"An' there ye ar-re. There goes me dhream iv bein' sultan along with me dhream iv bein' a gr-reat gin'ral till th' Spanish war. If that's th' kind iv job a sultan has, I'll lave it f'r anny wan to take that wants it. Why, be Hivens, whin th' Young Turks come to search th' palace, like th' pathrites they ar-re, to find if he'd left anny money behind, divvle th' thrace they found iv annything that I'd thrade f'r me back room. I begun to feel sorry f'r th' poor old miscreent. Instead iv lollin' on a sofy an' listenin' to th' song iv th' mockin' bur-rd in th' pommygranite threes while ladies fr'm th' chorus iv 'Th' Black Crook' fanned him with fans iv peacock feathers, th' mis'rable old haythen was locked up in a garret with a revolver in his hand ready to shoot anny wan that come next or near him. He suffered fr'm dyspepsia an' he cuddent sleep nights. He cud ate nawthin' sthronger thin milk toast. He was foorced be fashion's whim to have five hundhred wives whin wan was abundant. Take it all in all, he led a dog's life, an' I bet ye he's happyer now where he is, wathrin' th' geeranyums, mowin' th' lawn, an' sneakin' into Constantinople iv a Saturday night an' seein' Circassyan girls dancin' f'r th' first time in his life. His childher are all grown up an' safe in jail, he has four hundhred an' eighty-nine less wives, but iliven are a good manny in th' suburbs; he has put away a few piasthres f'r a rainy day, out-iv-dure life may improve his health, an' I shudden't wondher if ye'd read some day in th' pa-aper: 'At th' Stambool county fair th' first prize f'r Poland Chiny hens was won be A. Hamid, th' pop'lar ex-sultan.' "Ye can't tell annything about it. Give th' poor man a chance, says I. There may be th' makins iv a dacint citizen in him afther all. What opporchunity has he had, tell me? What can ye expict fr'm a man that niver was taught annything betther thin that he cud do annything he wanted to do without bein' called down f'r it? It doesn't make anny diff'rence whether 'tis a polisman or th' Rajah iv Beloochistan, be gorry, put a club in his hand an' tell him that he can use it an' he'll begin usin' it tomorrah. He'll break wan head tomorrah, two th' next day, an' befure he's been on th' foorce or th' throne a year it'll be a whack on th' chimbly befure he says 'How ar-re ye.' By an' by he'll get so manny people afraid iv him that he'll be in danger and that'll make him afraid iv thim, an' thin he'll be more dangerous thin iver, d'ye mind? Th' on'y man ye need to be afraid iv is th' man that's afraid iv ye. An' that's what makes a tyrant. He's scared to death. If I'd thought about it whin I r-read iv me frind murdherin' people I'd've known they'd find him thremblin' in a room an' shootin' at th' hired girl whin she come in with his porridge. So I'm glad afther all that I didn't put in me application. I want no man to fear me. I'd hate to be more of a coward thin I am."