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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Well, Mike, this is a world o' sorrer, an' when a feller comes to think of a lot o' women as is so hard pushed that they hanker arter Mike Conlin, it fetches me. It's worse nor bein' without victuals, an' beats the cholery out o' sight." "Oh, ye blaggard! Can't ye talk sinse whin yer betthers is thryin' to hilp ye? What kind of an owld woman have ye got, now?"
"Well, tubby sure, 'tis thryin' to be dhrivin' a coal wagon or a sthreet-car; but 'tis all in a lifetime.
"And they bring him in wid all the mustachios and moighty fine curls of him, and his diamonds, rings, and pins all a-glistening just like his eyes when he set 'em on that suffering saint. "'Is it anythin' you're wantin, Sarah dear? sez he, thryin' to spake firm. And Sarah looks at him, and then looks at a tumbler on the table.
Peg looked up at him, innocently, and answered: "Sure, I think I'd rather have 'Michael' if ye don't mind." He started forward: "Oh, come, I say! You don't MEAN that?" "I do," she answered decidedly. "But think just for one moment of the ADVANTAGES?" "For you, or for me?" asked Peg. "For YOU of course," replied the disappointed Alaric. "I'm thryin' to but I can only think of 'Michael.
An' whin ye come down to it, I dinnaw as I blame Willum Waldorf Asthor f'r shiftin' his allegiance. Ivry wan to his taste as th' man said whin he dhrank out iv th' fire extinguisher. It depinds on how ye feel. If ye ar-re a tired la-ad an' wan without much fight in ye, livin' in this counthry is like thryin' to read th' Lives iv the Saints at a meetin' iv th' Clan-na- Gael.
"I knocked the dhirty face av him, sor, an' can ye blame me? A mane scutt, thryin' for to poison a well-manin' sthranger. I knocked the face av him, an' got away home." "Now the next misfortune?" "Faith, that was av a sort likely to turn out the last of all misfortunes. I wint that day to the Crystial Palace, bein' dishposed for a little sphort, seein' as I was new to London.
But wan day, whin his mother was thryin' an a velvet sack he bought for her, an' fightin' him bekase there was no fur collar to id, in walked his wife an' three childher to him an' her, an' shtayed wid her ever afther. Begob, she never said another word about fur collars, an' she never got another velvet sack till she died.
She could not control herself much longer. It was becoming unbearable. As she crossed the room she said with as little heat as possible: "You don't understand." "Well, but I'm thryin' to," persisted Peg. "That's why I watch YE all the time." Ethel turned: she was now at bay: "YOU WATCH ME?" "Aren't ye me model?" "It's contemptible!" cried Ethel.
Don't you know the differ, Sir, between a threat an' a warnin', you bosthoon? thundered his reverence. 'You're sthrivin' to provoke me to a brache iv the pace, as the company can testify, said Dirty Davy. 'Ye lie again, you you fat crature 'tis thryin' to provoke you to keep the pace I am.
I mind wanst whin I was an alter-nate to th' county con-vintion 'twas whin I was a power in pollytics an' th' on'y man that cud do annything with th' Bohemian vote I was settin' here wan night with a pen an' a pot iv ink befure me, thryin' to compose th' platform f'r th' nex' day, f'r I was a lithry man in a way, d'ye mind, an' I knew th' la-ads'd want a few crimps put in th' raypublicans in a ginteel style, an' 'd be sure to call on me f'r to do it.
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