t. 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."

"So ye did," said Mr. Dooley. "So ye did. An' capital this afthernoon
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