turnin' over th' other night," said Hennessy. Then the Philistine went
on: "It looks to me as though th' man was wr-rong, an' th'
Hadley-Markhams was right. Faith, th' more th' poor can get out iv th'
r-rich, th' better f'r thim. I seen it put just r-right in th' paper th'
other day. If these people didn't let go iv their coin here, they'd take
it away with thim to Paris or West Baden, Indiana, an' spind it instid
iv puttin' it in circulation amongst th' florists an' dhressmakers an'
hackmen they'll have to hire. I believe in encouragin' th' rich to walk
away fr'm their change. 'Tis gr-reat f'r business."
Mr. Dooley mused over this proposition some time before he said:--
"Years ago, whin I was a little bit iv a kid, hardly high enough to look
into th' pot iv stirabout on th' peat fire, they was a rich landlord in
our part iv Ireland; an' he ownded near half th' counthryside. His name
was Dorsey,--Willum Edmund Fitzgerald Dorsey, justice iv th' peace,
mimber iv Parlymint.
"I'll niver tell ye how much land that man had in his own r-right. Ye
cud walk f'r a day without lavin' it, bog an' oat-field an' pasthure an'
game presarves. He was smothered with money, an' he lived in a house as
big as th' Audjitoroom Hotel. Manny's th' time I've seen him ride by our
place, an' me father'd raise his head from th' kish iv turf an' touch
his hat to th' gr-reat man. An' wanst or twict in th' month th' dogs'd
come yelpin' acrost our little place, with lads follerin' afther in
r-red coats; f'r this Dorsey was a gr-reat huntsman, bad scran to his
evil face.
"He had th' r-reputation iv bein' a good landlord so long as th' crops
come regular. He was vilent, it's thrue, an' 'd as lave as not cut a
farmer acrost th' face with his whip f'r crossin' th' thrail iv th' fox;
but he was liberal with his money, an', Hinnissy, that's a thrait that
covers a multitude iv sins. He give freely to th' church, an' was as
gin'rous to th' priest as to th' parson. He had th' gintry f'r miles
around to his big house f'r balls an' dinners an' huntin' meetin's, an'
half th' little shopkeepers in th' neighborin' town lived on th' money
he spent f'r th' things he didn't bring fr'm Dublin or London. I mind
wanst a great roar wint up whin he stayed th' whole season in England
with his fam'ly. It near broke th' townsfolk, an' they were wild with
delight whin he come back an' opened up th' big house.
"But wan year there come a flood iv rain, an' th nex' year another
flood, an' th' third year there wasn't a lumper turned up that wasn't
blue-black to th' hear-rt. We was betther off than most, an' we suffered
our share, Gawd knows; but thim that was scrapin' th' sod f'r a bare
livin' fr'm day to day perished like th' cattle in th' field.
"Thin come th' writs an' th' evictions. Th' bailiffs dhrove out in
squads, seizin' cattle an' turnin' people into th' r-road. Nawthin' wud
soften th' hear-rt iv Dorsey. I seen th' priest an' th' 'Piscopal
ministher dhrivin' over to plead with him wan night; an' th' good man
stopped at our house, comin' back, an' spent th' night with us. I heerd
him tell me father what Dorsey said. 'Haven't I been lib'ral with me
people?' he says. 'Haven't I give freely to ye'er churches? Haven't I
put up soup-houses an' disthributed blankets whin th' weather was cold?
Haven't I kept th' shopkeepers iv th' town beyant fr'm starvin' be
thradin' with thim an' stayin' in this cur-rsed counthry, whin, if I'd
done what me wife wanted, I'd been r-runnin' around Europe, enj'yin'
life? I'm a risidint landlord. I ain't like Kilduff, that laves his
estate in th' hands iv an agint. I'm proud iv me station. I was bor-rn
here, an' here I'll die; but I'll have me r-rights. These here people
owes their rent, an' I'll get th' rent or th' farms if I have to call on
ivry rig'mint fr'm Bombay to Cape Clear, an' turn ivry oat-field into a
pasture f'r me cattle. I stand on th' law. I'm a just man, an' I ask no
more thin what belongs to me.'
"Ivry night they was a party on th' hill, an' th' people come fr'm miles
around; an' th' tinants trudgin' over th' muddy roads with th' peelers
behind thim cud see th' light poorin' out fr'm th' big house an' hear
Devine's band playin' to th' dancers. Th' shopkeepers lived in clover,
an' thanked th' lord f'r a good landlord, an' wan that lived at home.
But one avnin' a black man be th' name iv Shaughnessy, that had thramped
acrost th' hills fr'm Galway just in time to rent f'r th' potato rot,
wint and hid himself in a hedge along th' road with a shotgun loaded
with hardware under his coat. Dorsey'd heerd talk iv the people bein'
aggrieved at him givin' big parties while his bailiffs were hustlin' men
and women off their hold-in's; but he was a high-handed man, an' foolish
in his pride, an' he'd have it no other way but that he'd go about
without protection. This night he rode alongside th' carredge iv some iv
his frinds goin' to th' other side iv town, an' come back alone in th'
moonlight. Th' Irish ar-re poor marksmen, Hinnissy, except whin they
fire in platoons; but that big man loomin' up in th' moonlight on a
black horse cud no more be missed thin th' r-rock iv Cashel. He niver
knowed what hit him; an' Pether th' Packer come down th' followin'
month, an' a jury iv shopkeepers hanged Shaughnessy so fast it med even
th' judge smile."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I suppose he desarved it; but, if I'd been
on th' jury, I'd've starved to death before I'd give th' verdict."
"Thrue," said Mr. Dooley. "An' Dorsey was a fool. He might've evicted
twinty thousan' tinants, an' lived to joke about it over his bottle.
'Twas th' music iv th' band an' th' dancin' on th' hill an' th' lights
th' Galway man seen whin he wint up th' muddy road with his babby in his
arrums that done th' business f'r Dorsey."
ON THE POWER OF LOVE.
"'Twas this way," said Mr. Hennessy, sparring at Mr. Dooley. "Fitz led
his right light on head, thin he stuck his thumb in Corbett's hear-rt,
an' that was th' end iv th' fight an' iv Pompydour Jim. I tol' ye how it
wud come out. Th' punch over th' hear-rt done th' business."
"Not at all," said Mr. Dooley. "Not at all. 'Twas Mrs. Fitzsimmons done
th' business. Did ye see the pitcher iv that lady? Did ye? Well,
'twud've gone har-rd with th' lad if he'd lost th' fight in th' ring.
He'd have to lose another at home. I'll bet five dollars that th' first
lady iv th' land licks th' champeen without th' aid iv a stove lid. I
know it.
"As me good frind, Jawn Sullivan, says, 'tis a great comfort to have
little reminders iv home near by whin ye're fightin'. Jawn had none,
poor lad; an' that accounts f'r th' way he wint down at last. Th' home
infloo-ence is felt in ivry walk iv life. Whin Corbett was poundin' th'
first jintleman iv th' land like a man shinglin' a roof, th' first lady
iv th' land stood in th' corner, cheerin' on th' bruised an' bleedin'
hero. 'Darlin'' she says, 'think iv ye'er home, me love. Think,' she
says, 'iv our little child larnin' his caddychism in Rahway, New
Jersey,' she says. 'Think iv th' love I bear ye,' she says, 'an' paste
him,' she says, 'in th' slats. Don't hit him on th' jaw,' she says.
'He's well thrained there. But tuck ye'er lovin' hooks into his diseased
an' achin' ribs,' she says. 'Ah, love!' she says, 'recall thim happy
goolden days iv our coortship, whin we walked th' counthry lane in th'
light iv th' moon,' she says, 'an hurl yer maulies into his hoops,' she
says. 'Hit him on th' slats!' An' Fitz looked over his shoulder an' seen
her face, an' strange feelin's iv tendherness come over him; an' thinks
he to himself: 'What is so good as th' love iv a pure woman? If I don't
nail this large man, she'll prob'ly kick in me head.' An' with this
sacred sintimint in his heart he wint over an' jolted Corbett wan over
th' lathes that retired him to th' home f'r decayed actors.
"'Twas woman's love that done it, Hinnissy. I'll make a bet with ye
that, if th' first lady iv th' land had been in th' ring instead iv th'
first jintleman, Corbett wudden't have lasted wan r-round. I'd like to
have such a wife as that. I'd do th' cookin', an' lave th' fightin' to
her. There ought to be more like her. Th' throuble with th' race we're
bringin' up is that th' fair sect, as Shakespeare calls thim, lacks
inthrest in their jooty to their husbands. It's th' business iv men to
fight, an' th' business iv their wives f'r to make thim fight. Ye may
talk iv th' immyrality iv nailin' a man on th' jaw, but 'tis in this way
on'y that th' wurruld increases in happiness an' th' race in strenth.
Did ye see annywan th' other day that wasn't askin' to know how th'
fight come out? They might say that they re-garded th' exhibition as
brutal an' disgustin', but divvle a wan iv thim but was waitin' around
th' corner f'r th' rayturns, an' prayin' f'r wan or th' other iv th'
big lads. Father Kelly mentioned th' scrap in his sermon last Sundah. He
said it was a disgraceful an' corruptin' affair, an' he was ashamed to
see th' young men iv th' parish takin' such an inthrest in it in Lent.
But late Winsdah afthernoon he came bust-lin' down th' sthreet. 'Nice
day,' he says. It was poorin' rain. 'Fine,' says I. 'They was no parade
to-day,' he says. 'No,' says I. 'Too bad,' says he; an' he started to
go. Thin he turned, an' says he: 'Be th' way, how did that there foul
an' outhrajous affray in Carson City come out?' 'Fitz,' says I, 'in th'
fourteenth.' 'Ye don't say,' he says, dancin' around. 'Good,' he says.
'I told Father Doyle this mornin' at breakfuss that if that red-headed
man iver got wan punch at th' other lad, I'd bet a new cassock--Oh,
dear!' he says, 'what am I sayin'?' 'Ye're sayin',' says I, 'what
nine-tenths iv th' people, laymen an' clargy, are sayin',' I says.
'Well,' he says, 'I guess ye're right.' he says. 'Afther all,' he says,
'an' undher all, we're mere brutes; an' it on'y takes two lads more
brutal than th' rest f'r to expose th' sthreak in th' best iv us. Foorce
rules th' wurruld, an' th' churches is empty whin th' blood begins to
flow.' he says. 'It's too bad, too bad.' he says. 'Tell me, was Corbett
much hurted?' he says."
ON THE VICTORIAN ERA.
"Ar-re ye goin' to cillybrate th' queen's jubilee?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"What's that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, with a violent start.
"To-day," said Mr. Dooley, "her gracious Majesty Victorya, Queen iv
Great Britain an' that part iv Ireland north iv Sligo, has reigned f'r
sixty long and tiresome years."
"I don't care if she has snowed f'r sixty years," said Mr. Hennessy.
"I'll not cillybrate it. She may be a good woman f'r all I know, but dam
her pollytics."
"Ye needn't be pro-fane about it," said Mr. Dooley. "I on'y ast ye a
civil question. F'r mesilf, I have no feelin' on th' subject. I am not
with th' queen an' I'm not again her. At th' same time I corjally agree
with me frind Captain Finerty, who's put his newspaper in mournin' f'r
th' ivint. I won't march in th' parade, an' I won't put anny dinnymite
undher thim that does. I don't say th' marchers an' dinnymiters ar-re
not both r-right. 'Tis purely a question iv taste, an', as the ixicutive
says whin both candydates are mimbers iv th' camp, 'Pathrites will use
their own discreetion.'
"Th' good woman niver done me no har-rm; an', beyond throwin' a rock or
two into an orangey's procission an' subscribin' to tin dollars' worth
iv Fenian bonds, I've threated her like a lady. Anny gredge I iver had
again her I burrid long ago. We're both well on in years, an' 'tis no
use carrying har-rd feelin's to th' grave. About th' time th' lord
chamberlain wint over to tell her she was queen, an' she came out in her
nitey to hear th' good news, I was announced into this wurruld iv sin
an' sorrow. So ye see we've reigned about th' same lenth iv time, an' I
ought to be cillybratin' me di'mon' jubilee. I wud, too, if I had anny
di'mon's. Do ye r-run down to Aldherman O'Brien's an' borrow twinty or
thirty f'r me.
"Great happenin's have me an' Queen Victorya seen in these sixty years.
Durin' our binificent prisince on earth th' nations have grown r-rich
an' prosperous. Great Britain has ixtinded her domain until th' sun
niver sets on it. No more do th' original owners iv th' sile, they bein'
kept movin' be th' polis. While she was lookin' on in England, I was
lookin' on in this counthry. I have seen America spread out fr'm th'
Atlantic to th' Pacific, with a branch office iv the Standard Ile
Comp'ny in ivry hamlet. I've seen th' shackles dropped fr'm th' slave,
so's he cud be lynched in Ohio. I've seen this gr-reat city desthroyed
be fire fr'm De Koven Sthreet to th' Lake View pumpin' station, and thin
rise felix-like fr'm its ashes, all but th' West Side, which was not
burned. I've seen Jim Mace beat Mike McCool, an' Tom Allen beat Jim
Mace, an' somebody beat Tom Allen, an' Jawn Sullivan beat him, an'
Corbett beat Sullivan, an' Fitz beat Corbett; an', if I live to
cillybrate me goold-watch-an'-chain jubilee, I may see some wan put it
all over Fitz.
"Oh, what things I've seen in me day an' Victorya's! Think iv that
gran' procission iv lithry men,--Tinnyson an' Longfellow an' Bill Nye
an' Ella Wheeler Wilcox an' Tim Scanlan an'--an' I can't name thim all:
they're too manny. An' th' brave gin'rals,--Von Molkey an' Bismarck an'
U.S. Grant an' gallant Phil Shurdan an' Coxey. Think iv thim durin' me
reign. An' th' invintions,--th' steam-injine an' th' printin'-press an'
th' cotton-gin an' the gin sour an' th' bicycle an' th' flyin'-machine
an' th' nickel-in-th'-slot machine an' th' Croker machine an' th' sody
fountain an'--crownin' wurruk iv our civilization--th' cash raygisther.
What gr-reat advances has science made in my time an' Victorya's! f'r,
whin we entered public life, it took three men to watch th' bar-keep,
while to-day ye can tell within eight dollars an hour what he's took in.
"Glory be, whin I look back fr'm this day iv gin'ral rejoicin' in me
rhinestone jubilee, an' see what changes has taken place an' how manny
people have died an' how much betther off th' wurruld is, I'm proud iv
mesilf. War an' pest'lence an' famine have occurred in me time, but I
count thim light compared with th' binifits that have fallen to th' race
since I come on th' earth."
"What ar-re ye talkin' about?" cried Mr. Hennessy, in deep disgust. "All
this time ye've been standin' behind this bar ladlin' out disturbance to
th' Sixth Wa-ard, an' ye haven't been as far east as Mitchigan Avnoo in
twinty years. What have ye had to do with all these things?"
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I had as much to do with thim as th' queen."
ON THE CURRENCY QUESTION.
"There's some tough knots in this here currency question," said Mr.
McKenna. "A lot of things I don't quite catch."
"Cough thim up," said Mr. Dooley. "I'm a reg'lar caddychism iv coinage.
Who made ye? Gawd made me. Why did he make ye? F'r to know Him, love
Him, an' sarve Him all me days. That's th' way iv th' caddychism I
learned whin I was a la-ad behind a hedge; but now 'tis: Who made ye?
Ladenburg, Thalman an' Comp'ny made me. Why did they make ye? F'r to
know thim, love thim, an' sarve thim all me days. O-ho!"
"That's all r-right," said Mr. Thomas Larkin, the Kerry horseshoer, who
was leaning over the cigar-case, reading what Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Blaine,
Mr. Edward Atkinson, and Mr. Andrew D. White had to say in a small
pamphlet. "That's all r-right, Martin. But ye're talkin' like a Populist
an' an anarchist an' a big bullhead gen'rally. Ye bring up two or three
Jew men, an' think f'r to scare us with thim. But look here. Supposin' a
man comes into my place an' lays down on th' anvil a silver dollar, an'
I give it a wallop with me hammer"--
"Thin," said Mr. Dooley, "ye're knockin' th' gover'mint."
"How am I?" said Mr. Larkin. "Niver mind now: I take this here silver
dollar, an' I fetch it wan with me hammer. What happens?"
"Th' man that give ye th' dollar hands ye wan in th' nose," said Mr.
Dooley.
"Not at all, not at--all," said Mr. Larkin. "I take this here mutilated
an' disfigured an' bum dollar down to th' three-asury, an' I hand it in;
an' Carlisle says, 'What kind iv an ol' piece iv mud is this ye're
flingin' at me?' he says. 'Take it away: it's nawthin' to me.'"
"True for you, Larkin," said Mr. McKenna. "You're on the right track.
Carlisle couldn't take it after you'd smashed it."
"But," said Mr. Dooley, "look here: if ye had th' free an' unlimited
coinage iv silver at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, ye cud take this here
mass iv silver down to Carlisle, an' say, 'Here, Jawn, give me a
dollar'; an' he'd have to give it to ye."
"A dollar of what?" said Mr. McKenna.
"A dollar iv what?" repeated Mr. Dooley. "A dollar iv what? Man alive,
don't ye know what a dollar is? Carlisle'd hand him out a plunk, a case,
a buck. He'd say, 'Here, Larkin, ye're a dam fool to be malthreatin' th'
currincy iv yer adophted counthry, but I have to give ye a dollar
because ye're a good fellow an' a frind iv Dooley's.'"
"He wouldn't say anything of the kind," said Mr. McKenna. "He'd give
Larkin fifty cents."
"I'd push his face in if he did," said Mr. Larkin, warmly. "I'm as good
a ma-an as he is anny day. I'll have no man rob me."
"But he wouldn't rob you," said Mr. McKenna. "Think of the purchasing
power: you've got to always figure that out. A dollar you'd get then
would be worth only half as much as it's worth now. It'd be a dollar
like they run through the ringer down in Mexico."
"How can wan dollar be worth on'y half as much as another dollar, if
they're both dollars an' th' man that made thim is at la-arge?" answered
Mr. Dooley. "Here's a dollar, an' here's a dollar. Wan akels th' other.
Now you take this here dollar, an' come into my place. 'Give me a brandy
an' sody,' ye say. Thin what do I say?"
"You say you're just out of brandy and soda."
"So I do, so I do. Thin you ask f'r a little liquor with beer f'r a
chaser. An' I give it to ye. Ye lay down wan iv these here quartz
dollars. I return eighty-five cints. Larkin comes in later, ordhers th'
same thing, an' I give him th' same threatment. I play no fav-rites.
Entertainmint f'r man an' beast."
"But, if we had free silver, you'd charge thirty cents for the drink,"
said Mr. McKenna.
"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley, hotly. "I niver overcharged a man in my
life, except durin' a campaign."
"No one accuses you of overcharging," explained Mr. McKenna. "Everybody
would charge the same. It'd be the regular price."
"If it was," said Mr. Dooley, "they'd be a rivolution. But I don't
believe it, Jawn. Let me tell ye wan thing. Whisky is th' standard iv
value. It niver fluctuates; an' that's funny, too, seein' that so much
iv it goes down. It was th' same price--fifteen cints a slug, two f'r a
quarther--durin' the war; an' it was th' same price afther the war. The
day befure th' crime iv sivinty-three it was worth fifteen cints: it was
worth th' same th' day afther. Goold and silver fluctuates, up wan day,
down another; but whisky stands firm an' strong, unchangeable as th'
skies, immovable as a rock at fifteen or two f'r a quarther. If they
want something solid as a standard iv value, something that niver is
rajjooced in price, something ye can exchange f'r food an' other
luxuries annywhere in th' civilized wurruld where man has a thirst,
they'd move th' Mint over to th' internal rivinue office, and lave it
stay there."
Both Mr. Larkin and Mr. McKenna were diverted by this fancy.
"There's some good argumints on both sides iv th' quisthion," said the
Kerry man. "I heerd a man be th' name of Doyle, a helper, compare money
to th' human lungs."
"Th' lung argumint is all right," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' whole currency
question is a matther iv lungs."
ON POLITICAL PARADES.
Mr. Hennessy, wearing a silver-painted stovepipe hat and a silver cape
and carrying a torch, came in, looking much the worse for wear. The hat
was dented, the cape was torn, and there were marks on Mr. Hennessy's
face.
"Where ye been?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"Ma-archin,'" said Mr. Hennessy.
"Be th' looks iv ye, ye might have been th' line iv ma-arch f'r th'
p'rade. Who's been doin' things to ye?"
"I had a currency debate with a man be th' name iv Joyce, a towny iv
mine, in th' Audjiotoroom Hotel," said Mr. Hennessy. "Whin we got as far
as th' price iv wheat in th' year iv th' big wind, we pushed each other.
Give me a high glass iv beer. I'm as dhry as a gravel roof."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, handing over the glass, "ye're an ol' man; an',
as th' good book says, an ol' fool is th' worst yet. So I'll not thry to
con-vince ye iv th' error iv ye'er ways. But why anny citizen that has
things in his head shud dhress himself up like a sandwich-man, put a
torch on his shoulder, an' toddle over this blessid town with his poor
round feet, is more than I can come at with all me intelligence.
"I agree with ye perfectly, Hinnissy, that this here is a crisis in our
histhry. On wan hand is arrayed th' Shylocks an' th' pathrites, an' on
th' other side th' pathrites an' th' arnychists. Th' Constitution must
be upheld, th' gover'mint must be maintained, th' down-throdden farmer
an' workin'man must get their rights. But do ye think, man alive, that
ye're goin' to do this be pourin' lard ile frim ye'er torch down ye'er
spine or thrippin' over sthreet-car tracks like a dhray-horse thryin' to
play circus? Is th' Constitution anny safer to-night because ye have to
have ye'er leg amputated to get ye'er boot off, or because Joyce has
made ye'er face look like th' back dure-step iv a German resthrant?
"Jawnny Mack took me down in th' afthernoon f'r to see th' monsthrous
p'rade iv th' goold men. It was a gloryous spectacle. Th' sthreets were
crowded with goold bugs an' women an' polismin an' ambulances. Th'
procission was miles an' miles long. Labor an' capital marched side be
side, or annyhow labor was in its usual place, afther th' capitalists.
It was a noble sight f'r to see th' employer iv workin'men marchin'
ahead iv his band iv sturdy toilers that to rest thimsilves afther th'
layboryous occupations iv th' week was reelin' undher banners that
dhrilled a hole in their stomachs or carryin' two-be-four joists to show
their allegance to th' naytional honor. A man that has to shovel coke
into a dhray or shove lumber out iv th' hole iv a barge or elevate his
profession be carryin' a hod iv mort to th' top iv a laddher doesn't
march with th' grace iv an antelope, be a blamed sight. To march well, a
man's feet have to be mates; an', if he has two left feet both runnin'
sideways, he ought to have interference boots to keep him fr'm settin'
fire to his knees. Whin a man walks as if he expected to lave a leg
stuck in th' sthreet behind him, he has th' gait proper f'r half-past
six o'clock th' avenin' before pay-day. But 'tis not th' prance iv an
American citizen makin' a gloryous spectacle iv himsilf."
"They were coerced," said Mr. Hennessy, gloomily.
"Don't ye believe it," replied the philosopher. "It niver requires
coercion to get a man to make a monkey iv himsilf in a prisidintial
campaign. He does it as aisily as ye dhrink ye'er liquor, an' that's too
aisy. Don't ye believe thim lads with lumber ya-ards on their necks an'
bar'ls on their feet was coerced. There wasn't wan iv thim that wudden't
give his week's wages f'r a chanst to show how many times he cud thrip
over a manhole in a mile. No more coerced than ye are whin ye r-run down
town an' make an ape iv ye-ersilf. I see ye marchin' away fr'm
Finucane's with th' Willum J. O'Briens. Th' man nex' to ye had a banner
declarin' that he was no slave. 'Twas th' la-ad Johnson. He was
r-right. He is no slave, an' he won't be wan as long as people have
washin' to give to his wife. Th' man I see ye takin' a dhrink with had a
banner that said if th' mines was opened th' mills would be opened, too.
He meant be that, that if money was plenty enough f'r him to get some
without wurrukin', he'd open a gin mill. An' ye ma-arched afther Willum
J. O'Brien, didn't ye? Well, he's a good la-ad. If I didn't think so, I
wudden't say it until I got me strenth back or cud buy a gun. But did
Willum J. O'Brien march? Not Willie. He was on horseback; an', Hinnissy,
if dollars was made out iv Babbit metal, an' horses was worth
sixty-sivin cints a dhrove, ye cudden't buy a crupper."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "annyhow, I proved me hathred iv capital."