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'Was ye at th' cake walk? 'Who stole me hat? 'Cudden't ye die waltzin'? 'They say Murphy has gone on th' foorce. 'Hivins, there goes th' las' car! 'Pass th' butther, please: I'm far fr'm home. All iv thim talkin' away at once, niver carin' f'r no wan, whin all at wanst up stheps me bold Hogan with a nose on him, glory be, such a nose! I niver see th' like on a man or an illyphant.
Th' Sicrety iv th' Treasury followed with a gran' speech, highly commindin' th' action iv th' threasury department durin' th' late war; 'but, says he, 'I cannot, he says, 'so far forget mesilf, he says, 'as not to mintion, he says, 'that, he says, 'if it hadn't been f'r the sublime pathreetism an' courage, he says, 'iv th' gintleman whom we honor, he says, 'in puttin' me on th' foorce, he says, 'I might not be here to-night, he says.
"An' why shud they hang thim, Hinnissy? Why shud they? I'm an honest man mesilf, as men go. Ye might have ye'er watch, if ye had wan, on that bar f'r a year, an' I'd niver touch it. It wudden't be worth me while. I'm an honest man. I pay me taxes, whin Tim Ryan isn't assessor with Grogan's boy on th' books. I do me jooty; an' I believe in th' polis foorce, though not in polismen. That's diff'rent.
"Th' Lord f'rgive me f'r singin' it, Jawn. See if there's anny wan near th' dure. "Well, whin they got through, Dempsey puts his hands to his mouth, an' yells, 'Th' 'ell with King Willum. That was more thin th' Orangeys cud stand. They halted as wan man, an' roared out, 'Th' 'ell with th' pope. 'What's that? says th' captain iv th' polis foorce.
Th' las' I see iv th' band it was goin' down th' road towards th' slough with a mob behind it, an' all th' polis foorce fr'm Deerin' Sthreet afther th' mob. Th' la-ads collected th' horns an' th' dhrums, an' that started th' Ar-rchey Road brass band. Little Mike Doyle larned to play 'Th' Rambler fr'm Clare' beautifully on what they call a pickle-e-o befure they sarved a rayplivin writ on him.
'Afther all, he says, 'an' undher all, we're mere brutes; an' it on'y takes two lads more brutal than th' rest f'r to expose th' sthreak in th' best iv us. Foorce rules th' wurruld, an' th' churches is empty whin th' blood begins to flow. he says. 'It's too bad, too bad. he says. 'Tell me, was Corbett much hurted? he says." "Ar-re ye goin' to cillybrate th' queen's jubilee?" asked Mr. Dooley.
Anny time a millyionaire condiscinds to enther th' martial state, as Hogan says, an', as Hogan says, make vows to Hyman, which is the Jew god iv marredge, he can fill th' house an' turn people away fr'm th' dure. An' he does. Th' sthreets is crowded. Th' cars can har'ly get through. Th' polis foorce is out, an' hammerin' th' heads iv th' delighted throng.
Thinks I, ''Tis a shame f'r to lave this savage man in possession iv this fine abode, an' him not able f'r to vote an' without a frind on th' polis foorce. So says I: 'Snakes, I says, 'get along, says I. 'I want ye'er house, an' ye best move out west iv th' thracks, an' dig a hole f'r ye'ersilf, I says. 'Divvle th' fut I will step out iv this house, says Snakes.
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