, iv how an American sojer
can face his jooty whin he has to, an' how he can't whin he hasn't to."

"Dewey ain't a sthrateejan?" inquired Mr. Hennessy.

"No," said Mr. Dooley. "Cousin George is a good man, an' I'm very fond
iv him,--more be raison iv his doin' that May-o bosthoon Pat Mountjoy,
but he has low tastes. We niver cud make a sthrateejan iv him. They'se a
kind iv a vulgar fightin' sthrain in him that makes him want to go out
an' slug some wan wanst a month. I'm glad he ain't in Washin'ton. Th'
chances ar-re he'd go to th' Sthrateejy Board and pull its hair."

ON GENERAL MILES'S MOONLIGHT EXCURSION.

"Dear, oh, dear," said Mr. Dooley, "I'd give five dollars--an' I'd kill
a man f'r three--if I was out iv this Sixth Wa-ard to-night, an' down
with Gin'ral Miles' gran' picnic an' moonlight excursion in Porther
Ricky. 'Tis no comfort in bein' a cow'rd whin ye think iv thim br-rave
la-ads facin' death be suffication in bokays an' dyin' iv waltzin' with
th' pretty girls iv Porther Ricky.

"I dinnaw whether Gin'ral Miles picked out th' job or whether 'twas
picked out f'r him. But, annyhow, whin he got to Sandago de Cubia an'
looked ar-round him, he says to his frind Gin'ral Shafter, 'Gin'ral,'
says he, 'ye have done well so far,' he says. ''Tis not f'r me to take
th' lorls fr'm th' steamin' brow iv a thrue hero,' he says. 'I lave ye
here,' he says, 'f'r to complete th' victhry ye have so nobly begun,' he
says. 'F'r you,' he says, 'th' wallop in th' eye fr'm th' newspaper
rayporther, th' r-round robbing, an' th' sunsthroke,' he says, 'f'r me
th' hardship iv th' battlefield, th' late dinner, th' theayter party,
an' th' sickenin' polky,' he says. 'Gather,' he says, 'th' fruits iv
ye'er bravery,' he says. 'Return,' he says, 'to ye'er native land, an'
receive anny gratichood th' Sicrety iv War can spare fr'm his own
fam'ly,' he says. 'F'r me,' he says, 'there is no way but f'r to tur-rn
me back upon this festive scene,' he says, 'an' go where jooty calls
me,' he says. 'Ordherly,' he says, 'put a bottle on th' ice, an' see
that me goold pants that I wear with th' pale blue vest with th' di'mon
buttons is irned out,' he says. An' with a haggard face he walked aboord
th' excursion steamer, an' wint away.

"I'd hate to tell ye iv th'thriles iv th' expedition, Hinnissy. Whin th'
picnic got as far as Punch, on th' southern coast iv Porther Ricky,
Gin'ral Miles gazes out, an' says he, 'This looks like a good place to