"I'm timpted to make an angry retort, whin I see th' polisman movin'
nearer, so I take me ballot an' wait me turn in th' booth. They're all
occypied be writhin' freemen, callin' in sthrangled voices f'r somewan
to light th' candle so they'll be sure they ain't votin' th' prohybition
ticket. Th' calico sheets over th' front iv th' booths wave an' ar-re
pushed out like th' curtains iv a Pullman car whin a fat man is
dhressin' inside while th' thrain is goin' r-round a curve. In time a
freeman bursts through, with perspyration poorin' down his nose, hurls
his suffrage at th' judge an' staggers out. I plunge in, sharpen an inch
iv lead pencil be rendin' it with me teeth, mutilate me ballot at th'
top iv th' dimmycratic column, an' run f'r me life.

"Cud a lady do that, I ask ye? No, sir, 'tis no job f'r th' fair. It's
men's wurruk. Molly Donahue wants a vote, but though she cud bound
Kamachatka as aisily as ye cud this precint, she ain't qualified f'r it.
It's meant f'r gr-reat sturdy American pathrites like Mulkowsky th'
Pollacky down th' sthreet. He don't know yet that he ain't votin' f'r
th' King iv Poland. He thinks he's still over there pretindin' to be a
horse instead iv a free American givin' an imytation iv a steam dhredge.

"On th' first Choosday afther th' first Monday in November an' April a
man goes ar-round to his house, wakes him up, leads him down th'
sthreet, an' votes him th' way ye'd wather a horse. He don't mind
inhalin' th' air iv liberty in a livery stable. But if Molly Donahue
wint to vote in a livery stable, th' first thing she'd do wud be to get
a broom, sweep up th' flure, open th' windows, disinfect th' booths,
take th' harness fr'm th' walls, an' hang up a pitcher iv Niagary be
moonlight, chase out th' watchers an' polis, remove th' seegars, make
th' judges get a shave, an' p'raps invalydate th' iliction. It's no job
f'r her, an' I told her so.