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Updated: May 13, 2025
'Ye'll sleep at home, says I. 'Ye'er father sh'd take shame to himsilf, him a rich man. An' I put on me coat, an' wint over to Ahearn's. I was a power in th' wa-ard in thim days, an' feared no man alive. Th' ol' la-ad met us at th' dure. Whin I started to speak, he blazed up. 'Misther Dooley, says he, 'my sorrows are me own. I'll keep thim here.
Dooley, "th' finest pothry in th' wurruld is wrote be that frind iv young Hogan's, a man be th' name iv Roodyard Kipling. I see his pomes in th' pa-aper, Hinnissy; an' they're all right. They're all right, thim pomes. They was wan about scraggin' Danny Deever that done me a wurruld iv good. They was a la-ad I wanst knew be th' name iv Deever, an' like as not he was th' same man. He owed me money.
In Austhree where this happened whin a man dies ivrybody comes in to see him. Ye meet a frind on th' sthreet an' he says: 'Come on over an see Harrigan jump off. So whin th' la-ad is r-ready f'r to go out ivry body gathers in his room. 'Tis a fash'nable ivint, like th' Horse Show. Among those prisint is his mother.
'He'll go, she says. 'Thanks be, though he's wild, they'se no crime on his head. Is there, dear? 'No, says he, like th' game kid he is. Wan iv th' polismin stharted to take hold iv him, but th' la-ad pushed him back; an' he wint to th' wagon on his mother's ar-rm." "And was he really innocent?" Mr. McKenna asked. "No," said Mr. Dooley. "But she niver knowed it.
This engagin' an' hopeful la-ad first made an impression with his eloquince at th' age iv wan whin he addhressed a meetin' iv th' Tippecanoe club on th' issues iv th' day. At th' age iv eight he was illicted to th' United States Sinit, rayjoocin' th' average age iv that body to ninety-three years.
'Let us show thim, he says, 'that we're gintlemen, be it iver so painful, he says. An' I resthrained mesilf be puttin' me fist in me mouth." "They was an Englishman standin' behind me, Hinnissy, an' he was a model iv behaviour f'r all Americans intindin' to take up their homes in Cubia. Ye cudden't get this la-ad war-rmed up if ye built a fire undher him.
"See, now, b'y," said he, "I'm strong for mindin' me own business, but a wink's as good as a nod to a blind horse. Nobody's been hurted hereabouts yet, but keep at ut and some wan will be. I don't want ut to be you or Casey. Go aisy, like a good la-ad." "I'm easy as a fox-trot," said McHale. "So's Casey. We ain't crowdin' nothin'. Only we're some tired of havin' a hot iron held to our hides.
"Did ye iver think, sir," interposed the cobbler, softly, "that mebbe there was implanted in the la-ad desires for things ye know nothin' of?" "Huh!" grunted Sorber, balancing a mouthful of beans on his knife to the amazement of Dot, who had seldom seen any person eat with his knife. "Lit me speak plainly, for 'tis a plain man I am," said the Irishman. "This boy whom ye call nephew ?"
They was no rale harm in th' poor la-ad, on'y he was lazy an' foolish an' sort iv tired like. To make a long story short, Hinnissy, his father thried ivrything f'r him, an' got nawthin. He didn't dhrink much, he cared little f'r women, he liked to play ca-ards, but not f'r money.
All Paris awaits ye, sire." "'Make th' sleeves a little longer thin this, says th' boy. 'An' fill out th' shouldhers. What proof have I?" "'Wan or two inside pockets? says th' tailor. 'Two insides. Hankerchief pocket? Wan hankerchief. Th' pants is warn much fuller this year. Make that twinty-eight instid iv twinty-siven, he says. 'Paris shrieks f'r ye, he says. "'Proof, says th' la-ad.
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