In Cleveland, Ohio, the pleasant city beside the lakes, Artemus Ward
first determined to become a public lecturer. He and I rambled
through Cleveland together after his return from California. He
called on some old friends at the Herald office, then went over to
the Weddel House, and afterwards strolled across to the offices of
the "Plain Dealer", where, in his position as sub-editor, he had
written many of his earlier essays. Artemus inquired for Mr. Gray,
the editor, who chanced to be absent. Looking round at the vacant
desks and inkstained furniture, Artemus was silent for a minute or
two, and then burst into one of those peculiar chuckling fits of
laughter in which he would occasionally indulge; not a loud laugh,
but a shaking of the whole body with an impulse of merriment which
set every muscle in motion. "Here," said he, "here's where they
called me a fool." The remembrance of their so calling him seemed
to afford him intense amusement.

>From the office of the Cleveland Plain Dealer we continued our tour
of the town. Presently we found ourselves in front of Perry's
statue, the monument erected to commemorate the naval engagement on
Lake Erie, wherein the Americans came off victorious. Artemus
looked up to the statue, laid his finger to the side of his nose,
and, in his quaint manner, remarked, "I wonder whether they called
him 'a fool' too, when he went to fight!"

The remark, following close as it did upon his laughing fit in the
newspaper office, caused me to inquire why he had been called "a
fool," and who had called him so.

"It was the opinion of my friends on the paper," he replied. "I
told them that I was going in for lecturing. They laughed at me,