“'That,' says Woo, 'is wan way iv r-readin' it. Read upside down it says
that the impress has become a Swedenboorjan. I will r-read it standin'
on me head whin I get home where I can pin down me overskirt; thin I'll
r-read it in a lookin' glass; thin I'll saw it into sthrips an' r-run
it through a wringer an' lave it stand in a tub iv bluein', an' whin its
properly starched I'll find out what it says. Fin'lly I'll cut it into
small pieces an' cook with rice an' lave it to rest in a cool place, an'
thin 'twill r-read even betther. I hope ye're satisfied,' he says.
'I am,' says Jawn Hay. 'I'll tillygraft to Mark that ivrything is all
r-right,' he says, 'an' that our relations with his majesty or her
majesty or their Boxerships or th' Down-with-th'-foreign-divvlers or
whoiver's runnin' th' shop over beyant are as they ought to be or worse
or betther, as th' case may be,' he says. 'Good,' says Woo, 'ye're a man
afther me own heart,' he says. 'I'll sind ye a little book wrote be a
frind iv mine in Peking,' he says. ''Tis called “Heart to Heart Lies
I Have Had,” he says. 'Ye'll like it,' he says. 'In the manetime,' he
says, 'I must write a secret message to go out be to-night's hot-air
express to me corryspondint in Meriden, Connecticut, urgin' him to sind
more im-peeryal edicks iv a fav'r-able nature,' he says. 'I've on'y had
twinty so far, an' I'm gettin' scrivener's palsy,' he says. 'But befure
I go,' he says, 'I bet ye eight millyon yens, or three dollars an'
eighty-four cints iv ye'er money, that ye can't pick out th' shell this
here pea is undher,' he says. An' they set down to a game iv what is
known at Peking as diplomacy, Hinnissy, but on Randolph sthreet viadock
is called the double dirty.”
“I don't believe wan wurrud iv what's in th' pa-apers about Chiny,” said
Mr. Hennessy.
“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “if ye believe annything ye'll believe
ivrything. 'Tis a grand contist that's goin' on between Westhren an'
Easthren civilliezation. 'Tis a joke iv me own, Hinnissy, an'
ye'd undherstand it if ye knew spellin. Th' Westhren civilization,
Hinnissy--that's us--is a pretty good liar, but he's a kind iv
rough-an'-tumble at it. He goes in head down, an' ivry lie he tells
looks like all th' others. Ye niver see an Englishman that had anny
judgment in lyin'. Th' corryspondint iv th' Daily Pail is out iv his
class. He's carryin' lies to Lieville. How in th' wurruld can we compete
with a counthry where ivry lab'rer's cottage projooces lies so delicate
that th' workmen iv th' West can't undherstand thim? We make our lies be
machinery; they tur-rn out theirs be hand. They imitate th' best iv our
canned lies to deceive people that likes that kind, but f'r artists they
have lies that appeals to a more refined taste. Sure I'd like to live
among thim an' find out th' kind iv bouncers they tell each other. They
must be gr-rand. I on'y know their export lies now--th' surplus lies
they can't use at home. An' th' kind they sind out ar-re betther thin
our best. Our lies is no more thin a conthradiction iv th' thruth; their
lies appeals to th' since iv honesty iv anny civilized man.”
“They can't hurt us with their lies,” said Mr. Hennessy of our Western
civilization. “We have th' guns an' we'll bate thim yet.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Dooley, “an' 'twill be like a man who's had his house
desthroyed be a cyclone gettin' up an' kickin' at th' air.”