be ye're r-right," said Mr. Hennessy. "He's nawthin' but a
kid, annyhow,--no oldher thin me oldest boy; an' I know what a fool
he'd be if anny wan ast him to be more iv a fool thin he is. Hobson
'll be famous, no matther what foolish things he does."

"I dinnaw," said Mr. Dooley. "It was headed f'r him; but I'm afraid,
as th' bull-yard players 'd say, fame's been kissed off."

THE DECLINE OF NATIONAL FEELING.

"What ar-re ye goin' to do Patrick's Day?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"Patrick's Day?" said Mr. Dooley. "Patrick's Day? It seems to me I've
heard th' name befure. Oh, ye mane th' day th' low Irish that hasn't
anny votes cillybrates th' birth iv their naytional saint, who was a
Fr-rinchman."

"Ye know what I mane," said Mr. Hennessy, with rising wrath. "Don't ye
get gay with me now."

"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I may cillybrate it an' I may not. I'm
thinkin' iv savin' me enthusyasm f'r th' queen's birthday, whiniver it
is that that blessid holiday comes ar-round. Ye see, Hinnissy,
Patrick's Day is out iv fashion now. A few years ago ye'd see the
Prisident iv th' United States marchin' down Pinnsylvanya Avnoo, with
the green scarf iv th' Ancient Ordher on his shoulders an' a shamrock
in his hat. Now what is Mack doin'? He's settin' in his parlor,
writin' letthers to th' queen, be hivins, askin' afther her health. He
was fr'm th' north iv Ireland two years ago, an' not so far north
ayether,--just far enough north f'r to be on good terms with Derry an'
not far enough to be bad frinds with Limerick. He was raised on
butthermilk an' haggis, an' he dhrank his Irish nate with a dash iv
orange bitthers in it. He's been movin' steadily north since; an', if
he keeps on movin', he'll go r-round th' globe, an' bring up somewhere
in th' south iv England.

"An' Hinnery Cabin Lodge! I used to think that Hinnery would niver die
contint till he'd took th' Prince iv Wales be th' hair iv th'
head,--an' 'tis little th' poor man's got,--an' dhrag him fr'm th'
tower iv London to Kilmainham Jail, an' hand him over to th' tindher
mercies, as Hogan says, iv Michael Davitt. Thim was th' days whin ye'd
hear Hinnery in th' Sinit, spreadin' fear to th' hear-rts iv th'
British aristocracy. 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'an' fellow-sinitors, th'
time has come,' he says, 'whin th' eagle burrud iv freedom,' he says,
'lavin',' he says, 'its home in th' mountains,' he says, 'an'
circlin',' he says, 'undher th' jool 'd hivin,' he says, 'fr'm where,'