'Twas bad
in th' end though, f'r a gang iv Tipp'rary lads come along behind th'
tent an' begun thrown stones at th' copper. Wan stone hit a Limerick
man, an' th' cry 'butthermilk' wint around; an' be hivins, if it
hadn't been that th' chief iv polis, th' wise la-ad, sint none but
German polismen to th' picnic, there 'd not been a man left to tell th'
tale."
"What's that all got to do with freeing Ireland?" asked Mr. McKenna.
"Well, 'tis no worse off thin it was befure, annyhow," said Mr.
Dooley.
THE IDLE APPRENTICE.
"They hanged a man to-day," said Mr. Dooley.
"They did so," said Mr. McKenna.
"Did he die game?"
"They say he did."
"Well, he did," said Mr. Dooley. "I read it all in th' pa-apers. He
died as game as if he was wan iv th' Christyan martyrs instead iv a
thief that 'd hit his man wan crack too much. Saint or murdherer, 'tis
little difference whin death comes up face front.
"I read th' story iv this man through, Jawn; an', barrin' th' hangin',
'tis th' story iv tin thousan' like him. D'ye raymimber th' Carey kid?
Ye do.
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