“‘Twas a pretty scene, Hinnissy, an’ wan that makes me proud iv Bailey f’r his courage in pouncin’ on his collague; iv Biv’ridge f’r th’ manly self resthraint an’ rayspict f’r th’ dignity iv th’ Sinit that par’lyzes a man’s hands whin his wind is cut off; iv our noble counthry that projooces such sturdy sons, iv th’ Sinit that brings thim together in a clinch an’ iv mesilf because I wasn’t there.  I’m with Bailey.  Bailey f’r prisidint!  Bailey or bust or choke!

“I’m not sure that if I was in th’ same place I’d do th’ same thing.  But I’m no statesman.  Who am I to say that what wudden’t be manners in a bar-room is not all right in th’ Sinit?  Diff’rent men has diff’rent raisons f’r fightin’.  Ivry man will fight.  Ye can bet on that.  A brave man will fight because he is brave an’ a cow’rd because he is a cow’rd.  All men will fight an’ all men will run.  Some will fight befure they’ll run, but they’ll run; some men will run befure they’ll fight, but they’ll fight.  They’se a pretty good fight an’ a pretty fast run in ivry man I know.  Th’ debate in th’ Sinit don’t prove annything about th’ merits iv ayether pug.  In some other circumstances, Biv’ridge might have hunted Bailey up a three.  It happened to be Bailey’s day.

“As I get on in years, I believe less in fightin’.  ’Tis a turr’ble thing to see th’ aged an’ infirm swingin’ away at each other.  ’Tis so unscientific.  I hate to think iv a man with one leg in th’ grave usin’ th’ other to thrip th’ free foot iv a fellow aged.  I’m glad Bailey an’ Biv’ridge ar-re young men.  What a scandal if Sinitor Cullom an’ Sinitor Morgan shud mix it up!  Wan iv th’ things a man larns as he grows old is to dislike fightin’.  He dislikes annything he can’t do as well as he cud.  I’m that way.  But I wasn’t always so.  No, sir.  They was a time whin I’d fight at th’ dhrop iv a hat, f’r money or marbles or pool checks, f’r th’ good name iv women or th’ revarse, f’r political principles or unprincipled politics, f’r th’ gate receipts, f’r me relligion, f’r th’ look iv th’ thing, because th’ barkeeper heard what he said, because he whispered to her, f’r th’ sacred theery that th’ buildin’s is higher in Chicago thin in New York, f’r th’ fun iv th’ thing, an’ f’r th’ Fight.  That last’s th’ best iv all.  A man that won’t fight f’r th’ fight itsilf is no rale fighter.  I don’t know what wud make me fight nowadays.  I know lots iv things that wud make me want to fight, but I’ve larned to repress me desires.  Me heart is full iv song but I’ve lost me voice.  In me dhreams I’m always punchin’ somebody’s head.  I shall niver f’rget th’ night whin I put Jeffries out iv th’ business with wan well-directed punch an’ me in me bare feet, too.  I can niver f’rget it f’r I fell out iv bed and bumped me head again’ th’ rocker iv a chair.  But in me wakin’ hours, I’m a man iv vi’lent impulses an’ peaceful raysults.  In a fight I’d be like a deef-mute in a debatin’ s’ciety.