Mr. Dooley was discovered making a seasonable beverage, consisting of
one part syrup, two parts quinine, and fifteen parts strong waters.

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. McKenna.

"I have th' lah gr-rip," said Mr. Dooley, blowing his nose and wiping
his eyes. "Bad cess to it! Oh, me poor back! I feels as if a dhray had
run over it. Did ye iver have it? Ye did not? Well, ye're lucky. Ye're
a lucky man.

"I wint to McGuire's wake las' week. They gave him a dacint sind-off.
No porther. An' himsilf looked natural, as fine a corpse as iver Gavin
layed out. Gavin tould me so himsilf. He was as proud iv McGuire as if
he owned him. Fetched half th' town in to look at him, an' give ivry
wan iv thim cards. He near frightened ol' man Dugan into a faint.
'Misther Dugan, how old a-are ye?' 'Sivinty-five, thanks be,' says
Dugan. 'Thin,' says Gavin, 'take wan iv me cards,' he says. 'I hope
ye'll not forget me,' he says.

"'Twas there I got th' lah grip. Lastewise, it is me opinion iv it,
though th' docthor said I swallowed a bug. It don't seem right, Jawn,
f'r th' McGuires is a clane fam'ly; but th' docthor said a bug got
into me system. 'What sort iv bug?' says I. 'A lah grip bug,' he says.
'Ye have Mickrobes in ye'er lungs,' he says. 'What's thim?' says I.
'Thim's th' lah grip bugs,' says he. 'Ye took wan in, an' warmed it,'
he says; 'an' it has growed an' multiplied till ye'er system does be
full iv' thim,' he says, 'millions iv thim,' he says, 'marchin' an'
counthermarchin' through ye.' 'Glory be to the saints!' says I. 'Had I
better swallow some insect powdher?' I says. 'Some iv thim in me head