' all th'
hardships that men endure campin' out in vacation time, what were th'
women doin'? They were back in Matsachoosetts milkin' th' cow, mendin'
socks, followin' th' plow, plantin' corn, keepin' store, shoein' horses,
an' pursooin' th' other frivvlous follies iv th' fair but fickle sect.
Afther th' war our brave fellows come back to Boston an' as a reward f'r
their devotion got a vote apiece, if their wives had kept th' Pilgrim
fathers that stayed at home fr'm foreclosin' th' morgedge on their
property. An' now, be hivens, they want to share with us what we won.

"Why, they wudden't know how to vote. They think it's an aisy job that
anny wan can do, but it ain't. It's a man's wurruk, an' a sthrong man's
with a sthrong stomach. I don't know annything that requires what Hogan
calls th' exercise iv manly vigor more thin votin'. It's th' hardest
wurruk I do in th' year. I get up befure daylight an' thramp over to th'
Timple iv Freedom, which is also th' office iv a livery stable. Wan iv
th' judges has a cold in his head an' closes all th' windows. Another
judge has built a roarin' fire in a round stove an' is cookin' red-hots
on it. Th' room is lit with candles an' karosene lamps, an' is crowded
with pathrites who haven't been to bed. At th' dure are two or three
polismen that maybe ye don't care to meet. Dock O'Leary says he don't
know annything that'll exhaust th' air iv a room so quick as a polisman
in his winter unyform. All th' pathrites an', as th' pa-apers call thim,
th' high-priests iv this here sacred rite, ar-re smokin' th' best
seegars that th' token money iv our counthry can buy.

"In th' pleasant warmth iv th' fire, th' harness on th' walls glows an'
puts out its own peculiar aromy. Th' owner iv th' sanchoo-ary iv Liberty
comes in, shakes up a bottle iv liniment made iv carbolic acid, pours it
into a cup an' goes out. Wan iv th' domestic attindants iv th' guests iv
th' house walks through fr'm makin' th' beds. Afther a while th' chief
judge, who knows me well, because he shaves me three times a week, gives
me a contimchous stare, asks me me name an' a number iv scand'lous
questions about me age.

"I'm timpted to make an angry retort, whin I see th' polisman movin'
nearer, so I take me ballot an' wait me turn in th' booth. They're all
occypied be writhin' freemen, callin' in sthrangled voices f'r somewan
to light th' candle so they'll be sure they ain't votin' th' prohybition
ticket. Th' calico sheets ov