in an' tells him
they've jugged an American citizen. He jams his hat down on his eyes,
an' r-rushes over to where Gin'ral Blanco has his office. 'Look here,'
says he, 'ye pizenous riptile,' he says, 'if ye don't lave me
counthryman out iv th' bull-pen in fifteen minyits be th' watch,' he
says, 'I'll take ye be th' hair iv th' head an' pull ye fr'm th' corner
iv Halsted Sthreet to th' r-red bridge,' he says. 'Lave us debate this,'
says Blanco. 'I'll debate nawthin', says Fitz. 'Hurry up, or I'll give
ye a slap,' he says. 'R-run over an' wake up th' loot at th' station,
an' let thim Americans out, or,' he says, 'we'll go to the flure,' he
says.

"That's Fitz. He's ca'm, an' he waits part iv th' time. That's whin he's
asleep. But, as soon as his eyes opins, his face begins to flare up like
wan iv thim r-round stoves in a woodman's shanty whin rosiny wood is
thrun in. An' fr'm that time on till he's r-ready to tur-rn in an' sleep
peaceful an' quite,--not like a lamb full iv vigetable food, but like a
line that's wur-rked ha-ard an' et meat,--he niver stops rampin' an'
ragin'. Ye don't hear iv Fitz lookin' worn with th' sthruggle. Ye don't
r-read iv him missin' anny meals. No one fears that Fitz will break down
undher th' suspinse. That ain't in th' breed. He's another kind iv a
man. He hasn't got th' time to be tired an' worrid. He needs food, an'
he has it; an' he needs sleep, an' he takes it; an' he needs fightin',
an' he gets it. That's Fitz. They ain't such a lot iv diff'rence between
th' bravest man in the wurruld an' th' cow'rdliest. Not such a lot. It
ain't a question iv morality, Hinnissy. I've knowed men that wint to
church ivry Sundah an' holyday reg'lar, an' give to th' poor an' loved
their neighbors, an' they wudden't defind their wives against a
murdherer. An' I've knowed th' worst villyuns on earth that'd die in
their thracks to save a stranger's child fr'm injury. 'Tis a question iv
how th' blood is pumped. Whin a man shows th' sthrain, whin he gets thin
an' pale an' worrid in th' time f'r fightin', he's mighty near a cow'rd.
But, whin his face flames an' his neck swells an' his eyes look like a
couple iv ilicthric lamps again a cyclone sky, he'd lead a forlorn hope
acrost th' battlemints iv hell."

ON MULES AND OTHERS

"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first gr-reat land battle iv th' war has
been fought."

"Where was that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, in great excitement. "Lord save
us, but where was t