I'm at present existin' under a monikal form of Gov'ment. In
other words I'm travellin' among the crowned heds of Canady.
They ain't pretty bad people. On the cont'ry, they air
exceedin' good people.
Troo, they air deprived of many blessins. They don't enjoy
for instans, the priceless boon of a war. They haven't any
American Egil to onchain, and they hain't got a Fourth of July
to their backs.
Altho' this is a monikal form of Gov'ment, I am onable to
perceeve much moniky. I tried to git a piece in Toronto, but
failed to succeed.
Mrs. VICTORIA, who is Queen of England, and has all the
luxuries of the markets, includin' game in its season, don't
bother herself much about Canady, but lets her do 'bout as
she's mighter. She, however, gin'rally keeps her supplied
with a lord, who's called a Gov'ner Gin'ral. Sometimes the
politicians of Canady make it lively for this lord--for Canady
has politicians, and I expect they don't differ from our
politicians, some of 'em bein' gifted and talented liars, no
doubt.
The present Gov'ner Gin'ral of Canady is Lord MONK. I saw him
review some volunteers at Montreal. He was accompanied by
some other lords and dukes and generals and those sort of
things. He rode a little bay horse, and his close wasn't any
better than mine. You'll always notiss, by the way, that the
higher up in the world a man is, the less good harness he puts
on. Hence Gin'ral HALLECK walks the streets in plain
citizen's dress, while the second lieutenant of a volunteer
regiment piles all the brass things he can find onto his back,
and drags a forty-pound sword after him.
Monk has been in the lord bisniss some time, and I understand
it pays, tho' I don't know what a lord's wages is. The wages
of sin is death and postage stamps. But this has nothing to
do with MONK.
One of Lord MONK'S daughters rode with him on the field. She
has golden hair, a kind, good face, and wore a red hat. I
should be very happy to have her pay me and my family a visit
at Baldinsville. Come and bring your knittin', Miss MONK.
Mrs. WARD will do the fair thing by you. She makes the best
slap-jacks in America. As a slap-jackist, she has no ekal.
She wears the Belt.
What the review was all about, I don't know. I haven't a
gigantic intelleck, which can grasp great questions at onct.
I am not a WEBSTER or a SEYMOUR. I am not a WASHINGTON or a
OLD ABE. Fur from it. I am not as gifted a man as HENRY WARD
BEECHER. Even the congregation of Plymouth Meetin'-House in
Brooklyn will admit that. Yes, I should think so. But while
I don't have the slitest idee as to what the review was fur, I
will state that the sojers looked pooty scrumptious in their
red and green close.
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 WOLFE
commanded 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."