Island, with a popylation iv three
millyion clams, an' a number iv mosquitos with pianola attachments
an' steel rams. There day be day th' head iv th' nation thransacts
th' nation's business as follows: four A.M., a plunge into th'
salt, salt sea an' a swim iv twenty miles; five A.M., horse-back
ride, th' prisidint insthructin' his two sons, aged two and four
rayspictively, to jump th' first Methodist church without knockin'
off th' shingles; six A.M., wrestles with a thrained grizzly bear;
sivin A.M., breakfast; eight A.M., Indyan clubs; nine A.M., boxes
with Sharkey; tin A.M., bates th' tinnis champeen; iliven A.M.,
rayceives a band iv rough riders an' person'lly supervises th'
sindin' iv th' ambylance to look afther th' injured in th' village;
noon, dinner with Sharkey, Oscar Featherstone, th' champeen
roller-skater iv Harvard, '98, Pro-fissor McGlue, th' archyologist,
Lord Dum de Dum, Mike Kehoe, Immanuel Kant Gumbo, th' naygro pote,
Horrible Hank, t' bad lands scout, Sinitor Lodge, Lucy Emerson
Tick, th' writer on female sufferage, Mud-in-the-Eye, th' chief
iv th' Ogallas, Gin'ral Powell Clayton, th' Mexican mine expert,
four rough riders with their spurs on, th' Ambassadure iv France
an' th' Cinquovasti fam'ly, jugglers. Th' conversation, we larn
fr'm wan iv th' guests who's our spoortin' iditor, was jined in
be th' prisidint an' dealt with art, boxin', lithrachoor,
horse-breakin', science, shootin', pollytics, how to kill a mountain
line, di-plomacy, lobbing, pothry, th' pivot blow, rayform, an'
th' campaign in Cubia. Whin our rayporther was dhriven off th'
premises be wan iv th' rough riders, th' head iv th' nation was
tachin' Lord Dum de Dum an' Sicrety Hay how to do a hand-spring,
an' th' other guests was scattered about th' lawn, boxin', rasslin',
swingin' on th' thrapeze, ridin' th' buckin' bronco an' shootin'
at th' naygro pote f'r th' dhrinks--in short enjyin' an ideel day
in th' counthry.

"An' that's all th' news," said Mr. Dooley. "There ye ar-re jus'
as if ye cud read. That's all that's happened. Ain't I a good
newspaper? Not a dull line in me. Sind in ye'er small ads."

"Sure, all that's no news," said Mr. Hennessy, discontentedly.
"Hasn't there annything happened? Hasn't anny wan been--been
kilt?"

"There ye ar-re," said Mr. Dooley. "Be news ye mane misfortune.
I suppose near ivry wan does. What's wan man's news is another
man's throubles. In these hot days, I'd like to see a pa-aper