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"Soono, you sooa, loom kis-wasti omara bukri not bring?" says Hastings Clive, whose English is apt to figure among his Hindostanee like Brahmins in a regiment of Sepoys, that is, one Brahmin to every twenty low-caste fellows. The Hon. Mrs. Wellesley Gough. Wellesley dear, do listen to that darling Hastings Clive, how sweetly he prattles! What did he say then?
"Hi! Cliattak-wallah! Bheestee! Hi! hi! You chap with the umbrella, you fellow with the water, clear the way! This Baboo comes, this Baboo rides, he stops not, he stays not, he is rich, he is honored. Shall a pig impede him? Shall a pig delay him? Jump, sooa. Jump!"
Then they began to talk of people who grew tall in their coffins, of others who had been buried alive, and of others who walked after death. Stories as true as holy writ. "Were you ever down by Hawarth, Mrs. Bligh hard by Dalworth Moss?" asked crook-backed Mrs. Wale, holding her spoon suspended over her cup. "Neea whaar sooa far south, Mrs.
"Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev summat to luk at when it hed done wark for th' day. "Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin', an' aw've never invented owt sen." One learns to be modest by living on a poultry farm, for there are constant expositions of the most deplorable vanity among the cocks.
Bestow upon thy abject and self-despising slave wherewithal to commemorate the golden hour when, by a blessed dispensation, he was permitted to lay his trembling forehead against thy victorious feet!" "Jou-jehennum, toom sooa! Go to Gehenna, you pig! What are you bothering about, with your 'boxes, 'boxes, nothing but 'boxes'? Insatiable brutes! Jou!
'Aw were once towd as, if yo' could only get th' hen's egg away afooar she hed sin it, th' hen 'ud think it hed med a mistek an' sit deawn ageean an' lay another. "An' it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o' lukkin' at it. Sooa aw set to wark to mek a nest as 'ud tek a rise eawt o' th' hens. An' aw dud it too.
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