 | Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations |  |
THE OCTOROON.
It is with no ordernary feelins of Shagrin &
indignashun that I rite you these here lines. Sum
of the hiest and most purest feelins whitch actooate
the humin hart has bin trampt onto. The Amerycan
flag has bin outrajed. Ive bin nussin a Adder in
my Boozum. The fax in the kase is these here:
A few weeks ago I left Baldinsville to go to N. Y.
fur to git out my flamin yeller hanbills fur the
Summer kampane, & as I was peroosin a noospaper
on the kars a middel aged man in speckterkuls kum
& sot down beside onto me. He was drest in
black close & was appeerently as fine a man as
ever was.
“A fine day Sir,” he did unto me strateway say.
“Middlin,” sez I, not wishin to kommit myself,
tho he peered to be as fine a man as there was in
obsarved.
Sez he, “How fares the Ship of State in yure
regine of country?”
Sez I, “We don't hav no ships in our State —
the kanawl is our best holt.”
He pawsed a minit and then sed, “Air yu aware,
Sir that the krisis is with us?”
“No,” sez I, getting up and lookin under the
seet, “whare is she?”
“It's hear — it's everywhares,” he sed.
Sez I, “Why how you tawk!” and I gut up
agin & lookt all round. “I must say my fren,” I
continnered, as I resoomed my seet, “that I kan't
see nothin of no krisis myself.” I felt sumwhat
alarmed, & arose & in a stentowrian voice obsarved
that if any lady or gentleman in that there kar had
a krisis consealed abowt their persons they'd better
projuce it to onct or suffer the konsequences.
Several individoouls snickered rite out, while a
putty little damsell rite behind me in a pinc gown
made the observashun, “He, he.”
“Sit down, my fren,” sed the man in black
close, “yu miskomprehend me. I meen that the
perlittercal ellermunts are orecast with black klouds,
4boden a friteful storm.”
“Wall,” replide I, “in regard to perlittercal
ellerfunts I don't know as how but what they is
as good as enny other kind of ellerfunts. But I
maik bold to say thay is all a ornery set & unpleasant
to hav round. They air powerful hevy
eaters & take up a right smart chans of room, &
besides thay air as ugly and revenjeful as a Cusscaroarus
Injun, with 13 inches of corn whisky in his
stummick.” The man in black close seemed to be
as fine a man as ever was in the world. He smilt
& sed praps I was rite, tho it was ellermunts instid
of ellerfunts that he was alludin to, & axed me
what was my prinserpuls?
“I haint gut enny,” sed I — “not a prinserpul.
Ime in the show biznis.” The man in black close,
I will hear obsarve, seemed to be as fine a man as
ever was in the world.
“But,” sez he, “you hav feelins into yon? You
hart-sick, don't you?” He bust into teers and axed
me ef I saw that yung lady in the seet out yender,
pintin to as slick a lookin gal as I ever seed.
Sed I, “2 be shure I see her — is she mutch
sick?” The man in black close was appeerently
as fine a man as ever was in the world ennywhares.
“Draw closter to me,” sed the man in black
close. “Let me git my mowth fernenst yure ear.
Hush — SHESE A Octoroon!”
“No!” sez I, gittin up in a exsited manner,
“yu don't say so! How long has she bin in that
way?”
“Frum her arliest infuncy,” sed he.
“Wall, whot upon arth duz she doo it fur?” I
inquired.
“She kan't help it,” sed the man in black close.
“It's the brand of Kane.”
“Wall, she'd better stop drinkin Kane's brandy,”
I replide.
“I sed the brand of Kane was upon her — not
brandy, my fren. Yure very obtoose.”
I was konsiderbul riled at this. Sez I, “My
gentle Sir Ime a nonresistanter as a ginral thing, &
don't want to git up no rows with nobuddy, but I
kin nevertheles kave in enny man's hed that calls
me a obtoos,” with whitch remarks I kommenst fur
to pull orf my extry garmints. “Cum on,” sez I
— “Time! hear's the Beniki Boy fur ye!” & I
darnced round like a poppit. He riz up in his seet
& axed my pardin — sed it was all a mistake — that
I was a good man, etsettery, & sow 4th, & we fixt it
all up pleasant. I must say the man in black close
seamed to be as fine a man as ever lived in the
wurld. He sed a Octoroon was the 8th of a negrow.
He likewise statid that the female he was travelin
with was formurly a slave in Mississippy; that
she'd purchist her freedim & now wantid to purchiss
the freedim of her poor old muther, who (the
man in black close obsarved) was between 87 years
of age & had to do all the cookin & washin for 25
hired men, whitch it was rapidly breakin down her
konstitushun. He sed he knowed the minit he
gazed onto my klassic & beneverlunt fase that I'd
which I accordinly did. I sot down beside her and
sed “yure Sarvant, Marm! How do yer git
along?”
She bust in 2 teers & said, “O Sur, I'm so
retchid — I'm a poor unfortunit Octoroon.”
“So I larn. Yure rather more Roon than
Octo, I take it,” sed I, fur I never seed a puttier
gal in the hull endoorin time of my life. She had
on a More Antic Barsk & a Poplin Nubier with
Berage trimmins onto it, while her Ise & kurls was
enuff to make a man jump into a mill pond without
biddin his relashuns good by. I pittid the Octoroon
from the inmost recusses of my hart & hawled out
50 dollers ker slap, & told her to buy her old
muther as soon as posserbul. Sez she “kine sir
mutch thanks.” She then lade her hed over onto
my showlder & sed I was “old rats.” I was
astonished to heer this obsarvation, which I knowd
was never used in refined society & I perlitely but
emfattercly shovd her hed away.
Sez I “Marm, I'm trooly sirprized.”
Sez she, “git out. Yure the nicist old man Ive
seen yit. Give us anuther 50!” Had a seleck
assortment of the most tremenjious thunderbolts
descended down onto me I couldn't hav bin more
takin aback. I jumpt up, but she ceased my coat
tales & in a wild voise cride, “No, Ile never desart
you—let us fli together to a furrin shoor!”
Sez I, “not mutch we wont,” and I made a
powerful effort to get awa from her. “This is
plade out,” I sed, whereupon she jerkt me back
into the seet. “Leggo my coat, you scandaluss
female,” I roared, when she set up the most
unarthly yellin and hollerin you ever heerd. The
passinjers & the gentlemunly konducter rusht to
the spot, & I don't think I ever experiunsed sich a
rumpus in the hull coarse of my natral dase. The
man in black close rusht up to me & sed “How
dair yu insult my neece, you horey heded vagabone!
You base exhibbiter of low wax figgers—yu woolf
in sheep's close,” & sow 4th.
I was konfoozed. I was a loonytick fur the time
bein, and offered $5 reward to enny gentleman of
name was & what town I livd into. The konductor
kum to me & sed the insultid parties wood settle
for $50, which I immejitly hawled out, & agane
implored sumbuddy to state whare I was prinsipully,
& if I shood be thare a grate while myself ef
things went on as they'd bin goin fur sum time
back. I then axed if there was enny more Octoroons
present, “becawz,” sez I, “ef there is, let
um cum along, fur Ime in the Octoroon bizniss.” I
then threw my specterculs out of the winder,
smasht my hat wildly down over my Ise, larfed
highsterically & fell under a seet. I lay there sum
time & fell asleep. I dreamt Mrs. Ward & the
twins had bin carrid orf by Ryenosserhosses & that
Baldinsville had bin captered by a army of Octoroons.
When I awoked the lamps was a burnin
dimly. Sum of the passinjers was a snorein like
pawpusses & the little damsell in the pinc gown
was a singin “Oft in the Silly nite.” The onprinsipuld
Octoroon & the miserbul man in black
close was gone, & all of a suddent it flasht ore my
brane that I'de bin swindild.
| Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations | |