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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"


Sometimes when I first came to the Gate, I used to feel sorry for it; but
that's all over and done with long ago, and I draw my sixty rupees fresh and
fresh every month, and am quite happy. Not DRUNK happy, you know, but always
quiet and soothed and contented.
How did I take to it? It began at Calcutta. I used to try it in my own house,
just to see what it was like. I never went very far, but I think my wife must
have died then. Anyhow, I found myself here, and got to know Fung-Tching. I
don't remember rightly how that came about; but he told me of the Gate and I
used to go there, and, somehow, I have never got away from it since. Mind you,
though, the Gate was a respectable place in Fung-Tching's time where you could
be comfortable, and not at all like the chandoo-khanas where the niggers go.
No; it was clean and quiet, and not crowded. Of course, there were others
beside us ten and the man; but we always had a mat apiece with a wadded woollen
head-piece, all covered with black and red dragons and things; just like a
coffin in the corner.
At the end of one's third pipe the dragons used to move about and fight. I've
watched 'em, many and many a night through. I used to regulate my Smoke that
way, and now it takes a dozen pipes to make 'em stir.


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