gr-reat powers, I'd go down to th' Phosphorus an' take th' sultan be th'
back iv th' neck an' give him wan, two, three. 'Tis a shame f'r him to
be desthroyin' white people without anny man layin' hands on him. Th'
man's no frind iv mine. He ought to be impeached an' thrun out."
"Divvle take th' sultan," said Mr. Dooley. "It's little I care f'r him
or th' likes iv him or th' Ar-menyans or th' Phosphorus. I was runnin'
over in me mind about th' poor lads they have sloughed up beyant f'r
attimptin' to blow up Queen Victorya an' th cza-ar iv Rooshia. Glory be,
but they'se nawthin' in the wide wurruld as aisy to undherstand as a
rivoluchonary plot be our own people. You'll see a lad iv th' right sort
that'd niver open his head fr'm wan end iv th' year to th'other; but,
whin he's picked out to go on a mission to London, he niver laves off
talkin' till they put him aboord th' steamer. Here was Tynan. They say
he had a hand in sindin' Lord Cavendish down th' toboggan, though I'd
not thrust his own tellin' as far as th' len'th iv me ar-rm. Now he
figured out that th' thrue way to free Ireland was to go over an' blow
th' windows in Winzer Palace, an' incidentally to hist th' queen an' th'
Rooshian cza-ar without th' aid iv th' elevator. What this here Tynan
had again th' Rooshian cza-ar I niver heerd. But 'twas something awful,
ye may be sure.
"Well, th' first thing th' la-ads done was to go to Madison Square
Garden an' hold a secret meetin', in which thim that was to hand th'
package to th' queen and thim that was to toss a piece iv gas pipe to
his cza-ars was told off. Thin a comity was sint around to th' newspaper
offices to tell thim th' expedition was about to start. Th'
conspirators, heavily disgeesed, was attinded to th' boat be a long
procission. First come Tynan ridin' on a wagon-load iv nithroglycerine;
thin th' other conspirators, with gas-pipe bombs an' picks an' chuvvels
f'r tunnellin' undher Winzer Castle; thin th' Ah-o-haitches; thin th'
raypoorthers; thin a brigade iv Scotland Ya-ard spies in th' ga-arb iv
polismin. An' so off they wint on their secret mission, with th' band
playin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th' Green,' an Tynan standin' on th' quarther
deck, smilin' an' bowin' an' wavin' a bag iv jint powdher over his head.
"No sooner had th' conspirators landed thin th' British gover'mint begun
to grow suspicious iv thim. Tynan was shadowed be detictives in
citizens' clothes; an', whin he was seen out in his backyard practisin'
blowin' up a bar'l that he'd dhressed in a shawl an' a little lace cap,
th' suspicions growed. Ivrywhere that Tynan wint he was purshooed be th'
minions iv tyranny. Whin he visited th' house nex' dure to th' queen's,
an' unloaded a dhray full iv explosives an' chuvvels, the fact was
rayported to th' polis, who become exthremely vigilant. Th' detictives
followed him to Scotland Yard, where he wint to inform th' captain iv
th' conspiracy, an' overheard much damming ividence iv th' plot until
they become more an' more suspicious that something was on, although
what was th' intintions iv th' conspirators it was hard to make out fr'm
their peculiar actions. Whin Tynan gathered his followers in Hyde Park,
an' notified thim iv the positions they was to take and disthributed th'
dinnymite among thim, th' detictives become decidedly suspicious. Their
suspicions was again aroused whin Tynan asked permission iv th' common
council to build a bay window up close to th' queen's bedroom. But th'
time to act had not come, an' they continted thimselves with thrackin'
him through th' sthreets an' takin' notes iv such suspicious remarks as
'Anny wan that wants mementoes iv th' queen has on'y to be around this
neighborhood nex' week with a shovel an' a basket,' an' 'Onless ye want
ye'er clothes to be spoiled be th' czar, ye'd best carry umbrellas.' On
th' followin' day Tynan took th' step that was needed f'r to con-vince
th' gover'mint that he had designs on the monarchs. He wint to France.
It's always been obsarved that, whin a dinnymiter had to blow up
annything in London, he laves th' counthry. Th' polis, now thoroughly
aroused, acted with commindable promptness. They arristed Tynan in
Booloon f'r th' murdher iv Cavendish.
"Thus," said Mr. Dooley, sadly, "thus is th' vengeance f'r which our
beloved counthry has awaited so long delayed be th' hand iv
onscrupulious tyranny. Sthrive as our heroes may, no secrecy is secure
against th' corruption iv British goold. Oh, Ireland, is this to be thy
fate forever? Ar-re ye niver to escape th' vigilance iv th' polis, thim
cold-eyed sleuths that seem to read th' very thoughts iv ye'er pathriot
sons?"
"There must have been a spy in th' ranks," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Sure thing," said Mr. Dooley, winking at Mr. McKenna. "Sure thing,
Hinnissy. Ayether that or th' accomplished detictives at Scotland Yards
keep a close watch iv the newspapers. Or it may be--who knows?--that
Tynan was indiscreet. He may have dhropped a hint of his intintions."
ON THE NEW WOMAN.
"Molly Donahue have up an' become a new woman!
"It's been a good thing f'r ol' man Donahue, though, Jawn. He shtud
ivrything that mortal man cud stand. He seen her appearin' in th' road
wearin' clothes that no lady shud wear an' ridin' a bicycle; he was
humiliated whin she demanded to vote; he put his pride under his ar-rm
an' ma-arched out iv th' house whin she committed assault-an'-batthry on
th' piannah. But he's got to th' end iv th' rope now. He was in here
las' night, how-come-ye-so, with his hat cocked over his eye an' a look
iv risolution on his face; an' whin he left me, he says, says he,
'Dooley,' he says, 'I'll conquir, or I'll die,' he says.
"It's been comin f'r months, but it on'y bust oh Donahue las' week. He'd
come home at night tired out, an' afther supper he was pullin' off his
boots, whin Mollie an' th' mother begun talkin' about th' rights iv
females. ''Tis th' era iv th' new woman,' says Mollie. 'Ye're right,'
says th' mother. 'What d'ye mean be the new woman?' says Donahue,
holdin' his boot in his hand. 'Th' new woman,' says Mollie, ''ll be free
fr'm th' opprision iv man,' she says. 'She'll wurruk out her own way,
without help or hinderance,' she says. She'll wear what clothes she
wants,' she says, 'an' she'll be no man's slave,' she says. 'They'll be
no such thing as givin' a girl in marredge to a clown an' makin' her
dipindant on his whims,' she says. 'Th' women'll earn their own livin','
she says; 'an' mebbe,' she says, 'th' men'll stay at home an' dredge in
th' house wurruk,' she says. 'A-ho,' says Donahue. 'An' that's th' new
woman, is it?' he says. An' he said no more that night.
"But th' nex' mornin' Mrs. Donahue an' Mollie come to his dure. 'Get
up,' says Mrs. Donahue, 'an' bring in some coal,' she says. 'Ye drowsy
man, ye'll be late f'r ye'er wurruk.' 'Divvle th' bit iv coal I'll
fetch,' says Donahue. 'Go away an' lave me alone,' he says. 'Ye're
inthruptin' me dreams.' 'What ails ye, man alive?' says Mrs. Donahue.
'Get up.' 'Go away,' says Donahue, 'an lave me slumber,' he says. 'Th'
idee iv a couple iv big strong women like you makin' me wurruk f'r ye,'
he says. 'Mollie 'll bring in th' coal,' he says. 'An' as f'r you,
Honoria, ye'd best see what there is in th' cupboord an' put it in ye'er
dinner-pail,' he says. 'I heerd th' first whistle blow a minyit ago,' he
says; 'an' there's a pile iv slag at th' mills that has to be wheeled
off befure th' sup'rintindint comes around,' he says. 'Ye know ye can't
afford to lose ye'er job with me in this dilicate condition,' he says.
'I'm going to sleep now,' he says. 'An', Mollie, do ye bring me in a cup
iv cocoa an' a pooched igg at tin,' he says. 'I ixpect me music-teacher
about that time. We have to take a wallop out iv Wagner an' Bootoven
befure noon.' 'Th' Lord save us fr'm harm,' says Mrs. Donahue. 'Th'
man's clean crazy.' 'Divvle's th' bit,' says Donahue, wavin' his red
flannel undhershirt in th' air. 'I'm the new man,' he says.
"Well, sir, Donahue said it flured thim complete. They didn't know what
to say. Mollie was game, an' she fetched in th' coal; but Mrs. Donahue
got nervous as eight o'clock come around. 'Ye're not goin' to stay in
bed all day an' lose ye'er job,' she says. 'Th' 'ell with me job,' says
Donahue. 'I'm not th' man to take wurruk whin they'se industhrees women
with nawthin' to do,' he says. 'Show me th' pa-apers,' he says. 'I want
to see where I can get an eighty-cint bonnet f'r two and a half.' He's
that stubborn he'd've stayed in bed all day, but th' good woman
weakened. 'Come,' she says, 'don't be foolish,' she says. 'Ye wudden't
have th' ol' woman wurrukin' in th' mills,' she says. ''Twas all a
joke,' she says. 'Oh-ho, th' ol' woman!' he says. 'Th' ol' woman! Well,
that's a horse iv another color,' he says. 'An' I don't mind tellin' ye
th' mills is closed down to-day, Honoria.' So he dhressed himsilf an'
wint out; an' says he to Mollie, he says: 'Miss Newwoman,' says he, 'ye
may find wurruk enough around th' house,' he says. 'An', if ye have
time, ye might paint th' stoop,' he says. 'Th' ol' man is goin' to take
th' ol' woman down be Halsted Sthreet' an' blow himsilf f'r a new shawl
f'r her.'
"An' he's been that proud iv th' victhry that he's been a reg'lar
customer f'r a week."
ON EXPERT TESTIMONY.
"Annything new?" said Mr. Hennessy, who had been waiting patiently for
Mr. Dooley to put down his newspaper.
"I've been r-readin' th' tistimony iv th' Lootgert case," said Mr.
Dooley.
"What d'ye think iv it?"
"I think so," said Mr. Dooley.
"Think what?"
"How do I know?" said Mr. Dooley. "How do I know what I think? I'm no
combination iv chemist, doctor, osteologist, polisman, an'
sausage-maker, that I can give ye an opinion right off th' bat. A man
needs to be all iv thim things to detarmine annything about a murdher
trile in these days. This shows how intilligent our methods is, as Hogan
says. A large German man is charged with puttin' his wife away into a
breakfas'-dish, an' he says he didn't do it. Th' on'y question, thin,
is, Did or did not Alphonse Lootgert stick Mrs. L. into a vat, an'
rayjooce her to a quick lunch? Am I right?"
"Ye ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy.
"That's simple enough. What th' coort ought to've done was to call him
up, an' say: 'Lootgert, where's ye'er good woman?' If Lootgert cudden't
tell, he ought to be hanged on gin'ral principles; f'r a man must keep
his wife around th' house, an' whin she isn't there, it shows he's a
poor provider. But, if Lootgert says, 'I don't know where me wife is,'
the coort shud say: 'Go out, an' find her. If ye can't projooce her in a
week, I'll fix ye.' An' let that be th' end iv it.
"But what do they do? They get Lootgert into coort an' stand him up
befure a gang iv young rayporthers an' th' likes iv thim to make
pitchers iv him. Thin they summon a jury composed iv poor tired, sleepy
expressmen an' tailors an' clerks. Thin they call in a profissor from a
colledge. 'Profissor,' says th' lawyer f'r the State, 'I put it to ye if
a wooden vat three hundherd an' sixty feet long, twenty-eight feet deep,
an' sivinty-five feet wide, an' if three hundherd pounds iv caustic soda
boiled, an' if the leg iv a guinea pig, an' ye said yestherdah about
bi-carbonate iv soda, an' if it washes up an' washes over, an' th'
slimy, slippery stuff, an' if a false tooth or a lock iv hair or a
jawbone or a goluf ball across th' cellar eleven feet nine inches--that
is, two inches this way an' five gallons that?' 'I agree with ye
intirely,' says th' profissor. 'I made lab'ratory experiments in an'
ir'n basin, with bichloride iv gool, which I will call soup-stock, an'
coal tar, which I will call ir'n filings. I mixed th' two over a hot
fire, an' left in a cool place to harden. I thin packed it in ice, which
I will call glue, an' rock-salt, which I will call fried eggs, an'
obtained a dark, queer solution that is a cure f'r freckles, which I
will call antimony or doughnuts or annything I blamed please.'
"'But,' says th' lawyer f'r th' State, 'measurin' th' vat with gas,--an'
I lave it to ye whether this is not th' on'y fair test,--an' supposin'
that two feet acrost is akel to tin feet sideways, an' supposin' that a
thick green an' hard substance, an' I daresay it wud; an' supposin' you
may, takin' into account th' measuremints,--twelve be eight,--th' vat
bein' wound with twine six inches fr'm th' handle an' a rub iv th'
green, thin ar-re not human teeth often found in counthry sausage?' 'In
th' winter,' says th' profissor. 'But th' sisymoid bone is sometimes
seen in th' fut, sometimes worn as a watch-charm. I took two sisymoid
bones, which I will call poker dice, an' shook thim together in a
cylinder, which I will call Fido, poored in a can iv milk, which I will
call gum arabic, took two pounds iv rough-on-rats, which I rayfuse to
call; but th' raysult is th' same.' Question be th' coort: 'Different?'
Answer: 'Yis.' Th' coort: 'Th' same.' Be Misther McEwen: 'Whose bones?'
Answer: 'Yis.' Be Misther Vincent: 'Will ye go to th' divvle?' Answer:
'It dissolves th' hair.'
"Now what I want to know is where th' jury gets off. What has that
collection iv pure-minded pathrites to larn fr'm this here polite
discussion, where no wan is so crool as to ask what anny wan else
means? Thank th' Lord, whin th' case is all over, the jury'll pitch th'
tistimony out iv th' window, an' consider three questions: 'Did Lootgert
look as though he'd kill his wife? Did his wife look as though she ought
to be kilt? Isn't it time we wint to supper?' An', howiver they answer,
they'll be right, an' it'll make little difference wan way or th' other.
Th' German vote is too large an' ignorant, annyhow."
ON THE POPULARITY OF FIREMEN.
"I knowed a man be th' name iv Clancy wanst, Jawn. He was fr'm th'
County May-o, but a good man f'r all that; an', whin he'd growed to be a
big, sthrappin' fellow, he wint on to th' fire departmint. They'se an
Irishman 'r two on th' fire departmint an' in th' army, too, Jawn,
though ye'd think be hearin' some talk they was all runnin' prim'ries
an' thryin' to be cinthral comitymen. So ye wud. Ye niver hear iv thim
on'y whin they die; an' thin, murther, what funerals they have!
"Well, this Clancy wint on th' fire departmint, an' they give him a
place in thruck twinty-three. All th' r-road was proud iv him, an' faith
he was proud iv himsilf. He r-rode free on th' sthreet ca-ars, an' was
th' champeen hand-ball player f'r miles around. Ye shud see him goin'
down th' sthreet, with his blue shirt an' his blue coat with th' buttons
on it, an' his cap on his ear. But ne'er a cap or coat'd he wear whin
they was a fire. He might be shiv'rin' be th' stove in th' ingine house
with a buffalo robe over his head; but, whin th' gong sthruck, 'twas off
with coat an' cap an' buffalo robe, an' out come me brave Clancy,
bare-headed an' bare hand, dhrivin' with wan line an' spillin' th' hose
cart on wan wheel at ivry jump iv th' horse. Did anny wan iver see a
fireman with his coat on or a polisman with his off? Why, wanst, whin
Clancy was standin' up f'r Grogan's eighth, his son come runnin' in to
tell him they was a fire in Vogel's packin' house. He dhropped th' kid
at Father Kelly's feet, an' whipped off his long coat an' wint tearin'
f'r th' dure, kickin' over th' poorbox an' buttin' ol' Mis' O'Neill
that'd come in to say th' stations. 'Twas lucky 'twas wan iv th'
Grogans. They're a fine family f'r falls. Jawn Grogan was wurrukin' on
th' top iv Metzri an' O'Connell's brewery wanst, with a man be th' name
iv Dorsey. He slipped an' fell wan hundherd feet. Whin they come to see
if he was dead, he got up, an' says he: 'Lave me at him.' 'At who?'
says they. 'He's deliryous,' they says. 'At Dorsey,' says Grogan. 'He
thripped me.' So it didn't hurt Grogan's eighth to fall four 'r five
feet.
"Well, Clancy wint to fires an' fires. Whin th' big organ facthry burnt,
he carrid th' hose up to th' fourth story an' was squirtin' whin th'
walls fell. They dug him out with pick an' shovel, an' he come up fr'm
th' brick an' boards an' saluted th' chief. 'Clancy,' says th' chief,
'ye betther go over an' get a dhrink.' He did so, Jawn. I heerd it. An'
Clancy was that proud!
"Whin th' Hogan flats on Halsted Sthreet took fire, they got all th'
people out but wan; an' she was a woman asleep on th' fourth flure.
'Who'll go up?' says Bill Musham. 'Sure, sir,' says Clancy, 'I'll go';
an' up he wint. His captain was a man be th' name iv O'Connell, fr'm th'
County Kerry; an' he had his fut on th' ladder whin Clancy started.
Well, th' good man wint into th' smoke, with his wife faintin' down
below. 'He'll be kilt,' says his brother. 'Ye don't know him,' says
Bill Musham. An' sure enough, whin ivry wan'd give him up, out comes me
brave Clancy, as black as a Turk, with th' girl in his arms. Th' others
wint up like monkeys, but he shtud wavin' thim off, an' come down th'
ladder face forward. 'Where'd ye larn that?' says Bill Musham. 'I seen a
man do it at th' Lyceem whin I was a kid,' says Clancy. 'Was it all
right?' 'I'll have ye up before th' ol' man,' says Bill Musham. 'I'll
teach ye to come down a laddher as if ye was in a quadhrille, ye
horse-stealin', ham-sthringin' May-o man,' he says. But he didn't.
Clancy wint over to see his wife. 'O Mike,' says she, ''twas fine,' she
says. 'But why d'ye take th' risk?' she says. 'Did ye see th' captain?'
he says with a scowl. 'He wanted to go. Did ye think I'd follow a Kerry
man with all th' ward lukkin' on?' he says.
"Well, so he wint dhrivin' th' hose-cart on wan wheel, an' jumpin' whin
he heerd a man so much as hit a glass to make it ring. All th' people
looked up to him, an' th' kids followed him down th' sthreet; an' 'twas
th' gr-reatest priv'lige f'r anny wan f'r to play dominos with him near
th' joker. But about a year ago he come in to see me, an' says he,
'Well, I'm goin' to quit.' 'Why,' says I, 'ye'er a young man yet,' I
says. 'Faith,' he says, 'look at me hair,' he says,--'young heart, ol'
head. I've been at it these twinty year, an' th' good woman's wantin' to
see more iv me thin blowin' into a saucer iv coffee,' he says. 'I'm
goin' to quit,' he says, 'on'y I want to see wan more good fire,' he
says. 'A rale good ol' hot wan,' he says, 'with th' win' blowin' f'r it
an' a good dhraft in th' ilivator-shaft, an' about two stories, with
pitcher-frames an' gasoline an' excelsior, an' to hear th' chief
yellin': "Play 'way, sivinteen. What th' hell an' damnation are ye
standin' aroun' with that pipe f'r? Is this a fire 'r a dam livin'
pitcher? I'll break ivry man iv eighteen, four, six, an' chem'cal five
to-morrah mornin' befure breakfast." Oh,' he says, bringin' his fist
down, 'wan more, an' I'll quit.'
"An' he did, Jawn. Th' day th' Carpenter Brothers' box factory burnt.
'Twas wan iv thim big, fine-lookin' buildings that pious men built out
iv celluloid an' plasther iv Paris. An' Clancy was wan iv th' men undher
whin th' wall fell. I seen thim bringin' him home; an' th' little woman
met him at th' dure, rumplin' her apron in her hands."
ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL.
"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long time
ago,--but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if I
had anny inimies,--I played futball, but 'twas not th' futball I see
whin th' Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' week
on th' pee-raries.
"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' field
where th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'd
pick one man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I choose
O'Connor,' 'I choose Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till there
was twinty-five or thirty on a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an'
all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it back; an' thin wan iv th' other
side'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th' game'd get so timpischous
that all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile, kickin' away at wan
or th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was mos'ly a la-ad
that cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he was whin
he wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked be
ivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an'
kicked th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight.
"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin'
iv histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give it
such a boost that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister--bad
luck to him, he was a kind man--that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I was
th' finest player in th' whole county, I was so.
"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th' pagan fistival
iv Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seen
th' Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yestherdah in his futball
clothes,--a pair iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a mask
over his nose, an' a bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followed
be three men with bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined
thim. They was a big crowd on th' peerary,--a bigger crowd than ye cud
get to go f'r to see a prize fight. Both sides had their frinds that
give th' colledge cries. Says wan crowd: 'Take an ax, an ax, an ax to
thim. Hooroo, hooroo, hellabaloo. Christyan Bro-others!' an' th' other
says, 'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim, Saint Aloysius!' Well,
afther awhile they got down to wurruk. 'Sivin, eighteen, two, four,'
says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures durin' th' free
silver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to go out
an' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' same
effect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on their
fathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punch
in th' stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th'
cinter rush iv th' Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lung
iv wan iv th' Christyan Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. Four
Christyan Brothers leaped most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an'
rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th'
Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he pounded th' pile with him as I've
seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All this time young Dorgan was
standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv a suddent he give a
cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile. 'Down!' says th'
impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I, 'Will iver they get up?'
'They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he.
"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint
Aloysiuses was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'y
wan iv them remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nose
in th' mud. 'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with a
merry smile. 'Twas my boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll be
arrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He will not,' says he. 'There's on'y
wan polisman in town cud take him, an' he's down town doin' th' same f'r
somebody,' he says. Well, they carried th' corpse to th' side, an' took
th' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch, an' th' game was
ray-shumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint Aloysius; an'
young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another young la-ad
r-runnin' in fr-front iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th' Christyan
Brothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint Aloysius
grabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrun
him over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interferin','
says he. 'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says.
''Tis such interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an'
I come away.
"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it.
Whin we larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' pie
belt a thrick or two."
"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsin
with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named
Patsy O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm
th' Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway."
"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they
cud bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank."
ON THE NECESSITY OF MODESTY AMONG THE RICH.
"I wondher," said Mr. Hennessy, "if thim Hadley-Markhams that's goin' to
give th' ball is anny kin iv th' aldherman?"
"I doubt it," said Mr. Dooley. "I knowed all his folks. They're Monaghan
people, an' I niver heerd iv thim marryin' into th' Hadleys, who come
fr'm away beyant near th' Joynt's Causeway. What med ye think iv thim?"