be th' name iv Sullivan, wife iv a bricklayer
iv th' same name. He was sthridin' into th' Widow Sullivan's house;
an' says he, 'Mistress Sullivan,' he says. 'Yes,' says she, in a
thremble, knottin' her apron in her hands an' standin' in front iv her
own little wans, 'what can I do f'r ye?' she says. 'Th' rent's not due
till to-morrow.' 'I very well know that,' he says; 'an' I want ye to
take care iv this wan', he says. 'An' I'll pay ye f'r ye'er throuble,'
he says.

"We niver knew where he got th' child: he niver told annywan. Docthor
Casey said he was badly burnt about th' head an' hands. He testified
to it in a suit he brought again O'Brien f'r curin' him. F'r th' man
O'Brien, instead iv rayformin' like they do in th' play, was a long
sight meaner afther he done this wan thing thin iver befure. If he was
tight-fisted wanst, he was as close now as calcimine on a
rough-finished wall. He put his tinints out in th' cold without mercy,
he kicked blind beggars fr'm th' dure, an' on his dyin'-bed he come as
near bein' left be raison iv his thryin' to bargain with th' good man
f'r th' rayqueems as annywan ye iver see. But he raised th' little
girl; an' I sometimes think that, whin they count up th' cash, they'll
let O'Brien off with a character f'r that wan thing, though there's
some pretty hard tabs again him.

"They ain't much point in what I've told ye more thin this,--that
beneath ivry man's outside coat there lies some good feelin'. We ain't
as bad as we make ourselves out. We've been stringin' ropes across th'
sthreet f'r th' people iv Saint Looey f'r thirty years an' handin'
thim bricks fr'm th' chimbleys whiniver we got a chance, but we've
on'y got wurruds an' loose change f'r thim whin th' hard times comes."

"Yes," said Mr. McKenna, "I see even the aldhermen has come to the
front, offering relief."

"Well," said Mr. Dooley, thoughtfully, "I on'y hope they won't go to
Saint Looey to disthri-bute it thimsilves. That would be a long sight
worse thin th' cyclone."

THE IRISHMAN ABROAD.

Mr. Dooley laid down his morning paper, and looked thoughtfully at the
chandeliers.

"Taaffe," he said musingly,--"Taaffe--where th' divvle? Th' name's
familiar."

"He lives in the Nineteenth," said Mr. McKenna. "If I remember right,
he has a boy on th' force."

"Goowan," said Mr. Dooley, "with ye'er nineteenth wa-ards. Th' Taaffe
I mane is in Austhria. Where in all, where in all? No: yes, by gar, I
have it. A-ha!