' I wud feel repaid be a kick,' says Wow Chow. 'Twas: 'Maharajah
Sewar, swing th' fan swifter or I'll have to roll over f'r me dog whip.'
'Higgins Sahib,' says Maharajah Sewar, 'Higgins Sahib, beloved iv Gawd
an' Kipling, ye'er punishments ar-re th' nourishment iv th' faithful. My
blood hath served thine f'r manny ginerations. At laste two. 'Twas thine
old man that blacked my father's eye an' sint my uncle up f'r eighty
days. How will ye'er honor have th' accursed swine's flesh cooked f'r
breakfast in th' mornin' when I'm through fannin' ye?'
"But now, says Hogan, it's all changed. Iver since th' Rooshyans were
starved out at Port Arthur and Portsmouth, th' wurrad has passed around
an' ivry naygur fr'm lemon color to coal is bracin' up. He says they
have aven a system of tilly-graftin' that bates ours be miles. They have
no wires or poles or wathered stock but th' population is so thick that
whin they want to sind wurrud along th' line all they have to do is f'r
wan man to nudge another an' something happens in Northern Chiny is
known in Southern Indya befure sunset. And so it passed through th'
undherwurruld that th' color line was not to be dhrawn anny more, an'
Hogan says that almost anny time he ixpicts to see a black face peerin'
through a window an' in a few years I'll be takin' in laundhry in a
basement instead iv occypyin' me present impeeryal position, an' ye'll
be settin' in front iv ye'er cabin home playin' on a banjo an' watchin'
ye'er little pickahinnissies rollickin' on th' ground an' wondhrn' whin
th' lynchin' party'll arrive.
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