"I, or they,
as you see, are not very responsible on that score. By the God of
Moses, this licensed gambling was a sin and a curse, if it did support
seven or eight thousand people in the Charity Hospital every year: that
was the reason so many died there, the curse of God was on the place;
for the Scripture says, the 'wages of sin is death,' and I see this
Scripture fulfilled right here in that hospital, and the moral and
religious portion of my constituents so feel it, and I am bound to
represent them. And the d----d gamblers were no friends of mine or of
the Church."
There was one, a little dark-moustached Spaniard, who was listening and
peering at him, with eyes black and pointed as a chincapin, and,
murmuring softly in Spanish, turned and went away. "What did that
d----d black-muzzled whelp say?" Larry asked. "I don't understand their
d----d lingo." An unobtrusive individual in the background translated
it for him. He said: "He who strikes with the tongue, should always be
ready to guard with the hands!" "What in the h--- does he mean by
that?" asked Larry. "_Je ne sais pas!_" said one whom Larry remembered
to have seen in the tiger's den, and apparently familiar there, for he
had been on the wrong side of the table.
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