[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael Hart] This etext was produced by anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteers The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Complete Works of Artemus Ward (Charles Farrar Browne) Part 7 THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ARTEMUS WARD, PART 7, MISCELLANEOUS (CHARLES FARRAR BROWNE) With a biographical sketch by Melville D. Landon, "Eli Perkins" CONTENTS. PART VII. Miscellaneous. 7.1. The Cruise of the Polly Ann. 7.2. Artemus Ward's Autobiography. 7.3. The Serenade. 7.4. O'Bourcy's "Arrah-na-Pogue." 7.5. Artemus Ward among the Fenians. 7.6. Artemus Ward in Washington. 7.7. Scenes Outside the Fair Grounds. 7.8. The Wife. 7.9. A Juvenile Composition On the Elephant. 7.10. A Poem by the Same. 7.11. East Side Theatricals. 7.12. Soliloquy of a Low Thief. 7.13. The Negro Question. 7.14. Artemus Ward on Health. 7.15. A Fragment. 7.16. Brigham Young's Wives. 7.17. A. Ward's First Umbrella. 7.18. An Affecting Poem. 7.19. Mormon Bill of Fare. 7.20. "The Babes in the Wood." 7.21. Mr. Ward Attends a Graffick (Soiree.) 7.22. A. Ward Among the Mormons.--Reported by Himself--or Somebody Else. PART VII. MISCELLANEOUS. 7.1. THE CRUISE OF THE POLLY ANN. In overhaulin one of my old trunks the tother day, I found the follerin jernal of a vyge on the starnch canawl bote, Polly Ann, which happened to the subscriber when I was a young man (in the Brite Lexington of yooth, when thar aint no sich word as fale) on the Wabash Canawl: Monday, 2 P.M.--Got under wa. Hosses not remarkable frisky at fust. Had to bild fires under 'em before they'd start. Started at larst very suddent, causin the bote for to lurch vilently and knockin me orf from my pins. (Sailor frase.) Sevral passenjers on bored. Parst threw deliteful country. Honest farmers was to work sowin korn, and other projuce in the fields. Surblime scenery. Large red-heded gal reclinin on the banks of the Canawl, bathin her feet. Turned in at 15 minits parst eleving. Toosdy.--Riz at 5 and went up on the poop deck. Took a grown person's dose of licker with a member of the Injianny legislater, which he urbanely insisted on allowin me to pay for. Bote tearin threu the briny waters at the rate of 2 Nots a hour, when the boy on the leadin hoss shoutid-- "Sale hoe!" "Whar away?" hollered the capting, clearin his glass (a empty black bottle, with the bottom knockt out) and bringing it to his Eagle eye. "Bout four rods to the starbud," screamed the boy. "Jes so," screeched the capting. "What wessel's that air?" "Kickin Warier of Terry Hawt, and be darned to you!" "I, I, Sir!" hollered our capting. "Reef your arft hoss, splice your main jib-boom, and hail your chamber-maid! What's up in Terry Hawt?" "You know Bill Spikes?" said the capting of the Warier. "Wall, I reckin. He can eat more fride pork nor any man of his heft on the Wabash. He's a ornament to his sex!"