It was while on this tour that the writer of this sketch again spent some time with him.  We met at Memphis and traveled down the Mississippi together.  At Lake Providence the "Indiana" rounded up to our landing, and Mr. Browne accompanied the writer to his plantation, where he spent several days, mingling in seeming infinite delight with the negroes.  For them he showed great fondness, and they used to stand around him in crowds listening to his seemingly serious advice.  We could not prevail upon him to hunt or to join in any of the equestrian amusements with the neighboring planters, but a quiet fascination drew him to the negroes.  Strolling through the "quarters," his grave words, too deep with humor for darkey comprehension, gained their entire confidence.  One day he called up Uncle Jeff., an Uncle-Tom-like patriarch, and commenced in his usual vein: "Now, Uncle Jefferson," he said, "why do you thus pursue the habits of industry?  This course of life is wrong--all wrong--all a base habit, Uncle Jefferson.  Now try to break it off.  Look at me,--look at Mr. Landon, the chivalric young Southern plantist from New York, he toils not, neither does he spin; he pursues a career of contented idleness.  If you only thought so, Jefferson, you could live for months without performing any kund of labor, and at the expiration of that time feel fresh and vigorous enough to commence it again.  Idleness refreshes the physical organization--it is a sweet boon!  Strike at the roots of the destroying habit to-day, Jefferson.  It tires you out; resolve to be idle; no one should labor; he should hire others to do it for him;" and then he would fix his mournful eyes on Jeff. and hand him a dollar, while the eyes of the wonder-struck darkey would gaze in mute admiration upon the good and wise originator of the only theory which the darkey mind could appreciate.  As Jeff. went away to tell the wonderful story to his companions, and backed it with the dollar as material proof, Artemus would cover his eyes, and bend forward on his elbows in a chuckling laugh. "Among the Mormons" was delivered through the States, everywhere drawing immense crowds.  His manner of delivering his discourse was grotesque and comical beyond description.  His quaint and sad style contributed more than anything else to render his entertainment exquisitely funny.  The programme was exceedingly droll, and the tickets of admission presented the most ludicrous of ideas.  The writer presents a fac-simile of an admission ticket which was presented to him in Natchez by Mr. Browne:-- In the spring of 1866, Charles Browne first timidly thought of going to Europe.  Turning to Mr. Hingston one day he asked: "What sort of a man is Albert Smith?  Do you think the Mormons would be as good a subject to the Londoners as Mont Blanc was?"  Then he said: "I should like to go to London and give my lecture in the same place.  Can't it be done?"