"But blarst my hize, sir, its onprecedented. It's orful, sir.
Nothin' like it hain't happened sins the Gun Powder Plot of Guy
Forks. Owdashus man, who air you?"

"Sir," sez I, drawin myself up & puttin on a defiant air, "I'm
a Amerycan sitterzen. My name is Ward. I'm a husband & the
father of twins, which I'm happy to state thay look like me.
By perfeshun I'm a exhibiter of wax works & sich."

"Good God!" yelled the Kurnal, "the idee of a exhibiter of wax
figgers goin into the presents of Royalty! The British Lion
may well roar with raje at the thawt!"

Sez I, "Speakin of the British Lion, Kurnal, I'd like to make a
bargin with you fur that beast fur a few weeks to add to my
Show." I didn't meen nothin by this. I was only gettin orf a
goak, but you roter hev seen the Old Kurnal jump up & howl. He
actooally fomed at the mowth.

"This can't be real," he showtid. "No, no. It's a horrid
dream. Sir, you air not a human bein--you hav no existents--
yure a Myth!"

"Wall," sez I, "old hoss, yule find me a ruther onkomfortable
Myth ef you punch my inards in that way agin." I began to git
a little riled, fur when he called me a Myth he puncht me putty
hard. The Kurnal now commenst showtin fur the Seventy Onesters.
I at fust thawt I'd stay & becum a Marter to British Outraje,
as sich a course mite git my name up & be a good advertisement
fur my Show, but it occurred to me that ef enny of the Seventy