The Complete Works of Artemus Ward (HTML edition)Ward, Artemus
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The Complete Works of Artemus Ward (HTML edition)
Ward, Artemus
American wit and humor
Baldinsvillins: Hearto4, as I hav numerously obsarved, I have abstrained
from having any sentimunts or principles, my pollertics, like my
religion, bein of a exceedin accommodatin character. But the fack can't
be no longer disgised that a Krysis is onto us, & I feel it's my dooty
to accept your invite for one consecutive nite only. I spose the
inflammertory individooals who assisted in projucing this Krysis
know what good she will do, but I ain't 'shamed to state that I don't
scacely. But the Krysis is hear. She's bin hear for sevral weeks, &
Goodness nose how long she'll stay. But I venter to assert that she's
rippin things. She's knockt trade into a cockt up hat and chaned
Bizness of all kinds tighter nor I ever chaned any of my livin wild
Beests. Alow me to hear dygress & stait that my Beests at presnt is as
harmless as the newborn Babe. Ladys & gentlemen needn't hav no fears on
that pint. To resoom--Altho I can't exactly see what good this Krysis
can do, I can very quick say what the origernal cawz of her is. The
origernal cawz is Our Afrikan Brother. I was into BARNIM'S Moozeum down
to New York the other day & saw that exsentric Etheopian, the What Is
It. Sez I, "Mister What Is It, you folks air raisin thunder with
this grate country. You're gettin to be ruther more numeris than
interestin. It is a pity you coodent go orf sumwhares by yourselves, &
be a nation of What Is Its, tho' if you'll excoose me, I shooden't care
about marryin among you. No dowt you're exceedin charmin to hum, but
your stile of luvliness isn't adapted to this cold climit. He larfed
into my face, which rather Riled me, as I had been perfeckly virtoous
and respectable in my observashuns. So sez I, turnin a leetle red in
the face, I spect, "Do you hav the unblushin impoodents to say you folks
haven't raised a big mess of thunder in this brite land, Mister What Is
It?" He larfed agin, wusser nor be4, whareupon I up and sez, "Go home,
Sir, to Afriky's burnin shores & taik all the other What Is Its along
with you. Don't think we can spair your interestin picters. You What
Is Its air on the pint of smashin up the gratest Guv'ment ever erected
by man, & you actooally hav the owdassity to larf about it. Go home,
you low cuss!"
I was workt up to a high pitch, & I proceeded to a Restorator & cooled
orf with some little fishes biled in ile--I b'leeve thay call 'em
sardeens.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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