I told him he was right.
Wocky-bocky again rubbed his tomahawk across my face, and said--"Wink-ho--loo-boo!"
Says I--"Mr. Wocky-bocky"--says I--"Wocky--I have thought so for years--and so's all our family."
He told me I must go to the tent of the Strong-Heart and eat raw dog*.
*("Raw dog." While sojourning for a day in a camp of Sioux Indians we were informed that the warriors of the tribe were accustomed to eat raw dog to give them courage previous to going to battle. Artemus was greatly amused with the information. When, in after years, he became weak and languid, and was called upon to go to lecture, it was a favorite joke with him to inquire, "Hingston, have you got any raw dog?")
It don't agree with me. I prefer simple food. I prefer pork-pie--because then I know what I'm eating. But as raw dog was all they proposed to give to me--I had to eat it or starve. So at the expiration of two days I seized a tin plate and went to the chief's daughter--and I said to her in a silvery voice--in a kind of German-silvery voice--I said--
"Sweet child of the forest, the pale-face wants his dog."
There was nothing but his paws! I had paused too long! Which reminds me that time passes. A way which time has.
I was told in my youth to seize opportunity. I once tried to seize one. He was rich. He had diamonds on. As I seized him--he knocked me down. Since then I have learned that he who seizes opportunity sees the penitentiary.
The Rocky Mountains.
I take it for granted you have heard of these popular mountains. In America they are regarded as a great success, and we all love dearly to talk about them. It is a kind of weakness with us. I never knew but one American who hadn't something--some time--to say about the Rocky Mountains--and he was a deaf and dumb man, who couldn't say anything about nothing.
But these mountains--whose summits are snow-covered and icy all the year round--are too grand to make fun of. I crossed them in the winter of '64--in a rough sleigh drawn by four mules.
This sparkling waterfall is the Laughing-Water alluded to by Mr.
Longfellow in his Indian poem--"Higher-Water." The water is higher up there.
The plains of Colorado.
These are the dreary plains over which we rode for so many weary days.
An affecting incident occurred on these plains some time since, which I am sure you will pardon me for introducing here.
On a beautiful June morning--some sixteen years ago--
(Music, very loud till the scene is off.) * * * * *
--and she fainted on Reginald's breast!*
*"On Reginald's breast." (At this part of the lecture Artemus pretended to tell a story--the piano playing loudly all the time. He continued his narration in excited dumb-show--his lips moving as though he were speaking. For some minutes the audience indulged in unrestrained laughter.)
A prairie on fire is one of the wildest and grandest sights that can be possibly imagined.
These fires occur--of course--in the summer--when the grass is dry as tinder--and the flames rush and roar over the prairie in a manner frightful to behold. They usually burn better than mine is burning to-night. I try to make my prairie burn regularly--and not disappoint the public--but it is not as high-principled as I am.*
*(The scene was a transparent one--the light from behind so managed as to give the effect of the prairie on fire. Artemus enjoyed the joke of letting the fire go out occasionally, and then allowing it to relight itself.)
The last picture I have to show you represents Mr. Brigham Young in the bosom of his family. His family is large--and the olive branches around his table are in a very tangled condition. He is more a father than any man I know. When at home--as you here see him--he ought to be very happy with sixty wives to minister to his comforts--and twice sixty children to soothe his distracted mind. Ah! my friends--what is home without a family?
What will become of Mormonism? We all know and admit it to be a hideous wrong--a great immoral strain upon the 'scutcheon of the United States.
My belief is that its existence is dependent upon the life of Brigham Young. His administrative ability holds the system together--his power of will maintains it as the faith of a community. When he dies--Mormonism will die too. The men who are around him have neither his talent nor his energy. By means of his strength it is held together. When he falls--Mormonism will also fall to pieces.
That lion--you perceive--has a tail. It is a long one already. Like mine--it is to be continued in our next.
THE END
(The curtain fell for the last time on Wednesday, the 23d of January 1867. Artemus Ward had to break off the lecture abruptly. He never lectured again.)
PROGRAMME OF EGYPTIAN HALL LECTURE.
PROGRAMME USED AT EGYPTIAN HALL, PICCADILLY.
A person of long-established integrity will take excellent care of Bonnets, Cloaks, etc., during the Entertainment; the Audience better leave their money, however, with MR. WARD; he will return it to them in a day or two, or invest it for them in America as they may think best.
"Nobody must say that he likes the Lecture unless he wishes to be thought eccentric; and nobody must say that he doesn't like it unless he really IS eccentric. (This requires thinking over, but it will amply repay perusal.)
The Panorama used to Illustrate Mr. Ward's Narrative is rather more than Panoramas usually are.
MR. WARD will not be responsible for any debts of his own contracting.
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