No,
faith, Jawn, there's no soil in Ireland f'r th' greatness iv th' race;
an' there has been none since th' wild geese wint across th' say to
France, hangin' like flies to th' side iv th' Fr-rinch ship. 'Tis only
f'r women an' childher now, an' thim that can't get away. Will th'
good days ever come again? says ye. Who knows!"
THE SERENADE.
"By dad, if it wasn't f'r that there Molly Donahue," said Mr. Dooley
to Mr. McKenna, "half th' life 'd be gone out iv Bridgeport." "What
has Molly Donahue been doin'?" asked Mr. McKenna.
"She have been causin' Felix Pindergasht to be sint to th' Sisters iv
Mercy Hospital with inflammathry rhoomatism. Ye know Felix. He is a
musical janius. Before he was tin year old he had me mind disthracted
be playin' wan iv thim little mouth organs on th' corner near me
bedroom window. Thin he larned to play th' ack-car-jeen, an' cud swing
it between his legs an' give an imitation iv th' cathedral bell that
'd make ye dig in ye'er pocket to see iv ye had a dime f'r a seat.
Thin he used to sit in his window in his shirt-sleeves, blowin' 'Th'
Vale iv Avoca' on a cornet.
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