iv ye'ers expects to cross, he'd betther tear f'r th' ship. In a
few minyits th' gates 'll be down an' whin th' oppressed wurruld
comes hikin' acrost to th' haven iv refuge, they'll do well to put
a couplin' pin undher their hats, f'r th' Goddess iv Liberty 'll
meet thim at th' dock with an axe in her hand. Congress is goin'
to fix it. Me frind Shaughnessy says so. He was in yisterdah an'
says he: ''Tis time we done something to make th' immigration laws
sthronger,' says he. 'Thrue f'r ye, Miles Standish,' says I; 'but
what wud ye do?' 'I'd keep out th' offscourin's iv Europe,' says
he. 'Wud ye go back?' says I. 'Have ye'er joke,' says he. ''Tis
not so seeryus as it was befure ye come,' says I. 'But what ar-re
th' immygrants doin' that's roonous to us?' I says.

'Well,' says he, 'they're arnychists,' he says; 'they don't
assymilate with th' counthry,' he says. 'Maybe th' counthry's
digestion has gone wrong fr'm too much rich food,' says I; 'perhaps
now if we'd lave off thryin' to digest Rockyfellar an' thry a
simple diet like Schwartzmeister, we wudden't feel th' effects iv
our vittels,' I says. 'Maybe if we'd season th' immygrants a
little or cook thim thurly, they'd go down betther,' I says.

"'They're arnychists, like Parsons,' he says. 'He wud've been an
immygrant if Texas hadn't been admitted to th' Union,' I says.
'Or Snolgosh,' he says. 'Has Mitchigan seceded?' I says. 'Or
Gittoo,' he says. 'Who come fr'm th' effete monarchies iv Chicago,
west iv Ashland Av'noo,' I says. 'Or what's-his-name, Wilkes
Booth,' he says. 'I don't know what he was--maybe a Boolgharyen,'
says I. 'Well, annyhow,' says he, 'they're th' scum iv th' earth.'
'They may be that,' says I; 'but we used to think they was th'
cream iv civilization,' I says. 'They're off th' top annyhow. I