He sed he was the Kurnal of the Seventy Fust Regiment, Her Magistys troops. I told him I hoped the Seventy Onesters was in good helth, and was passin by, when he ceased holt of me agin and sed in a tone of indigent cirprise:
Sir, sez I, drawin myself up & puttin on a defiant air, Im a Amerycan sitterzen. My name is Ward. Im a husband, & the father of twins, which Im happy to state thay look like me. By perfession Im a exhibiter of wax works & sich.
Sez I, Speakin of the British Lion, Kurnal, Id like to make a bargin with you fur that beast fur a few weeks to add to my Show. I didnt meen nothin by this. I was only gettin orf a goak, but you orter heb seen the Old Kurnal jump up and howl. He actooally foamed at the mowth.
Wall, sez I, old hoss, yule find me a ruther oncomfortable Myth ef you punch my inards in that way agin. I began to git a little riled, fur when he called me a Myth he puncht me putty hard. The Kurnal now commenst showtin fur the Seventy Onesters. I at fust thawt Id stay & becum a Marter to British Outraje, as sich a course mite git my name up & be a good advertisement fur my Show, but it occurred to me that ef enny of the Seventy Onesters shood happen to insert a baronet into my stummick it mite be onplesunt; & I was on the pint of runnin orf when the Prince hisself kum up & axed me what the matter was. Sez I, Albert Edard, is that you? & he smilt & sed it was. Sez I, Albert Edard, hears my keerd. I cum to pay my respecks to the futer King of Ingland. The Kurnal of the Seventy Onesters hear is ruther smawl pertaters, but of course you aint to blame fur that. He puts on as many airs as tho he was the Bully Boy with the glass eye.
Never mind, sez Albert Edard, Im glad to see you, Mister Ward, at all events, & he tuk my hand so plesunt like, & larfed so sweet, that I fell in love with him to onct. He handid me a segar, & we sot down on the Pizarro & commenst smokin rite cheerful.
The Prince larfed, & intermated that the old man didnt let many kegs of that bevridge spile in the sellar in the coarse of a year. We sot & tawked there sum time abowt matters & things, & bimeby I axed him how he liked bein Prince, as fur as hed got.
To speak plain, Mister Ward, he sed, I dont much like it. Im sick of all this bowin & scrapin & crawlin & hurrain over a boy like me. I would rather go through the country quietly & enjoy myself in my own way, with the other boys, & not be made a Show of to be gaped at by everybody. When the peple cheer me I feel pleesed, fur I know they meen it; but if these one-horse offishuls cood know how I see threw all their moves & understan exactly what they air after, & knowd how I larft at em in private, theyd stop kissin my hands & fawnin over me as they now do. But you know, Mister Ward, I cant help bein a Prince, & I must do all I kin to fit myself for the persishun I must sum time ockepy.
The time hevin arove fur me to take my departer, I rose up & sed: Albert Edard, I must go, but previs to doin so, I will obsarve that you soot me. Yure a good feller, Albert Edard, & tho Im agin Princes as a gineral thing, I must say I like the cut of your Gib. When you git to be King, try & be as good a man as your muther has bin! Be just & be Jenerus, espeshully to showmen, who have allers bin aboosed sinse the dase of Noah, who was the fust man to go into the Monagery bizniss, & ef the daily papers of his time air to be beleeved, Noahs colleckshun of livin wild beests beet ennything ever seen sins tho I make bold to dowt ef his snaiks was ahead of mine. Albert Edard, adoo! I tuk his hand, which he shook warmly, & givin him a perpetooal free pars to my show, & also parses to take hum for the Queen & Old Albert, I put on my hat and walkt away.
Mrs. Ward, I solilarquized as I walkt along, Mrs. Ward, ef you could see your husband now, just as he prowdly emerjis from the presunts of the futer King of Ingland, youd be sorry you called him a Beest jest becaws he cum home tired 1 nite & wantid to go to bed without takin off his boots. Youd be sorry for tryin to deprive yure husband of the priceless Boon of liberty, Betsy Jane!
I used to peddle lemins, sed I, but never delt in oranges. They are apt to spile on yure hands. What particler Loonatic Asylum hev you & yure friends escaped frum, if I may be so bold? Just then a sudden thawt struck me, & I sed, Oh, yure the fellers who air worryin the Prince so, & givin the Juke of Noocastle cold sweats at nite, by yure infernal catawalins, air you? Wall, take the advice of a Amerykin sitterzen, take orf them gownds & dont try to get up a religious fite, which is 40 times wuss nor a prize fite, over Albert Edard, who wants to receive you all on a ekal footin, not keerin a tinkers cuss what meetin-house you sleep in Sundays. Go home & mind yure bisness, & not make noosenses of yourselves. With which observachuns I left em.