the complete works of artemus ward, part 1-第31部分

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The　following　paragraph　is　going　the　rounds：〃How　many　a　great　man
is　now　basking　in　the　sunshine　of　fame　generously　bestowed　upon　him
by　the　prolific　genius　of　some　reporter！　　How　many　stupid　orations
have　been　made　brilliant；　how　many　wandering；　pointless；　objectless；
speeches　put　in　form　and　rendered　at　least　readable；　by　the　unknown
reporter！　　How　many　a　disheartened　speaker；　who　was　conscious　the
night　before　of　a　failure；　before　a　thin；　cold；　spiritless　audience；
awakes　delighted　to　learn　that　he　has　addressed　an　overwhelming
assemblage　of　his　enthusiastic；　appreciating　fellow…citizens；　to
find　his　speech　sparkling　with　'cheers；'　breaking　out　into　'immense
applause；'　and　concluding　amidst　'the　wildest　excitement！'〃

There　is　considerable　truth　in　the　above；　we　are　sorry　to　state。
Reporters　are　too　apt　to　smooth　over　and　give　a　fair　face　to　the
stupidity　and　bombast　of　political　and　other　public　humbugs。　　For
this　they　are　not　only　seldom　thanked；　but　frequently　are　kicked。
Of　course　this　sort　of　thing　is　wrong。　　A　Reporter　should　be
independent　enough　to　meet　the　approaches　of　gentlemen　of　the
Nincompoop　persuasion　with　a　flat　rebuff。　　He　should　never　gloss
over　a　political　humbug；　whether　he　belongs　to　〃our　side〃　or　not。
He　is　not　thanked　for　doing　it；　and；　furthermore；　he　loses　the
respect　and　confidence　of　his　readers。　　There　are　many　amiable
gentlemen　ornamenting　the　various　walks　of　life；　who　are　under　the
impression　that　for　a　dozen　bad　cigars　or　a　few　drinks　of　worse
whisky　they　can　purchase　the　〃opinion〃　of　almost　any　Reporter。　　It
has　been　our　pleasure　on　several　occasions　to　disabuse　those
gentlemen　of　this　impression。

Should　another　occasion　of　this　kind　ever　offer；　we　feel　that　we
should　be　〃adequate〃　to　treat　it　in　a　similar　manner。　　A　Reporter；
we　modestly　submit；　is　as　good　as　anybody；　and　ought　to　feel　that　he
is；　everywhere　and　at　all　times。　　For　one；　let　us　quietly　and
without　any　show　of　vanity　remark；　that　we　are　not　only　just　as　good
as　anybody　else；　but　a　great　deal　better　than　many　we　know　of。　　We
love　God　and　hate　Indians：　　pay　our　debts；　support　the　Constitution
of　the　United　States；　go　in　for　Progress；　Sunshine；　Calico；　and
other　luxuries；　are　perfectly　satisfied　and　happy；　and　wouldn't　swop
〃sits〃　with　the　President；　Louis　Napoleon；　the　Emperor　of　China；
Sultan　of　Turkey；　Brigham　Young；　or　Nicholas　Longworth。　　Success　to
us！


1。54。　　HE　HAD　THE　LITTLE　VOUCHER　IN　HIS　POCKET。

L　lived　in　this　city　several　years　ago。　　He　dealt　in　horses；
carriages；　&c。　　Hearing　of　a　good　chance　to　sell　buggies　up　West；　he
embarked　with　a　lot　for　that　〃great〃　country。　　At　Toledo　he　took　a
Michigan　Southern　train。　　Somebody　had　by　way　of　a　joke；　warned　him
against　the　conductor　of　that　particular　train；　telling　him　that
said　conductor　had　an　eccentric　way　of　taking　up　tickets　at　the
beginning　of　the　journey；　and　of　denying　that　he　had　done　so　and
demanding　fare　at　the　end　thereof。　　This　the　confiding　L
swallowed。　　He　determined　not　to　be　swindled　in　this　way；　and　so
when　the　conductor　came　around　and　asked　him　for　his　ticket　he
declined　giving　up。　　The　conductor　insisted。　　L　still　refused。

〃I've　got　the　little　voucher　in　my　pocket；〃　he　said；　with　a　knowing
look；　slily　slapping　the　pocket　which　contained　the　ticket。

The　conductor　glanced　at　L's　stalwart　frame。　　He　had　heard　L
spoken　of　as　a　fighting　man。　　He　preferred　not　to　grapple　with　him。
The　train　was　a　light　one；　and　it　so　happened　that　L　was　the　only
man　in　this；　the　hind　car。　　So　the　conductor　had　the　train　stopped；
and　quietly　unhitched　this　car。

〃Good　day；　Mr。　L；〃　he　yelled；　〃just　keep　that　little　voucher　in　your
pocket；　and　be　dd　to　you！〃

L　jumped　up　and　saw　the　other　cars　moving　rapidly　away。　　He　was
left　solitary　and　alone；　in　a　dismal　piece　of　woods　known　as　the
Black　Swamp。　　He　remained　there　in　the　car　until　night；　when　the
down…train　came　along　and　took　him　to　Toledo。　　He　had　to　pay　fare；
his　up　through…ticket　not　being　good　on　that　train。　　His　buggies　had
gone　unattended　to　Chicago。　　He　was　very　angry。　　He　finally　got
through；　but　he　will　never　hear　the　last　of　that　〃little　voucher。〃


1。55。　　THE　GENTLEMANLY　CONDUCTOR。

Few　have　any　idea　of　the　trials　and　tribulations　of　the　railway
conductor〃the　gentlemanly　conductor；〃　as　one…horse　newspapers
delight　in　styling　him。　　Unless　you　are　gifted　with　the　patience　of
the　lamented　Job；　who；　tradition　informs　us；　had　〃biles〃　all　over
his　body；　and　didn't　swear　once；　never　go　for　a　Conductor；　me　boy！

The　other　evening　we　enlivened　a　railroad　car　with　our　brilliant
presence。　Starting　time　was　not　quite　up；　and　the　passengers　were
amusing　themselves　by　laughing；　swearing；　singing；　and　talking；
according　to　their　particular　fancy。　　The　Conductor　came　in；　and　the
following　were　a　few　of　the　questions　put　to　him：One　old　fellow；
who　was　wrapped　up　in　a　horse…blanket；　and　who　apparently　had　about
two　pounds　of　pigtail　in　his　mouth；　wanted　to　know；　〃What　pint　of
compass　the　keers　was　travelin　in？〃　　An　old　lady；　surrounded　by
band…boxes　and　enveloped　in　flannels；　wanted　to　know　what　time
the　eight　o'clock　train　left　Rock　Island　for　〃Dubu…kue？〃　　A
carroty…haired　young　man　wanted　to　know　if　〃free　omyibuses〃　ran
from　the　cars　to　the　taverns　in　Toledo？　　A　tall；　razor…faced
individual；　evidently　from　the　interior　of　Connecticut；　desired　to
know　if　〃conductin〃　paid　as　well　eout　West　as　it　did　deoun　in　his
country；　and　a　portly；　close…shaven　man　with　round　keen　eyes；　and
in　whose　face　you　could　read　the　interest…table；　asked　the　price　of
corner　lots　in　Omaha。　　These　and　many　other　equally　absurd　questions
the　conductor　answered　calmly　and　in　a　resigned　manner。　　And　we
shuddered　as　we　thought　how　he　would　have　to　answer　a　similar　string
of　questions　in　each　of　the　three　cars　ahead。


1。56。　　MORALITY　AND　GENIUS。

We　see　it　gravely　stated　in　a　popular　Metropolitan　journal　that
〃true　genius　goes　hand　in　hand；　necessarily；　with　morality。〃　　The
statement　is　not　a　startlingly　novel　one。　　It　has　been　made；
probably；　about　sixty　thousand　times　before。　　But　it　is　untrue　and
foolish。　　We　wish　genius　and　morality　were　affectionate　companions；
but　it　is　a　fact　that　they　are　often　bitter　enemies。　　They　don't
necessarily　coalesce　any　more　than　oil　and　water　do！　　Innumerable
instances　may　be　readily　produced　in　support　of　this　proposition。
Nobody　doubts　that　Sheridan　had　genius；　yet　he　was　a　sad　dog。　　Mr。
Byron；　the　author　of　Childe　Harold　〃and　other　poems；〃　was　a　man　of
genius；　we　think；　yet　Mr。　Byron　was　a　fearfully　fast　man。　　Edgar　A。
Poe　wrote　magnificent　poetry　and　majestic　prose；　but　he　was；　in
private　life；　hardly　the　man　for　small　and　select　tea　parties。
We　fancy　Sir　Richard　Steele　was　a　man　of　genius；　but　he　got
disreputably　drunk；　and　didn't　pay　his　debts。　　Swift　had　geniusan
immense　lot　of　ityet　Swift　was　a　cold…blooded；　pitiless；　bad　man。
The　catalogue　might　be　spun　out　to　any　length；　but　it　were　useless
to　do　it。　　We　don't　mean　to　intimate　that　men　of　genius　must
necessarily　be　sots　and　spendthriftswe　merely　speak　of　the　fact
that　very　many　of　them　have　been　both；　and　in　some　instances　much
worse　than　both。　　Still　we　can't　well　see　（though　some　think　they
can）　how　the　pleasure　and　instruction　people　derive　from　reading　the
productions　of　these　great　lights　is　diminished　because　their　morals
were　〃lavishly　loose。〃　　They　might　have　written　better　had　their
private　lives　been　purer；　but　of　this　nobody　can　determine　for　the
pretty　good　reason　that　nobody　knows。

So　with　actors。　　We　have　seen　people　stay　away　from　the　theater
because　Mrs。　Grundy　said　the　star　of　the　evening　invariably　retired
to　his　couch　in　a　state　of　extreme　inebriety。　　If　the　star　is
afflicted　with　a　weakness　of　this　kind；　we　may　regret　it。　　We　may
pity　or　censure　the　star。　　But　we　must　still　acknowledge　the　star's
genius；　and　applaud　it。　　Hence　we　conclude　that　the　chronic　weakness
of　actors　no　more　affects　the　question　of　the　propriety　of
patronizing　theatrical　representations；　than　the　profligacy　of
journeymen　shoemakers　affects　the　question　of　the　propriety　of
wearing　boots。　　All　of　which　is　respectfully　submitted。


1。57。　　ROUGH　BEGINNING　OF　THE　HONEYMOON。

On　last　Friday　morning　an　athletic　young　farmer　in　the　town　of
Waynesburg　took　a　fair　girl；　〃all　bathed　in　blushes；〃　from　her
parents；　and　started　for　the　first　town　across　the　Pennsylvania　line
to　be　married；　where　the　ceremony　could　be　performed　without　a
license。　　The　happy　pair　were　accompanied　by　a　sister　of　the　girl；　a
tall；　gaunt；　and　sharp…featured　female　of　some　thirty…seven　summers。
The　pair　crossed　the　line；　were　married；　and　returned　to　Wellsville
to　pass　the　night。　　People　at　the　hotel　where　the　wedding　party
stopped　observed　that　they　conducted　themselves　in　a　rather　singular
manner。　　The　husband　would　take　his　sister…in…law；　the　tall　female
aforesaid；　into　one　corner　of　the　parlor　and　talk　earnestly　to　her
gesticulating　wildly　the　while。　　Then　the　tall　female　would　〃put　her
foot　down〃　and　talk　to　him　in　an　angry　and　excited　manner。　　Then　the
husband　would　take　his　fair　young　bride　into　a　corner；　but　he　could
no　sooner　commence　talking　to　her　than　the　gaunt　sister　would　rush
in　between　them　and　angrily　join　in　the　conversation。　　The　people　at
the　hotel　ascertained　what　all　this　meant　about　9　o'clock　that
evening。　　There　was　an　uproar　in　the　room　which　had　been　assigned　to
the　newly　married　couple。　　Female　shrieks　and　masculine　〃swears〃
startled　the　people　at　the　hotel；　and　they　rushed　to　the　spot。　　The
gaunt　female　was　pressing　and　kicking　against　the　door　of　the　room；
and　the　newly…married　man；　mostly　undressed；　was　barring　her　out
with　all　his　might。　　Occasionally　she　would　kick　the　door　far　enough
open　to　disclose　the　stalwart　husband；　in　his　Gentleman　Greek　Slave
apparel。　　It　appeared　that　the　tall　female　insisted　upon　occupying
the　same　room　with　the　newly…wedded　pair；　that　her　sister　was
favorably　disposed　to　the　arrangement；　and　that　the　husband　had
agreed　to　it　before　the　wedding　took　place；　and　was　now　indignantly
repudiating　the　contract。　　〃Won't　you　go　away　now；　Susan；　peaceful？〃
said　the　newly…married　man；　soften