"'I defer to th' ar-rmy whose honor is beyond reproach,' says th' polisman, 'or recognition,' he says. 'Veev l'army!' he says.
"'Thank ye,' says Gin'ral Bellow, salutin'. 'I will do me jooty. Man can do no more,' he says. 'Jools,' he says, 'surrinder,' he says. 'Ye cannot longer hol' out,' he says. 'Ye have provisions on'y f'r eight years.'
"'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.
"'Thin,' says th' gin'ral, imprissively, 'if these measures do not suffice, I will suspind th' deliv'ry iv th' mails,' he says.
"'Miscreant!' cries Jools, tur-rnin' white. 'An' this is called a merciful governmint,' he says. 'Mong doo,' he says, 'what cr-rimes will not Fr-rinchmen commit again' Fr-rinchmen!' he says. 'But,' he says, 'ye little know us, if ye think we can be quelled be vi'lence,' he says. 'I have a last card,' he says. 'I refuse to give th' signal,' he says.
"'Thin,' says th' gin'ral, tur-rnin' away with tears in his eyes, 'we must adopt other measures.'
"'Very well,' says Jools. 'But mark wan thing,—that, if ye attempt to make me ridiculous, ye shall suffer.'
"'I assure ye, mong editor,' says th' gin'ral, earnestly, 'that th' governmint will not make ye anny more ridiculous than it makes itsilf,' says he.