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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

The filth and repulsiveness of the assembly were beyond
all description, and I shuddered to think what their life in the badger-holes
must be.
Even in these days, when local self government has destroyed the greater part
of a native's respect for a Sahib, I have been accustomed to a certain amount
of civility from my inferiors, and on approaching the crowd naturally expected
that there would be some recognition of my presence. As a matter of fact there
was; but it was by no means what I had looked for.
The ragged crew actually laughed at me--such laughter I hope I may never hear
again. They cackled, yelled, whistled, and howled as I walked into their
midst; some of them literally throwing themselves down on the ground in
convulsions of unholy mirth. In a moment I had let go Pornic's head, and.
irritated beyond expression at the morning's adventure, commenced cuffing
those nearest to me with all the force I could. The wretches dropped under my
blows like nine-pins, and the laughter gave place to wails for mercy; while
those yet untouched clasped me round the knees, imploring me in all sorts of
uncouth tongues to spare them.
In the tumult, and just when I was feeling very much ashamed of myself for
having thus easily given way to my temper, a thin, high voice murmured in
English from behind my shoulder: "--Sahib! Sahib! Do you not know me? Sahib,
it is Gunga Dass, the telegraph-master.


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