e says, 'go roun' with me.' Mind ye, he took him
out to th' middle iv th' pond, Hinnissy movin' like a bridge horse on
a slippery thrack; an' th' lad shook him off, an' skated away. 'Come
back!' says Hinnissy. 'Come back!' he says. 'Tom, I'll flay ye alive
whin I catch ye on th' sthreet! Come here, like a good boy, an' help
me off. Dooley,' he roars to me, 'ain't ye goin' to do annything?' he
says. 'Ne'er a thing,' says I, 'but go home.' 'But how 'm I goin' to
cross?' he says. 'Go down on ye'er knees an' crawl,' says I. 'Foolish
man!' I says. An' he done it, Jawn. It took him tin minyits to get
down in sections, but he done it. An' I sthud there, an' waited f'r
him while he crawled wan block over th' ice, mutterin' prayers at ivry
fut.

"I wint home with him aftherwards; an' what d'ye think he said?
'Martin,' says he, 'I've been a sinful man in me time; but I niver had
th' like iv that f'r a pinance,' he says. 'Think iv doin' th' stations
iv th' cross on th' ice,' he says. 'Hinnissy,' I says, 'they'se no
crime in th' catalogue akel to bein' old,' I says. 'Th' nearest thing
to it,' I says, 'is bein' a fool,' I says; 'an' ye're both,' I says."

THE DIVIDED SKIRT.

"Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, "did ye iver hear th' puzzle whin a woman's
not a woman?"

"Faith, I have," said Mr. McKenna. "When I was a kid, I knew the
answer."

"Ye didn't know this answer," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin is a woman not a
woman? 'Twas give to me las' Satthurdah night be young Callaghan, th'
sthreet-car man that have all th' latest jokes that does be out. Whin
is a woman not a woman? mind ye. Whin's she's on a bicycle, by dad.
Yes, yes. Whin she's on a bicycle, Jawn. D'ye know Molly Donahue?"

"I know her father," said Mr. McKenna.

"Well, well, the dacint man sint his daughter Molly to have a convint
schoolin'; an' she larned to pass th' butther in Frinch an' to paint
all th' chiny dishes in th' cubb'rd, so that, whin Donahue come home
wan night an' et his supper, he ate a green paint ha-arp along with
his cabbage, an' they had to sind f'r Docthor Hinnissy f'r to pump th'
a-art work out iv him. So they did. But Donahue, bein' a quite man,
niver minded that, but let her go on with her do-se-does an' bought
her a bicycle. All th' bicycles th' poor man had himsilf whin he was
her age was th' dhray he used to dhrive f'r Comiskey; but he says,
'Tis all th' thing,' he says. 'Let th' poor child go her way,' he says
to his wife, he says. 'Honoria