erman, an' th' little soggarth thried his
best to down him. Thin he give a cock fight in th' liquor shop, an'
that atthracted a gang iv bad men; an' he licked thim wan afther
another, an' made thim his frinds. An' wan day lo an' behold, whin th'
aldherman thried f'r to carry th' prim'ries that 'd niver failed him
befure, Flannagan wint down with his gang an' illicted his own
dilligate ticket, an' thrun th' aldherman up in th' air!

"Thin he was a boss, an' f'r five years he r-run th' ward. He niver
wint to th' council, d'ye mind; but, whin he was gin'rous, he give th'
aldhermen tin per cint iv what they made. In a convintion, whin anny
iv th' candydates passed roun' th' money, 'twas wan thousand dollars
f'r Flannagan an' have a nice see-gar with me f'r th' rest iv thim.
Wan year fr'm th' day he done th' aldherman he sold th' liquor shop.
Thin he built a brick house in th' place iv th' little frame wan he
had befure, an' moved in a pianny f'r his daughter. 'Twas about this
time he got a dimon as big as ye'er fist, an' begun to dhrive down
town behind a fast horse. No wan knowed what he done, but his wife
said he was in th' r-rale estate business. D'ye mind, Jawn, that th'
r-rale estate business includes near ivrything fr'm vagrancy to
manslaughter?

"Whativer it was he done, he had money to bur-rn; an' th' little
soggarth that wanst despised him, but had a hard time payin' th' debt
iv th' church, was glad enough to sit at his table. Wan day without
th' wink iv th' eye he moved up in th' avnoo, an' no wan seen him in
Bridgeport afther that. 'Twas a month or two later whin a lot iv th'
la-ads was thrun into jail f'r a little diviltry they'd done f'r him.
A comity iv th' fathers iv th' la-ads wint to see him. He raceived
thim in a room as big as wan iv their whole houses, with pitchers on
th' walls an' a carpet as deep an' soft as a bog. Th' comity asked him
to get th' la-ads out on bail.

"'Gintlemen,' he says, 'ye must excuse me,' he says, 'in such
matthers.' 'D'ye mane to say,' says Cassidy, th' plumber, 'that ye
won't do annything f'r my son?' 'Do annything,' says Flannagan. (I'll
say this f'r him: a more darin' man niver drew breath; an', whin his
time come to go sthandin' off th' mob an' defindin' his sthone quarry
in th' rites iv sivinty-sivin, he faced death without a wink.) 'Do?'
he says, risin' an' sthandin' within a fut iv Cassidy's big cane.
'Do?' he says. 'Why,' he says, 'yes,' he says; 'I've subscribed wan