laid waste with fire and soord. Hogan's that kind iv a prophet. I'm
onhappy about to-day but cheerful about to-morrah. Hogan is th' happyest
man in th' wurruld about to-day but to-morrah something is goin' to
happen. I hate to-day because to-morrah looks so good. He's happy to-day
because it is so pleasant compared with what to-morrah is goin' to be.
Says I: 'Cheer up; well have a good time at th' picnic next Saturdah.'
Says he: 'It will rain at th' picnic.'

"He's a rale prophet. I wudden't pick him out as a well-finder. He
cudden't find a goold mine f'r ye but he cud see th' bottom iv wan
through three thousand feet iv bullyon. He can peer into th' most
blindin' sunshine an' see th' darkness lurkin' behind it. He's
predicted ivry war that has happened in our time and eight thousand that
haven't happened to happen. If he had his way th' United States navy wud
be so big that there wudden't be room f'r a young fellow to row his girl
in Union Park. He can see a war cloud where I can't see annything but
somebody cookin' his dinner or lightin' his pipe. He'd made th' gr-reat
foreign iditor an' he'd be fine f'r th' job f'r he's best late at night.

"Hogan says th' time has come f'r th' subjick races iv th' wurruld to
rejooce us fair wans to their own complexion be batin' us black and
blue. Up to now 'twas: 'Sam, ye black rascal, tow in thim eggs or I'll
throw ye in th' fire. 'Yassir,' says Sam. 'Comin',' he says. 'Twas: 'Wow
Chow, while ye'er idly stewin' me cuffs I'll set fire to me unpaid
bills.' I wud feel repaid be a kick,' says Wow Chow. 'Twas: 'Maharajah
Sewar, swing th' fan swifter or I'll have to roll over f'r me dog whip.'
'Higgins Sahib,' says Maharajah Sewar, 'Higgins Sahib, beloved iv Gawd
an' Kipling, ye'er punishments ar-re th' nourishment iv th' faithful. My
blood hath served thine f'r manny ginerations. At laste two. 'Twas thine
old man that blacked my father's eye an' sint my uncle up f'r eighty