country, and ondoubtedly represented a thrifty Ile well somewhere
in Pennsylvany. It's a common thing, by the way, for a old farmer
in Pennsylvany to wake up some mornin' and find ile squirtin all
around his back yard. He sells out for 'normous price, and his
children put on gorgeous harness and start on a tower to astonish
people. They succeed in doin it. Meantime the Ile squirts and
squirts, and Time rolls on. Let it roll.

A very nice old town is Stratford, and a capital inn is the Red
Horse. Every admirer of the great S. must go there once
certinly; and to say one isn't a admirer of him, is equv'lent to
sayin one has jest about brains enough to become a efficient
tinker.

Some kind person has sent me Chawcer's "poems." Mr. C. had
talent, but he couldn't spel. No man has a right to be a
lit'rary man onless he knows how to spel. It is a pity that
Chawcer, who had geneyus, was so unedicated. He's the wuss
speller I know of.

I guess I'm through, and so I lay down the pen, which is more
mightier than the sword, but which I'm fraid would stand a
rayther slim chance beside the needle gun.

Adoo! Adoo!
Artemus Ward.

5.5. IS INTRODUCED AT THE CLUB.