he says, ‘an’ fellow-sinitors, th’ time has come,’ he says, ‘whin th’ eagle burrud iv freedom,’ he says, ‘lavin’,’ he says, ‘its home in th’ mountains,’ he says, ‘an’ circlin’,’ he says, ‘undher th’ jool ‘d hivin,’ he says, ‘fr’m where,’ he says, ‘th’ Passamaquoddy rushes into Lake Erastus K. Ropes,’ he says, ‘to where rowls th’ Oregon,’ he says, ‘fr’m th’ lakes to th’ gulf,’ he says, ‘fr’m th’ Atlantic to th’ Passific where rowls th’ Oregon,’ he says, ‘an’ fr’m ivry American who has th’ blood iv his ancesthors’ hathred iv tyranny in his veins,—­your ancesthors an’ mine, Mr. McAdoo,’ he says,—­’there goes up a mute prayer that th’ nation as wan man, fr’m Bangor, Maine, to where rowls th’ Oregon, that,’ he says, ’is full iv salmon, which is later put up in cans, but has th’ same inthrest as all others in this question,’ he says, ‘that,’ he says, ‘th’ descindants iv Wash’nton an’,’ he says, ’iv Immitt,’ he says, ‘will jine hands f’r to protect,’ he says, ‘th’ codfisheries again th’ Vandal hand iv th’ British line,’ he says.  ’I therefore move ye, Mr. Prisident, that it is th’ sinse iv this house, if anny such there be, that Tay Pay O’Connor is a greater man thin Lord Salisberry,’ he says.

“Now where’s Hinnery?  Where’s th’ bould Fenian?  Where’s th’ moonlighter?  Where’s th’ pikeman?  Faith, he’s changed his chune, an’ ’tis ‘Sthrangers wanst, but brothers now,’ with him, an’ ’Hands acrost th’ sea an’ into some wan’s pocket,’ an’ ‘Take up th’ white man’s burden an’ hand it to th’ coons,’ an’ ‘An open back dure an’ a closed fr-ront dure.’  ‘Tis th’ same with all iv thim.  They’se me frind Joe Choate.  Where ‘d Joe spind th’ night?  Whisper, in Windsor Castle, no less, in a night-shirt iv th’ Prince iv Wales; an’ the nex’ mornin’, whin he come downstairs, they tol’ him th’ rile fam’ly was late risers, but, if he wanted a good time, he cud go down an’ look at th’ cimitry!  An’ he done it.  He went out an’ wept over th’ grave iv th’ Father iv his Counthry.  Ye’er man, George Washington, Hinnissy, was on’y th’ stepfather.

“Well, glory be, th’ times has changed since me frind Jawn Finerty come out iv th’ House iv Riprisintatives; an’, whin some wan ast him what was goin’ on, he says, ‘Oh, nawthin’ at all but some damned American business.’  Thim was th’ days!  An’ what’s changed thim?  Well, I might be sayin’ ‘twas like wanst whin me cousin Mike an’ a Kerry man be th’ name iv Sullivan had a gredge again a man named Doherty, that was half a Kerry man himsilf.  They kept Doherty indures f ’r a day, but by an’ by me cousin Mike lost inthrest in th’ gredge, havin’ others that was newer, an’ he wint over to th’ ya-ards; an’ Doherty an’ Sullivan begin to bow to each other, an’ afther a while they found that they were blood relations, an’, what’s closer thin that whin ye’re away fr’m home, townies.  An’ they hooked arms, an’ sthrutted up an’ down th’ road, as proud as imprors.  An’ says they, ’We can lick annything in th’ ward,’ says they.  But, before they injyed th’ ‘lieance f’r long, around th’ corner comes me cousin Mike, with a half-brick in each hand; an’ me brave Sullivan gives Doherty th’ Kerry man’s thrip, an’ says he, ‘Mike,’ he says, ‘I was on’y pullin’ him on to give ye a crack at him,’ he says.  An’ they desthroyed Doherty, so that he was in bed f’r a week.”