rything r-ready,' says
Willie. 'Me man attinded to thim details,' he says. 'But I fear I can't
go to th' fr-ront immejetly,' he says. 'Me pink silk pijammas hasn't
arrived,' he says. 'Well,' says Mack,' 'wait f'r thim,' he says. 'I'm
anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war,' he says, 'which has cost me manny
a sleepy night,' he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer
onprepared to battle,' he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas,' he says. 'Thin
on to war,' he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er
manners,"' he says.

"'They'se a man out here,' says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see
ye,' he says. 'He's a r-rough-lookin' charackter that was in th' Soo
war,' he says. 'His name is Gin'ral Fiteum,' he says. 'Throw th' stiff
out,' says Mack. 'I seen him in Pinnsylvania Avnoo yisterdah, r-ridin'
in a sthreet ca-ar,' he says. 'Ah, Willie, me boy,' he says, ''tis
little ye know what throuble I have fr'm these vulgar sojers with pants
that bags at th' knees. Give me a goold-tipped cigareet, an' tell me
whether shirt waists is much worn in New York this year.'

"Yis, Hinnissy, we'll put th' tastiest ar-rmy in th' field that iver
come out iv a millinery shop. 'Right dhress!' will be an ordher that'll
mean somethin'. Th' ar-rmy'll be followed be specyal correspondints fr'm
Butthrick's Pattherns an' Harper's Bazar; an', if our brave boys don't
gore an' pleat th' inimy, 'twill be because th' inimy'll be r-rude
enough to shoot in anny kind iv clothes they find on th' chair whin they
wake up."

ON STRATEGY.

"A sthrateejan," said Mr. Dooley, in response to Mr. Hennessy's request
for information, "is a champeen checker-player. Whin th' war broke out,
me frind Mack wint to me frind Hanna, an' says he, 'What,' he says,
'what can we do to cr-rush th' haughty power iv Spain,' he says, 'a'n
br-ring this hateful war to a early conclusion?" he says. 'Mobilize th'
checker-players,' says Hanna. An' fr'm all cor-rners iv th' counthry
they've gone to Washin'ton, where they're called th' Sthrateejy Board.

"Day an' night they set in a room with a checker-board on th' end iv a
flour bar'l, an' study problems iv th' navy. At night Mack dhrops in.
'Well, boys,' says he, 'how goes th' battle?' he says. 'Gloryous,' says
th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Two more moves, an' we'll be in th' king row.'
'Ah,' says Mack, 'this is too good to be thrue,' he says. 'In but a few
brief minyits th' dhrinks'll be on Spain,' he says. 'Have ye anny p