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Well, whin I first knew O'Leary he wurruked down on a railroad section tampin' th' thrack at wan-fifty a day. He was a sthrong, willin' young fellow, with a stiff right-hand punch an' a schamin' brain, an' anny wan cud see that he was intinded to go to th' fr-ront. Th' aristocracy iv th' camp was Mrs. Cassidy, th' widdy lady that kept th' boordin'-house.

Wan day I was walkin' up th' levee smokin' a good tin cint seegar whin a coon wearin' a suit iv clothes that looked like a stained glass window in th' house iv a Dutch brewer an' a pop bottle in th' fr-ront iv his shirt, steps up to me an' he says: 'How dy'e do, Mistah Dooley, says he. 'Don't ye know me Mistah Hicks? he says.

Faith, he's changed his chune, an' 'tis 'Sthrangers wanst, but brothers now, with him, an' 'Hands acrost th' sea an' into some wan's pocket, an' 'Take up th' white man's burden an' hand it to th' coons, an' 'An open back dure an' a closed fr-ront dure. 'Tis th' same with all iv thim. They'se me frind Joe Choate. Where 'd Joe spind th' night?

Where did I bring up, says ye? In th' fr-ront seat iv a playhouse with me eye glued on a lady iv th' sultan's coort, near Brooklyn bridge, thryin' to twisht out iv hersilf." "No, Hinnissy, they'll be manny things larned be Americans that goes to Paris, but they won't be about th' 'convarsion iv boots into food, or vicey varsa, as Hogan says. An' that's r-right.

'Ye will jine th' other boys fr'm th' club at Tampa, he says. 'Ye shud be careful iv ye'er equipment, he says. 'I have almost ivrything r-ready, says Willie. 'Me man attinded to thim details, he says. 'But I fear I can't go to th' fr-ront immejetly, he says. 'Me pink silk pijammas hasn't arrived, he says. 'Well, says Mack, 'wait f'r thim, he says.

"In a few short weeks, Hinnissy, 'twill not be safe f'r ayether iv the candydates to come out on th' fr-ront porch till th' waitin' dillygations has been searched be a polisman. 'Tis th' divvle's own time th' la-ads that r-runs f'r th' prisidincy has since that ol' boy Burchard broke loose again' James G. Blaine.

Dooley, "is a man ye niver heerd iv befure. If ye can think iv annywan whose face is onfamilyar to ye an' ye don't raymimber his name, an' he's got a job on a pa-aper ye didn't know was published, he's a war expert. 'Tis a har-rd office to fill. Whin a war begins th' timptation is sthrong f'r ivry man to grab hold iv a gun an go to th' fr-ront.

'Ye got ye'er money, says Father Kelly; 'an' much good may it do ye, he says. 'Well, says Dochney, 'I'd be a long time prayin' mesilf into five thousan', he says. An' he become leader in th' council. Th' las' ordhnance he inthrojooced was wan establishin' a license f'r churches, an' compellin' thim to keep their fr-ront dure closed an' th' blinds drawn on Sundah. He was expelled fr'm th' St.

Some was f'r settin' fire to th' buildin', but no wan moved ahead. Thin th' fr-ront dure opened, an' who shud come out but th' little mother. She was thin an' pale, an' she had her apron in her hands, pluckin' at it. 'Gintlemin, she says, 'what is it ye want iv me? she says.

"I'm no such thing," said Mr. Hennessy, hotly. "I've been a Dimmycrat f'r thirty year." "Well, annyhow," said Mr. Dooley, "don't speak disrayspictful iv th' ar-rmy. Lave me r-read you Terry's letter fr'm th' fr-ront. 'M m: In th' trinches, two miles fr'm Sandago, with a land crab as big as a lobster crawlin' up me back be way iv Kingston, June 6, Dear Uncle Martin. That's th' way it begins.