stopped in Virginia City, and naturally found congenial society on the Enterprise staff.  He had intended remaining but a few days, but lingered three weeks, a period of continuous celebration, closing only with the holiday season.  During one night of final festivities, Ward slipped away and gave a performance on his own account.  His letter to Mark Twain, from Austin, Nevada, written a day or two later, is most characteristic.

Artemus Ward’s letter to Mark Twain: 

Austin, Jan. 1, ’64.  My dearest love,—­I arrived here yesterday a.m. at 2 o’clock.  It is a wild, untamable place, full of lionhearted boys.  I speak tonight.  See small bills.

Why did you not go with me and save me that night?—­I mean the night I left you after that dinner party.  I went and got drunker, beating, I may say, Alexander the Great, in his most drinkinist days, and I blackened my face at the Melodeon, and made a gibbering, idiotic speech.  God-dam it!  I suppose the Union will have it.  But let it go.  I shall always remember Virginia as a bright spot in my existence, as all others must or rather cannot be, as it were.

Love to Jo.  Goodman and Dan.  I shall write soon, a powerfully convincing note to my friends of “The Mercury.”  Your notice, by the way, did much good here, as it doubtlessly will elsewhere.  The miscreants of the Union will be batted in the snout if they ever dare pollute this rapidly rising city with their loathsome presence.

Some of the finest intellects in the world have been blunted by liquor.

Do not, sir—­do not flatter yourself that you are the only chastely-humorous writer onto the Pacific slopes.

Good-bye, old boy—­and God bless you!  The matter of which I spoke to you so earnestly shall be just as earnestly attended to—­and again with very many warm regards for Jo. and Dan., and regards to many of the good friends we met. 
                         I am Faithfully, gratefully yours,
          
                                        Artemus Ward.

The Union which Ward mentions was the rival Virginia.  City paper; the Mercury was the New York Sunday Mercury, to which he had urged Mark Twain to contribute.  Ward wrote a second letter, after a siege of illness at Salt Lake City.  He was a frail creature, and three years later, in London, died of consumption.  His genius and encouragement undoubtedly exerted an influence upon Mark Twain.  Ward’s second letter here follows.

Artemus Ward to S. L. Clemens: 

Saltlake city, Jan. 21, ’64.  My Dear mark,—­I have been dangerously ill for the past two weeks here, of congestive fever.  Very grave fears were for a time entertained of my recovery, but happily the malady is gone, though leaving me very, very weak.  I hope to be able to resume my journey in a week or so.  I think I shall speak in the Theater here, which is one of the finest establishments of the kind in America.