Arter this, she turned and smiled on me. She looked just like alabaster cream; the most dazzlingest creetur that ever startled the beholder! I was took quite aback when she held out her little hand for mine; I felt kinder delicate like that she should see my big jints. But howsomever, “here goes,” said I, and I stuck out my bony fist, and, by Jupiter, it was kivered with flesh, jest as soft and delicate as Uncle Sam’s babies!!! I stood starin’ from my hands to her about a minit, and then she bust out a-laughin’, and I bust out a-laughin’ too! “How shaller you be!” said she. “It’s duced amoosin’,” said I. “Who be you?” said she. “Artemus Ward, the great lecterer on ‘Women’s Rites and Mormons,’” said I. At this she seemed mighty tickled. “I heerd you speak on those momentous subjects in Liverpool,” said she. “And arter that when I read the affectin’ account of your death in a strange land, I cried.” “Cried?” said I, “I’m much obleeged to you, but there’s nothin’ to cry for as I know.” “So there be’nt,” said she, puckerin’ up her pretty little mouth; “but tell me, now, is this reely you?” “I don’t know,” said I, “whether its reely myself or not, for I haven’t seed myself--how do I look?” She naterally blushed and answered: “Ansom.” That was too much for me. I took her round her waist and whispered--I wont tell you what. She shook her head so that the ringlets fell downall over her neck like the ashes from a tobaccy pipe, and in a mighty reprovin’ manner said: “Artemus Ward, I am a poetess!” (By Jupiter! that was a stunner.) “Is it Mrs. _Browning_?” said I, ready to drop on my knees (thinkin’ of Robert). She shook her head agin, and moved off, and I follered, kinder ashamed of bein’ so abrupt. Lookin’ loftily at me, she said: “I must leave you.” “Leave me!” said I, “You cruel monster of beauty! Leave when I am _sealed_ to you?” (That kinder frightened her--I learned suthin’ from bein’ among the Mormons.) “You may foller me,” said she, while descendin’ in the midst of a garden which opened rite before us. I did as she advised, and stepped rite down in a place where there was a mighty display of trees, flowers, and fountains, and a pretty big sprinklin’ of people. Good Heavens! thought I. Is this the New Jerusalem? and lookin’ around timidly for the man with the key, fearin’ I might be turned out, but seein’ nothin’ but common lookin’ men and women, and no “flamin’ cherubim,” and creaters with wings stuck on their heads, and no bodies, such as I had naterally expected to find in such a place, I took courage and stept forward boldly. The people all commenced cryin’ out as loud as they could: “Artemus Ward! Artemus Ward!”