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'I beg ye'er pardon, he says. "'Beg th' pardon iv Hiven, says I, 'f'r stoppin' a desperate man in th' sthreet, says I; 'f'r in a holy minyit I'll blow off th' head iv ye, says I, with me hand on th' handkerchief that niver blew nawthin' but this nose iv mine." "'I humbly ask your pardon, he says, showin' a star; 'but I'm a polisman. "'Polisman or robber, says I, 'stand aside! I says.
"I'll make it as plain as the nose on your Holiness's face, by superbaton," says his Riv'rence. "My adversary says, black is not another color, that is white? Now that's jist a parallel passidge wid the one out ov Tartulion that me and Hayes smashed the heretics on in Clarendon Sthreet.
Thin he tells me how much he cares f'r me an' proposes to rassle me an' weeps to think how bad he threats his wife an' begs me niver to marry, f'r a bachelor's life's th' on'y wan, an' 'tis past two o'clock whin I hook him on a frindly polisman an' sind him thrippin' th' polisman down th' sthreet. All r-right so far. But in th' mornin' another story.
He was a Boolgahrian man that lived down be Cologne Sthreet, acrost th' river; but he come over to Bridgeport whin he did have his skates on him, f'r th' liftenant over there was again arnychists, an' 'twas little our own Jawnny Shea cared f'r thim so long as they didn't bother him.
Father Kelly rebuked me f'r bein' late f'r mass. 'How can I get there befure th' gospil, whin I don't know what time it is? says I. 'Why don't ye luk at ye'er watch? he says. 'I haven't none, says I. Did he give me a watch? Faith, he did not. He sint me a box iv soap that made me smell like a coon goin' to a ball in a State Sthreet ca-ar.
"Sthrangers, sor sthrangers. 'Tis a sthranger here I am mesilf, an' fwy they do it bates me, onless I do be so like the Prince av Wales or other crowned head they thry to slaughter me. They're layin' for me in the sthreet now, I misdoubt not, and fwat they may thry next I can tell no more than the Lord Mayor. An' the polis won't listen to me!"
"They was a man be th' name iv Daheny, Jawn, a cousin iv th' wan ye know, that started to walk up th' r-road fr'm th' bridge. Befure he got to Halsthed Sthreet, his shoes was on fire. He turned in an alarm; but th' fire departmint was all down on Mitchigan Avnoo, puttin' out th' lake, an'" "Putting out what?" demanded Mr. McKenna. "Puttin' out th' lake," replied Mr. Dooley, stolidly.
While they were debatin' he woke up an' begin cuttin' loose with hands an' feet, an' whin he got through he made a collection iv th' things they dhropped in escapin' an' marched ca'mly down th' sthreet. Mebbe 'twill tur-rn out so in Chiny, Hinnissy. I see be th' pa-apers that they'se four hundherd millyons iv thim boys an' be hivins!
He thinks he's still over there pretindin' to be a horse instead iv a free American givin' an imytation iv a steam dhredge. "On th' first Choosday afther th' first Monday in November an' April a man goes ar-round to his house, wakes him up, leads him down th' sthreet, an' votes him th' way ye'd wather a horse. He don't mind inhalin' th' air iv liberty in a livery stable.
"An', as he goes down th' sthreet, he hears a band play an' sees a procission headed be a calceem light; an', in a carredge, with his plug hat in his hand an' his di'mond makin' th' calceem look like a piece iv punk in a smoke-house, is Flannigan, payin' his first visit this side iv th' thracks." "I'm havin' a time iv it with Terence," said Mr. Hennessy, despondently.
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