ght 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