 | Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations |  |
THE PRINCE OF WALES.
I rite these lines on British sile. I've bin follerin
Mrs. Victory's hopeful sun Albert Edward threw
Kanady with my onparaleled Show, and tho I haint
made much in a pecoonery pint of vew, I've lernt
sumthin new, over hear on British Sile, whare they
bleeve in Saint Gorge and the Dragoon. Previs to
cumin over hear I tawt my organist how to grind
Rule Brittanny and other airs which is poplar on
British Sile. I likewise fixt a wax figger up to represent
Sir Edmun Hed the Govner Ginral. The
statoot I fixt up is the most versytile wax statoot I
ever saw. I've showd it as Wm. Penn, Napoleon
Bonypart, Juke of Wellington, the Beneker Boy,
Mrs. Cunningham & varis other notid persons, &
also for a sertin pirut named Hix. I've bin so long
the tastes of folks, & with sum paints I hav I kin
giv their facis a beneverlent or fiendish look as the
kase requires. I giv Sir Edmun Hed a beneverlent
look, & when sum folks who thawt they was smart
sed it didn't look like Sir Edmun Hed anymore
than it did anybody else, I sed, “That's the pint.
That's the beauty of the Statoot. It looks like Sir
Edmun Hed or any other man. You may kall it
what you pleese. Ef it don't look like anybody that
ever lived, then it's sertinly a remarkable Statoot &
well worth seein. I kall it Sir Edmun Hed. You
may kall it what you darn pleese!” [I had 'em
thare.]
At larst I've had a interview with the Prince, tho
it putty nigh cost me my vallerble life. I cawt a
glimps of him as he sot on the Pizarro of the hotel
in Sarnia, & elbowd myself threw a crowd of wimin,
children, sojers & Injins that was hangin round the
tavern. I was drawin near to the Prince when a
red faced man in Millingtery close grabd holt of me
and axed me whare I was goin all so bold?
“To see Albert Edard the Prince of Wales,” sez
I; “who are you?”
He sed he was Kurnel of the Seventy Fust Regiment,
Her Magisty's troops. I told him I hoped
the Seventy Onesters was in good helth, and was
passin by when he ceased hold of me agin, and sed
in a tone of indigent cirprise:
“What? Impossible! It kannot be! Blarst
my hize, sir, did I understan you to say that you
was actooally goin into the presents of his Royal
Iniss?”
“That's what's the matter with me,” I replide.
“But blarst my hize, sir, its onprecedented. It's
orful, sir. Nothin' like it hain't happened sins the
Gun Power Plot of Guy Forks. Owdashus man,
who air yu?”
“Sir,” sez I, drawin myself up & puttin on a
defiant air, “I'm a Amerycan sitterzen. My name
is Ward. I'm a husband & the father of twins,
which I'm happy to state thay look like me. By
perfeshun I'm a exhibiter of wax works & sich.”
“Good God!” yelled the Kurnal, “the idee of
Royalty! The British Lion may well roar with
raje at the thawt!”
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 orter 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
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
there sum time abowt matters & things, & bimeby I
axed him how he liked bein Prince as fur as h'ed
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.”
The time hevin arove fur me to take my departer
I rose up & sed: “Albert Edard, I must go, but
previs to doin so I will obsarve that you soot me.
Yure a good feller Albert Edard, & tho I'm agin
Princes as a gineral thing, I must say I like the cut
of your Gib. When you git to be King try and be
as good a man as yure muther has bin.! Be just &
be Jenerus, espeshully to showmen, who hav allers
bin aboozed sins the dase of Noah, who was the fust
man to go into the Menagery bizniss, & ef the daily
papers of his time air to be beleeved Noah's colleckshun
of livin wild beests beet ennything ever seen
sins, tho I make bold to dowt ef his snaiks was
ahead of mine. Albert Edard, adoo!” I tuk his
hand which he shook warmly, & givin him a perpetooal
free pars to my show, & also parses to take hum
for the Queen & Old Albert, I put on my hat and
walkt away
“Mrs. Ward,” I solilerquized, as I walkt along,
“Mrs. Ward, ef you could see your husband now,
just as he prowdly emerjis from the presunts of the
futur King of Ingland, you'd be sorry you called
and wantid to go to bed without takin orf his boots.
You'd be sorry for tryin to deprive yure husband of
the priceliss Boon of liberty, Betsy Jane!”
Jest then I met a long perseshun of men with
gownds onto 'em. The leader was on horseback, &
ridin up to me he sed, “Air you Orange?”
Sez I, “Which?”
“Air you a Orangeman?” he repeated, sternly.
“I used to peddle lemins,” sed I, “but I never
delt in oranges. They are apt to spile on yure
hands. What particler Loonatic Asylum hev you
& yure frends escaped frum, ef I may be so bold?”
Just then a suddent thawt struck me & I sed, “Oh
yure the fellers who air worryin the Prince so &
givin the Juke of Noocastle cold sweats at nite, by
yure infernal catawalins, air you? Wall, take the
advice of a Amerykin sitterzen, take orf them
gownds & don't try to get up a religious fite, which
is 40 times wuss nor a prize fite, over Albert Edard,
who wants to receive you all on a ekal footin, not
keerin a tinker's cuss what meetin house you sleep
make noosenses of yourselves.” With which observashuns
I left 'em.
I shall leeve British sile 4thwith.
| Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations | |