第40章

"Alexander the Grate was punkins," I continnered, "but Napoleon was punkinser! Alic wept becaws there was no more worlds to scoop, and then took to drinkin.He drowndid his sorrers in the flowin bole, and the flowin bole was too much for him.It ginerally is.He undertook to give a snake exhibition in his boots, but it killed him.That was a bad joke on Alic!""Since you air so solicitous about France and the Emperor, may Iask you how your own country is getting along?" sed Jerome, in a pleasant voice.

"It's mixed," I sed.But I think we shall cum out all right.""Columbus, when he diskivered this magnificent continent, could hav had no idee of the grandeur it would one day assoom," sed the Prints.

"It cost Columbus twenty thousand dollars to fit out his explorin expedition," sed I."If he had bin a sensible man he'd hav put the money in a hoss railroad or a gas company, and left this magnificent continent to intelligent savages, who when they got hold of a good thing knew enuff to keep it, and who wouldn't hav seceded, nor rebelled, nor knockt Liberty in the hed with a slungshot.Columbus wasn't much of a feller, after all.It would hav bin money in my pocket if he'd staid at home.Chris.ment well, but he put his foot in it when he saled for America."We talked sum more about matters and things, and at larst I riz to go."I will now say good-bye to you, noble sir, and good luck to you.Likewise the same to Clotildy.Also to the gorgeous persons which compose your soot.If the Emperor's boy don't like livin at the Tooleries, when he gits older, and would like to imbark in the show bizness, let him come with me and I'll make a man of him.You find us sumwhat mixed, as I before obsarved, but come again next year and you'll find us clearer nor ever.The American Eagle has lived too sumptuously of late--his stummic becum foul, and he's takin a slite emetic.That's all.We're getting ready to strike a big blow and a sure one.When we do strike, the fur will fly and secession will be in the hands of the undertaker, sheeted for so deep a grave that nothin short of Gabriel's trombone will ever awaken it! Mind what I say.You've heard the showman!"Then advisin him to keep away from the Peter Funk sections of the East, and the proprietors of corner-lots in the West, I bid him farewell, and went away.

There was a levee at Senator What's-his-name's, and I thought I'd jine in the festivities for a spell.Who should I see but she that was Sarah Watkins, now the wife of our Congresser, trippin in the dance, dressed up to kill in her store close.Sarah's father use to keep a little grosery store in our town and she used to clerk it for him in busy times.I was rushin up to shake hands with her when she turned on her heel, and tossin her hed in a contemptooious manner, walked away from me very rapid."Hallo, Sal," I hollered, "can't you measure me a quart of them best melasses? I may want a codfish, also!" I guess this reminded her of the little red store, and "the days of her happy childhood."But I fell in love with a nice little gal after that, who was much sweeter then Sally's father's melasses, and I axed her if we shouldn't glide in the messy dance.She sed we should, and we Glode.

I intended to make this letter very seris, but a few goaks may have accidentally crept in.Never mind.Besides, I think it improves a komick paper to publish a goak once in a while.

Yours Muchly, Ward, (Artemus.)

1.33.AGRICULTURE.

The Barclay County Agricultural Society having seriously invited the author of this volume to address them on the occasion of their next annual Fair, he wrote the President of that Society as follows:

New York.June 12, 1865, Dear Sir:--

I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 5th inst., in which you invite me to deliver an address before your excellent agricultural society.

I feel flattered, and think I will come.

Perhaps, meanwhile, a brief history of my experience as an agriculturist will be acceptable; and as that history no doubt contains suggestions of value to the entire agricultural community, I have concluded to write to you through the Press.

I have been an honest old farmer for some four years.

My farm is in the interior of Maine.Unfortunately my lands are eleven miles from the railroad.Eleven miles is quite a distance to haul immense quantities of wheat, corn, rye, and oats; but as Ihav'n't any to haul, I do not, after all, suffer much on that account.

My farm is more especially a grass farm.

My neighbors told me so at first, and as an evidence that they were sincere in that opinion, they turned their cows on to it the moment I went off "lecturing."These cows are now quite fat.I take pride in these cows, in fact, and am glad I own a grass farm.

Two years ago I tried sheep-raising.

I bought fifty lambs, and turned them loose on my broad and beautiful acres.

It was pleasant on bright mornings to stroll leisurely out on to the farm in my dressing-gown, with a cigar in my mouth, and watch those innocent little lambs as they danced gayly o'er the hillside.

Watching their saucy capers reminded me of caper sauce, and it occurred to me I should have some very fine eating when they grew up to be "muttons."My gentle shepherd, Mr.Eli Perkins, said, "We must have some shepherd dogs."I had no very precise idea as to what shepherd dogs were, but Iassumed a rather profound look, and said:

"We must, Eli.I spoke to you about this some time ago!"I wrote to my old friend, Mr.Dexter H.Follett, of Boston, for two shepherd dogs.Mr.F.is not an honest old farmer himself, but Ithought he knew about shepherd dogs.He kindly forsook far more important business to accommodate, and the dogs came forthwith.

They were splendid creatures--snuff-colored, hazel-eyed, long-tailed, and shapely-jawed.

We led them proudly to the fields.

"Turn them in, Eli," I said.

Eli turned them in.

They went in at once, and killed twenty of my best lambs in about four minutes and a half.

My friend had made a trifling mistake in the breed of these dogs.

These dogs were not partial to sheep.