“None iv it in mine, if ye plaze. It’s too hot wurrik in thim clothes. An’ aven if ye get up near th’ pole, what’s it good f’r? Th’ climate is disagreeable, an’ th’ s’ciety is monotonous. Ivrybody dhresses alike. Th’ wan tailor makes th’ clothes f’r pah, mah, Lucille an’ th’ Polar bear out iv th’ same patthern. If ye go to coort a girl, ye don’t know befure she speaks whether ’tis hersilf or her Uncle Mike. I heerd iv an Artic explorer wanst that held hands with a Swede sicond mate f’r over an hour befure he ralized his mistake.
“No, sir, no Artic explorations f’r me, ayether pers’nally or be check. But if I did go into it, I know who I’d sind. I’d not fool around with people who begin to cough within sight iv th’ car barns. I’d utilize th’ folks in th’ neighborhood. I’d pathronize home industhries. Th’ Pole f’r th’ polars, says I. They mus’ be hundherds iv la-ads up in that part iv th’ wurruld that’d be willin’ to earn an honest dollar be discoverin’ th’ pole. With thim ‘twud be like ye goin’ down to explore th’ stock yards. I bet manny iv thim knows th’ pole as well as I know Haley’s slough. Ye’d prob’ly find they’ve hung their washin’ on it f’r years an’ manny iv th’ kids has shinned up it.”
“Who’d ye sind?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Esqueemos,” said Mr. Dooley.
Mr. Dooley was reading from a paper.
“‘We live,’ he says, ‘in an age iv wondhers. Niver befure in th’ histhry iv th’ wurruld has such progress been made.’
“Thrue wurruds an’ often spoken. Even in me time things has changed. Whin I was a la-ad Long Jawn Wintworth cud lean his elbows on th’ highest buildin’ in this town. It took two months to come here fr’m Pittsburg on a limited raft an’ a stage coach that run fr’m La Salle to Mrs. Murphy’s hotel. They wasn’t anny tillygraft that I can raymimber an’ th’ sthreet car was pulled be a mule an’ dhruv be an engineer be th’ name iv Mulligan. We thought we was a pro-grissive people. Ye bet we did. But look at us today. I go be Casey’s house tonight an’ there it is a fine storey-an’-a-half frame house with Casey settin’ on th’ dure shtep dhrinkin’ out iv a pail. I go be Casey’s house to-morrah an’ it’s a hole in th’ groun’. I rayturn to Casey’s house on Thursdah an’ it’s a fifty-eight storey buildin’ with a morgedge onto it an’ they’re thinkin’ iv takin’ it down an’ replacin’ it with a modhren sthructure. Th’ shoes that Corrigan th’ cobbler wanst wurruked on f’r a week, hammerin’ away like a woodpecker, is now tossed out be th’ dozens fr’m th’ mouth iv a masheen. A cow goes lowin’ softly in to Armours an’ comes out glue, beef, gelatine, fertylizer, celooloid, joolry, sofy cushions, hair restorer, washin’ sody, soap, lithrachoor an’ hed springs so quick that while aft she’s still cow, for’ard she may be annything fr’m huttons to Pannyma hats. I can go fr’m