ists, an' 'twas little our own Jawnny Shea cared f'r thim
so long as they didn't bother him. Well, sir, this here man's name was
Owsky or something iv that sort, but I always called him Casey be way
iv a joke. He had whiskers on him like thim on a cokynut, an' I heerd
he swore an oath niver to get shaved till he killed a man that wore a
stove-pipe hat.

"Be that as it may, Jawn, he was a most ferocious man. Manny's th'
time I've heerd him lecture to little Matt Doolan asleep like a log
behind th' stove. What a-are we comin' to?' he'd say. 'What a-are we
comin' to?' D'ye mind, Jawn, that's th' way he always began. 'Th' poor
do be gettin' richer,' says he, 'an' th' rich poorer,' says he. 'Th'
governmint,' says he, 'is in th' hands iv th' monno-polists,' he says,
'an' they're crushin' th' life out iv th' prolotoorios.' A
prolotoorio, Jawn, is th' same thing as a hobo. 'Look at th' Willum
Haitch Vanderbilts,' says he, 'an' th' Gools an' th' Astors,' says he,
'an' thin look at us,' he says, 'groun' down,' he says, 'till we cries
f'r bread on th' sthreet,' he says; 'an' they give us a stone,' he
says. 'Dooley,' he says, 'fetch in a tub iv beer, an' lave th' collar
off,' he says.

"Doolan 'd wake up with a start, an' applaud at that. He was a little
tailor-man that wurruked in a panthry down town, an' I seen him weep
whin a dog was r-run over be a dhray. Thin Casey 'd call on Doolan f'r
to stand his ground an' desthroy th' polis,--'th' onions iv th'
monno-polists,' he called thim,--an' Doolan 'd say, 'Hear, hear,' till
I thrun thim both out.

"I thought me frind Casey 'd be taken up f'r histin' a polisman f'r
sure, though, to be fair with him, I niver knowed him to do but wan
arnychist thing, and that was to make faces at Willum Joyce because he
lived in a two-story an' bay-window brick house. Doolan said that was
goin' too far, because Willum Joyce usually had th' price. Wan day
Casey disappeared, an' I heerd he was married. He niver showed up f'r
a year; an', whin he come in, I hardly knowed him. His whiskers had
been filed an' his hair cut, an' he was dhressed up to kill. He wint
into th' back room, an' Doolan was asleep there. He woke him, an' made
a speech to him that was full iv slaughther and bloodshed. Pretty soon
in come a little woman, with a shawl over her head,--a little German
lady. Says she, 'Where's me hoosband?' in a German brogue ye cud cut
with an ax. 'I don't know ye'er husband, ma'am,' says I. 'What's hi