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Dunne, Finley Peter, 1867-1936

"Mr. Dooley Says"

Whin they got up there they seen a large bunch iv our
gallant fellows makin' a dash f'r an outlyin' building, an' says wan iv
thim: 'What can they be in such a hurry f'r? That must be th' chapel.
Let us go in.' An' in they wint.
"Hinnissy, th' sight that met their young an' unaccustomed eyes was
enough to shock even a lady lookin' f'r throuble. Th' air was gray an'
blue with th' fumes iv that heejous weed that has made mankind happy
though single f'r four hundred years, an' that next to alcohol is th'
greatest curse iv th' sons iv Adam. Some iv th' wretches were playin'
cards, properly called th' Divvle's bible; others were indulgin' in
music, that lure iv th' Evil Wan f'r idleness, while still others were
intint on th' furyous game iv dominoes, whose feet take hold on hell.
But worse, still worse, they saw through their girlish spectacles dimmed
with unbidden tears. F'r in front iv each iv these war-battered vethrans
shtud a bottle, in some cases bar'ly half filled with a brownish-yellow
flood with bubbles on top iv it. What was it, says ye? Hardened as I am
to dhrink iv ivry kind, I hesitate to mention th' wurrud. But
concealment is useless. 'Twas beer. These brave men, employed be th'
taxpayer iv America to defind th' hearths iv th' tax-dodger iv America,
supposed be all iv us to have consicrated their lives to upholdin' th'
flag, were at heart votaries, as Hogan says, iv Aloes, gawd iv beer.


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