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going to Europe。 Turning to Mr。 Hingston one day he asked：
〃What sort of a man is Albert Smith？ Do you think the Mormons
would be as good a subject to the Londoners as Mont Blanc was？〃
Then he said： 〃I should like to go to London and give my lecture
in the same place。 Can't it be done？〃
Mr。 Browne sailed for England soon after； taking with him his
Panorama。 The success that awaited him could scarcely have been
anticipated by his most intimate friends。 Scholars； wits； poets；
and novelists came to him with extended hands； and his stay in
London was one ovation to the genius of American wit。 Charles
Reade； the novelist； was his warm friend and enthusiastic
admirer； and Mr。 Andrew Haliday introduced him to the 〃Literary
Club；〃 where he became a great favorite。 Mark Lemon came to him
and asked him to become a contributor to 〃Punch；〃 which he did。
His 〃Punch〃 letters were more remarked in literary circles than
any other current matter。 There was hardly a club…meeting or a
dinner at which they were not discussed。 〃There was something so
grotesque in the idea；〃 said a correspondent； 〃of this ruthless
Yankee poking among the revered antiquities of Britain； that the
beef…eating British themselves could not restrain their laughter。〃
The story of his Uncle William who 〃followed commercial pursuits；
glorious commerceand sold soap；〃 and his letters on the Tower
and 〃Chowser；〃 were palpable hits； and it was admitted that
〃Punch〃 had contained nothing better since the days of
〃Yellowplush。〃 This opinion was shared by the 〃Times；〃 the
literary reviews； and the gayest leaders of society。 The
publishers of 〃Punch〃 posted up his name in large letters over
their shop in Fleet Street； and Artemus delighted to point it out
to his friends。 About this time Mr。 Browne wrote to his friend
Jack Rider； of Cleveland：
〃This is the proudest moment of my life。 To have been as well
appreciated here as at home； to have written for the oldest comic
Journal in the English language； received mention with Hood； with
Jerrold and Hook； and to have my picture and my pseudonym as
common in London as in New York； is enough for
〃Yours truly；
〃A。 Ward。〃
England was thoroughly aroused to the merits of Artemus Ward；
before he commenced his lectures at Egyptian Hall； and when； in
November； he finally appeared； immense crowds were compelled to
turn away。 At every lecture his fame increased； and when
sickness brought his brilliant success to an end； a nation
mourned his retirement。
On the evening of Friday； the seventh week of his engagement at
Egyptian Hall； Artemus became seriously ill； an apology was made
to a disappointed audience； and from that time the light of one
of the greatest wits of the centuries commenced fading into
darkness。 The Press mourned his retirement； and a funeral pall
fell over London。 The laughing； applauding crowds were soon to
see his consumptive form moving towards its narrow resting…place
in the cemetery at Kensal Green。
By medical advice Charles Browne went for a short time to the
Island of Jerseybut the breezes of Jersey were powerless。 He
wrote to London to his nearest and dearest friendsthe members
of a literary club of which he was a memberto complain that his
〃loneliness weighed on him。〃 He was brought back； but could not
sustain the journey farther than Southampton。 There the members
of the club traveled from London to see himtwo at a timethat
he might be less lonely。
His remains were followed to the grave from the rooms of his
friend Arthur Sketchley； by a large number of friends and
admirers； the literati and press of London paying the last
tribute of respect to their dead brother。 The funeral services
were conducted by the Rev。 M。D。 Conway； formerly of Cincinnati；
and the coffin was temporarily placed in a vault； from which it
was removed by his American friends； and his body now sleeps by
the side of his father； Levi Browne； in the quiet cemetery at
Waterford； Maine。 Upon the coffin is the simple inscription：
〃CHARLES F。 BROWNE；
AGED 32 YEARS；
Better Known to the World as 'Artemus Ward。'〃
His English executors were T。W。 Robertson； the playwright； and
his friend and companion； E。P。 Hingston。 His literary executors
were Horace Greeley and Richard H。 Stoddard。 In his will； he
bequeathed among other things a large sum of money to his little
valet； a bright little fellow； though subsequent denouments
revealed the fact that he left only a six…thousand…dollar house
in Yonkers。 There is still some mystery about his finances；
which may one day be revealed。 It is known that he withdrew
10；000 dollars from the Pacific Bank to deposit it with a friend
before going to England； besides this； his London 〃Punch〃 letters
paid a handsome profit。 Among his personal friends were George
Hoyt； the late Daniel Setchell； Charles W。 Coe； and Mr。 Mullen；
the artist； all of whom he used to style 〃my friends all the year
round。〃
Personally Charles Farrar Browne was one of the kindest and most
affectionate of men； and history does not name a man who was so
universally beloved by all who knew him。 It was remarked； and
truly； that the death of no literary character since Washington
Irving caused such general and widespread regret。
In stature he was tall and slender。 His nose was prominent；
outlined like that of Sir Charles Napier； or Mr。 Seward； his eyes
brilliant； small； and close together； his mouth large； teeth
white and pearly； fingers long and slender； hair soft； straight；
and blonde； complexion florid； mustache large； and his voice soft
and clear。 In bearing； he moved like a natural…born gentleman。
In his lectures he never smilednot even while he was giving
utterance to the most delicious absurdities； but all the while
the jokes fell from his lips as if he was unconscious of their
meaning。 While writing his lectures； he would laugh and chuckle
to himself continually。
There was one peculiarity about Charles BrowneHE NEVER MADE AN
ENEMY。 Other wits in other times have been famous； but a
satirical thrust now and then has killed a friend。 Diogenes was
the wit of Greece； but when； after holding up an old dried fish
to draw away the eyes of Anaximenes' audience； he exclaimed 〃See
how an old fish is more interesting than Anaximenes；〃 he said a
funny thing； but he stabbed a friend。 When Charles Lamb； in
answer to the doting mother's question as to how he liked babies；
replied； 〃b…b…boiled； madam； BOILED！〃 that mother loved him no
more： and when John Randolph said 〃THANK YOU！〃 to his
constituent who kindly remarked that he had the pleasure of
PASSING his house； it was wit at the expense of friendship。 The
whole English school of witswith Douglas Jerrold； Hood；
Sheridan； and Sidney Smith； indulged in repartee。 They were
PARASITIC wits。 And so with the Irish； except that an Irishman
is generally so ridiculously absurd in his replies as to only
excite ridicule。 〃Artemus Ward〃 made you laugh and love him too。
The wit of 〃Artemus Ward〃 and 〃Josh Billings〃 is dist