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INTERIOR OF A TEA-GARDEN. INTERIOR OF A TEA-GARDEN. A VILLAGE IN THE TEA DISTRICT. A VILLAGE IN THE TEA DISTRICT. "Sa-ay! I'll wrastle you fo' them-ah clo'es." "Wait," said the Clockwork man, without altering his position, "moment of lucidity¡ªsee things as they are¡ªbegin to understand¡ª[Pg 89]finite world¡ªonly one thing at a time. Now we've got it¡ªa place for everything and everything in its place." Under the blinding sunshine reflected from the whitewashed houses, an incredibly mixed crowd, squeezed against the railings of the custom-house wharf, stands staring at the new arrivals. Natives, naked but for a narrow loin-cloth rolled about their hips; Parsees in long white tunics, tight white trousers, and on their heads hideous low square caps of dark wax-cloth, pursuing the stranger with offers of money-changing; Hindoos, clad in thin bright silk, and rolls of light-hued muslin on their head; English soldiers, in white helmets, two of whom stare at me fixedly, and exclaim that, "By Jo', Eddy has missed this steamer!" 260 275 "Well, stay here and handle 'em. I'll handle the men that I take, all right. You kin gamble on that. And what I say to them has to go. Won't have nobody along that outranks me." "There's another hundred thousand in Illinois and like numbers in other States. And they'll fight, too. They'll fight to the death, and every one of them is good for' at least three of the usurper Lincoln's minions. I'd like nothing better than to get a good opportunity at three or four o' 'em, armed with nothin' more'n this knife. I'd like nothin' better than the chance to sock it into their black hearts. 'Twouldn't be the first time, nuther. The catfish around Jeffersonville could tell some stories if they could talk, about the Lincoln hounds I've fed to 'em. I only want a good chance at 'em agin. I may go, but I'll take several of 'em with me. I'll die in my tracks afore I'll stand this any longer. I hate everything that wears blue worse'n I do a mad-dog." The morning brought no relief. Si and Shorty talked together, standing apart from the squad, and casting anxious glances over the swirling mass of army activity, which the boys did not fail to note and read with dismal forebodings. "My child's dying. Get up, you brute. Fetch the doctor. My child's dying!" On reaching Odiam, Reuben did not go into the kitchen where his children were gathered, expectant and curious. He went straight upstairs. Caro, who caught a glimpse of him in the passage, ran away in terror¡ªhe looked so dreadful, his face all dabbled with blood and yolk of egg. "I want no drink," said the galleyman, impatiently, pushing away the vessel¡ª"but stay, 't will do me no harm."lacoste.net.cn