"He's th' Chinee ministher," said Mr. Dooley, "an' his business is f'r
to supply fresh hand-laundhried misinformation to the sicrety iv state.
Th' sicrety iv state is settin' in his office feelin' blue because he's
just heerd be a specyal corryspondint iv th' London Daily Pail at
Sydney, Austhreelya, who had it fr'm a slatewriter in Duluth that an ar-
rmy iv four hundherd an' eight thousan' millyon an' sivinty-five
bloodthirsty Chinee, ar-rmed with flatirnes an' cryin', 'Bung Loo!'
which means, Hinnissy, 'Kill th' foreign divvles, dhrive out th'
missionries, an' set up in Chiny a gover'mint f'r the Chinee,' is
marchin' on Vladivostook in Siberyia, not far fr'm Tinsin."
A knock comes at th' dure an' Woo enthers. 'Well,' says he, with a happy
smile, ''tis all right.' 'What's all right?' says the sicrety iv state.
'Ivrything,' says Woo. 'I have just found a letter sewed in a shirt fr'm
me frind Lie Much, th' viceroy iv Bumbang. It is dated th' fourth hour
iv th' third day iv th' eighth or green-cheese moon,' he says. 'What day
is that?' says the sicrety iv state. 'It's Choosdah, th' fourth iv July;
Winsdah, th' eighth iv October, an' Thursdah, the sivinteenth iv March,'
he says. 'Pathrick's day,' says th' sicrety iv state. 'Thrue f'r ye,'
says Woo.
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