'What's that? what's that?' says Hinnissy.
'What's that?' he says. 'Hurroo, hurroo,' he says, lammin' th' man
fr'm Iaway with his goold-headed cane. 'What ails ye, man alive?' says
I. 'Why,' he says, 'they've nommynated Billy,' he says. 'Billy who?'
says I. 'Why, Willum J. O'Brien,' he says.
"'A sthrong man,' says he, addhressin' th' man fr'm Iaway. 'I shud say
he was,' says th' man. 'Th' sthrongest man that iver come down th'
road,' says Hinnissy. 'Why,' he says, 'I see that man put up an' eight
iv beer with wan hand,' he says, 'holdin' it be th' rim,' he says.
'None sthronger,' he says. 'But will he carry Illinye?' says th' lad
fr'm Iaway. 'Will he carry Illinye?' says Hinnissy. 'Why, man alive,'
he says, 'I've see him carry a prim'ry in th' sixth precint,' he says.
'Is that enough f'r ye?' he says. 'He's a good speaker,' says th'
Iaway man. 'He is that,' says Hinnissy; 'an' he was wan iv th' best
waltzers that flung a foot at th' County Dimocracy picnic,' he says.
'But will he make a good fight?' says th' man. 'Will he?' says
Hinnissy. 'Will he make a good fight?' he says.
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