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'I'm anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war, he says, 'which has cost me manny a sleepy night, he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer onprepared to battle, he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas, he says. 'Thin on to war, he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er manners," he says. "'They'se a man out here, says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see ye, he says.
They'se no wan depindant on me f'r support, an' he surrinders. But a marrid man says: 'What'll happen to me wife an' twelve small childher if I don't win out here today? an' he bites his way to th' top iv th' pile an' breaks open th' ballot box f'r home and fireside. That's th' thruth iv it, Hinnissy. Ye'll find all th' big jobs held be marrid men an' all th' timpry clerkships be bachelors."
At that moment, Prue entered with a brightly shining old brown "lustre" teapot, and a couple of boiled eggs. "Mis' Tranter sez you're to eat the eggs cos' they'se new-laid an' incloodid in the bill," she announced glibly "An' 'opes you've got all ye want." Helmsley looked at her kindly. "You're a smart little girl!" he said. "Beginning to earn your own living already, eh?"
But they'se only bits o' meat an' fowl, done up in different ways with sauces an' vegetables, an' the quality eats 'em up as though they was two bites of an apple.
I was runnin' over in me mind about th' poor lads they have sloughed up beyant f'r attimptin' to blow up Queen Victorya an' th cza-ar iv Rooshia. Glory be, but they'se nawthin' in the wide wurruld as aisy to undherstand as a rivoluchonary plot be our own people.
"They'se a team up in Wisconsin with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named Patsy O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm th' Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway." "Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they cud bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank." "I wondher," said Mr.
There must be as manny as two in Boston: they'se wan up in Maine, an' another lives at Bogg's Ferry in New York State, an' dhrives a milk wagon. Mack is an Anglo-Saxon. His folks come fr'm th' County Armagh, an' their naytional Anglo-Saxon hymn is 'O'Donnell Aboo. Teddy Rosenfelt is another Anglo-Saxon. An' I'm an Anglo-Saxon.
Dooley. "Since th' Czar iv Rooshia inthrajooced his no-fight risolution, they'se been no chanst that they wudden't be ructious." "An' what's it all about?" demanded Mr. Hennessy. "I can't make head nor tail iv it at all, at all." "Well ye see 'tis this way," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye see th' Boers is a simple, pasthral people that goes about their business in their own way, raisin' hell with ivrybody.
They'se Mike O'Toole, th' hero iv Sandago, that near lost his life be dhrink on his way to th' arm'ry, an' had to be sint home without lavin' th' city. There's Turror Teddy Mangan, th' night man at Flaher-ty's, that loaded th' men that loaded th' guns that kilt th' mules at Matoonzas.
"Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th' English language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no more thin las' night." "There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think this here game iv goluf is a spellin' match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to be refereein' a twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three.
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