The Complete Works of Artemus Ward — Part 1: Essays, Sketches, and LettersWard, Artemus
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The Complete Works of Artemus Ward — Part 1: Essays, Sketches, and Letters
Ward, Artemus
American wit and humor
Sez I, "Speakin of the British Lion, Kurnal, I'd like to make a
bargin with you fur that beast fur a few weeks to add to my
Show." I didn't meen nothin by this. I was only gettin orf a
goak, but you roter hev seen the Old Kurnal jump up & howl. He
actooally fomed at the mowth.
"This can't be real," he showtid. "No, no. It's a horrid
dream. Sir, you air not a human bein--you hav no existents--
yure a Myth!"
"Wall," sez I, "old hoss, yule find me a ruther onkomfortable
Myth ef you punch my inards in that way agin." I began to git
a little riled, fur when he called me a Myth he puncht me putty
hard. The Kurnal now commenst showtin fur the Seventy Onesters.
I at fust thawt I'd stay & becum a Marter to British Outraje,
as sich a course mite git my name up & be a good advertisement
fur my Show, but it occurred to me that ef enny of the Seventy
Onesters shood happen to insert a barronet into my stummick it
mite be onplesunt, & I was on the pint of runnin orf when the
Prince hisself kum up & axed me what the matter was. Sez I,
"Albert Edard, is that you?" & he smilt & sed it was. Sez I,
"Albert Edard, hears my keerd. I cum to pay my respecks to
the futer King of Ingland. The Kurnal of the Seventy Onesters
hear is ruther smawl pertaters, but of course you ain't to blame
fur that. He puts on as many airs as tho he was the Bully Boy
with the glass eye."
"Never mind," sez Albert Edard, "I'm glad to see you, Mister
Ward, at all events," & he tuk my hand so plesunt like & larfed
so sweet that I fell in love with him to onct. He handid me a
segar & we sot down on the Pizarro & commenst smokin rite
cheerful. "Wall," sez I, "Albert Edard, how's the old folks?"
"Her Majesty & the Prince are well," he sed.
"Duz the old man take his Lager beer reglar?" I inquired.
The Prince larfed & intermatid that the old man didn't let many
kegs of that bevridge spile in the sellar in the coarse of a
year. We sot & tawked there sum time abowt matters & things, &
bimeby I axed him how he liked bein Prince as fur as he'd got.
"To speak plain, Mister Ward," he sed, "I don't much like it.
I'm sick of all this bowin & scrapin & crawlin & hurrain over a
boy like me. I would rather go through the country quietly &
enjoy myself in my own way, with the other boys, & not be made
a Show of to be garped at by everybody. When the PEPLE cheer me
I feel pleesed, fur I know they meen it; but if these one-horse
offishuls cood know how I see threw all their moves & understan
exackly what they air after, & knowd how I larft at 'em in
private, thayd stop kissin my hands & fawnin over me as thay now
do. But you know, Mr. Ward, I can't help bein a Prince, & I
must do all I kin to fit myself fur the persishun I must sumtime
ockepy."
"That's troo," sez I; "sickness and the docters will carry the
Queen orf one of these dase, sure's yer born."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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