Come with me, jentle reader, to Quebeck.Quebeck was surveyed and laid out by a gentleman who had been afflicted with the delirium tremens from childhood, and hence his idees of things was a little irreg'ler.The streets don't lead anywheres in partic'ler, but everywheres in gin'ral.The city is bilt on a variety of perpendicler hills, each hill bein' a trifle wuss nor t'other one.Quebeck is full of stone walls, and arches, and citadels and things.It is said no foe could ever git into Quebeck, and I guess they couldn't.And I don't see what they'd WANT to get in there for.
Quebeck has seen lively times in a warlike way.The French and Britishers had a set-to there in 1759.JIM WOLFEcommanded the latters, and JO.MONTCALM the formers.Both were hunky boys, and fit nobly.But WOLFE was too many measles for MONTCALM, and the French was slew'd.WOLFE and MONTCALM was both killed.In arter years a common monyment was erected by the gen'rous people of Quebeck, aided by a bully Earl named GEORGE DALHOUSIE, to these noble fellows.
That was well done.
Durin' the Revolutionary War B.ARNOLD made his way, through dense woods and thick snows, from Maine to Quebeck, which it was one of the hunkiest things ever done in the military line.
It would have been better if B.ARNOLD'S funeral had come off immeditly on his arrival there.
On the Plains of Abraham there was onct some tall fitin', and ever since then there has been a great demand for the bones of the slew'd on that there occasion.But the real ginooine bones was long ago carried off, and now the boys make a hansum thing by cartin' the bones of hosses and sheep out there, and sellin' 'em to intelligent American towerists.Takin' a perfessional view of this dodge, I must say that it betrays genius of a lorfty character.
It reminded me of a inspired feet of my own.I used to exhibit a wax figger of HENRY WILKINS, the Boy Murderer.
HENRY had, in a moment of inadvertence, killed his Uncle EPHRAM and walked off with the old man's money.Well, this stattoo was lost somehow, and not sposin' it would make any particler difference I substitooted the full-grown stattoo of one of my distinguished piruts for the Boy Murderer.One night I exhibited to a poor but honest audience in the town of Stoneham, Maine."This, ladies and gentlemen," said I, pointing my umbrella (that weapon which is indispensable to every troo American) to the stattoo, "this is a life-like wax figger of the notorious HENRY WILKINS, who in the dead of night murdered his Uncle EPHRAM in cold blood.A sad warning to all uncles havin' murderers for nephews.When a mere child this HENRY WILKINS was compelled to go to the Sunday-school.
He carried no Sunday-school book.The teacher told him to go home and bring one.He went and returned with a comic song-book.A depraved proceedin'."
"But," says a man in the audience, "when you was here before your wax figger represented HENRY WILKINS as a boy.Now, HENRY was hung, and yet you show him to us now as a full-grown man! How's that?""The figger has growd, sir--it has growd," I said.
I was angry.If it had been in these times I think I should have informed agin him as a traitor to his flag, and had him put in Fort Lafayette.
I say adoo to Quebeck with regret.It is old-fogyish, but chock-full of interest.Young gentlemen of a romantic turn of mind, who air botherin' their heads as to how they can spend their father's money, had better see Quebeck.
Altogether I like Canady.Good people and lots of pretty girls.I wouldn't mind comin' over here to live in the capacity of a Duke, provided a vacancy occurs, and provided further I could be allowed a few star-spangled banners, a eagle, a boon of liberty, etc.
Don't think I've skedaddled.Not at all.I'm coming home in a week.
Let's have the Union restored as it was, if we can; but if we can't, I'M IN FAVOR OF THE UNION AS IT WASN'T.But the Union, anyhow.
Gentlemen of the editorial corpse, if you would be happy be virtoous! I who am the emblem of virtoo, tell you so.
(Signed,)"A Ward."
2.11.THE NOBLE RED MAN.
The red man of the forest was form'ly a very respectful person.Justice to the noble aboorygine warrants me in sayin'
that orrigernerly he was a majestic cuss.
At the time CHRIS.arrove on these shores (I allood to CHRIS.
COLUMBUS), the savajis was virtoous and happy.They were innocent of secession, rum, draw-poker, and sinfulness gin'rally.They didn't discuss the slavery question as a custom.They had no Congress, faro banks, delirium tremens, or Associated Press.Their habits was consequently good.
Late suppers, dyspepsy, gas companies, thieves, ward politicians, pretty waiter-girls, and other metropolitan refinements, were unknown among them.No savage in good standing would take postage-stamps.You couldn't have bo't a coonskin with a barrel of 'em.The female Aboorygine never died of consumption, because she didn't tie her waist up in whale-bone things; but in loose and flowin' garments she bounded, with naked feet, over hills and plains, like the wild and frisky antelope.It was a onlucky moment for us when CHRIS.sot his foot onto these 'ere shores.It would have been better for us of the present day if the injins had given him a warm meal and sent him home ore the ragin' billers.For the savages owned the country, and COLUMBUS was a fillibuster.
CORTEZ, PIZARRO, and WALKER were one-horse fillibusters--COLUMBUS was a four-horse team fillibuster, and a large yaller dog under the waggin.I say, in view of the mess we are makin' of things, it would have been better for us if cOLUMBUShad staid to home.It would have been better for the show bisniss.The circulation of "Vanity Fair" would be larger, and the proprietors would all have boozum pins! Yes, sir, and perhaps a ten-pin alley.
