"'I defer to th' ar-rmy whose honor is beyond reproach,' says th'
polisman, 'or recognition,' he says. 'Veev l'army!' he says.
"'Thank ye,' says Gin'ral Bellow, salutin'. 'I will do me jooty. Man
can do no more,' he says. 'Jools,' he says, 'surrinder,' he says. 'Ye
cannot longer hol' out,' he says. 'Ye have provisions on'y f'r eight
years.'
"'We will remain till th' last wan iv us perishes iv indigestion,'
says Jools.
"'Thin I must take sthrong measures,' says th' gin'ral. 'At a given
signal we will storm th' house, bate down th' dures, smash in th'
roofs, cut off th' gas, poison th' wather supply, back up th' sewer,
break th' windys, an' r-raise th' rint.'"
"'Do ye'er worst,' says Jools, proudly.
"'Thin,' says th' gin'ral, imprissively, 'if these measures do not
suffice, I will suspind th' deliv'ry iv th' mails,' he says.
"'Miscreant!' cries Jools, tur-rnin' white. 'An' this is called a
merciful governmint,' he says. 'Mong doo,' he says, 'what cr-rimes
will not Fr-rinchmen commit again' Fr-rinchmen!' he says. 'But,' he
says, 'ye little know us, if ye think we can be quelled be vi'lence,'
he says.
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