good woman passed away.  An’ th’ twins they growed to be th’ prettiest pair that wint to first communion; an’ wan night they was a light in th’ window of Shaughnessy’s house till three in th’ mornin’.  I rayminiber it; f’r I had quite a crowd iv Willum Joyce’s men in, an’ we wondhered at it, an’ wint home whin th’ lamp in Shaughnessy’s window was blown out.

“They was th’ wan girl left,—­Theresa, a big, clean-lookin’ child that I see grow up fr’m hello to good avnin’.  She thought on’y iv th’ ol’ man, an’ he leaned on her as if she was a crutch.  She was out to meet him in th’ ev’nin’; an’ in th’ mornin’ he, th’ simple ol’ man, ’d stop to blow a kiss at her an’ wave his dinner-pail, lookin’ up an’ down th’ r-road to see that no wan was watchin’ him.

“I dinnaw what possessed th’ young Donahue, fr’m th’ Nineteenth.  I niver thought much iv him, a stuck-up, aisy-come la-ad that niver had annything but a civil wurrud, an’ is prisident iv th’ sodality.  But he came in, an’ married Theresa Shaughnessy las’ Thursdah night.  Th’ ol’ man took on twinty years, but he was as brave as a gin’ral iv th’ army.  He cracked jokes an’ he made speeches; an’ he took th’ pipes fr’m under th’ elbow iv Hogan, th’ blindman, an’ played ‘Th’ Wind that shakes th’ Barley’ till ye’d have wore ye’er leg to a smoke f’r wantin’ to dance.  Thin he wint to th’ dure with th’ two iv thim; an’ says he, ‘Well,’ he says, ‘Jim, be good to her,’ he says, an’ shook hands with her through th’ carredge window.

“Him an’ me sat a long time smokin’ across th’ stove.  Fin’lly, says I, ‘Well,’ I says, ‘I must be movin’.’  ‘What’s th’ hurry?’ says he.  ’I’ve got to go,’ says I.  ‘Wait a moment,’ says he.  ’Theresa ’ll’—­He stopped right there f’r a minyit, holdin’ to th’ back iv th’ chair.  ‘Well,’ says he, ‘if ye’ve got to go, ye must,’ he says.  ‘I’ll show ye out,’ he says.  An’ he come with me to th’ dure, holdin’ th’ lamp over his head.  I looked back at him as I wint by; an’ he was settin’ be th’ stove, with his elbows on his knees an’ th’ empty pipe between his teeth.”

TIMES PAST.

Mr. McKenna, looking very warm and tired, came in to Mr. Dooley’s tavern one night last week, and smote the bar with his fist.

“What’s the matter with Hogan?” he said.

“What Hogan?” asked Mr. Dooley.  “Malachy or Matt?  Dinnis or Mike?  Sarsfield or William Hogan?  There’s a Hogan f’r ivry block in th’ Ar-rchey Road, an’ wan to spare.  There’s nawthin’ th’ matter with anny iv thim; but, if ye mean Hogan, th’ liquor dealer, that r-run f’r aldherman, I’ll say to ye he’s all right.  Mind ye, Jawn, I’m doin’ this because ye’re me frind; but, by gar, if anny wan else comes in an’ asks me that question, I’ll kill him, if I have to go to th’ bridewell f’r it.  I’m no health officer.”