Considher our
onforchnit position an' be kind. Don't oppress us. We were not meant f'r
slaves. Don't thry to coerce us. Continue to lay f'r us an' hope on. If
ye tax us there's hardly an old bachelor in th' land that won't fling
his five dollars acrost th' counter at th' tax office an' say: 'Hang th'
expense.'"
THE RISING OF THE SUBJECT RACES
"Ye'er frind Simpson was in here awhile ago," said Mr. Dooley, "an' he
was that mad."
"What ailed him?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "it seems he wint into me frind Hip Lung's
laundhry to get his shirt an' it wasn't ready. Followin' what Hogan
calls immemoryal usage, he called Hip Lung such names as he cud remimber
and thried to dhrag him around th' place be his shinin' braid. But
instead iv askin' f'r mercy, as he ought to, Hip Lung swung a flat-iron
on him an' thin ironed out his spine as he galloped up th' stairs. He
come to me f'r advice an' I advised him to see th' American consul.
Who's th' American consul in Chicago now? I don't know. But Hogan, who
was here at th' time, grabs him be th' hand an' says he: 'I
congratulate ye, me boy,' he says. 'Ye have a chance to be wan iv th'
first martyrs iv th' white race in th' gr-reat sthruggle that's comin'
between thim an' th' smoked or tinted races iv th' wurruld,' he says.
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