had a game iv forty-fives; an' there was wan Mickrobe that larned to
play th' game in th' County Tipp'rary, where 'tis played on stone, an'
ivry time he led thrumps he'd like to knock me head off. 'Whose thrick
is that?' says th' Tipp'rary Mickrobe. ''Tis mine,' says th'
red-headed Mickrobe fr'm th' County Roscommon. They tipped over th'
chairs an' tables: an', in less time thin it takes to tell, th' whole
party was at it. They'd been a hurlin' game in th' back iv me skull,
an' th' young folks was dancin' breakdowns an' havin' leppin' matches
in me forehead; but they all stopped to mix in. Oh, 'twas a grand
shindig--tin millions iv men, women, an' childher rowlin' on th'
flure, hands an' feet goin', ice-picks an' hurlin' sticks, clubs,
brickbats, an' beer kags flyin' in th' air! How manny iv thim was kilt
I niver knew; f'r I wint as daft as a hen, an' dhreamt iv organizin' a
Mickrobe Campaign Club that 'd sweep th' prim'ries, an' maybe go acrost
an' free Ireland. Whin I woke up, me legs was as weak as a day old
baby's, an' me poor head impty as a cobbler's purse. I want no more iv
thim. Give me anny bug fr'm a cockroach to an aygle save an' excipt
thim West iv Ireland Fenians, th' Mickrobes."




LEXOW.


"This here wave iv rayform," said Mr. Dooley, "this here wave iv
rayform, Jawn, mind ye, that's sweepin' over th' counthry, mind ye,
now, Jawn, is raisin' th' divvle, I see be th' pa-apers. I've seen
waves iv rayform before, Jawn. Whin th' people iv this counthry gets
wurruked up, there's no stoppin' thim. They'll not dhraw breath until