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'Misther Dugan, how old a-are ye? 'Sivinty-five, thanks be, says Dugan. 'Thin, says Gavin, 'take wan iv me cards, he says. 'I hope ye'll not forget me, he says. "'Twas there I got th' lah grip. Lastewise, it is me opinion iv it, though th' docthor said I swallowed a bug. It don't seem right, Jawn, f'r th' McGuires is a clane fam'ly; but th' docthor said a bug got into me system.
"A-are are you the skipper o' this here wessel!" he stammered. "Ay, through God's goodness I am." "A mission wessel!" said Fox, his amazement not a whit abated as he looked round. "Just so, a Gospel ship," answered Fred, giving the skipper another shake of the hand. "You didn't mistake it for a coper, did 'ee?" asked David Duffy, who was one of the visitors.
Did ye iver see an American or an Irishman an arnychist? No, an' ye niver will. Whin an Irishman thinks th' way iv thim la-ads, he goes on th' polis force an' dhraws his eighty-three-thirty-three f'r throwin' lodgin'-house bums into th' pathrol wagon. An' there ye a-are. "I niver knowed but th' wan arnychist, an' he was th' divvle an' all f'r slaughtherin' th' rich.
Manny's th' time I've heerd him lecture to little Matt Doolan asleep like a log behind th' stove. What a-are we comin' to? he'd say. 'What a-are we comin' to? D'ye mind, Jawn, that's th' way he always began. 'Th' poor do be gettin' richer, says he, 'an' th' rich poorer, says he.
"Is Hot Rod pushing or in any other way giving motion to Space Lab One?" he asked. "No-o-oo," came the answer. Now Mike was stumped. "Is Space Lab One under acceleration?" he asked. "Ye-es," said the Cow. "Then where in hell is that acceleration coming from?" Mike was exasperated. "We a-are uunder no-o-o acceleration fro-om he-ell," the literal mind told him. Mike laughed ruefully.
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