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'Th' 'ell with me job, says Donahue. 'I'm not th' man to take wurruk whin they'se industhrees women with nawthin' to do, he says. 'Show me th' pa-apers, he says. 'I want to see where I can get an eighty-cint bonnet f'r two and a half. He's that stubborn he'd've stayed in bed all day, but th' good woman weakened. 'Come, she says, 'don't be foolish, she says.
'Th' Dooleys, says Felix, 'stood beside Red Hugh O'Neill; an', whin he cut aff his hand, 'He didn't cut it off with anny wan else's saw, says me uncle Mike. 'They'se an old sayin', wint on Felix. 'An' ol' saw, says me uncle Mike. 'But 'twas new whin ye stole it. "'Now look here, says Aloysius, 'this thing has gone far enough.
"Las' summer there wasn't a warmer pathrite annywhere in our imperyal dominions thin this same Aggynaldoo. I was with him mesilf. Says I: 'They'se a good coon, I says.
All this talk about th' rapid fire gun an' modhren methods iv warfare makes me wondher. They'se not so much diff'rence between war now an' war whin I was a kid, as they let on. Th' gun that shoots ye best fr'm a distance don't shoot ye so well close to. A pile iv mud is a pile iv mud now just th' same as it was whin Gin'ral Grant was pokin' ar-round.
An' 'tis tin to wan they'se somethin' doin' at th' fun'ral that ye're sorry ye missed. That's life in America. Tis a gloryous big fight, a rough an' tumble fight, a Donnybrook fair three thousan' miles wide an' a ruction in ivry block. Head an' ban's an' feet an' th' pitchers on th' wall. No holds barred. Fight fair but don't f'rget th' other la-ad may not know where th' belt line is.
But suppose Thomas Jefferson was to come back here now an' say to himsilf: 'They'se a good dimmycrat up in Ar-rchy road an' I think I'll dhrop in on him an' talk over th' issues iv th' day. Well, maybe he cud r-ride his old gray mare up an' not be kilt be the throlley cars, an' maybe th' la-ads'd think he was crazy an' not murdher him f'r his clothes. An' maybe they wudden't.
He had fifteen childher; an', whin th' las' come, he says, 'Dooley, d'ye happen to know anny saints? 'None iv thim thrades here, says I. 'Why? says I. 'They'se a new kid at th' house, he says; 'an', be me troth, I've run out iv all th' saints I knew, an', if somewan don't come to me assistance, I'll have to turn th' child out on th' wurruld without th' rag iv a name to his back, he says.
They'se everywhere, all about us, if we only had strong eyes enough to see 'em. An' cremation aint Christin. I'll tell ye for why," here he bent forward and tapped his two middle fingers slowly on Helmsley's chest to give weight to his words "Look y'ere! Supposin' our Lord's body 'ad been cremated, where would us all a' bin? Where would a' bin our 'sure an' certain 'ope' o' the resurrection?"
She IS a Yankee!" "They'se done somethin' to my missy," decided Estralla. "They'se scairt her." She ran down the path toward the wall at the end of the garden, and stopped suddenly; for right in front of her, caught on the jessamine vine which grew over the wall, she saw a fluttering blue ribbon. "Dat's off'n Missy Sylvia's hair, dat ribbon is," she whispered, reaching up for it.
Thin they'se a play about an English gintleman iv th' old school who thries to make a girl write a letter f'r him an' if she don't he'll tell on her. He doesn't tell an' so he's rewarded with th' love iv th' heroine, an honest English girl out f'r th' money." "Nobody's marrid in th' modhern play, Hinnissy, an' that's a good thing, too, f'r annywan that got marrid wud have th' worst iv it.
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