“In comes a dillygation fr’m th’ Union iv Amalgamated Pantsmakers; an’ says th’ chairman, ‘Major,’ he says, ’we have a complaint to make again thim pants iv ye’ers,’ he says.  ‘What’s th’ matter with th’ pants?’ says th’ future Prisident.  ‘I thought they looked all right,’ he says.  ‘I paid four dollars f’r thim in Bucyrus las’ year,’ he says.  ‘They have no union label on thim,’ says th’ chairman.  ’Do you know, sir,’ he says, ‘that thim pants riprisints th’ oppression iv women an’ childher?’ he says.  ’D’ye know that ivry thread in thim seams means a tear an’ sigh?’ says he.  ’D’ye know that ivry time ye put on thim pants ye take a pair off some down-throdden workman?’ he says.  ’Glory be!’ says Big Bill:  ‘is that thrue?  Thin what am I to do?’ he says in alarm.  ‘Do?’ says th’ chairman.  ’Wear pants that riprisints honest toil fairly compinsated,’ he says.  ’Wear pants that ‘ll say to th’ wurruld that Bill McKinley’s legs are fair legs;’ he says, ’that they may bow at th’ knees, but they niver bow to th’ opprissor,’ he says; ‘that niver did they wrap thimsilves in bags that bore th’ curse iv monno-poly an’ greed,’ he says.  ‘An’ where can I get thim?’ says th’ major, ‘Fr’m me,’ says th’ frind iv labor, pullin’ out a tape.  ’Will ye have wan or two hip pockets?’ he says.

“An’ so it goes.  Ivry day a rayporther comes to th’ house with a list iv questions.  ‘What are ye’er views on th’ issue iv eatin’ custard pie with a sponge?  Do ye believe in side-combs?  If called upon to veto a bill f’r all mimbers iv th’ Supreme Coort to wear hoop-skirts, wud ye veto it or wudden’t ye?  If so, why?  If not, why not?  If a batted ball goes out iv th’ line afther strikin’ th’ player’s hands, is it fair or who?  Have ye that tired feelin’?  What is your opinion iv a hereafther?  Where did you get that hat?  If a man has eight dollars an’ spends twelve iv it, what will th’ poor man do?  An’ why an’ where an’ how much?’

“Thin, if he don’t answer, ivry wan says he’s a thrimmer, an’ ought to be runnin’ a sthreet-car an’ not thryin’ to poke his ondecided face into th’ White House.  I mind wanst, whin me frind O’Brien was a candydate f’r aldherman, a comity iv tax-payers waited on him f’r to get his views on th’ issues iv th’ day.  Big Casey, th’ housemover, was th’ chairman; an’ he says, says he, ‘Misther O’Brien,’ he says, ’we are desirous,’ he says, ‘iv larnin’ where ye stand on th’ tariff, th’ currency question, pensions, an’ th’ intherstate commerce act,’ he says, with a wave iv his hand.  ‘Well,’ says O’Brien, he says, ‘th’ issue on which I’m appealin’ to th’ free an’ intilligent suffrages of Ar-rchey Road an’ th’ assistance iv Deerin’ Sthreet Station,’ he says, ‘is whether little Mike Kelly will have th’ bridge or not,’ he says.  ‘On that I stand,’ he says.  ‘As f’r th’ minor issues,’ he says, ’I may have me opinions on thim an’ I may not.  Anny information I possess I’ll keep tucked away in this large an’ commodjous mind cage, an’ not be dealin’ it out to