ye. 'Twas bad enough in th' ol' days whin all that happened to a sojer
was bein' pinithrated be a large r-round gob iv solder or stuck up on
th' end iv a baynit be a careless inimy. But now-a-days, they have th'
bullet that whin it enthers ye tur-rns ar-round like th' screw iv a
propeller, an' another wan that ye might say goes in be a key-hole an'
comes out through a window, an' another that has a time fuse in it an'
it doesn't come out at all but stays in ye, an' mebbe twinty years
afther, whin ye've f'rgot all about it an' ar-re settin' at home with
ye'er fam'ly, bang! away it goes an' ye with it, carryin' off half iv
th' roof. Thin they have guns as long as fr'm here to th' rollin' mills
that fires shells as big as a thrunk. Th' shells are loaded like a
docthor's bag an' have all kinds iv things in thim that won't do a bit
iv good to man or beast. If a sojer has a weak back there's something in
th' shell that removes a weak back; if his head throubles him, he can
lose it; if th' odher iv vilets is distasteful to him th' shell smothers
him in vilet powdher. They have guns that anny boy or girl who knows th'
typewriter can wurruk, an' they have other guns on th' music box plan,
that ye wind up an' go away an' lave, an' they annoy anny wan that comes
along. They have guns that bounces up out iv a hole in th' groun', fires
a millyon shells a minyit an' dhrops back f'r another load. They have
guns that fire dinnymite an' guns that fire th' hateful, sickly green
lyddite that makes th' inimy look like fiat money, an' guns that fire
canned beef f'r th' inimy an' distimper powdher for th' inimy's horses.
An' they have some guns that shoot straight."

"Well, thin," Mr. Hennessy grumbled, "it's a wondher to me that with all
thim things they ain't more people kilt. Sure, Gin'ral Grant lost more
men in wan day thin th' British have lost in four months, an' all he had
to keep tab on was ol' fashioned bullets an' big, bouncin' iron balls."