" Fine chance. Any place where there's a large and
fluctuating Pop-ulation (with emphasis on the "Pop"), the Uncle
Mine is a certainty." But Oh, for the "pop,"--I mean the dear old
fizz,--and the older it is, the dearer it is,--at the Amphitryon.
"IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?"
The Transvaal's the place for living in. Here life is life, be it
never so lively. The only nuisance is the Boer; and the Boer's a
hass, or rather a mule. That's my opinion of Boers individually and
collectively; I make no concessions to them; hang 'em, they've already
got enough. If this country had been in the hands of Englishmen, or
Americans, or both jointly (talking of jointly, we'd have had better
dinners than we get now but of this anon--) with a certain person whom
I can mention, and who is not a hundred miles distant from the present
writer at this moment, as Head of affairs, an Imperial ruler, with
power to add to his number (which number would be One, and would
remain so), then this country, in a very short time, would have ruled
the world. What ports, what champagnes, what railroads, what shipping,
what commerce, what an Imperial Parliament, with the Despot in the
Chair in both Houses, all speeches, except the Despot's, limited
to five minutes apiece, and no reduction on talking a quantity.
Oh, for one hour of this power, and the Amphitryon be blowed! Aha!
_Grandolphus Africanus Protector_ to begin with; _Grandolphus
Africanus Rex_ to go on with; and _Grandolphus Africanissimmus
Imperator_ to finish with!
REMORSE AND REGRET.
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