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The Complete Works of Artemus Ward — Part 5: The London Punch Letters by Artemus Ward
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be seen daily for a sixpence, in conjunction with other em'nent
persons, and no extra charge for the Warder's able and bootiful
lectur.

There's one king in the room who is mounted onto a foamin steed,
his right hand graspin a barber's pole. I didn't learn his name.

The room where the daggers and pistils and other weppins is kept
is interestin. Among this collection of choice cutlery I notist
the bow and arrer which those hot-heded old chaps used to conduct
battles with. It is quite like the bow and arrer used at this
day by certin tribes of American Injuns, and they shoot 'em off
with such a excellent precision that I almost sigh'd to be a
Injun, when I was in the Rocky Mountain regin. They are a
pleasant lot them Injuns. Mr. Cooper and Dr. Catlin have told us
of the red man's wonerful eloquence, and I found it so. Our
party was stopt on the plains of Utah by a band of Shoshones,
whose chief said:

"Brothers! the pale-face is welcome. Brothers! the sun is
sinkin in the West, and Wa-na-bucky-she will soon cease speakin.
Brothers! the poor red man belongs to a race which is fast
becomin extink."

He then whooped in a shrill manner, stole all our blankets and
whisky, and fled to the primeval forest to conceal his emotions.

I will remark here, while on the subjeck of Injuns, that they are
in the main a very shaky set, with even less sense than the
Fenians, and when I hear philanthropists bewailin the fack that
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