in a right hook an' pulled off Muttons's face. I tell ye 'tis so. He
jus' hauled it off th' way ye'd haul off a porous plasther,--raked off
th' whole iv Muttons's fr-ront ilivation. 'I like ye'er face,' he
says, an' took it. An' all this time, an' 'twas fifty year ago,
Muttons hasn't had a face to shave. Ne'er a one. So he goes ar-round
exhibitin' th' recent site, an' warnin' people that, whin they ar-re
shootin' bears, they must see that their gun is kept loaded an' their
face is nailed on securely. If ye iver see a bear that looks like a
man, shoot him on th' spot, or, betther still, r-run up an alley. Ye
must niver lose that face, Hinnissy.

"I showed th' pome to Father Kelly," continued Mr. Dooley.

"What did he say?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"He said," Mr. Dooley replied, "that I cud write as good a wan mesilf;
an' he took th' stub iv a pencil, an' wrote this. Lemme see--Ah! here
it is:--

'Whin he shows as seekin' frindship with paws that're thrust in thine,
That is th' time iv pearl, that is th' thruce iv th' line.

'Collarless, coatless, hatless, askin' a dhrink at th' bar,
Me Uncle Mike, the Fenyan, he tells it near and far,

'Over an' over th' story: 'Beware iv th' gran' flimflam,
There is no thruce with Gazabo, th' line that looks like a lamb.'

"That's a good pome, too," said Mr. Dooley; "an' I'm goin' to sind it
to th' nex' meetin' iv th' Anglo-Saxon 'liance."