"This way, Sir," said the guard; "here you ar," and he pinted to a first-class carriage, the sole ockepant of which was a rayther prepossessin' female of about 30 summers.
"No, I thank you," I earnestly replied, "I prefer to walk."
| I am, dear | Sir, | |
| Very respectivly | yours, | |
| Artemus Ward |
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THE GREEN LION AND OLIVER CROMWELL.
MR. PUNCH: My Dear Sir,—It is now two weeks since a rayther strange lookin man engaged 'partments at the Green Lion. He stated he was from the celebrated United States, but beyond this he said nothin. He seem'd to prefer sollytood. He remained mostly in his room, and whenever he did show hisself he walkt in a moody and morose manner in the garding, with his hed bowed down and his arms foldid across his brest. He reminded me sumwhat of the celebrated but onhappy "Mr. Haller," in the cheerful play of "The Stranger." This man puzzled me. I'd been puzzled afore several times, but never so severally as now. Mine Ost of the Greenlion said I must interregate this strange bein, who claimed to be my countryman.
"He hasn't called for a drop of beer since he's been in this ere Ouse," said the landlord. "I look to you," he added, "to clear up this dark, this orful mistry!"
I wringed the lan'lord's honest hand, and told him to consider the mistry cleared up.
I gained axes to the misterus bein's room, and by talkin sweet to him for a few minits, I found out who he was. Then returnin to the lan'lord, who was nervisly pacin up and down the bar, I said,