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'He was a gr-reat rassler an' whin he had a full Nelson on th' foolish man that wint again him, he used to say, 'Dear me, am I breakin' ye'er neck, I hope so." "But th' Matsachoosetts man didn't see it that way. An' some time, I tell ye, Hinnissy, an' Englishman'll put th' shot wan fut further than wan iv our men th' Lord save us fr'm th' disgrace! an' th' next day we'll invade Canada."
'Twas gran'. Th' editor, it seems, Hinnissy, wint into th' editoryal rooms iv th' pa-aper an' he gathered th' force around him fr'm their reg'lar jobs in th' dhrug stores, an' says he, 'Gintlemen, he says, 'tell me ye'er plans f'r to enoble this here Christyan publication f'r to-day! he says.
'As f'r us, he says, 'we decided afther th' victhry to light out f'r Ladysmith. he says, 'Th' inimy had similar intintions, he says, 'but their skill has been vastly overrated, he says. 'We bate thim, he says 'we bate thim be thirty miles, he says. That's where we're sthrong, Hinnissy.
Whin he opens th' windy, a pome be Paul Deroulede 'll be read to him. This is again th' articles iv war, but th' case is desp'rate. "But I was thinkin', Hinnissy, as I walked down th' Roo Chabrool, how I'd like to see a Chicago polisman come sthrollin' along with his hat on th' back iv his head. I don't love Chicago polismen. They seem to think ivry man's head's as hard as their own.
'Take, he says, 'this little silver-mounted bottle iv broomo-caffeen, he says, 'an' think iv me, he says. 'I will, says Mack. 'Ar-ren't ye tired iv ye'er long journey? he says. 'Wudden't ye like to take a bath in th' shark pond before ye go? he says. An' so they backed away fr'm each other, th' tears rollin' down their cheeks. Frindship, Hinnissy, is a sacred thing." "It is," said Mr.
Whin th' tars go ashore they hurry at wanst to th' home iv th' Christyan Indeavor Society or throng th' free libries readin' relligous pothry. Me frind Bob Evans is goin' to conthribute a series iv articles to th' Ladies' Home Journal on croshaying. F'r th' Hague Peace Conference has abolished war, Hinnissy. Ye've seen th' last war ye'll iver see, me boy.
'Fetch in a plumber, he says, 'whilst I goes down to Doherty, an' make him think his lease on th' hereafther is defective, he says." "Ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy, who had followed the argument dimly. "Iv coorse I'm right," said Mr. Dooley. "What they need over there in furrin' counthries is not a priest, but a plumber. 'Tis no good prayin' again arnychists, Hinnissy.
They was no rale harm in th' poor la-ad, on'y he was lazy an' foolish an' sort iv tired like. To make a long story short, Hinnissy, his father thried ivrything f'r him, an' got nawthin. He didn't dhrink much, he cared little f'r women, he liked to play ca-ards, but not f'r money.
If th' British can get over th' mud pile they win th' fight. If they can't they're done. That's all they'se to it. Mos' men, sthrongest backs, best eyes an' th' ownership iv th' mud piles. That's war, Hinnissy. Th' British have th' men.
An' I'll tell ye, Hinnissy, that no such orathry has been heerd in Congress since Dan'l Webster's day, if thin. Th' walls iv Congress hall has resounded with th' loftiest sintimints. Hinnery Cabin Lodge in accents that wud melt th' heart iv th' coldest mannyfacthrer iv button shoes has pleaded f'r freedom f'r th' skins iv cows.
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