An' he wint on a lecther tour, an' here he is.
Be hivins, I think he's more iv a hero now thin iver he was. I'd stand
up befure a cross-eyed Spanish gunner an' take his shootin' without a
mask mesilf; but I'd shy hard if anny ol' heifer come up, an' thried
to kiss me.
"On th' flure iv th' 'Merrimac,' in his light undherclothes, Loot
Hobson was a sthrong, foolish man. On th' stage iv th' Audjitooroom,
bein' caressed be women that 'd kiss th' Indyun in front iv a see-gar
sthore, if he didn't carry a tommyhawk, he's still foolish, but not
sthrong. 'Tis so with all heroes. Napolyeon Bonyparte, th' Impror iv
th' Fr-rinch, had manny carryin's on, I've heerd tell; an' ivry man
knows that, whin Jawn Sullivan wasn't in th' r-ring, he was no
incyclopedja f'r intelligence. No wan thried to kiss him, though. They
knew betther.
"An' Hobson 'll larn. He's young yet, th' Loot is; an' he's goin' out
to th' Ph'lippeens to wurruk f'r Cousin George. Cousin George is no
hero, an' 'tisn't on record that anny wan iver thried to scandalize
his good name be kissin' him.
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