United States or Yemen ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
To see th' wurruld as it r-runs along in its ordinrey coorse, with ivry man seemin' to be lookin' f'r th' best iv it an' carryin' a little hammer f'r his fellow-suff'rers, ye'd think what Hinnissy calls th' springs iv human sympathy was as dhry in th' breast as a bricklayer's boot in a box iv mortar.
I used to be all broke up about Uncle Tom, but cud I give him a job tindin' bar in this here liquor store? I freed th' slave, Hinnissy, but, faith, I think' twas like tur-rnin' him out iv a panthry into a cellar." "Well, they got to take their chances," said Mr. Hennessy. "Ye can't do annything more f'r thim than make thim free." "Ye can't," said Mr.
Some day, Hinnissy, justice'll be done me, an' th' likes iv me; an', whin th' story iv a gr-reat battle is written, they'll print th' kilt, th' wounded, th' missin', an' th' seryously disturbed. An' thim that have bore thimsilves well an' bravely an' paid th' taxes an' faced th' deadly newspa-apers without flinchin' 'll be advanced six pints an' given a chanst to tur-rn jack f'r th' game.
Most iv th' people I know 'd be happiest layin' on a lounge with a can near by, or stretchin' thimsilves f'r another nap at eight in th' mornin'. But th' papers make it out that there 'd be no sunshine in th' land without you an' me, Hinnissy, was up before daybreak pullin' a sthreet-car or poundin' sand with a shovel.
'Arouse, he says, 'slaves an' despots! he says. 'Clear th' way! he says. 'Cowards an' thraitors! he says. 'Faugh-a-ballagh! he says. He had th' beer privilege at th' picnic, Jawn. "Hinnissy, th' plumber, who blew wan iv his fingers off with a bumb intinded f'r some iv th' archytecture iv Liverpool, had th' conthract f'r runnin' th' knock-th'-babby-down-an'-get-a-nice-seegar jint.
But I'd give forty-three francs, or eight dollars an' sixty cints iv our money, if th' Fr-rinch governmint 'd sind f'r Jawnny Shea, an' ask him to put down this here rivolution. Th' nex' day they'd move th' office iv th' Anti-Seemite Society to th' morgue." "Well, Hinnissy, to get back to Rennes. Whin I left off, th' air was full iv rumors iv an approachin' massacree.
'Is ye'er name Hill? says th' la-ad. 'It is not, says Hinnissy. 'I tol' ye I'm a Dimmycrat; an', he says, 'I'll have no man call me out iv me name. Hinnissy was f'r rollin' him on th' flure there an' thin f'r an insult, but I flagged a polisman. 'Is ye'er name Sullivan? says I. 'It is, says he. 'Roscommon? says I, fr'm th' way he spoke. 'Sure ye're right, he says.
He's wan iv th' gr-reatest prophets I know. A prophet, Hinnissy, is a man that foresees throuble. No wan wud listen a minyit to anny prophet that prophesized pleasant days.
Manny's th' time I done th' thrick, Jawn, me an' th' others; but now I break me back broachin' a kag iv beer, an' th' height iv me daily exercise is to wind th' clock befure turnin' in, an' count up th' cash." "You haven't been trying to skate?" Mr. McKenna asked in tones of alarm. "Not me," said Mr. Dooley. "Not me, but Hinnissy have.
I'll say this much f'r him, he's a brave man, a dam brave man. I don't like a Spanyard no more than ye do, Hinnissy. I niver see wan. But, if this here man was a was a Zulu, I'd say he was a brave man. If I was aboord wan iv thim yachts that was convarted, I'd go to this here Cervera, an' I'd say: 'Manuel, I'd say, 'ye're all right, me boy.
Word Of The Day