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"Jawn," said the agent, excitedly, "get eleven up to the platform quick!" Jawn turned around, lowered the oil-can, and looked at the nervous agent with impassive eyes. "Why?" he said slowly. "You've got to connect with Manchester at twelve o'clock." Jawn replaced his pipe. "Wait till I kick them empties in on the house track. Who's it for?" "Don't stop for that! It's the President!"
Don't pay th' fine till ye hear fr'm me. Th' on'y wan that bows to th' decision is th' fellow that won, an' pretty soon he sees he's made a mistake, f'r wan day th' other coort comes out an' declares that th' decision of th' lower coort is another argymint in favor iv abolishing night law schools. "That's th' way Jawn D. felt about it an' he didn't settle.
"To th' Dimmycrats," said Mr. Dooley. "Go on," said Mr. McKenna. "You're a Democrat yourself." "Me?" said Mr. Dooley, "not on your life. Not in wan hundherd thousand years. Me a Dimmycrat? I shud say not, Jawn, me buck. I'm the hottest kind iv a Raypublican, me an' Maloney. I suppose they ain't two such Raypublicans annywhere. How can anny wan be annything else?
Thin he devours his victim, clothes, collar-buttons, an' all." "Well, well," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had no idee they was that ferocious. I thought they were like bur-rds. Don't they lay eggs?" "Don't they lay eggs?" Mr. Dooley replied. "Don't they lay eggs? Did ye iver hear th' like iv that, Jawn? Why, ye gaby, ye might as well ask me does a pianny lay eggs. Iv coorse not."
Whin he got to New York he stopped at the Waldorf Asthoria, an' while th' barber was powdhrin' his face with groun' dimons Jawn tol' him to take th' money he was goin' to buy a policy ticket with an' get in on th' good thing. He tol' th' bootblack, th' waiter, th' man at th' news-stand, th' clerk behind th' desk, an' th' bartinder in his humble abode.
Did his wife look as though she ought to be kilt? Isn't it time we wint to supper? An', howiver they answer, they'll be right, an' it'll make little difference wan way or th' other. Th' German vote is too large an' ignorant, annyhow." "I knowed a man be th' name iv Clancy wanst, Jawn.
He put his hands to his face, an' wint back to th' house. "But she wint bumpin' on, Jawn, till she come up be th' house. Father Kelly was standin' out in front, an' ol' man Donahue was layin' down th' law to him about th' tariff, whin along come th' poor foolish girl with all th' kids in Bridgeport afther her. Donahue turned white. 'Say a pather an' avy quick, he says to the priest.
"He's got to connect at Manchester with the twelve o'clock for Chicago." Jawn's dumpy little engine was blowing off on a siding. Jawn was oiling. He was a short man, filling out his wide overalls with an in-'em-to-stay appearance. His beard was brushy, his eyes were lost in a gray tangle of brows and lashes, and he chewed the stem of a cob pipe.
A Gentleman who is possessed of Sir Meredyth ab Rhys's, "Cywydd i ddiolch am Rwyd bysgota; i lfan ab Tudor;" "An Ode to thank Evan ab Tudor, for a Fishing Net;" obligingly favored me with the following copy of the above Lines. Mewu Awr dda, Minnau ar Ddwr o fodd hael a fydd Heliwr. Madog wych, mwyedig Wedd Jawn Genau, Owen Gwynedd Ni fynnai Dir', f' enaid oedd, Na Da mawr ond y Moroedd.
"Well," said Mallory, "we'll try it. Come on, boys, get to cover." The men climbed into the car, and Jawn and Mallory were discussing methods for defending it, when the fireman thought of something. "How about Bill Jones?" he asked. "He's back with the flag. Ain't he liable to get snapped up?" "He'll have to take his chances," said Mallory. "Hold on, though. It won't do for them to find him."
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