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
and sez, "gin me the daggurs--Ile let his bowels out," or wurds to
that effeck--I say, this is awl, strickly, propper I spoze? That Jack
Fawlstarf is likewise a immoral old cuss, take him how ye may, and
Hamlick is as crazy as a loon. Thare's Richurd the Three, peple think
heze grate things, but I look upon him in the lite of a monkster. He
kills everybody he takes a noshun to in kold blud, and then goze to
sleep in his tent. Bimeby he wakes up and yells for a hoss so he kan
go orf and kill some more peple. If he isent a fit spesserman for the
gallers then I shood like to know whare you find um. Thare's Iargo
who is more ornery nor pizun. See how shameful he treated that hily
respecterble injun gentlemun, Mister Otheller, makin him for to beleeve
his wife was too thick with Casheo. Obsarve how Iargo got Casheo
drunk as a biled owl on corn whiskey in order to karry out his sneekin
desines. See how he wurks Mister Otheller's feelins up so that he goze
and makes poor Desdemony swaller a piller which cawses her deth. But
I must stop. At sum futur time I shall continner my remarks on the
drammer in which I shall show the varst supeeriority of wax figgers and
snakes over theater plays, in a interlectooal pint of view.
Very Respectively yures, A WARD, T.K.
____________________
AMONG THE FREE LOVERS.
(Some queer people, calling themselves "Free Lovers," and possessing
very original ideas about life and morality, established themselves
at Berlin Heights, in Ohio, a few years since. Public opinion was
resistlessly against them, however, and the association was soon
disbanded.)
Some years ago I pitched my tent and onfurled my banner to the breeze,
in Berlin Hites, Ohio. I had hearn that Berlin Hites was ockepied by a
extensive seck called Free Lovers, who beleeved in affinertys and sich,
goin back on their domestic ties without no hesitation whatsomever.
They was likewise spirit rappers and high presher reformers on gineral
principles. If I can improve these 'ere misgided peple by showin them
my onparalleld show at the usual low price of admitants, methunk, I
shell not hav lived in vane. But bitterly did I cuss the day I ever sot
foot in the retchid place. I sot up my tent in a field near the
Love Cure, as they called it, and bimeby the free lovers begun for to
congregate around the door. A onreer set I have never sawn. The men's
faces was all covered with hare and they lookt half-starved to deth.
They didn't wear no weskuts for the purpose (as they sed) of allowin the
free air of hevun to blow onto their boozums. Their pockets was filled
with tracks and pamplits and they was bare-footed. They sed the
Postles didn't wear boots, & why should they? That was their stile of
argyment. The wimin was wuss than the men. They wore trowsis, short
gownds, straw hats with green ribbins, and all carried bloo cotton
umbrellers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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