“I’ve been up to th’ top iv th’ very highest buildin’ in town, Hinnissy, an’ I wasn’t anny nearer Hivin thin if I was in th’ sthreet. Th’ stars was as far away as iver. An’ down beneath is a lot iv us runnin’ an’ lapin’ an’ jumpin’ about, pushin’ each other over, haulin’ little sthrips iv ir’n to pile up in little buildin’s that ar-re called sky-scrapers but not be th’ sky; wurrukin’ night an’ day to make a masheen that’ll carry us fr’m wan jack-rabbit colony to another an’ yellin’, ’Pro-gress! ’Pro-gress, oho! I can see th’ stars winkin’ at each other an’ sayin’: ’Ain’t they funny! Don’t they think they’re playin’ hell!’
“No, sir, masheens ain’t done much f’r man. I can’t get up anny kind iv fam’ly inthrest f’r a steam dredge or a hydhraulic hist. I want to see sky-scrapin’ men. But I won’t. We’re about th’ same hight as we always was, th’ same hight an’ build, composed iv th’ same inflammable an’ perishyable mateeryal, an exthra hazardous risk, unimproved an’ li’ble to collapse. We do make pro-gress but it’s th’ same kind Julyus Caesar made an’ ivry wan has made befure or since an’ in this age iv masheenery we’re still burrid be hand.”
“What d’ye think iv th’ man down in Pinnsylvanya who says th’ Lord an’ him is partners in a coal mine?” asked Mr. Hennessy, who wanted to change the subject.
“Has he divided th’ profits?” asked Mr. Dooley.
Did ye see what th’ prisidint said to th’ throlley man that bumped him?” asked Mr. Dooley.
“I did not,” said Mr. Hennessy. “What was it?”
“I can’t tell ye till I get mad,” said Mr. Dooley. “Lave us go into ixicutive sission. Whisper. That was it. Ha, ha. He give it to him sthraight. A good, honest, American blankety-blank. Rale language like father used to make whin he hit his thumb with th’ hammer. No ‘With ye’er lave’ or ‘By ye’er lave,’ but a dacint ‘Damn ye, sir,’ an’ a little more f’r th’ sake iv imphasis.
“What else wud ye have him do? ‘Twas nayether th’ time nor th’ occasion, as th’ candydate said whin they ast him where he got his money, ‘twas nayether th’ time nor th’ occasion f’r wurruds that wud be well rayceived at Chatauqua. A throlley car had pushed him an’ diplomatic relations was suspinded. He was up on top iv a bus, hurryin’ fr’m speech to speech an’ thinkin’ what to say next. ‘Th’ thrusts,’ says he to himsilf, ’ are heejous monsthers built up be th’ inlightened intherprise iv th’ men that have done so much to advance pro-gress in our beloved counthry,’ he says. ’On wan hand I wud stamp thim undher fut; on th’ other hand not so fast. What I want more thin th’ bustin’ iv th’ thrusts is to see me fellow counthrymen happy an’ continted. I wudden’t have thim hate th’ thrusts. Th’ haggard face, th’ droopin’ eye, th’ pallid complexion that marks th’ inimy iv thrusts is not to me taste. Lave us be merry