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All ye've got to do is to believe what ye hear, an' if ye do that enough, afther a while ye'll hear what ye believe. Ye've got to start in believin' befure ye can find a reason f'r ye'er belief. Our old frind Christopher Columbus hadn't anny good reason f'r believin' that there was anny such a place as America. But he believed it without a reason an' thin wint out an' found it.
"'I did, says th' Cap. "'Throw it out thin, says th' prisident. 'We must be guided be th' laws iv ividence. Th' witness will confine himself to forgeries. Have ye e'er a forgery about ye'er clothes, mon gin'ral? "'I wish to confront th' witness, says Matther Blamange. "'Sit down," says th' prisident. "'D'ye raymimber meetin' me at dinner at Moosoo de Bozoo's.
Who was it carrid th' pall? Flannigan. Who was it sthud up at th' christening? Flannigan. Whose ca-ards did th' grievin' widow, th' blushin' bridegroom, or th' happy father find in th' hack? Flannigan's. Ye bet ye'er life. Ye see Flannigan wasn't out f'r th' good iv th' community. Flannigan was out f'r Flannigan an' th' stuff.
'Th' Conyard line's gr-reat ocean greyhound or levithin iv th' seas has broken all records iv transatlantic passages except thim made be th' Germans. Brittanya again rules th' waves. So if ye've anny frinds inclined to boast about makin' a record ask thim did they swim aboord at Daunt's Rock an' swim off at th' lightship. If they didn't, refuse to take off ye'er hat to thim.
"Whin he wants a good Postmaster-gin-'ral, take ye'er ol' law partner f'r awhile, an', be th' time he's larned to stick stamps, hist him out, an' put in a school-teacher fr'm a part iv th' counthry where people communicate with each other through a conch. Th' Sicrety iv th' Interior is an important man. If possible, he ought to come fr'm Maine or Florida.
I'm no hero-worshiper. I'm too old. But I know a man whin I see wan, an' though we cudden't come out an' help ye whin th' subscription list wint wild, be sure we think as much iv ye as we did whin ye'er name was first mintioned be th' stanch an' faithful press. Set here, ol' la-ad, an' warrum ye'er toes by th' fire.
But do ye think, man alive, that ye're goin' to do this be pourin' lard ile frim ye'er torch down ye'er spine or thrippin' over sthreet-car tracks like a dhray-horse thryin' to play circus? Is th' Constitution anny safer to-night because ye have to have ye'er leg amputated to get ye'er boot off, or because Joyce has made ye'er face look like th' back dure-step iv a German resthrant?
Ye ought to go to a doctor an' have ye'er eyes re-set, but ye're a good fellow. Go downstairs, I'd say, 'into th' basemint iv the ship, I'd say, 'an' open th' cupboard jus' nex' to th' head iv th' bed, an' find th' bottle marked "Floridy Wather," an' threat ye'ersilf kindly. That's what I'd say to Cervera. He's all right.
"Not yet," James replied, dwelling upon his words in such a way as to convince his hearer that the delay was wholly a matter of his own convenience. "Politics is movin' some, father, but 'tis in my private capacity that I'm makin' my present strides." "So," murmured Riley; "an' phwat may ye'er private capacity be, Jimmie?" "'Tis of a confidential nature," he replied, loftily.
Wear thim, lad. They'll be good f'r ye'er poor, dear feet. An' off they wint. "Well, some come back, an' some did not come back. An' some come back with no rale feet f'r to put yarn socks on thim.
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