Local Colour

LARRY’S LETTER.

                                                                                HOGAN’S ALLEY, Nov. 22

DEER TIM. –

……

            Down town the other day, Tim, I seen a fight between a Chinaman an’ another chap.  All the boys put the chap up to have a go at John Chinaman, an’ in the middle ov the foight a poliseman ran down, an’ whin poor John seen him coming he scampered away as quick as he could.  The poliseman caught the other chap, but he couldn’t catch John.  Meself doesn’t love a Chinaman, but I don’t loike to see them attacked an’ lambasted for nothing at all at all [sic.] As long as the Chinese pay a poll tax there goes [sic.] ought to be safe.

            An’ talking ov taxes, Tim, they charge $2 for a dog here, and any won that won’t pay up has to drown his dog.  The other day a chap towld meself that there was a dead man in a sack floating about the lake, an’ axed me to go down wid him an’ pull it out.  Whin we got there he showed me the bag, an’ sure enuf there was a beautiful head ov black curly hair, peeping up thro’ a hole in it.  “Tis a femail woman,” says me frend, say he, “an’ what beautiful hair she has.”  “It’s an Italian,” says a man in the crowd that gathered, “an’ that’s his moustache.”  “It’s a coon,” says another chap, “can’t ye see be the color ov him.”  Well, Tim, whoile they were all disputing it, meself cut the sack an’ out rowled the carcase ov a dead dog, widout a tag round his neck.  The poor baste, Tim, was drowned bekase he hadn’t a $ license to live.  Here’s to ye till next week, Tim, from your old friend,

                                                                                                LARRY FINN.