aith, I did not,'
says th' good man. 'I was in too much iv a hurry to get away.' 'What was
th' matther?' ast Hogan. 'I had me uniform to brush up an' me soord to
polish,' says Father Kelly. 'I am goin' with th' rig'mint to-morrah,' he
says; an' he says, 'If ye hear iv me waitin' to pray,' he says, 'anny
time they'se a call f'r me,' he says, 'to be in a fight,' he says, 'ye
may conclude,' he says, 'that I've lost me mind, an' won't be back to me
parish,' he says. 'Hogan,' he says, 'I'll go into th' battle with a
prayer book in wan hand an' a soord in th' other,' he says; 'an' if th'
wurruk calls f'r two hands, 'tis not th' soord I'll dhrop,' he says.
'Don't ye believe in prayer?' says Hogan. 'I do,' says th' good man;
'but,' he says, 'a healthy person ought,' he says, 'to be ashamed,' he
says, 'to ask f'r help in a fight,' he says."

"That's th' way I look at it," said Mr. Hennessy. "When 'tis an aven
thing in th' prayin', may th' best man win."

"Ye're r-right, Hinnissy," said Mr. Dooley, warmly. "Ye're r-right. An'
th' best man will win."

ON THE ANGLO-SAXON.

"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I see be th' pa-apers that th' snow-white
pigeon iv peace have tied up th' dogs iv war. It's all over now. All
we've got to do is to arrest th' pathrites an' make th' reconcenthradios
pay th' stamp tax, an' be r-ready f'r to take a punch at Germany or
France or Rooshia or anny counthry on th' face iv th' globe.

"An' I'm glad iv it. This war, Hinnissy, has been a gr-reat sthrain on
me. To think iv th' suffrin' I've endured! F'r weeks I lay awake at
nights fearin' that th' Spanish ar-rmadillo'd lave the Cape Verde
Islands, where it wasn't, an' take th' thrain out here, an' hur-rl death
an' desthruction into me little store. Day be day th' pitiless exthries
come out an' beat down on me. Ye hear iv Teddy Rosenfelt plungin' into
ambus-cades an' Sicrity iv Wars; but d'ye hear iv Martin Dooley, th' man
behind th' guns, four thousan' miles behind thim, an' willin' to be
further? They ar-re no bokays f'r me. I'm what Hogan calls wan iv th'
mute, ingloryous heroes iv th' war; an' not so dam mute, ayther. Some
day, Hinnissy, justice'll be done me, an' th' likes iv me; an', whin th'
story iv a gr-reat battle is written, they'll print th' kilt, th'
wounded, th' missin', an' th' seryously disturbed. An' thim that have
bore thimsilves well an' bravely an' paid th' taxes an' faced th' deadly
newspa-apers without flinchin' 'll be advanced s