"
"Mrs. O'Leary was in to see th' Dargans th' other day. 'Ye mus' be very
happy in ye'er gran' house, with Mr. O'Leary doin' so well,' says Mrs.
Dargan. An' th' on'y answer th' foolish woman give was to break down an'
weep on Mrs. Dargan's neck."
"Yet ye say a pollytician oughtn't to get marrid," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Up to a certain point," said Mr. Dooley, "he must be marrid. Afther
that--well, I on'y say that, though pollytics is a gran' career f'r a
man, 'tis a tough wan f'r his wife."
ALCOHOL AS FOOD
"If a man come into this saloon--" Mr. Hennessy was saying.
"This ain't no saloon," Mr. Dooley interrupted. "This is a resthrant."
"A what?" Mr. Hennessy exclaimed.
"A resthrant," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye don't know, Hinnissy, that liquor is
food. It is though. Food--an' dhrink. That's what a doctor says in the
pa-apers, an' another doctor wants th' gover'mint to sind tubs iv th'
stuff down to th' Ph'lipeens. He says 'tis almost issintial that people
shud dhrink in thim hot climates. Th' prespiration don't dhry on thim
afther a hard pursoot iv Aggynaldoo an' th' capture iv Gin'ral
Pantaloons de Garshy; they begin to think iv home an' mother sindin'
down th' lawn-sprinkler to be filled with bock, an' they go off
somewhere, an' not bein' able to dhry thimsilves with dhrink, they want
to die.
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