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'Tis a good game to play in a hammick whin ye're all tired out fr'm social duties or shovellin' coke. Out-iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. If ye bring ye'er wife f'r to see th' game, an' she has her name in th' paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first thing ye do is to find th' raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there.
'Ye took wan in, an' warmed it, he says; 'an' it has growed an' multiplied till ye'er system does be full iv' thim, he says, 'millions iv thim, he says, 'marchin' an' counthermarchin' through ye. 'Glory be to the saints! says I. 'Had I better swallow some insect powdher? I says. 'Some iv thim in me head has a fallin' out, an' is throwin' bricks. 'Foolish man, says he.
"You are a foreign tyrant, Riley I shall never yield to you." "Furrin fiddlesticks I'll lave th' whole mess f'r ye'er mother ter see when she gits home, d'ye mind." "All right, Riley; I'll wait for her here." Again the old man retreated, his indignation increasing as he waited for the return of the motor-party. Mrs.
F'r the first time in ye'er life ye ar-re ye'ersilf. F'r Hiven knows how manny years ye've been somebody else. Ye've been ye'er wife, ye'er fam'ly, ye'er relations, th' polisman on th' beat, th' doctor, th' newspaper reporther, th' foreman at th' mills, th' laws iv th' land, th' bartinder that gives ye dhrinks, th' tailor, th' barber, an' public opinion.
'Whin ye get through with ye'er barkin', says I, 'I'll throuble ye to tell me what ye may be doin' it f'r, I says. 'I see nawthin' amusin' here but ye'er prisince, I says, 'an' that's not a divvle iv a lot funnier than a wooden leg, I says, f'r I was mad. Afther awhile he come to, an' says he: 'Ye don't raally think, says he, 'that ye'll get a chanct to spring that platform, he says.
"'We will remain till th' last wan iv us perishes iv indigestion, says Jools. "'Thin I must take sthrong measures, says th' gin'ral. 'At a given signal we will storm th' house, bate down th' dures, smash in th' roofs, cut off th' gas, poison th' wather supply, back up th' sewer, break th' windys, an' r-raise th' rint." "'Do ye'er worst, says Jools, proudly.
'D'ye know that since ye'er death there has growed up on th' shore iv Lake Mitchigan a city that wud make Rome look like a whistlin' station a city that has a popylation iv eight million people till th' census rayport comes out? I says. 'I niver heerd iv it, he says.
He jus' hauled it off th' way ye'd haul off a porous plasther, raked off th' whole iv Muttons's fr-ront ilivation. 'I like ye'er face, he says, an' took it. An' all this time, an' 'twas fifty year ago, Muttons hasn't had a face to shave. Ne'er a one.
"Th' nex' day in comes a man with a suit iv clothes that looks like a tablecloth in a section house, an' says he: 'Poor ignorant haythen, he says, 'what manner iv food d'ye ate? he says. 'Rice, says I, 'an' rats is me fav'rite dish, I says. 'Deluded wretch, says he. 'I riprisint Armour an' Company, an' I'm here to make ye change ye'er dite, he says.
But honest as I am, between you an' me, if I was an aldherman, I wudden't say, be hivins, I think I'd stand firm; but well, if some wan come to me an' said, 'Dooley, here's fifty thousan' dollars f'r ye'er vote to betray th' sacred inthrests iv Chicago, I'd go to Father Kelly an' ask th' prayers iv th' congregation.
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