast. Robert Curtis takes the reiusfrom Mr. Smart liere, and we get on to wheels again. Begin to see groups of trees — a new sight to us. Pass Quaking Asp Springs and Muddy to Fort Bridger. Here are a group of whito buildings, built round a plaza, iicross the Middle of which runs u creek. Tlicre arc a few liundred trooi)8 here under the command of Major Gallagher, a gallan officer and a gentleman, well worth know ing. We stay here two days. We are on the road again, Sunday the 14th, with a driver of the highly floral name of Primrose. At 7 the next morning we reach Green River Station, and enter Idaho territory. This is the Bitter Creek division of the Overland route, of which wc had heard so many unfavourable stories. The division is really well managed by Mr. Steward, though the country through which it stretches is the most wretched I ever saw. The water is liquid alkali, and the roads are soft sand. The snow is gone now, and the dust is thick and blinding. So drearily, wearily we drag onward. We reach the summit of the Rocky Mountains at midnight on the 17th. The climate changes suddenly, and the cold i.s intense. We resume runners, have a break-down, and are forced to walk four miles. I remember that one of the numerous reasons urged in favour of General Fre- mont s election to the Presidency in 185G, was his finding the path across the Rocky Mountains. Credit is certainly due that gallant explorer in this regard; but it oc- cured to me, as I wrung my frost-bitteu hands on that dreadful night, that for me to deliberately go over that path in mid-win- ter was a sufficient reason for my election to any lunatic asylum, by an overwhelniini; vote. Dr. Hingston made a similar rcnuirk, and wondered if Jio should ever clink glas- ses with his friend Lord I'almerston again. Another sensation. Not com'c this time. One of our passengers, u fair- haired German boy, whose sweet ways had quite won us all, sank on the snow, and said— Let me sleep. We knew only too well what that meant, and trieil hard to rouse him. It was in vain. Let me sleep, he said. And so in the cold starlight he died. We took him up tenderly froin the snow, and boro iiim to the sleigh that awaited us by the roadside, some two miles away. The new HURRAH FOR THE ROAD. 85" ;her, a gallant 11 worth know jrs. in, Sunday the e highly floral le next morning bion, and enter e Bitter Greet te, of which wc urable stories, lanagcd by Mr. through which •etched I ever alkali, and the snow ia gone and blinding, onward, jf the Rocky 10 17th. The id the cold i.s ners, have a to walk four the numerous General Fre- lency in 1856, OSS the Rocky linly due that ird ; but it oc- y frost-bitteu that for me to li in mid-win- iny election to overwhelming imilarrcuuirk, I'cr clink glas- lerston again. m'c this time, aired German n(uite won u.s aid— Let me all what that use him, It e said. And d. We took ow, and bore il us by the y. The new ,oon was shining now, and the smile on ;he sweet white face told how painlessly he poor boy had died. ' No one knew him. He was from the Bannock mines, was ill ,lud, had no baggage or money, and his rare was paid to Denver. He had said that be was going back to Germany. That was ,\\ we knew. So at sunrise the next iuorning we buried him at the foot of the ,-rand mountains that are snow-covered and icy all the year round, far away from the Faderland, where, it may be, some poor mother is crying for her darling who will not come. We strike the North Platte on the 18th. The fare at the stations is daily improving, and we often have antelope steaks snow. They tell us of eggs not far off, and we encourage (by a process not wholly uncon- nected with bottles) the drivers lo keep their mules in motion. Antelope by the thousand can be seen racing the plains from the coach-windows. At°Elk Mountain we encounter a religi- ous driver named Edward Whitney, who uever swears at the mules. This has made him distinguished all over the plains. This pious driver tried to convert the Doctor, but I am mortiBed to say that his efforts were not crowned with success Fovt Hal- leck is a mile from Elk, and her^ are some troops of the Ohio 11th regiment, under the command of Major Thomas L. Mackey. On the 20th we reach Rocky Thomas s justly celebrated station at 5 in the morning, and have a breakfast of hashed black-tailed deer, antelope steaks, ham boiled bear, honey, eggs, coffee, tea, and cream That was the squarest meal on theroadexcept at Weber. Mr. Thomasisa Baltimore " slosher," he informed me. 1 don't know what that is, but he is a good fellow and gave us a breakfast fit for a lord, emperor, czar, count, etc. A better couldn't be found at Delmonico's or Park- ith hliii a er 8. He pressed me to linger wi few days and shoot bears. It was with several pangs that I declined the generous Baltimorean's invitation. To Virgina Dale. ^Yeather clear and bright. Virginia Dale is a pretty spot, as it ought to be with such a pretty name; but I treated with no little scorn the advice of a hunter I met there, who told me to give up " literatoor," form a matrimonial alliance with some squaws, and "settle down thar." . , ^. Bannock on the brain ! That is what is the matter now. Wagon-load after wagon- load of emigrants, bound to the new Idaho gold regions, meet us every hour. Canvas- covered and drawn for the most part by fine large mules,they make a pleasant panorama, as they stretch slowly over the plains and uplands. We strike the South Platte Sunday, the 21 8^ and breakfast at Latham, a station of one horse proportions. We are now in Colorado (" Pike's Peak, ")and we diverge from the main route here and visit the flourishing and beautiful city of Denver. Messrs. Langrisli & Dougherty, who have so lone and so admirably catered to the amusement lovers of the Far West, kindly withdraw their dramatic corps for a night, and allow me to use their pretty little theatre. We go to the Mountains from Denver, visiting the celebrated gold-mining towns of Black Hawk and Central City. I leave this (|ueen of all the territories, quite firmly believing that its future is to be no les^ brilliant than its past has been. I had almost forgotten to mention that on the way from Latham to Denver Dr. Kingston and Dr. Seaton (late a highly admired physician and surgeon in Kentucky, and now a prosperous gold-miner) hr\d a learned discussion as to the formation of the membranes of the human stomach, in which they used words that were over a foot long by actual measurement. I never heard such splendid words in my life ; but such was their grandiloquent profundity and their far-reaching lucidity, that I under- 86 HURBAH FOR THE ROAD. IF stood rather less about it when they had finished than I did when they commenced. Back t o La thamjagain over a marshy road, and on to Nebraska by the main- stage-line. I^met Col. Chivington, commander of the District of Colorado7arLatham. f^^ Col. Chivington is a Methodist clergy- man, and was once a Presiding Elder. A thoroughly earnest man, an eloquent preacher, a sincere believer in the war, he of course brings to his new position a great deal of enthusiasm. This, with his natu- ral military tact, makes him an oflficer of rare ability; and on more occasions than one, he has led his troops against the enemy with resistless skill and gallantry. I take tlie liberty of calling the T ,,■ Kent's atten- tion to the fact that this brj,ve man ought to have long ago been a Brigadier-general. There is, however, a little story about Col. Chivington that I must tell. It in- volves the use of a little blank profanity, but the story would be spoiled without it ; and, as in this case, " nothing was meant by it," no great harm can be done. I rarely stain my pages with even mild profanity. It is wicked in the first place, and not funny in the second. I ask the boon of beiu"' occasionally stupid ; but I could never see the fun of being impious. Col. Chivington vanquished the rebels, with his bravo Colorado troops, in New Mexico last year, as most people know. At the commencement of the action, which wa.-i hotly contested, a shell from the enemy exploded near him, tearing up the ground, and causing Capt. Rogers to swear in an awful manner. " Captain Rogers," said the Colonel, ''gentlemen do not swear on a solemn occa- sion like this. We may fall, but, falling in a glorious cause, let us die as Christians, not as rowdies, with oaths upon our lips. Captain Rogers, let us " Another shell, a sprightlier one than iti predecessor, tears the earth fearfully in thd^ immediate vicinity of Col. ChivingtonJ filling his eyes with dirt, and knocking of his hat. " Why, G d their souls to] h ," he roared, " they've put my eyesj out — as Captain Rogers loouhl say ! " But the Colonel's eyes were not seriously I damaged, and he went in. Went in, only] to come out victorious. We reach Julesberg, Colorado, the Istof | March. We are in the country of the Sioux Indians now, and encounter them by the hundred, A Chief offers to sell me hi.s daughter (a fair young Indian maiden) for six dollars and two quarts of whiskey. I decline to trade. Meals which have hitherto been $1.00 each, are now 75 cents. Eggs appear on the table occasionally, and we hear of chickens further on. Nine miles from here we enter Nebraska territory. Here is occasionally a fenced farm, and the ranches have bar-rooms. Buffalo skins and buffalo tongues are for sale at most of the stations. Wc reach South Platte on the 2d, and Fort Kearney on the 3d. The 7th Iowa Cavalry are here, under the command of Major Wood. At Cottonwood, a day's ride back, we had taken aboard Major O'Brien, com- manding the troops there, and a very jovial warrior he is, too. Meals are now down to 50 cents, and a greatdeal better than when they were $1.00. Kansas, 105 miles from Atchison. Atchi- son ! No traveller by sea ever longed to set his foot on shore as we longed to reach' the end of our dreary coach-ride over the wildest part of the whole continent. How we talked Atchison, and dreamed Atchison for the next fifty hours ! Atchison, I shall always love you. You were evidently mis- taken, Atchison, when you told me that in case I " lectured" there, immense crowds would throng to the hall ; but you are very HURRAH FOR THE ROAD. 87 ,UeOtoeI„.ian.uHo.Uisto.aUa..,anasettlesaowntoiar.ln«, dear to inc. Let mo kiss you for your maternal parent ! Wc arc passing through the reservation of the Otoe Indians, ^vho long ago washed the war-paint from their faces, buned the tomahawk, ana settled down into quiet, prosperous farmers. Wc rattle leisurely into Atchison on a Sunday evening. Lights g earn u- ^^e windows of milk-white churches, and thcj tell us, far better than anything else could, that we are back to civilization again^ An overland journey in winter IS a bet^r thin- to have done than to do. In the .pring, however, when the grass IS green ou tiic great prairies, I fancy one might make the journey a pleasant one, with his owa outfit and a few choice friends. / XYII. VERY MUCH MARRIED. Ari the Mormon women happy ? I give it up. I don't know. It is at great Salt Lake City as it is in Boston. If I go out to tea at the Wilkinses in Boston, I am pretty ,«ure to find Mr. Wilkins all smiles and sunshine, or Mrs. Wilkins all gentleness and politeness. I am entertained delightfully, and after tea little Miss Wilkins .«hows me her Photograph Album, and plays the march from Faust on the piano for me. I go away highly pleased with my visit ; and yet the Wilkin- ses may fight like cats and dogs in private. I may no sooner have struck the sidewalk than Mr. W. will be reaching for Mrs. W.'s throat. Thus it is in the City of the Saints. Ap- parently, the Mormon women are happy. I saw them at their best, of course— at balls, tea-parties, and the like they were like other women as far as my observation extended. They were hooped, and furbelowed, and shod, and white collared, and bejewelled : and like women all over the world, they were softer- eyed and kinder-hearted than men can ever hope to be. The Mormon girl is reared to believe that the plurality wife system (as it is deli- cately called here) is strictly right ; and in linking her destiny with a man who has twelve wives, she undoubtedly considers she is doing her duty. She loves the man, probably, for I think it is not time, as so many writers have stated, that girls are forced to marry whomsoever " the Church may dictate." Some parents no doubt advise, connive, threaten, and in aggravated cases incarcerate here, as some parents have al- ways done elsewhere, and always will do, as long as petticoats continue to bo an insti- tution . How these dozen or twen^v wives get a long without heartburnings and hairoull- ings, I can't see. There are instances on record, you know, where a man don't live in a state of unin- terrupted bliss with one wife. And to say that a man can poasoss twenty wives with- out having his special favorite, or favorites, is to say that he is an angel in boots— which is something I have never been introduced to. You never saw an angel with a Beard, although you may have .seen the Bearded Woman. The Mormon woman is early taught that man, being created in the image of the Savior, is far more godly than she can ever be, and that for her to seek to monopolize his affections is a species of rank sin. So she shares his aifections with five or six or twenty other women, as the case may be. A man must be amply able to support a mumber of wives before he can take them. Hence, perhaps, it is that so many old chaps m Utah have young and blooming wives in their seraglios, and so many young men have only one. I had a man pointed out to me who mar- ried an entire family. He had orginally intended to marry Jane, but Jane did not want to leave her widowed mother. The other three sisters were not in the matrimo- nial market for the same reason ; so this gallant man married the whole crowd, in- cluding the girl's grandmother, who had lost all lier teeth, and had to be fed with a spoon. The family were in indigent circum- stances, and they could not but congratulate VERY MUCH MARRIED. 89 1^0 an insti- th. mselves ( ser' iinf? a wealtliy husband It Hcerrif'd to affect the grandmother deeply tor the first words slic said on reaching her uew home, were : "Now, thank God ! I shall have my irruel res'lar !" The nauic of J . U Smith is worshipped in Utah ■ and, • they ^"ly." that although he has been <^ ^ a .any years, he still keeps (Hi , wumcnhy pr 0x1/ . He "revuils" w ..■< si' ill net as his earthly iicent in this matter, and the agent faithful- 1 >cecutcs the defunct Prophet's coni- IL ,ids. A few years ago I read about a couple being married by telegraph — the young man was in Cincinnati, and the young wo- man was in New Hampshire. They did not see each oth r a year al't^Twards. I don't see what j , there is in this sort of thing. I have somewhere stated that "•igham Young is said to have eighty wives. I hard- . til ,iv he has so many. Mr. Hyde, the backslider, say ' his book that " Brigham always sleeps b\ aimself, in u little chamber behind his office," and if he has eighty wives 1 don't l.ime Mm. He must be bewilder- ed. I know very ell th fl^ ighty wives of my bosom T shoi, 1 be lused, and shouldn't sleep anywhere. I undertook to count the long stoeking.s, on the clothes- line, in liis back yard one day, and I used up the multiplication table in less than half an hour. In this book I am writing chiefly of what I saw. I saw Plurality at its best, and I give it to you at its best. I have shown the silver lining of this great social Cloud. That back of this .«ilvcr lining the Cloud must be thick and black, I feel ((uite sure. But to elaborately denounce, at this late day, a •system we all know must be wildly wrong, would be simply to impeach the intelli- cence of the readers of this book. V] <^ /}. '^ // ^ r IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 2.2 1^ 2-0 I.I 11:25 i 1.4 i.6 PiiotogicipmL' Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREEV WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 L1>' iV V :\ \ ^ 4h^l ^ ^my^' % XVIII. THE REVELATION OF JOSEPH SMITH. I have not troubled the reader with ex- tracts from Jlormon documents. The Book of Mormon is ponderous, but gloomy and at times incoherent, and I will not, by any means, quote irom that. But the Reve- lation of Joseph Smith in regard to the ab- sorbing question of Plurality or Polygamy may be of sufficient interest to reproduce here. The reader has my full consent to form his own opinion of it. KEVELATION GIVEN TO JOSEPH SJIITH, NAUVOO, JULY 12, 1843. Verily, thussaith the Lord unto you, my servant Joseph, that inasmuch as you have inquired of my hand to know and under- stand wherein I, the Lord, justified my servants, Abraham, Issac, and Jacob; as also Moses, David, and Solomon,my servants as touching the principle and doctrine of their having many wives and concubines- Behold! and lo, I am the Lord thy God, and will answer thee as touchirjg this matter : therefore prepare thy heart to receive and obey the instnictions which I am about to give unto you ; for all those who have this law revealed unto them must obey the ame • for behold! I reveal unto you a new and un everlasting covenant, and if ye abide not that covenant, then are ye damned; for no one can reject this covenant and be permitted to enter into my glory; for all who will have a blessing at my hands shall abide the law which was appointed for that blessing, and the conditions thereof, as was instituted from before the foundations of the world; and as pertaining to the new and cverlaMing covenant, it was instituted for the fulness of my glory; and he that receiveth a fulness thereof, must and shall abide the law, or he shall be damned, saiththc Lord God. And verily I say unto you, that the con- ditions of this law are these: All covenants contracts, bonds, obligations, oaths, vows' performances, connections, associations, or expectations, that are not made, and entered into, and sealed, by the Holy Sprit of pro- mise, of him who is anointed, both as well for time and for all eternity, and that, too most holy, by revelation and commandment' through the medium of mine anointed, whom' I have appointed on the earth to hold this power (and I haveappointed unto my servant Joseph to hold this power in the last days, and there is never but one on the earth at a time on whom this power and the keys of this priesthood are conferred), arc of no efficacy, virtue, or force in and after the re- surrection from the dead; for all contracts that are not made unto this end, have an end when men are dead. Behold! mine house is a house of order saith the Lord God, and not a house of confusion. WilJ I accept of an offering, saith the Lord, that is not made in my name ! Or will I receive at your hands that which I have not appointed ? And will I appoint unto you, saith the Lord, except it be by Uw, even as I and my father ordained unto you, before the world was ? I am the Lord thy God, and I give imtoyou this command- ment, that no man shall come unto th^ Father but by me, or bym;. word, which . my law, saith the Lord; and every thing that is in the world, whether it be ordained of men, by thrones, or principalities, or powers, or things of name, whatsoever they may be, that are not by me, or by my word mE REVELATION OF JOSEPH SMITH. 91