hey 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.
Wh