Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 October 1879 — A TALK WITH ARTEMUS WARD. [ARTICLE]

A TALK WITH ARTEMUS WARD.

A Young Editor’s Experience with the Humorist[Detroit Free Prese.] I met Artepius Ward once. I was quite young at the time and was acting as city editor of the-Star, published at Schenectady, N. Y. While I was city editor of that sheet I met Artemus. I was standing on a bridge at the time, and in talking about newspaper work was about to say sometning in regard to my heavy editorial responsibility, but Ward checked me by asking: "What creek is this?” “Creek!” I exclaimed, “why, this is the Erie canal.” “How far is it navigable?” “Why, of course it is navigable from one end to the other,” “Well, solemnly replied Ward, “that beats all the streams I ever heard of By tne way, I think I can make out some large boats anchored up the stream there—what are they, propel lers or sidewheelers?” I replied that they were merely canal boats,.and were moved by horse power. “Ah! I didn’t think the stream was so shallow as that,” said Artemus. “As shallow as what?” “Why. you say that those boats are pulled along by horses. Now, of course, they must walk along in front of the boat,musn’t they? I used to run a stone boat on my lamented Uncle John’s farm, and I distinctly remember that the horses walked along in front.” I mentally declared that I had never before met with such ignorance. I spent some time in explaining the peculiarities of the big ditch, and just as I had begun to think that at last I had set the stranger right on the subject, he knocked my hopes into kindling wood by remarking: “I suppose that when the stream dries up in summer they put boats on wheels, don’t they ?” Then I began again and explained every’ feature in the canal, from New York to Erie. How attentively he listened to my words. I can still see that melancholy face, lit by the sad light of the stars, and those mournful eyes looking into mine so earnestly; and rgain I hear, as I did then, after I had talked for nearly half an hour, going fully into the details of boating, the low, pathetic drawl: “Any saw mills on this stream that you know of?” Shortly after some gentDmen came along who seemed to be acquainted with my obtuse friend. Presently one called him Artemus, and then I commenced to reflect. I always reflect best when I’m hid away somewhere, so I went and hid myself.