had given the cigar. He was wagging his head encouragingly.

"Gentlemen, I will go on--and thank you for the chance. And, with your
permission, gentlemen, I'll speak of something besides politics. It is
of charity. Gentlemen, a great quality is charity. Only because of the
spirit of charity in you, gentlemen, am I allowed to speak to you here
to-night; but it's another phase of charity I'd like to speak of. I will
put it in the form of a story--and, gentlemen, not too long a story.

"There was an old lady in the old country, who received a letter from
her oldest son, John, with passage-money for her second son, Pat, to
come over and join him. She gave her consent. Why wouldn't she--when
the living was so hard? Pat went, leaving his mother of nigh seventy and
the last of his brothers with her. One son had already gone to South
America and another to Australia; and now only a boy was left to
her--and him with one leg gone in a railroad accident, for which they'd
never got a farthing."

At this point Tim heard the side door softly open and close. He took a
quick backward peek. Dinnie and old Nanna Nolan were waiting in the
wings. Tim signed to them to remain there. He stepped to the front of
the stage then, just in time to see Malone, whose every move he was
watching, uncross his legs and half rise in his seat. Tim looked at him
steadily and waited. Malone did not move farther, and Tim resumed:

"Well, the two sons in America, strong and willing, worked side by side,
earning their dollar and a quarter and their dollar and a half a day,
with now and again a day's or a week's layoff to set them back, but
managing always between them to save four dollars in the week and send
it over every month to the old mother--until by and by, she scrimping
and saving, too, there was passage-money for herself and the lad to come
to America. They took the steamer at Queenstown; and 'twas like a grand
dream to them--until one day there came a great storm and the ship
leaped and jumped, and the poor, helpless, crippled boy was thrown down
an iron ladder; and when some one thought to help the poor mother pick
him up he was dead. Well--But, gentlemen, maybe I'm trying your
patience?"

"Go on!" came a voice, and "Go on!" came another; and then three, four,
a dozen voices called for him to continue.

"Thank you. Well, gentlemen, a tempest in the great ocean, with its
tremendous winds and mountains of seas, must be a terrible sight; but
sure