y warm and tired, came in to Mr. Dooley's
tavern one night last week, and smote the bar with his fist.

"What's the matter with Hogan?" he said.

"What Hogan?" asked Mr. Dooley. "Malachy or Matt? Dinnis or Mike?
Sarsfield or William Hogan? There's a Hogan f'r ivry block in th'
Ar-rchey Road, an' wan to spare. There's nawthin' th' matter with anny
iv thim; but, if ye mean Hogan, th' liquor dealer, that r-run f'r
aldherman, I'll say to ye he's all right. Mind ye, Jawn, I'm doin'
this because ye're me frind; but, by gar, if anny wan else comes in
an' asks me that question, I'll kill him, if I have to go to th'
bridewell f'r it. I'm no health officer."

Having delivered himself of this tirade, Mr. Dooley scrutinized Mr.
McKenna sharply, and continued: "Ye've been out ilictin' some man,
Jawn, an' ye needn't deny it. I seen it th' minyit ye come in. Ye'er
hat's dinted, an' ye have ye'er necktie over ye'er ear; an' I see be
ye'er hand ye've hit a Dutchman. Jawn, ye know no more about politics
thin a mimber iv this here Civic Featheration. Didn't ye have a beer
bottle or an ice-pick? Ayether iv thim is good, though, whin I was a
young man an' precint captain an' intherested in th' welfare iv th'
counthry, I found a couplin' pin in a stockin' about as handy as
annything.

"Thim days is over, though, Jawn, an' between us politics don't
intherest me no more. They ain't no liveliness in thim. Whin Andy
Duggan r-run f'r aldherman against Schwartzmeister, th' big
Dutchman,--I was precinct captain then, Jawn,--there was an iliction
f'r ye. 'Twas on our precinct they relied to ilict Duggan; f'r the
Dutch was sthrong down be th' thrack, an' Schwartzmeister had a band
out playin' 'Th' Watch on th' Rhine.' Well, sir, we opened th' polls
at six o'clock, an' there was tin Schwartzmeister men there to protect
his intherests. At sivin o'clock there was only three, an' wan iv thim
was goin' up th' sthreet with Hinnissy kickin' at him. At eight
o'clock, be dad,' there was on'y wan; an' he was sittin' on th' roof
iv Gavin's blacksmith shop, an' th' la-ads was thryin' to borrow a
laddher fr'm th' injine-house f'r to get at him. 'Twas thruck
eighteen; an' Hogan, that was captain, wudden't let thim have it. Not
ye'er Hogan, Jawn, but th' meanest fireman in Bridgeport. He got kilt
aftherwards. He wudden't let th' la-ads have a laddher, an' th'
Dutchman stayed up there; an', whin there was nawthin' to do, we wint
over an' thrun bricks at him. 'T