I really don't care for money. I only travel round to see the world and to exhibit my clothes. These clothes I have on were a great success in America.
How often do large fortunes ruin young men! I should like to be ruined, but I can get on very well as I am.
I am not an Artist. I don't paint myself—though perhaps if I were a middle-aged single lady I should—yet I have a passion for pictures—I have had a great many pictures— photographs taken of myself. Some of them are very pretty— rather sweet to look at for a short time—and as I said before, I like them. I've always loved pictures.
I could draw on wood at a very tender age. When a mere child I once drew a small cart-load of raw turnips over a wooden bridge.—the people of the village noticed me. I drew their attention. They said I had a future before me. Up to that time I had an idea it was behind me.
Time passed on. It always does, by the way. You may possibly have noticed that Time passes on.—It is a kind of way Time has.
I became a man. I haven't distinguished myself at all as an artist—but I have always been more or less mixed up with Art. I have an uncle who takes photographs—and I have a servant who—takes anything he can get his hands on.
When I was in Rome—Rome in New York State I mean—a distinguished sculpist wanted to sculp me. But I said "No." I saw through the designing man. My model once in his hands—he would have flooded the market with my busts— and I couldn't stand it to see everybody going round with a bust of me. Everybody would want one of course—and wherever I should go I should meet the educated classes with my bust, taking it home to their families. This would be more than my modesty could stand—and I should have to return to America—where my creditors are.
I like Art. I admire dramatic Art—although I failed as an actor.
It was in my schoolboy days that I failed as an actor. (Artemus made many attempts as an amateur actor, but never to his own satisfaction. He was very fond of the society of actors and actresses. Their weaknesses amused him as much as their talents excited his admiration. One of his favorite sayings was that the world was made up of "men, women, and the people on the stage.")—The play was 'Ruins of Pompeii.'—I played the Ruins. It was not a very successful performance—but it was better than the "Burning Mountain." He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius.
The remembrance often makes me ask—"Where are the boys of my youth?"—I assure you this is not a conundrum.—Some are amongst you here—some in America—some are in gaol.—