“Napolyon Bonypart, impror iv th’ Fr-rinch, was far too gay aven f’r thim friv’lous people, an’ had fits.  His first wife was no betther than she shud be, an’ his second wife didn’t care f’r him.  Willum Shakespeare is well known as an author of plays that no wan can play, but he was betther known as a two-handed dhrinker, a bad actor, an’ a thief.  His wife was a common scold an’ led him th’ life he desarved.  They niver leave th’ ladies out iv these stories iv th’ gr-reat.  A woman that marries a janius has a fine chance iv her false hair becomin’ more immortal thin his gr-reatest deed.  It don’t make anny difference if all she knew about her marital hero was that he was a consistent feeder, a sleepy husband, an’ indulgent to his childher an’ sometimes to himsilf, an’ that she had to darn his socks.  Nearly all th’ gr-reat men had something th’ matther with their wives.  I always thought Mrs. Wash’nton, who was th’ wife iv th’ father iv our counthry, though childless hersilf, was about right.  She looks good in th’ pitchers, with a shawl ar-round her neck an’ a frilled night-cap on her head.  But Hogan says she had a tongue sharper thin George’s soord, she insulted all his frinds, an’ she was much older thin him.  As f’r George, he was a case.  I wish th’ counthry had got itsilf a diff’rent father.  A gr-reat moral rellijous counthry like this desarves a betther parent.

“They were all alike.  I think iv Bobby Burns as a man that wrote good songs, aven if they were in a bar’brous accint, but Hogan thinks iv him as havin’ a load all th’ time an’ bein’ th’ scandal iv his parish.  I remimber Andhrew Jackson as th’ man that licked th’ British at Noo Orleans be throwin’ cotton bales at thim, but Hogan remimbers him as a man that cudden’t spell an’ had a wife who smoked a corncob pipe.  I remimber Abraham Lincoln f’r freein’ th’ slaves, but Hogan remimbers how he used to cut loose yarns that made th’ bartinder shake th’ stove harder thin it needed.  I remimber Grant f’r what he done ar-round Shiloh whin he was young, but Hogan remimbers him f’r what he done arr-ound New York whin he was old.

“An’ so it goes.  Whin a lad with nawthin’ else to do starts out to write a bi-ography about a gr-reat man, he don’t go to th’ war departmint or th’ public library.  No, sir, he begins to search th’ bureau dhrawers, old pigeon-holes, th’ records iv th’ polis coort, an’ th’ recollections iv th’ hired girl.  He likes letters betther thin annything else.  He don’t care much f’r th’ kind beginning:  ‘Dear wife, I’m settin’ in front iv th’ camp fire wearin’ th’ flannel chest protector ye made me, an’ dhreamin’ iv ye,’ but if he can find wan beginnin’:  ’Little Bright Eyes:  Th’ old woman has gone to th’ counthry,’ he’s th’ happiest bi-ographer ye cud see in a month’s thravel.