“I see,” said Mr. Dooley, “that th' la-ad out in Kansas that thried to r-run a paper like what th' Lord wud r-run if he had lived in Topeka, has thrun up th' job.”

“Sure, I niver heerd iv him,” said Mr. Hennessy.

“Well, 'twus this way with him,” Mr. Dooley explained. “Ye see, he didn't like th' looks iv th' newspapers. He got tired iv r-readin' how many rows iv plaits Mrs. Potther Pammer had on th' las' dhress she bought, an' whether McGovern oughtn't to go into th' heavy-weight class an' fight Jeffries, an' he says, says th' la-ad, 'This is no right readin' f'r th' pure an' passionless youth iv Kansas,' he says. 'Give me,' he says, 'a chanst an' I'll projooce th' kind iv organ that'd be got out in hiven,' he says, 'price five cints a copy,' he says, 'f'r sale be all newsdealers; f'r advertisin' rates consult th' cashier,' he says. So a man in Topeka that had a newspaper, he says: 'I will not be behindhand,' he says, 'in histin' Kansas up fr'm its prisint low an' irrellijous position,' he says. 'I don't know how th' inhabitants iv th' place ye refer to is fixed,' he says, 'f'r newspapers,' he says, 'an' I niver heerd iv annybody fr'm Kansas home-stakin' there,' he says, 'but if ye'll attind to th' circulation iv thim parts,' he says, 'I'll see that th' paper is properly placed in th' hands iv th' vile an' wicked iv this earth, where,' he says, 'th' returns ar-re more quick,' he says.”

“Well, th' la-ad wint at it, an' 'twas a fine paper he made. Hogan was in here th' other day with a copy iv it an' I r-read it. I haven't had such a lithry threat since I was a watchman on th' canal f'r a week with nawthin' to r-read but th' delinquent tax list an' the upper half iv a weather map. 'Twas gran'. Th' editor, it seems, Hinnissy, wint into th' editoryal rooms iv th' pa-aper an' he gathered th' force around him fr'm their reg'lar jobs in th' dhrug stores, an' says he, 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'tell me ye'er plans f'r to enoble this here Christyan publication f'r to-day!' he says. 'Well,' says th' horse rayporther, 'they's a couple iv rabbits goin' to sprint around th' thrack at th' fair groun's,' he says. I think 'twud be a good thing f'r rellijon if ye'd lind me tin that I might br-reak th' sin-thralled bookys that come down here fr'm Kansas City f'r to skin th' righteous,' he says. 'No,' says th' editor, he says, 'no horse racin' in this paper,' he says. ''Tis th' roonation iv th' young, an' ye can't beat it,' he says. 'An' you, fair-haired youth,' he says, 'what d'ye do that makes ye'er color so good an' ye'er eye so bright?' 'I,' says th' la-ad, 'am th' boy that writes th' fightin' dope,' he says. 'They'se a couple iv good wans on at th' op'ra house to-night, an' if his Spiklets don't tin-can 'tis like findin' money in an ol' coat that—' 'Fightin',' says th' editor, 'is a crool an' onchristyan spoort,' he says. 'Instead iv chroniclin' th' ruffyanism iv these misguided wretches that weigh in at th' ringside at 125 poun's, an' I see in a pa-aper I r-read in a barber shop th' other day that Spike's gone away back—what's that I'm sayin'? Niver mind. D'ye go down to th' home iv th' Rivrind Aloysius Augustus Morninbinch an'interview him on th' question iv man's co-operation with grace in conversion. Make a nice chatty article about it an' I'll give ye a copy iv wan iv me books.' 'I will,' says th' la-ad, 'if he don't swing on me,' he says. The editor thin addhressed th' staff. 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'I find that th' wurruk ye've been accustomed to doin',' he says, 'is calc'lated f'r to disthroy th' morality an' debase th' home life iv Topeka, not to mintion th' surroundin' methrolopuses iv Valencia, Wanamaker, Sugar Works, Paxico an' Snokomo,' he says. 'Th' newspaper, instead iv bein' a pow'rful agent f'r th' salvation iv mankind, has become something that they want to r-read,' he says. 'Ye can all go home,' he says. 'I'll stay here an' write th' paper mesilf,' he says. 'I'm th' best writer ar-round here, annyhow, an' I'll give thim something that'll prepare thim f'r death,' he says.

“An' he did, Hinnissy, he did. 'Twas a gran' paper. They was an article on sewerage an' wan on prayin' f'r rain, an' another on muni-cipal ownership iv gas tanks, an' wan to show that they niver was a good milker ownded be a pro-fane man. They was pomes, too, manny iv thim, an' fine wans: 'Th' Man with th' Shovel,' 'Th' Man with th' Pick, 'Th' Man with th' Cash-Raygisther,' 'Th' Man with th' Snow Plow,' 'Th' Man with th' Bell Punch,' 'Th' Man with th' Skate,' 'Th' Man with No Kick Comin'.' Fine pothry, th' editor askin' who pushed this here man's forehead back an' planed down his chin, who made him wear clothes that didn't fit him and got him a job raisin' egg-plant f'r th' monno-polists in Topeka at a dollar a day. A man in th' editor's position ought to know, but he didn't, so he ast in th'pomes. An' th' advertisin', Hinnissy! I'd be scandalized f'r to go back readin' th' common advertisin' in th' vile daily press about men's pantings, an' DoesannyoneknowwhereIcangeta biscuit, an' In th' spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to Pocohontas plug, not made be th' thrusts. Th' editor left thim sacrilegious advertisements f'r his venal contimp'raries. His was pious an' nice: 'Do ye'er smokin' in this wurruld. Th' Christyan Unity Five-Cint See-gar is made out iv th' finest grades iv excelsior iver projooced in Kansas!' 'Nebuchednezzar grass seed, f'r man an' beast.' 'A handful iv meal in a barrel an' a little ile in a curse. Swedenborgian bran fried in kerosene makes th' best breakfast dish in th' wurruld.' 'Twus nice to r-read. It made a man feel as if he was in church—asleep.”

“How did th'pa-aper sthrike th' people?” says ye. “Oh, it sthruck thim good. Says th' Topeka man, skinnin' over th' gossip about Christyan citizenship an' th' toolchest iv pothry: 'Eliza, here's a good paper, a fine wan, f'r ye an' th' childher. Sind Tommy down to th' corner an' get me a copy iv th' Polis Gazette.'”

“Ye see, Hinnissy, th' editor wint to th' wrong shop f'r what Hogan calls his inspiration. Father Kelly was talkin' it over with me, an' says he: 'They ain't anny news in bein' good. Ye might write th' doin's iv all th' convents iv th' wurruld on th' back iv a postage stamp, an' have room to spare. Supposin' ye took out iv a newspaper all th' murdhers, an' suicides, an' divorces, an elopements, an' fires, an' disease, an' war, an' famine,' he says, 'ye wudden't have enough left to keep a man busy r-readin' while he rode ar-roun' th' block on th' lightnin' express. No,' he says, 'news is sin an' sin is news, an' I'm worth on'y a line beginnin': “Kelly, at the parish-house, April twinty-sicond, in th' fiftieth year iv his age,” an' pay f'r that, while Scanlan's bad boy is good f'r a column anny time he goes dhrunk an' thries to kill a polisman. A rellijious newspaper? None iv thim f'r me. I want to know what's goin' on among th' murdher an' burglary set. Did ye r-read it?' he says. 'I did,' says I. 'What did ye think iv it?' says he. 'I know,' says I, 'why more people don't go to church,' says I.”