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"Do, ol' f'law, 'f you please." "It vas selfishness vot der vorld make pad. It was being ignorant und selfish vot crime und bofferty pring to der many und vealth und ease to der few. Der beoples tondt see dot. Tey tondt know vot Anarchy mean. It vas all rest, all peace, nopoddy pad, no var, no bestilence. Dot is Anarchy, hey? "I haf my life gif to der cause uf Anarchy.

O'Royster said she's 'fraid m' health washn't good 'nuff f' such hic heavy work." "You hear der vorts uf dot shbeaker und you see der faces uf der men. Vat you t'ink it mean? Hey? It mean var upon der reech. It mean Nye Yorick in ashes " "Wha's use? Don't seem t' me s' t' would pay. Of course, ol' f'law, whatever you says, goes. But 't seems t' me " "You can safe all dot var.

I'm ord'narily very fon' of art, but f'law needs good legs t' 'zamine picshur, an' I'm boun'ter confesh my legsh not just 'dapted t' " "Nein." "Eh?" "It vasn't noddings like dot." "'Taint china, is 't, Boffski? 'Taint Willow Pattern er Crown Derby er zat sorter zing? T' tell truth, Boffski, I aint mush on china. Some people go crashy at er shight er piece nicked china.

W'en a man feels himself slightly 'tossicated, 's nozzin' like bein' in comp'ny of f'law 'at knows where 's goin'. 'Parts a highly 'gree'ble feelin' 'f conf'dence. Don't wanter 'splay any 'pert'nent cur'osity, Boffski, but p'raps 's no harm in askin' where 'tis 'at you know you're goin'?" "Home." An expression of disgust crossed Mr. O'Royster's face. "Home?" he inquired.

Might have nightmare. Don't shink 's good f' me t' shee too much, ol' f'law." "Listen." The little round orator, refreshed and reinvigorated, began again. "You must arm yoursellef, my prudders. You must haf guns und powder und ball und " "Dynamite!" yelled several. "Yah. Dot vas der drue veapon uf der zoshul refolushun. Dynamite! You must plenty haf.