“Whether it is that our American colleejans spinds too much iv their lung power in provin' their devotion to what Hogan calls their Almy Matthers or not, I dinnaw, but annyhow, we had to dhrag th' riprisintative iv our branch iv th' Anglo-Saxon an' Boheemyan civilization in th' three-mile race fr'm undher two thousand iv our cousins or brothers-in-law that was ca'mly an' soberly, but hurridly an' noisily chargin' acrost th' thrack to cheer their own man.”
“Me frind fr'm Matsachoosets was blue as we winded our way to th' sthrangulation railway an' started back f'r home. 'I'm sorry,' he says, 'to lose me timper,' he says, 'but,' he says, 'afther all th' pretinded affection iv these people f'r us,' he says, 'an' afther all we've done f'r thim in Alaska an'—an' ivrywhere,' he says, 'an' thim sellin' us coal whin they might've sold it to th' Spanyards if th' Spanyards'd had th' money,' he says, 'to see th' conduct iv that coarse an' brutal Englishman—' 'Th' wan that won th' r-race?' says I. 'Yes,' he says. 'No, I mean th' wan that lammed me with his cane,' he says. 'If it hadn't been,' he says, 'that we're united,' he says, 'be a common pathrimony,' he says, 'I'd've had his life,' he says. 'Ye wud so,' says I, 'an' ye're r-right,' I says. 'If all th' la-ads enthered into th' r-races with th' same spirit ye show now,' I says, 'th' English flag'd be dhroopin' fr'm th' staff, an' Cyrus Bodley iv Wadham, Mass., 'd be paintin' th' stars an' sthripes on th' Nelson monnymint,' I says. 'Whin we hated th' English,' I says, 'an' a yacht r-race was li'ble to end in a war message fr'm the prisidint, we used to bate thim,' I says. 'Now,' says I, 'whin we're afraid to injure their feelin's,' I says, 'an' whin we 'pologise befure we punch, they bate us,' I says. 'They're used to 'pologisin' with wan hand an' punchin' with th' other,' I says. 'Th' on'y way is th' way iv me cousin Mike,' I says. 'He was a gr-reat rassler an' whin he had a full Nelson on th' foolish man that wint again him, he used to say, 'Dear me, am I breakin' ye'er neck, I hope so.'”
“But th' Matsachoosetts man didn't see it that way. An' some time, I tell ye, Hinnissy, an' Englishman'll put th' shot wan fut further than wan iv our men th' Lord save us fr'm th' disgrace!—an' th' next day we'll invade Canada.”
“We ought to do it, annyhow,” said Mr. Hennessy stoutly.
“We wud,” said Mr. Dooley, “if we were sure we cud lave it aftherwards.”
VOICES FROM THE TOMB
“I don't think,” said Mr. Dooley, “that me frind Willum Jennings Bryan is as good an orator as he was four years ago.”
“He's th' grandest talker that's lived since Dan'l O'Connell,” said Mr. Hennessy.