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Updated: June 17, 2025
Sure, Gin'ral Grant lost more men in wan day thin th' British have lost in four months, an' all he had to keep tab on was ol' fashioned bullets an' big, bouncin' iron balls." "Thrue," said Mr. Dooley. "I don't know th' reason, but it mus' be that th' betther gun a man has th' more he thrusts th' gun an' th' less he thrusts himsilf. He stays away an' shoots.
'D'ye know, he says, 'I haven't slept much these nights, f'r wan reason 'r another. But, he says, 'I'm afraid this here change won't be good f'r th' crops, he says. 'If we'd had wan or two more war-rum days an' thin a sprinkle iv rain, he says, 'how they would grow, how they would grow!" Mr. Dooley sat up in his chair, and looked over at Mr. McKenna.
Hennessy, "I'd like to kick up th' sod, an' find a ton iv goold undher me fut." "What wud ye do if ye found it?" demanded Mr. Dooley. "I I dinnaw," said Mr. Hennessy, whose dreaming had not gone this far. Then, recovering himself, he exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "I'd throw up me job an' an' live like a prince." "I tell ye what ye'd do," said Mr. Dooley.
I knew him from his youth up, and I am well aware of his goodness, as are you. He was a good husband, a good father, and a good friend. It is hard to give him up, but it must be. He died at the age of "Here the speaker glanced at the casket beside which he stood, and read the following: MICHAEL DOOLEY
It has done its best work in the field of political satire, where the "Biglow Papers" hit hard in their day, where Nast's cartoons helped to overthrow the Tweed dynasty, and where the indolent and luminous genius of Mr. Dooley has widened our mental horizon. Mr.
Then he tiptoed out with an apprehensive face, and whispered: "It's Jawn Donahue's kid that wandherd away fr'm home, an' wint to sleep on me dure-step. I sint th' Dorsey boy to tell th' mother, but he's a long time gone. Do ye run over, Jawn, an' lave thim know." "I see," said Mr. Dooley, "that Doc Nansen has come back." "Yes," said Mr. McKenna. "It's a wonder he wouldn't stay till winter.
That's her. She thried to ate wan iv thim new theayter posthers, an' perished in great ag'ny. They say th' corpse turned red at th' wake, but ye can't believe all ye hear." Mr. Dooley had been reading about General Shafter's unfortunately abandoned enterprise for capturing Santiago by means of a load of hay, and it filled him with great enthusiasm.
'Th' man that's throwin' that at ye, says me uncle Mike, 'stole a saw fr'm me in th' year sivinty-five. Felix paid no attintion to me uncle Mike, but wint on, 'We point proudly to th' motto, "Dooley aboo Dooley f'river." 'Th' saw aboo, says me uncle Mike.
McKenna, "to think of taking this here country out of the hands of William C. Whitney and Grover Cleveland and J. Pierpont Morgan and Ickleheimer Thalmann, and putting it in the hands of such men. What do you think about it?" "I think," said Mr. Dooley, "that Cassidy lied." "Why aren't you out attending the reunion of the Dooley family?" Mr. McKenna asked the philosopher.
With the suddenness and severity of a horse-kick, it lashed out with its right hand, catching the redoubtable Dooley a thud on the jaw, and sending him to grass as if he had been shot.
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