"Ain't we at the Spotted Boar?" the lan'lord hoarsely whispered.
"No," I answered. "It's another kind of bore. Lis'en. Cromwell
is goin' to speak through our inspired fren', now."
"Is he?" said the lan'lord--"is he? Wall, I've suthin to say,
also. Was this Cromwell a licensed vittler?"
"Not that I ever heard," I anserd.
"I'm sorry for that," said the lan'lord with a sigh, "but you
think he was a man who would wish to see licensed vittlers
respected in their rights?"
"No doubt."
"Wall," said the lan'lord, "jest you keep a eye on me." Then
risin to his feet he said, in somewhat husky yet tol'bly distink
voice, "Mr. Crumbwell!"
"Cromwell!" I cried.
"Yes, Mr. Cromwell: that's the man I mean, Mr. Cromble! won't
you please advise that gen'l'man who you're talkin through; won't
you advise'im during your elekant speech to settle his bill at my
'ouse tonight, Mr. Crumbles," said the lan'lord, glarin' savigely
round on the peple, "because if he don't there'll be a punched
'ed to be seen at the Green Lion, where I don't want no more of
this everlastin nonsens. I'LL talk through 'im! Here's a
sperrit," said the lan'lord, a smile once more beamin on his
face, "which will talk through him like a Dutch father! I'm the
sperrit for you, young feller!"
"You're a helthy old sperret," I remarkt; and then I saw the
necessity of gettin him out of the hall. The wimin was yellin
and screaming, and the men was hollerin' perlice. A perliceman
really came and collerd my fat fren.
"It's only a fit, Sir Richard," I said. I always call the
perlice Sir Richard. It pleases them to think I'm the victim of
a deloosion; and they always treat me perlitely. This one did,
certainly, for he let us go. We saw no more of the Trans-Mejim.
It's diffikilt, of course, to say how long these noosances will
be allowed to prowl round. I should say, however, if pressed for
a answer that they will prob'ly continner on jest about as long
as they can find peple to lis'en to 'em. Am I right?
Yours, faithfull,
Artemus Ward.