“Is it Mrs. _Browning_?” said I, ready to drop on my knees (thinkin’ of Robert).
She shook her head agin, and moved off, and I follered, kinder ashamed of bein’ so abrupt. Lookin’ loftily at me, she said:
“I must leave you.”
“Leave me!” said I, “You cruel monster of beauty! Leave when I am _sealed_ to you?”
(That kinder frightened her—I learned suthin’ from bein’ among the Mormons.)
“You may foller me,” said she, while descendin’ in the midst of a garden which opened rite before us. I did as she advised, and stepped rite down in a place where there was a mighty display of trees, flowers, and fountains, and a pretty big sprinklin’ of people.
Good Heavens! thought I. Is this the New Jerusalem? and lookin’ around timidly for the man with the key, fearin’ I might be turned out, but seein’ nothin’ but common lookin’ men and women, and no “flamin’ cherubim,” and creaters with wings stuck on their heads, and no bodies, such as I had naterally expected to find in such a place, I took courage and stept forward boldly.
The people all commenced cryin’ out as loud as they could:
“Artemus Ward! Artemus Ward!”
I felt kinder abashed at this, but advanced and called out, “Hear! hear! Friends, it’s an amazin’ mystery how you know’d my name.” (I felt diffident at not havin’ my lecter in my pocket, and not bein’ accustomed to speakin’ verbatim.) Howsumever, as they continooed to clap their hands and shout, I got together all the brass I used to carry “down East,” and jumped right atop of one of the roarin’ fountains—the very biggest on ’em all. I surmised it was kinder dangerous, havin’ always experienced a religious awe of the “water of life,” and not knowin’ but what this might be it. “Here goes,” said I; “faint heart never won fair lady,” for rite at the foot was that bootiful poetess to whom allusion has been made, lookin’ straight at me with all her eyes.