an’ th’ Dagoes; our own peace-lovin’ nation has been runnin’ wan short an’ wan serryal war, an’ aven th’ Chinese has got their dandher up, be hivins, but Willum, th’ Middleweight Champeen, Willum th’ Potsdam Game Chicken, Willum, th’ Unterdenlinden Cyclone, Willum has been ladin’ th’ ca’m an’ prosperous life iv a delicatessen dealer undher a turner hall.  He’s had no fights.  He niver will have anny fights.  He’ll go to his grave with th’ repytation iv nayether winnin’ nor losin’ a battle, but iv takin’ down more forfeits thin anny impror pugilist iv our time.

“What do I think iv him?  Well, sir, I think he’s not a fighter but a fight lover.  Did ye iver see wan iv thim young men that always has a front seat at a scrap so near th’ ring that whin th’ second blows th’ wather he gets what’s left on his shirt front?  Well, that’s me frind Willum.  He is a pathron iv spoort an’ not a spoort.  His ideel is war but he’s a practical man.  He has a season ticket to th’ matches but he niver will put on the gloves.  He’s in the spoortin’ goods business an’ he usu’lly gets a percintage iv th’ gate receipts.  If he sees two nations bellowin’ at each other th’ assurances iv their distinguished considheration, he says:  ’Boys, get together.  ’Tis a good match.  Ye’re both afraid.  Go in, uncle; go in, Boer.’  He is all around th’ ringside, encouragin’ both sides.  ‘Stand up again’ him there, Paul; rassle him to th’ flure.  Good f’r ye, uncle.  A thrifle low, that wan, but all’s fair in war.  Defind ye’er indipindance, noble sons iv Teutonic blood.  Exercise ye’er sov’reign rights, me English frinds.’  If wan or th’ other begins to weaken th’ first bottle through th’ ropes is Willum’s.  Whin annybody suggests a dhraw, he demands his money back.  Nawthin’ but a fight to a finish will do him.  If ayether iv th’ contestants is alive in th’ ring at th’ end, he congratulates him an’ asks him if he heerd that German cheer in th’ las’ round.

“Oh, he’s good.  He’ll do all right, that German man.  In high di-plomacy, he’s what in low di-plomacy wud be called a happy jollyer.  But he knows that if a man’s always slappin’ ye on th’ back, ye begin to think he’s weak; so he first shakes his fist undher ye’er nose an’ thin slaps ye on th’ back.  Sometimes he does both at th’ same time.  An’ he’s got th’ thrue jollyer’s way iv provin’ to ye that he’s ye’er frind alone an’ th’ deadly inimy iv all others.  He’s got th’ Czar iv Rooshya hypnotized, th’ King iv England hugged to a standstill, an’ th’ Impror iv Chiny in tears.  An’ he’s made thim all think th’ first thing annywan knows, he’ll haul off an’ swing on wan iv th’ others.

“So, havin’ fixed ivrything up in Europe, he cast his eyes on this counthry, an’ says he:  ’I think I’ll have to dazzle thim furriners somewhat.  They’ve got a round-headed man f’r prisidint that was born with spurs on his feet an’ had a catridge-belt f’r a rattle, an’ some day his goolash won’t agree with him an’ he’ll call th’