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'Let us show thim, he says, 'that we're gintlemen, be it iver so painful, he says. An' I resthrained mesilf be puttin' me fist in me mouth." "They was an Englishman standin' behind me, Hinnissy, an' he was a model iv behaviour f'r all Americans intindin' to take up their homes in Cubia. Ye cudden't get this la-ad war-rmed up if ye built a fire undher him.
"I dinnaw whether Gin'ral Miles picked out th' job or whether 'twas picked out f'r him. But, annyhow, whin he got to Sandago de Cubia an' looked ar-round him, he says to his frind Gin'ral Shafter, 'Gin'ral, says he, 'ye have done well so far, he says. ''Tis not f'r me to take th' lorls fr'm th' steamin' brow iv a thrue hero, he says.
Th' first thing we know we'll have another war in Cubia whin we begin disthributin' good jobs, twelve hours a day, wan sivinty-five. Th' Cubians ain't civilized in our way. I sometimes think I've got a touch iv Cubian blood in me own veins." "I hear," said Mr. Hennessy, "that th' stereopticons on th' newspapers have sthruck." "I sh'd think they wud," said Mr. Dooley.
Nobody laughed at the jokes about him more heartily than he did himself. When "Mr. Dooley" described his adventures as a Rough Rider, and spoke of him as "Alone in Cubia," as if he thought he had won the war all by himself, he wrote to the author: "Three cheers Mr. Dooley! Do come on and let me see you soon. I am by no means so much alone as in Cubia. ..." Mr.
Th' war is still goin' on; an' ivry night, whin I'm countin' up the cash, I'm askin' mesilf will I annex Cubia or lave it to the Cubians? Will I take Porther Ricky or put it by? An' what shud I do with the Ph'lippeens? Oh, what shud I do with thim? I can't annex thim because I don't know where they ar-re. I can't let go iv thim because some wan else'll take thim if I do.
'Gintlemen, he says, 'onless ye have lived in th' buckboard f'r months on th' parched deserts iv Cubia, he says, 'ye little know what a pleasure it is, he says, 'to dhrink, he says, 'to th' author iv our bein' here, he says. An' Gin-ral Miles wint out an' punched th' bell-boy.
I had on'y so many r-rounds iv catridges an' a cross-cut saw, an' I failed to provide mesilf with th' ord'nary necessities iv life. But, in spite iv me deficiencies, I wint bravely ahead. Th' sthrain was something tur-r'ble on me. Me mind give out repeatedly. I cud not think at times, but I niver faltered. In two months I had enough supplies piled up in Maine to feed ivry sojer in Cubia.
I do not compare Colonel Roosevelt with gravitation, but have all the satirical squibs against our famous contemporary, from the "Alone in Cubia" to the "Teddy-see," ever cost him, in a dozen years, a dozen votes? Very likely Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Chesterton are right. We are less censorious than our ancestors were. Americans, on the whole, try to avoid giving pain through speech.
"Failin' to undherstand our civilization," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye see, it was this way. This is th' way it was: Gin'ral Garshy with wan hundherd thousan' men's been fightin' bravely f'r two years f'r to liberyate Cubia. F'r two years he's been marchin' his sivinty-five thousan' men up an' down th' island, desthroyin' th' haughty Spanyard be th' millyons.
Now, in Cubia, whin th' mobs turns out, they carry a banner with the wurruds, 'Give us nawthin' to do, or we perish. Whin a Cubian comes home at night with a happy smile on his face, he don't say to his wife an' childher, 'Thank Gawd, I've got wurruk at last! He says, 'Thank Gawd, I've been fired. An' th' childher go out, and they say, 'Pah-pah has lost his job. And Mrs.
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