'
thermomether. It was four hundherd an' sixty-five."

"How much?" asked Mr. McKenna.

"Four hundherd an' sixty-five."

"Fahrenheit?"

"No, it belonged to Dorsey. Ah! well, well, an' here's Cassidy. Come
in, frind, an' have a shell iv beer. I've been tellin' Jawnny about
th' big thaw iv eighteen sixty-eight. Feel th' wind, man alive. 'Tis
turnin' cool, an' we'll sleep to-night."

KEEPING LENT.

Mr. McKenna had observed Mr. Dooley in the act of spinning a long,
thin spoon in a compound which reeked pleasantly and smelt of the
humming water of commerce; and he laughed and mocked at the
philosopher.

"Ah-ha," he said, "that's th' way you keep Lent, is it? Two weeks from
Ash Wednesday, and you tanking up."

Mr. Dooley went on deliberately to finish the experiment, leisurely
dusting the surface with nutmeg and tasting the product before setting
down the glass daintily. Then he folded his apron, and lay back in
ample luxury while he began: "Jawn, th' holy season iv Lent was sent
to us f'r to teach us th' weakness iv th' human flesh. Man proposes,
an' th' Lord disposes, as Hinnissy says.

"I mind as well as though it was yesterday th' struggle iv me father
f'r to keep Lent. He began to talk it a month befure th' time. 'On Ash
Winsdah,' he'd say, 'I'll go in f'r a rale season iv fast an'
abstinince,' he'd say. An' sure enough, whin Ash Winsdah come round at
midnight, he'd take a long dhraw at his pipe an' knock th' ashes out
slowly again his heel, an' thin put th' dhudeen up behind th' clock.
'There,' says he, 'there ye stay till Easter morn,' he says. Ash
Winsdah he talked iv nawthin but th' pipe. ''Tis exthraordinney how
easy it is f'r to lave off,' he says. 'All ye need is will power,' he
says. 'I dinnaw that I'll iver put a pipe in me mouth again. 'Tis a
bad habit, smokin' is,' he says; 'an' it costs money. A man's betther
off without it. I find I dig twict as well,' he says; 'an', as f'r
cuttin' turf, they'se not me like in th' parish since I left off th'
pipe,' he says.

"Well, th' nex' day an' th' nex' day he talked th' same way; but
Fridah he was sour, an' looked up at th' clock where th' pipe was.
Saturdah me mother, thinkin' to be plazin to him, says: 'Terrence,'
she says, 'ye're iver so much betther without th' tobacco,' she says.
'I'm glad to find you don't need it. Ye'll save money,' she says. 'Be
quite, woman,' says he. 'Dear, oh dear,' he says, 'I'd like a pull at
th' clay,' he says. 'Whin