DOW--An' oh, but he was a power in th' warrud! Divil a mahn cud vote
right widout Moike Clancy at 'is elbow. An' in th' calkus, sure didn't
Mulrooney git th' nominashun jes' by raison of Moike's atthackin' th'
opposashun wid th' shtove-poker. Mulrooney got it as aisy as dhirt, wid
Moike rowlin' under th' tayble wid th' other candeedate. He was a good
sit'zen, was Moike--divil a wan betther.

Mr. SLICK _spends some minutes in collecting his faculties_.

Mr. SLICK (_after he decides that he has them collected_)--Yes, yes,
Mrs. Clancy, your husband's h-highly successful pol-pol-political career
was w-well known to the public; but what I want to know is--what I want
to know--(_Pauses to consider._)

WIDOW (_finally_)--Pass th' glasses, Mary Ann, yez lazy divil; give th'
gintlemin a dhrink! Here (_tendering him a glass_), take anodder wan to
Moike Clancy, an' Gawd save yez for yer koindness to a poor widee woman!

Mr. SLICK (_after solemnly regarding the glass_)--Certainly, I--I'll
take a drink. Certainly, M--Mish Clanshy. Yes, certainly, Mish Clanshy.
Now, Mish Clanshy, w-w-wash was Mr. Clanshy's n-name before he married
you, Mish Clanshy?

WIDOW (_astonished_)--Why, divil a bit else but Clancy.

Mr. SLICK (_after reflection_)--Well, but I mean--I mean, Mish Clanshy,
I mean--what was date of birth? Did marry you 'fore then, or d-did marry
you when 'e was born in N' York, Mish Clanshy?

WIDOW--Phwat th' divil--

Mr. SLICK (_with dignity_)--Ansher my queshuns, pleash, Mish Clanshy.
Did 'e bring chil'en withum f'm Irelan', or was you, after married in N'
York, mother those chil'en 'e brought f'm Irelan'?

WIDOW--Be th' powers above, I--

Mr. SLICK (_with gentle patience_)--I don't shink y' unnerstan' m'
queshuns, Mish Clanshy. What I wanna fin' out is, what was 'e born in N'
York for when he, before zat, came f'm Irelan'? Dash what puzzels me.
I-I'm completely puzzled. An' alsho, I wanna fin' out--I wanna fin' out,
if poshble--zat is, if it's poshble shing, I wanna fin' out--I wanna
fin' out--if poshble--I wanna-shay, who the blazesh is dead here,
anyhow?

AN EPISODE OF WAR.

The lieutenant's rubber blanket lay on the ground, and upon it he had
poured the company's supply of coffee. Corporals and other
representatives of the grimy and hot-throated men who lined the
breastwork had come for each squad's portion.

The lieutenant was frowning and serious at this task of division. His
lips pursed as he drew