“But other people is diff’rent.  Th’ boldest Artic explorer is a man that’s made his money out iv sellin’ base-burnin’ stoves an’ has chillblains in July.  Such a man is niver continted till he’s started somebody off f’r th’ northest north.  An’ he has no throuble to find a man.  Nex’ to bein’ invited on a private yacht to sail in th’ Middyteranyan, th’ nicest thing a millyonaire can do f’r ye is to make an Artic explorer iv ye.  Th’ prelim’naries is great spoort.  F’r two years ye go round th’ counthry letchrin’ on ’What I will see in th’ Artic regions whin I get there if at all.’  Fin’lly ye set off with th’ fleet, consistin’ iv a ship f’r ye’ersilf, three f’r th’ provisions, two f’r th’ clothes an’ wan f’r th’ diaries.  They’se also a convoy.  Th’ business iv th’ convoy is to dhrop in at Thromsoe in Norway an’ ast f’r news iv ye.  Thromsoe is wan iv th’ farthest north places that anny explorer has been.  But it well repays a visit, bein’ a thrivin’, bustlin’ Swede city with a good club.  Afther th’ long sthruggle with th’ pitiliss ice machine it is very pleasant to dhrop in on this hospital community an’ come back that night be thrain.  Well, as I was sayin’, wan explorer starts off in a fur suit an’ has th’ time iv his life an’ th’ other explorer stays at home an’ suffers th’ crool hardships an’ bitther disapp’intments iv life in Brooklyn.  Lashed to his rockin’ chair, he shivers ivry time th’ wind blows an’ he thinks iv his hardy partner facin’ th’ purls iv that far-off region iv ice an’ snow an’ funny little Esqueemo women in union garments iv fur.  ‘He’s in Greenland now; he’s battlin’ with th’ deadly ice floe; now he’s rasslin’ with a Polar bear; he’s up; he’s away; he’s reached th’ Pole; he’s pullin’ it up be th’ roots; bravo Baldy!’ An’ so he goes till his hands is all chapped fr’m thinkin’ iv th’ cold an’ his leg is lame fr’m th’ encounther with a Polar bear an’ his rockin’ chair is in danger iv bein’ dashed to pieces again’ th’ threacherous pianny.  An’ wan day a message comes fr’m th’ other explorer:  ’Rio Janeiro.  We have rayturned, baffled but not defeated.  Th’ pickled walnuts give out befure we reached th’ West Indies.  As far as we’ve gone we’ve had excellent raysults.  Th’ cap’n, th’ mate, th’ cook, th’ stewart an’ eighty per cint iv th’ crew is in ir’ns an’ as soon as I’ve got this tillygram off I’m goin’ in to punch th’ surgeon.  I congratylate ye.  Ye’er name will stand high among th’ binnyfactors iv science.  We have demonsthrated beyond fear iv conthrydiction that th’ gulf sthream is jus’ where it was an’ that volcanoes ain’t what they are cracked up to be.  Our motto is:  “Niver give up th’ ship.  It’s too comfortable.”  Who’s ye’er banker here?’ Whin th’ millyionaire dies iv exposure, a victim to science, th’ mariner rayturns an’ letchers on th’ subject:  ‘Quarrels I have had in th’ frozen north.’  Talk about th’ terrors, iv Artic exploration, Hinnissy!  There’s where ye get thim.  Did ye iver go to an Artic exploration letcher?  I did wanst.  They was wan down at th’ brothers’ school las’ winther.  I’ve been lame iver since.