I don't want to live in vain.--I'd rather live in Margate--or here.But I wish when the Egyptians built this hall they had given it a little more ventilation.
If you should be dissatisfied with anything here to-night--Iwill admit you all free in New Zealand--if you will come to me there for the orders.Any respectable cannibal will tell you where I live.This shows that I have a forgiving spirit.
I really don't care for money.I only travel round to see the world and to exhibit my clothes.These clothes I have on were a great success in America.
How often do large fortunes ruin young men! I should like to be ruined, but I can get on very well as I am.
I am not an Artist.I don't paint myself--though perhaps if I were a middle-aged single lady I should--yet I have a passion for pictures--I have had a great many pictures--photographs taken of myself.Some of them are very pretty--rather sweet to look at for a short time--and as I said before, I like them.I've always loved pictures.
I could draw on wood at a very tender age.When a mere child I once drew a small cart-load of raw turnips over a wooden bridge.--the people of the village noticed me.Idrew their attention.They said I had a future before me.
Up to that time I had an idea it was behind me.
Time passed on.It always does, by the way.You may possibly have noticed that Time passes on.--It is a kind of way Time has.
I became a man.I haven't distinguished myself at all as an artist--but I have always been more or less mixed up with Art.I have an uncle who takes photographs--and I have a servant who--takes anything he can get his hands on.
When I was in Rome--Rome in New York State I mean--a distinguished sculpist wanted to sculp me.But I said "No."I saw through the designing man.My model once in his hands--he would have flooded the market with my busts-- and I couldn't stand it to see everybody going round with a bust of me.Everybody would want one of course--and wherever Ishould go I should meet the educated classes with my bust, taking it home to their families.This would be more than my modesty could stand--and I should have to return to America--where my creditors are.
I like Art.I admire dramatic Art--although I failed as an actor.
It was in my schoolboy days that I failed as an actor.
(Artemus made many attempts as an amateur actor, but never to his own satisfaction.He was very fond of the society of actors and actresses.Their weaknesses amused him as much as their talents excited his admiration.One of his favorite sayings was that the world was made up of "men, women, and the people on the stage.")--The play was 'Ruins of Pompeii.'--I played the Ruins.It was not a very successful performance--but it was better than the "Burning Mountain." He was not good.He was a bad Vesuvius.
The remembrance often makes me ask--"Where are the boys of my youth?"--I assure you this is not a conundrum.--Some are amongst you here--some in America--some are in gaol.--Hence arises a most touching question--"Where are the girls of my youth?" Some are married--some would like to be.
Oh my Maria! Alas! she married another.They frequently do.I hope she is happy--because I am.(Spoken with a sigh.It was a joke which always told.Artemus never failed to use it in his "Babes in the Wood" lecture, and the "Sixty Minutes in Africa," as well as in the Mormon story.)--some people are not happy.I have noticed that.
A gentleman friend of mine came to me one day with tears in his eyes.I said, "Why these weeps?" He said he had a mortgage on his farm--and wanted to borrow 200 pounds.Ilent him the money--and he went away.Some time after he returned with more tears.He said he must leave me for ever.I ventured to remind him of the 200 pounds he borrowed.He was much cut up.I thought I would not be hard upon him--so I told him I would throw off one hundred pounds.He brightened--shook my hand--and said--"Old friend--I won't allow you to outdo me in liberality--I'll throw off the other hundred."As a manager I was always rather more successful than as an actor.
Some years ago I engaged a celebrated Living American Skeleton for a tour through Australia.He was the thinnest man I ever saw.He was a splendid skeleton.He didn't weigh anything scarcely--and I said to myself--the people of Australia will flock to see this tremendous curiosity.It is a long voyage--as you know--from New York to Melbourne--and to my utter surprise the skeleton had no sooner got out to sea than he commenced eating in the most horrible manner.
He had never been on the ocean before--and he said it agreed with him.--I thought so!--I never saw a man eat so much in my life.Beef--mutton--pork--he swallowed them all like a shark--and between meals he was often discovered behind barrels eating hard-boiled eggs.The result was that when we reached Melbourne this infamous skeleton weighed 64pounds more than I did!
I thought I was ruined--but I wasn't.I took him on to California--another very long sea voyage--and when I got him to San Francisco I exhibited him as a Fat Man.(The reader need scarcely be informed that this narrative is about as real as "A.Ward's Snaiks," and about as much matter of fact as his journey through the States with a wax-work show.)This story hasn't anything to do with my Entertainment, Iknow--but one of the principal features of my Entertainment is that it contains so many things that don't have anything to do with it.
