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Updated: June 1, 2025
'It was an expedition, says th' dillygate fr'm England, 'to serve th' high moral jooties iv Christyan civvylization. 'Thin, says th' dillygate fr'm Chiny, puttin' on his hat, 'I'm f'r war, he says. 'It ain't so rough, he says. An' he wint home." "Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "onaisy lies th' crown on anny king's head these days.
'Twas gran'. Th' editor, it seems, Hinnissy, wint into th' editoryal rooms iv th' pa-aper an' he gathered th' force around him fr'm their reg'lar jobs in th' dhrug stores, an' says he, 'Gintlemen, he says, 'tell me ye'er plans f'r to enoble this here Christyan publication f'r to-day! he says.
All iv a suddent he give a cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile. 'Down! says th' impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that, says I, 'Will iver they get up? 'They will, says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim, says he. "It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint Aloysiuses was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers.
They go in under th' turnstile, he says, laughin'. 'Have ye th' Lives iv th' Saints, or the Christyan Dooty, or th' Story iv Saint Rose iv Lima? I says. 'I have not, says he. 'I have some good story books. I'd rather th' kids'd r-read Char-les Dickens than anny iv th' tales iv thim holy men that was burned in ile or et up be lines, he says.
"They hanged a man to-day," said Mr. Dooley. "They did so," said Mr. McKenna. "Did he die game?" "They say he did." "Well, he did," said Mr. Dooley. "I read it all in th' pa-apers. He died as game as if he was wan iv th' Christyan martyrs instead iv a thief that 'd hit his man wan crack too much. Saint or murdherer, 'tis little difference whin death comes up face front.
If they didn't, th' best they cud do was to say nawthin' about it. 'Twas th' back iv th' hand an' th' sowl iv th' fut to th' la-ad that put his spoon first into th' stirabout. Between th' whalin's we got at school h'isted on th' back iv th' big boy that was bein' thrainned to be a Christyan brother an' th' thumpin's we got at home, we was kept sore an' sthraight fr'm wan year's end to another.
Th' editor left thim sacrilegious advertisements f'r his venal contimp'raries. His was pious an' nice: 'Do ye'er smokin' in this wurruld. Th' Christyan Unity Five-Cint See-gar is made out iv th' finest grades iv excelsior iver projooced in Kansas! 'Nebuchednezzar grass seed, f'r man an' beast. 'A handful iv meal in a barrel an' a little ile in a curse.
"Poor Petrick!" said Sure-shot, as we descended the slope, "he weer the joyfulest kimrade I ever hed, an' we must gi' him the berril o' a Christyan. I wonder neow what on airth them verming lies done wi' him? Wheer kin they have hid his body?" "True where is it? It was out yonder on the plain? I saw it there: they had scalped him." "Yees; they sculped him at the time we weer all captered.
Why, we asked, shud Uncle Sam engage in this thraffic in th' souls iv men without payin' f'r a license, whin dacint citizens were puttin' up their good money a block away an' niver a soul comin' down fr'm th' fort to be thrafficked in? Did Congress pay anny attintion to us? It did not. "But wan day a comity iv ladies fr'm th' Young Ladies' Christyan Timp'rance Union wint out to th' fort.
Th' motto iv our brave fellows is now 'Away, away, th' bowl, 'Tis 'Wine f'r th' thremblin' debauchee, but water, pure water, f'r me, 'Tis 'Father, dear father, come home with me now. An' who did it? Who is it that improves men an' makes thim more ladylike, an' thin quits thim, but th' ladies? This here reform was carried out be th' Young Ladies' Christyan Tim'prance Union, no less.
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