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They does things often for which some o' the poor 'ud be put in quod, an' no mercy showed 'em, an' yet 'cos they're kings they gits off. An' I aint great on millionaires neither. They'se mis'able ricketty coves, all gone to pot in their in'ards through grubbin' money an' eatin' of it like, till ivery other kind o' food chokes 'em.
If ye knew annything, ye'd not have an opinyon wan way or th' other. They'se niver been a matther come up in my time that th' American people was so sure about as they ar-re about th' Dhryfliss case. Th' Frinch ar-re not so sure, but they'se not a polisman in this counthry that can't tell ye jus' where Dhry-russ was whin th' remains iv th' poor girl was found. That's because th' thrile was secret.
I mane Pat Dooley's Mike's Pat. F'r 'tis with us as with th' rest iv our people. Ye take th' Dutchman: he has as manny names to give to his childher as they'se nails in his boots, but an Irishman has th' pick iv on'y a few. I knowed a man be th' name iv Clancy, a man fr'm Kildare.
There he sat for several tedious hours, but had secured only two nibbles at his line, neither of which proved to be anything more. "Begorrah, but it must be they'se frightened by meself, when that ould scalliwag give me a fling into the stream. Jabers! wasn't it done nately. Hallo! there's a bite, not bigger, to be sure, than a lady's fut, but a bull-pout it is I know."
"They'se goin' to be a debate on th' 'lieance at th' ninety-eight picnic at Ogden's gr-rove," said Mr. Hennessy. "P'r'aps," said Mr. Dooley, sweetly, "ye might like to borry th' loan iv an ice-pick." Mr. Dooley looked important, but affected indifference, as he mopped the bar. Mr.
An' they bribes their poor silly voters wi' their drink till they'se like a flock o' sheep runnin' into wotever field o' politics their shepherds drives 'em. The best way to make the temp'rance cause pop'lar is to stop big brewin'. Let every ale'ouse 'ave its own pertikler brew, an' m'appen we'll git some o' the old-fashioned malt an' 'ops agin.
Poor sowl, she's dead now. May she rest in peace! "He didn't git th' shtreak fr'm his father or fr'm his mother. His brothers an' sisters was as fine a lot as iver lived. But this la-ad Petey Scanlan growed up fr'm bein' a curly-haired angel f'r to be th' toughest villyun in th' r-road. What was it at all, at all? Sometimes I think they'se poison in th' life iv a big city.
Our Atlantic fleet is now sarchin' f'r th' inimy, an' the bishop iv New York is blockadin' th' bishop iv Sandago de Cuba; an' they'se been an exchange iv prayers between th' bishop iv Baltimore an' th' bishop iv Havana without much damage. "Th' Lord knows how it'll come out.
'Yes, said I. 'Well, he says, 'I'm not authorized to say this be th' propaganda, he says, 'an' 'tis no part iv th' directions f'r Lent, he says; 'but, he says, 'I'll tell ye this, Martin, he says, 'that they'se more ways than wan iv keepin' th' season, he says. 'I've knowed thim that starved th' stomach to feast th' evil temper, he says.
'He'll go, she says. 'Thanks be, though he's wild, they'se no crime on his head. Is there, dear? 'No, says he, like th' game kid he is. Wan iv th' polismin stharted to take hold iv him, but th' la-ad pushed him back; an' he wint to th' wagon on his mother's ar-rm." "And was he really innocent?" Mr. McKenna asked. "No," said Mr. Dooley. "But she niver knowed it.
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