showed its hatred iv ye. Ye ought to match blisters to see which hates
th' worst. Capital is at home now with his gams in a tub iv hot wather;
an' whin he comes down to-morrah to oppriss labor an' square his
protisted notes, he'll have to go on all fours. As f'r you, Hinnissy, if
'twill aise ye anny, ye can hang f'r a few minyits fr'm th' gas
fixtures. Did th' goold Dimmycrats have a p'rade?"
"No," said Mr. Hennessy. "But they rayviewed th' day procission fr'm th'
Pammer House. Both iv thim was on th' stand."
ON CHARITY.
"Br-r-r!" cried Mr. McKenna, entering stiffly and spreading his hands
over the potbellied stove. "It's cold."
"Where?" asked Mr. Dooley. "Not here."
"It's cold outside," said Mr. McKenna. "It was ten below at Shannahan's
grocery when I went by, and the wind blowing like all possessed. Lord
love us, but I pity them that's got to be out to-night."
"Save ye'er pity," said Mr. Dooley, comfortably. "It ain't cowld in
here. There's frost on th' window, 'tis thrue for ye; an' th' wheels has
been singin' th' livelong day. But what's that to us? Here I am, an'
there ye are, th' stove between us an' th' kettle hummin'. In a minyit
it'll bile, an' thin I'll give ye a taste iv what'll make a king iv ye.
"Well, tubby sure, 'tis thryin' to be dhrivin' a coal wagon or a
sthreet-car; but 'tis all in a lifetime. Th' diff'rence between me an'
th' man that sets up in th' seat thumpin' his chest with his hands is no
more thin th' diff'rence between him an' th' poor divvle that walks
along behind th' wagon with his shovel on his shoulder, an' 'll thank
th' saints f'r th' first chanst to put tin ton iv ha-ard coal into a
cellar f'r a quarther iv a dollar. Th' lad afoot invies th' dhriver, an'
th' dhriver invies me; an' I might invy big Cleveland if it wasn't f'r
th' hivinly smell iv this here noggin. An' who does Cleveland invy?
Sure, it'd be sacreliege f'r me to say.
"Me ol' father, who was as full iv sayin's as an almanac, used to sink
his spoon into th' stirabout, an' say, 'Well, lads, this ain't bacon an'
greens an' porther; but it'll be annything ye like if ye'll on'y think
iv th' Cassidys.' Th' Cassidys was th' poorest fam'ly in th' parish.
They waked th' oldest son in small beer, an' was little thought of. Did
me father iver ask thim in to share th' stirabout? Not him. An' he was
the kindest man in th' wurruld. He had a heart in him as big as a lump
iv turf, but he'd say, 'Whin ye grow up, take no wan's sorrows to
ye'ersilf,' he says. ''Tis th' wise man that goes through life thinkin'
iv himsilf, fills his own stomach, an' takes away what he can't ate in
his pocket.' An' he was r-right, Jawn. We have throubles enough iv our
own. Th' wurruld goes on just th' same, an' ye can find fifty men to say
th' lit'ny f'r ye to wan that'll give ye what'll relieve a fastin' spit.
Th' dead ar-re always pop'lar. I knowed a society wanst to vote a
monyment to a man an' refuse to help his fam'ly, all in wan night. 'Tis
cowld outside th' dure, ye say, but 'tis war-rum in here; an' I'm
gettin' in me ol' age to think that the diff'rence between hivin an'
hell is no broader"--
Mr. Dooley's remarks were cut short by a cry from the back room. It was
unmistakably a baby's cry. Mr. McKenna turned suddenly in amazement as
Mr. Dooley bolted.
"Well, in the name of the saints, what's all this?" he cried, following
his friend into the back room. He found the philosopher, with an
expression of the utmost sternness, sitting on the side of his bed, with
a little girl of two or three in his arms. The philosopher was
singing:----
Ar-rah rock-a-bye, babby, on th' three top:
Whin th' wind blo-ows, th' cradle ull r-rock;
An', a-whin th' bough breaks, th' cradle ull fa-a-a-ll,
An' a-down ull come babby, cradle, an' all.
Then he sang:----
In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a fair ma-aid,
In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a fair ma-aid.
She had cheeks like th' roses, an' hair iv th' same,
An' a mouth like ripe sthrawburries burrid in crame.
He rocked the child to and fro, and its crying ceased while he sang:----
Chip, chip, a little horse;
Chip, chip, again, sir.
How manny miles to Dublin?
Threescure an' tin, sir.
The little girl went to sleep on Mr. Dooley's white apron. He lifted her
tenderly, and carried her over to his bed. Then he tiptoed out with an
apprehensive face, and whispered: "It's Jawn Donahue's kid that wandherd
away fr'm home, an' wint to sleep on me dure-step. I sint th' Dorsey boy
to tell th' mother, but he's a long time gone. Do ye run over, Jawn, an'
lave thim know."
ON NANSEN.
"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "that Doc Nansen has come back."
"Yes," said Mr. McKenna. "It's a wonder he wouldn't stay till winter. If
I was setting on an iceberg in latitude umpty-ump north of Evanston
these days, they couldn't pry me off it with a crowbar. Not they."
"He had to come back," explained Mr. Hennessy. "He got as far as he cud,
an' thin he was foorced be th' inclimincy iv th' weather to return to
his home in Feechoold, Norway."
"To where?" Mr. Dooley asked contemptuously.
"To Foocheeld, Norway," said Mr. Hennessy, with some misgivings.
"Ye don't know what ye're talkin' about," retorted the philosopher. "Ye
ought to go back to school an' study gee-ography. Th' place he come back
to was Oostoc, Norway, between Coopenhaagen an'--an' Rogers Park."
"Maybe ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy. "Annyhow, he come back, chased
be a polar bear. It must iv been a thrillin' experience, leppin' fr'm
iceberg to iceberg, with a polar bear grabbin' at th' seat iv his pants,
an' now an' thin a walrus swoopin' down fr'm a three an' munchin' his
hat."
"What ta-alk have ye?" Mr. Dooley demanded. "A walrus don't fly, foolish
man!"
"What does he do, thin?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Go 'round on crutches?"
"A walrus," said Mr. Dooley, "is an animal something like a hor-rse, but
more like a balloon. It doesn't walk, swim, or fly. It rowls whin
pur-suin' its prey. It whirls 'round an' 'round at a speed akel to a
railroad injine, meltin' th' ice in a groove behind it. Tame walruses
are used be th' Eskeemyoos, th' old settlers iv thim parts, as
lawnmowers an' to press their clothes. Th' wild walrus is a mos' vicious
animal, which feeds on snowballs through th' day, an' thin goes out iv
nights afther artic explorers, which for-rms its principal diet. Theyse
a gr-reat demand among walruses f'r artic explorers, Swedes preferred;
an' on account iv th' scarcity iv this food it isn't more than wanst in
twinty years that th' walrus gets a square meal. Thin he devours his
victim, clothes, collar-buttons, an' all."
"Well, well," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had no idee they was that ferocious.
I thought they were like bur-rds. Don't they lay eggs?"
"Don't they lay eggs?" Mr. Dooley replied. "Don't they lay eggs? Did ye
iver hear th' like iv that, Jawn? Why, ye gaby, ye might as well ask me
does a pianny lay eggs. Iv coorse not."
"I'd like to know what the objict of these here arctic explorations is,"
interposed Mr. McKenna, in the interests of peace.
"Th' principal objict is to get rid iv an over-supply iv foolish
people," said Mr. Dooley. "In this counthry, whin a man begins f'r to
see sthrange things, an' hitch up cockroaches, an' think he's Vanderbilt
dhrivin' a four-in-hand, we sind him to what me ol' frind Sleepy Burk
calls th' brain college. But in Norway an' Sweden they sind him to th'
North Pole, an' feed him to th' polar bears an' th' walruses. A man that
scorches on a bicycle or wears a pink shirt or is caught thryin' to fry
out a stick iv dinnymite in a kitchen stove is given a boat an' sint off
to play with Flora an' Fauna in th' frozen North."
"That's what I'd like to know," said Mr. Hennessy. "Who ar-re these
Flora an' Fauna? I see be th' pa-aper that Doc Nansen stopped at
Nootchinchoot Islands, an' saw Flora an' Fauna; an' thin, comin' back on
th' ice, he encountherd thim again."
"I suppose," said Mr. Dooley, "ye think Flora an' Fauna is two little
Eskeemy girls at skip-rope an' 'London bridge is fallin' down' on th'
icebergs an' glaziers. It's a pretty idee ye have iv th' life in thim
parts. Little Flora an' little Fauna playin' stoop-tag aroun' a whale or
rushin' th' can f'r their poor tired father just home fr'm th'
rollin'-mills, where he's been makin' snowballs f'r th' export thrade,
or engagin' in some other spoort iv childhood! Go wan with ye!"
"But who are they, annyhow?"
"I make it a rule in me life not to discuss anny woman's charac-ter,"
replied Mr. Dooley, sternly. "If Doc Nansen was off there skylarkin'
with Flora an' Fauna, it's his own business, an' I make no inquiries. A
lady's a lady, be she iver so humble; an', as Shakespeare says, cursed
be th' man that'd raise an ax to her, save in th' way iv a joke. We'll
talk no scandal in this house, Hinnissy."
But, after his friend had gone, Mr. Dooley leaned over confidentially,
and whispered to Mr. McKenna, "But who are Flora an' Fauna, Jawn?"
"I don't know," said Mr. McKenna.
"It sounds mighty suspicious, annyhow," said the philosopher. "I hope
th' doc'll be able to square it with his wife."
ON A POPULIST CONVENTION.
"Keep ye'er eye on th' Pops, Jawn. They're gr-reat people an' a gr-reat
pa-arty. What is their principles? Anny ol' thing that th' other
pa-arties has rijected. Some iv thim is in favor iv coining money out iv
baled hay an' dhried apples at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, an' some is in
favor iv coinin' on'y th' apples. Thim are th' inflationists. Others
want th' gover'mint to divide up the rivinues equally among all la-ads
that's too sthrong to wurruk. Th' Pops is again th' banks an' again the
supreme court an again havin' gas that can be blowed out be th' human
lungs. A sthrong section is devoted to th' principal iv separatin' Mark
Hanna fr'm his money.
"A ma-an be th' name iv Cassidy, that thravels f'r a liquor-house, was
in to see me this mornin'; an' he come fr'm Saint Looey. He said it beat
all he iver see or heerd tell of. Whin th' convintion come to ordher,
th' chairman says, 'La-ads, we'll open proceedin's be havin' th'
Hon'rable Rube Spike, fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv Okalahoma, cough up
his famous song, "Pa-pa Cleveland's Teeth are filled with Goold."' 'Mr.
Chairman,' says a delegate fr'm New Mexico, risin' an' wavin' his boots
in th' air, 'if th' skate fr'm Okalahoma is allowed f'r to belch anny in
this here assimblage, th' diligates fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New
Mex-ico'll lave th' hall. We have,' he says, 'in our mist th' Hon'rable
Lafayette Hadley, whose notes,' he says, 'falls as sweetly on th' ear,'
he says, 'as th' plunk iv hivin's rain in a bar'l,' he says. 'If annywan
has a hemorrhage iv anthems in this hall, it'll be Lafe Hadley, th'
Guthrie batsoon,' he says. 'Ye shall not,' he says, 'press down upon our
bleedin' brows,' he says, 'this cross iv thorns,' he says. 'Ye shall not
crucify th' diligates fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New Mexico on this
cross iv a Mississippi nigger an' Crow Injun fr'm Okalahoma,' he says.
Thereupon, says me frind Cassidy, th' New Mexico diligation left th'
hall, pursued be th' diligation from Okalahoma.
"Th' chairman knowed his business. 'In ordher,' he says, 'that there may
be no disordher,' he says, 'I will call upon th' imperyal States,' he
says, 'an Territ'ries,' he says, 'beginnin' with th' imperyal State iv
Alabama,' he says, 'to each sind wan singer to th' platform,' he says,
'f'r to wring our hear-rts with melodies,' he says. 'Meantime,' says he,
'pathrites who have differences iv opinyon on anny questions can
pro-cure ex-helves be applyin' to th' sergeant-at-arms,' he says. 'Now,'
he says, 'if th' gintleman fr'm th' imperyal State of Mizzoury'll hand
me up a cheek full iv his eatin' tobacco,' he says, 'we'll listen to
Willyum G. Rannycaboo, th' boy melodjun iv th' imperyal State iv
Alabama,' he says, 'who'll discourse his well-known ballad, 'Th' Supreme
Court is Full iv Standard Ile,' he says.
"Whin th' singin' had con-cluded, so me frind Cassidy says, th' chair
announced that speakin' would be in ordher, an' th' convintion rose as
wan man. Afther ordher had been enforced be th' sergeant-at-arms movin'
round, an' lammin' diligates with a hoe, a tall man was seen standin' on
a chair. F'r some moments th' chairman was onable to call his name, but
he fin'lly found a place to spill; an' in a clear voice he says, 'F'r
what purpose does th' gintleman fr'm the imperyal State iv Texas arise?'
'I arise,' says th' ma-an, 'f'r th' purpose iv warnin' this convintion
that we have a goold-bug in our mist,' he says. Cries iv 'Throw him
out!' 'Search him!' 'Hang him!' arose. 'In wandhrin' through th' hall, I
just seen a man with a coat on,' he says. Great excitement ensood, says
me frind Cassidy; an' th' thremblin' victim was brought down th' aisle.
'What have ye to say f'r ye'ersilf?' demands th' chairman in thundhrin'
tones. 'On'y this,' says th' goold-bug. 'I wandhered in here, lookin'
f'r frinds,' he says. 'I am not a goold-bug,' he says. 'I wear me coat,'
he says, 'because I have no shirt,' he says. 'Gintlemen,' says th'
chairman, 'a mistake has been made,' he says. 'This here person, who
bears th' appearance iv a plutocrat, is all right underneath,' he says.
'He's a diligate to th' silver convintion,' he says. 'Go in peace,' he
says.
"Be this time 'twas gr-rowin' late, an' th' convintion adjourned.
'Befure ye lave,' says th' chairman, 'I have to announce that on account
iv th' chairman of the comity havin' been imprisoned in a foldin'-bed
an' th' sicrity havin' mistook th' fire extinguisher f'r a shower bath,
they'll be no meeting' iv th' comity on rules till to-morrow night.
Durin' th' interval,' he says, 'th' convintion'll continue
ketch-as-ketch can,' he says."
"Well," said Mr. McKenna, "to think of taking this here country out of
the hands of William C. Whitney and Grover Cleveland and J. Pierpont
Morgan and Ickleheimer Thalmann, and putting it in the hands of such
men. What do you think about it?"
"I think," said Mr. Dooley, "that Cassidy lied."
ON A FAMILY REUNION.
"Why aren't you out attending the reunion of the Dooley family?" Mr.
McKenna asked the philosopher.
"Thim's no rel-ations to me," Mr. Dooley answered. "Thim's farmer
Dooleys. No wan iv our fam'ly iver lived in th' counthry. We live in th'
city, where they burn gas an' have a polis foorce to get on to. We're no
farmers, divvle th' bit. We belong to th' industhreel classes. Thim must
be th' Fermanagh Dooleys, a poor lot, Jawn, an' always on good terms
with th' landlord, bad ciss to thim, says I. We're from Roscommon.
They'se a Dooley family in Wixford an' wan near Ballybone that belonged
to th' constabulary. I met him but wanst. 'Twas at an iviction; an',
though he didn't know me, I inthrajooced mesilf be landin' him back iv
th' ear with a bouldher th' size iv ye'er two fists together. He didn't
know me aftherwards, ayether.
"We niver had but wan reunion iv th' Dooley fam'ly, an' that was tin
years ago. Me cousin Felix's boy Aloysius,--him that aftherwards wint to
New York an' got a good job dhrivin' a carredge f'r th' captain iv a
polis station,--he was full iv pothry an' things; an' he come around wan
night, an' says he, 'D'ye know,' he says, ''twud be th' hite iv a good
thing f'r th' Dooleys to have a reunion,' he says. 'We ought to come
together,' he says, 'an' show the people iv this ward,' he says, 'how
sthrong we are,' he says. 'Ye might do it betther, me buck,' says I,
'shovellin' slag at th' mills,' I says. 'But annyhow, if ye'er mind's
set on it, go ahead,' I says, 'an' I'll attind to havin' th' polis
there,' I says, 'f'r I have a dhrag at th' station.'
"Well, he sint out letthers to all th' Roscommon Dooleys; an' on a
Saturdah night we come together in a rinted hall an' held th' reunion.
'Twas great sport f'r a while. Some iv us hadn't spoke frindly to each
other f'r twinty years, an' we set around an' tol' stories iv Roscommon
an' its green fields, an' th' stirabout pot that was niver filled, an'
th' blue sky overhead an' th' boggy ground undherfoot. 'Which Dooley was
it that hamsthrung th' cows?' 'Mike Dooley's Pat.' 'Naw such thing:
'twas Pat Dooley's Mike. I mane Pat Dooley's Mike's Pat.' F'r 'tis with
us as with th' rest iv our people. Ye take th' Dutchman: he has as manny
names to give to his childher as they'se nails in his boots, but an
Irishman has th' pick iv on'y a few. I knowed a man be th' name iv
Clancy,--a man fr'm Kildare. He had fifteen childher; an', whin th' las'
come, he says, 'Dooley, d'ye happen to know anny saints?' 'None iv thim
thrades here,' says I. 'Why?' says I. 'They'se a new kid at th' house,'
he says; 'an', be me troth, I've run out iv all th' saints I knew, an',
if somewan don't come to me assistance, I'll have to turn th' child out
on th' wurruld without th' rag iv a name to his back,' he says.
"But I was tellin' ye about th' reunion. They was lashins iv dhrink an'
story-tellin', an' Felix's boy Aloysius histed a banner he had made
with 'Dooley aboo' painted on it. But, afther th' night got along, some
iv us begun to raymimber that most iv us hadn't been frinds f'r long.
Mrs. Morgan Dooley, she that was Molly Dooley befure she married Morgan,
she turns to me, an' says she, ''Tis sthrange they let in that Hogan
woman,' she says,--that Hogan woman, Jawn, bein' th' wife iv her
husband's brother. She heerd her say it, an' she says, 'I'd have ye to
undherstand that no wan iver come out iv Roscommon that cud hold up
their heads with th' Hogans,' she says. ''Tis not f'r th' likes iv ye to
slandher a fam'ly that's iv th' landed gintry iv Ireland, an' f'r two
pins I'd hit ye a poke in th' eye,' she says. If it hadn't been f'r me
bein' between thim, they'd have been trouble; f'r they was good frinds
wanst. What is it th' good book says about a woman scorned? Faith, I've
forgotten.
"Thin me uncle Mike come in, as rough a man as iver laid hands on a
polisman. Felix Dooley was makin' a speech on th' vartues iv th'
fam'ly. 'Th' Dooleys,' says he, 'can stand before all th' wurruld, an'
no man can say ought agin ayether their honor or their integrity,' says
he. 'Th' man that's throwin' that at ye,' says me uncle Mike, 'stole a
saw fr'm me in th' year sivinty-five.' Felix paid no attintion to me
uncle Mike, but wint on, 'We point proudly to th' motto, "Dooley
aboo--Dooley f'river."' 'Th' saw aboo,' says me uncle Mike. 'Th'
Dooleys,' says Felix, 'stood beside Red Hugh O'Neill; an', whin he cut
aff his hand,--' 'He didn't cut it off with anny wan else's saw,' says
me uncle Mike. 'They'se an old sayin',' wint on Felix. 'An' ol' saw,'
says me uncle Mike. 'But 'twas new whin ye stole it.'
"'Now look here,' says Aloysius, 'this thing has gone far enough. 'Tis
an outrage that this here man shud come here f'r to insult th' head iv
th' fam'ly.' 'Th' head iv what fam'ly?' says Morgan Dooley, jumpin' up
as hot as fire. 'I'm th' head iv th' fam'ly,' he says, 'be right iv
histhry.' 'Ye're an ol' cow,' says me uncle Mike. 'Th' back iv me hand
an' th' sowl iv me fut to all iv ye,' he says. 'I quit ye,' he says.
'Ye're all livin' here undher assumed names'; an' he wint out, followed
be Morgan Dooley with a chair in each hand.
"Well, they wasn't two Dooleys in th' hall'd speak whin th' meetin'
broke up; an' th' Lord knows, but I don't to this day, who's th' head iv
th' Dooley fam'ly. All I know is that I had wan th' nex' mornin'."
ON A FAMOUS WEDDING.
"Ye see, Jawn," he said "'twas this way: The Jook iv Marlburrow is a
young lad an' poor. Ye can't think of a jook bein' poor, but 'tis a fact
that they'se many a wan iv thim that's carryin' th' banner at this
minyit. Hinnissy, if he had his rights, is Jook iv Munster; an' ye know
what he's got. The Jook iv Marlburrow, whin he come out iv th' academy
where they had him, he hadn't a cint to his name. Ne'er a wan.
"They ain't manny jobs f'r a young jook. Th' thrade is limited; an' this
here la-ad wint round night an' day lookin' f'r a sign, 'Wanted, a young
jook, r-ready an' willin' to do light family jookin',' an' no sign did
he see. He was in a bad way; f'r the la-ad's father was dead, th' ol'
jook. He was a fine bucko. He had a divorce fr'm his wife, an' marrid
another; an', whin he died, she marrid somewan else an' took the
roly-boly with her. This was ha-ard on th' lad.
"But he come iv a noble race, an' wan that had reed burruds whin their
betthers had snowballs. Did ye iver read histhry, Jawn? Ye ought to.
'Tis betther thin th' Polis Gazette, an' near as thrue. Well, Jawn, this
here young man come fr'm a gr-eat gin'ral, a fine-lookin' la-ad that had
manny a mash in his day, an' niver lost money be wan iv thim. Ye'll find
all about him in Casey's 'Histhry iv English Misrule in Ireland: Th'
Story iv a Crime.' 'Tis good readin'.
"Th' la-ad's father marrid a rich woman. So did his uncle. So ye see he
was a natural bor-rn fi-nanceer. An' he begun to luk around him f'r what
th' pa-apers calls a 'financee.'
"He didn't have far to go. I dinnaw how he done it, whether th'
Ganderbilks asked him 'r he asked th' Ganderbilks. Annyhow, 'twas
arranged. 'Twas horse an' horse between thim. Th' Ganderbilks had money,
an' he was a jook. They was wan divorce on each side. So they imported
him over, what they call assisted immygration. He didn't come undher
th' head iv skilled workman. They must've classed him as a domestic
servant. Th' first thing he done was to get himsilf arristed. A man be
th' name iv Sweeney,--there are some good Sweeneys, though it's a name I
don't like on account iv wan iv thim stealin' me fa-ather's
grin'stone,--a man be th' name iv Sweeney, a polisman, r-run him in f'r
disordherly conduct. They got him out with a pull. Thin he sint f'r
lawyers an' f'r his financee's father, an' they settled down to talk
business. 'Well,' says Ganderbilk, 'how much d'ye want?' he says. 'I'll
give ye a millyon.' 'Goowan,' says th' jook, 'I cud get that much
marryin' somewan I knew.' 'Thin how much d'ye want?' says Ganderbilk.
'Well,' says th' jook, th' castle has to be put in repair. Th' plumbin'
is all gone to th' divvle, an' they'll have to be a new catch-basin put
in,' he says. 'Thin they'se calciminin' an' paper-hangin',--well, call
it tin millyons.' 'But what do I get out iv it?' says Ganderbilk. 'Have
ye a ticket to th' church to see me marrid?' says th' jook. 'No,' says
his pappa-in-law. 'Well, here's a couple,' says th' jook. 'Bring wan iv
ye'er frinds with ye.' So Ganderbilk he coughed.
"They say th' jook was that poor he had to have his coat made out iv what
was left over fr'm his pants, they do so. But he was at th' church
bright an' early; an' Ganderbilk he was there, too, standin' out on th'
steps in th' cold, combin' his whiskers--he wears a pair iv
sluggers--with his fingers. Afther awhile his daughter, the jook's
financee, come along; an', seein' the jook, says she, 'Pappa,' she says,
'inthrojooce me to ye'er frind.' 'Jook,' says Ganderbilk, 'shake hands
with me daughther. She's your's,' he says. An' so they were marrid.
"Well, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, becoming serious, "'tis a dhroll wurruld,
an' I suppose we've got to take th' jooks an' th' Ganderbilks with the
r-rest. I'm goin' to a weddin' mesilf nex' week. Th' banns has been
called between little Dalia Hogan an' big Tom Moran. They've been
engaged f'r three year, her wurrkin' in a box facthry an' him doin'
overtime at th' blast. They've money enough to start, an' it'll not cost
ol' ma-an Hogan a cint. But, whin he spoke about it las' night, he cried
as if his heart'd break."
ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND GERMANY.
Mr. McKenna was aware that a gentle feud had existed between Mr. Dooley
and Mr. Schwartzmeister, the German saloon-keeper down Archey Road, for
some years. It was based upon racial differences, but had been accented
when Mr. Schwartzmeister put in a pool table. Of course there was no
outburst. When the two met on the street, Mr. Dooley saluted his
neighbor cordially, in these terms: "Good-nobben, Hair Schwartzmeister,
an' vas magst too yet, me brave bucko!" To which Mr. Schwartzmeister
invariably retorted: "Py chapers, Tooley, where you haf been all der
time, py chapers?" But this was mere etiquette. In the publicity of
their own taverns they entertained no great regard for each other. Mr.
Schwartzmeister said a friend of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley's
beer, and Mr. Dooley confessed that he would rather go to a harness-shop
for whiskey than to Mr. Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKenna
was amazed to learn that Mr. Schwartzmeister had been entertained by the
philosopher, and that they had paraded Archey Road arm-in-arm at a late
hour.