“It looks like war,” said Mr. Hennessy, who had been glancing at the flaming head-lines of an evening paper over Mr. Dooley's shoulder.

“It always does,” said Mr. Dooley. “Since th' Czar iv Rooshia inthrajooced his no-fight risolution, they'se been no chanst that they wudden't be ructious.”

“An' what's it all about?” demanded Mr. Hennessy. “I can't make head nor tail iv it at all, at all.”

“Well ye see 'tis this way,” said Mr. Dooley. “Ye see th' Boers is a simple, pasthral people that goes about their business in their own way, raisin' hell with ivrybody. They was bor-rn with an aversion to society an' whin th' English come they lit out befure thim, not likin' their looks. Th' English kept comin' an' the Boers kept movin' till they cudden't move anny further without bumpin' into th' Soodanese ar-rmy an' thin they settled down an' says they, 'This far shall we go,' says they, bein' a rellijous people, 'an' divvle th' sthep further.' An' they killed off th' irrelijous naygurs an' started in f'r to raise cattle. An' at night they'd set outside iv their dorps, which, Hinnissy, is Dutch f'r two-story brick house an' lot, an' sip their la-ager an' swap horses an' match texts fr'm th' Bible f'r th' seegars, while th' childer played marbles with dimons as big as th' end iv ye'er thumb.

“Well, th' English heerd they was goold be th' bucket in ivry cellar fr'm Oopencoff to Doozledorf, which, Hinnissy, is like New York an' San Francisco, bein' th' exthreme pints iv th' counthry, an' they come on in gr-reat hordes, sturdy Anglo-Saxons fr'm Saxony, th' Einsteins an' Heidlebacks an' Werners an' whin they took out goold enough so's they needed raycreation they wanted to vote. 'An',' says Joe Chamberlain, he says, 'Be hivins, they shall vote,' he says. 'Is it,' he says, 'possible that at this stage iv th' world's progress' he says, 'an English gintleman shud be denied,' he says, 'th' right to dhrop off a thrain annywhere in th' civilized wurruld an' cast his impeeryal vote?' he says. 'Give thim th' franchise,' he says, 'or be this an' be that!' he says, 'f'r we have put our hand to th' plough, an' we will not turn back,' he says.

{Illustration}

“Kruger, that's th' main guy iv th' Dutch, a fine man, Hennissy, that looks like Casey's goat an' has manny iv th' same peculyarities, he says, 'All r-right,' he says, 'I'll give thim th' franchise,' he says. 'Whin?' says Joe Chamberlain. 'In me will,' says Kruger. 'Whin I die,' he says, 'an' I hope to live to be a hundherd if I keep on smokin' befure breakfast,' he says, 'I'll bequeath to me frinds, th' English, or such iv thim as was here befure I come, th' inalienable an' sacred right to demand fr'm me succissor th' privilege iv ilictin' an aldherman,' he says. 'But,' he says, 'in th' mane-time,' he says, 'we'll lave things the way they are,' he says. 'I'm old,' he say, 'an' not good-lookin',' he says, 'an' me clothes don't fit an' they may be marks iv food on me vest,' he says, 'but I'm not more thin half crazy an' annytime ye find me givin' annywan a chanst to vote me into a job dhrivin' a mule an' put in an English prisidint iv this ray-public,' he says, 'ye may conclude that ye'er Uncle Paul needs a guarjeen!' he says.

“'Far be it fr'm me to suggist anny but peaceful measures,' says Sir Alfred Milner, that's th' lad they have down in Africa, th' Injun agent, 'f'r th' English an' Dutch shud wurruk together like brothers f'r th' removal iv th' naygur popylation,' he says, 'but,' he says, 'as a brother I politely suggest to ye that if ye don't give us what we want we'll hand ye a fraternal punch!' he says. 'F'r,' he says,' 'we have put our hand to th' plough,' he says, 'an' we cannot turn back,' he says.

“'What Sir Alfred Milner says is thrue,' says Lord Lelborne, an' what th' divvle he has to do about it I dinnaw. 'Th' situation is such,' he says, 'as to be intol'rable to a silf-rayspictin' Englishman,' he says. 'What a crime,' he says, 'that th' men who ar-re takin' most iv th' money out iv th' counthry shud not be allowed to stick in anny iv th' votes,' he says. 'We have, as Shakespeare says, put our hand to th' plough,' he says, 'an' we cannot turn back,' he says. 'I agree corjally with th' noble lord on th' r-red lounge abaft me,' says Lord Salisbury. 'With the echoes of me own noble sintimints on th' peace proclamation iv me good frind, th' Czar iv Rooshia, still ringin' in me ears,' he says, 'it wud ill become me to speak iv foorce,' he says. 'I wud on'y say that if th' Transvaal raypublic wud rather have a Dum-dum bullet in its tum-tum thin grant to Englishmen th' r-right to run th' govermint, thin th' Transvaal rapublic'll have both!' he says. 'I will add,' he says, 'that we have put our hand to th' plough an' we will not turn back,' he says.

“Well, sir, 'twas up to Kruger an' he knocked th' ashes out iv his pipe on his vest an' says he, 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'I wud like to do me best to accomydate ye,' he says. 'Nawthin' short iv a severe attack iv sickness wud plaze me so much as to see long lines iv Englishmen marchin' up to th' polls an' depositin' their ballots again' me f'r prisidint,' he says. 'But,' he says, 'I'm an old man!' he says. 'I was ilicted young an' I niver done annything since,' he says. 'I wudden't know what to do without it,' he says. 'What ye propose is to make an ex-prisidint iv me. D'ye think I cud stand that? D'ye think at my age I wud be contint to dash fr'm wan justice coort to another pleadin' f'r habyas-corpus writs or test me principles iv personal expansion in a Noo Jarsey village?' he says. 'I'd rather be a dead prisidint thin a live ex-prisidint. If I have anny pollytical ambition I'd rather be a Grant or a Garfield thin a Cleveland or a Harrison,' he says. 'I may've read it in th' Bible, though I think I saw it in a scand'lous book me frind Rhodes left in his bedroom las' time he called on me, that ye shud niver discard an ace to dhraw to a flush,' he says. 'I deplore th' language but th' sintimint is sound,' he says. 'An' I believe ye'er intintions to presarve peace ar-re honest, but I don't like to see ye pullin' off ye'er coat an' here goes f'r throuble while ye have ye'er arms in th' sleeves,' he says. 'F'r,' he says, 'ye have put ye'er hand in th' reaper an' it cannot turn back,' he says.

“An' there they go, Hinnissy. I'm not again England in this thing, Hinnissy, an' I'm not again th' Boers. Like Mack I'm divided on a matther iv principle between a desire to cemint th' 'lieance an' an affiction f'r th' Dutch vote. But if Kruger had spint his life in a rale raypublic where they burn gas he cud've settled th' business without losin' sleep. If I was Kruger there'd've been no war.”

“What wud ye have done?” Mr. Hennessy asked.

“I'd give thim th' votes,” said Mr. Dooley. “But,” he added significantly, “I'd do th' countin'.”