"Well, sir, we ilicted Duggan; an' what come iv it? Th' week before
iliction he was in me house ivry night, an' 'twas 'Misther Dooley,
this,' an' 'Mr. Dooley, that,' an' 'What 'll ye have, boys?' an'
'Niver mind about th' change.' I niver see hide nor hair iv him f'r a
week afther iliction. Thin he come with a plug hat on, an' says he:
'Dooley,' he says, 'give me a shell iv beer,' he says: 'give me a
shell iv beer,' he says, layin' down a nickel. 'I suppose ye're on th'
sub-scription,' he says. 'What for?' says I. 'F'r to buy me a goold
star,' says he. With that I eyes him, an' says I: 'Duggan,' I says,
'I knowed ye whin ye didn't have a coat to ye'er back,' I says, 'an' I
'll buy no star f'r ye,' I says. 'But I'll tell ye what I'll buy f'r
ye,' I says. 'I'll buy rayqueem masses f'r th' raypose iv ye'er sowl,
if ye don't duck out iv this in a minyit,' Whin I seen him last, he
was back dhrivin' a dhray an' atin' his dinner out iv a tin can."




THE SKIRTS OF CHANCE.


The people of Bridgeport are not solicitous of modern improvements,
and Mr. Dooley views with distaste the new and garish. But he
consented to install a nickel-in-the-slot machine in his tavern last
week, and it was standing on a table when Mr. McKenna came in. It was
a machine that looked like a house; and, when you put a nickel in at
the top of it, either the door opened and released three other nickels
or it did not. Mostly it did not.