"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "it seems he wint into me frind Hip Lung's
laundhry to get his shirt an' it wasn't ready. Followin' what Hogan
calls immemoryal usage, he called Hip Lung such names as he cud remimber
and thried to dhrag him around th' place be his shinin' braid. But
instead iv askin' f'r mercy, as he ought to, Hip Lung swung a flat-iron
on him an' thin ironed out his spine as he galloped up th' stairs. He
come to me f'r advice an' I advised him to see th' American consul.
Who's th' American consul in Chicago now? I don't know. But Hogan, who
was here at th' time, grabs him be th' hand an' says he: 'I
congratulate ye, me boy,' he says. 'Ye have a chance to be wan iv th'
first martyrs iv th' white race in th' gr-reat sthruggle that's comin'
between thim an' th' smoked or tinted races iv th' wurruld,' he says.
'Ye'll be another Jawn Brown's body or Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Go back an'
let th' Chink kill ye an' cinchries hence people will come with wreathes
and ate hard-biled eggs on ye'er grave,' he says.

"But Simpson said he did not care to be a martyr. He said he was a
retail grocer be pro-fissyon an' Hip Lung was a customer iv his, though
he got most iv his vittles fr'm th' taxydermist up th' sthreet an' he
thought he'd go around to-morrah an' concilyate him. So he wint away.

"Hogan, d'ye mind, has a theery that it's all been up with us blondes
since th' Jap'nese war. Hogan is a prophet. He's wan iv th' gr-reatest
prophets I know. A prophet, Hinnissy, is a man that foresees throuble.
No wan wud listen a minyit to anny prophet that prophesized pleasant
days. A successful weather prophet is wan that predicts thunder storms,
hurrycanes an' earthquakes; a good financial prophet is wan that
predicts panics; a pollytickal prophet must look into th' tea leaves an'
see th' institutions iv th' wurruld cracked wide open an' th' smiling
not to say grinnin', fields iv this counthry iv ours,' or somebody's