"'March eighth: Prisidint Dooley, chafin' at th' delay in th' Sinit requirin' all civilyans to submit their opinyons on th' tariff to th' neighborin' raycruitin' sergeant wanst a week, wint over to th' capitol this mornin' with a file iv sojers an' arristed th' anti-administhration foorces who are now locked up in th' barn back iv th' White House. Th' prisidint was severely lacerated be Sinitor Tillman durin' th' encounther.' "Yes, sir, I'd like to be a sojer. I want to be a military man. An' yet I niver wanted to be a polisman. 'Tis sthrange, too, f'r if ye think it over they ain't th' lot iv diff'rence between th' mos' ordhinry, flat-footed elbow that iver pulled wan leg afther another to mornin' roll-call an' th' gr-reatest gin'ral that iver wint through a war behind a band on horse. They both belong to th' race iv round-headed men. Whin ye lenthen th' head iv a man or dog, ye rayjooce his courage. That's thrue iv all but th' bull-tarryer an' th' Turk. Both iv thim fight like th' divvle. Th' jooties is much th' same but th' polisman's is harder. Th' polisman has to fight night an' day but th' sojer on'y wanst a month. A man's got to be five foot nine to get on th' foorce. He can be five foot eight an' get into th' army through West Pint, or three foot two an' get in through th' War Department. Didn't Mike Gilligan take more chances whin he wint up to th' patch where Red Starkey was holdin' th' fort with a Krupp gun an' took him be th' hand an' pivoted with him out iv a window, thin me frind Fearless Freddy win he assumed false whiskers, pretinded to be a naygur an' stole little Aggynaldoo out iv his flat? Ye wudden't expict a pathrolman to be promoted to be sergeant f'r kidnapin' an organ-grinder, wud ye? An' Gilligan didn't ask f'r lave iv absence an' go down town to th' Union Lague Club an' tell th' assembled mannyfactherers iv axle-grease what ought to be done with th' wather taxes. No, sir! What happened to Gilligan was at roll-call th' nex' mornin' th' Loot says: 'Officer Gilligan, in capturin' Starkey, ye reflicted gr-reat credit on this precinct an' ye'er own bringin' up. But I want ye to know, officer, that this important arrist is no excuse f'r ye goin' out an' loadin' ye'ersilf to th' joo-pint with Hannigan's paint. Th' nex' time ye miss pullin' ye'er box, I'll have ye up befure th' thrile boord. Put that in ye'er pipe an' smoke it, Mike Gilligan.' An' Gilligan blushed.