“Well, Felix had no luck coortin’ Molly Donahue.  Wan night she wasn’t in; an’ th’ nex’ night ol’ man Donahue come to th’ dure, an’ says, ’Ye can put in th’ coal at th’ back dure,’ he says, an’ near broke th’ la-ad’s heart.  Las’ week he pulled himself together, an’ wint up th’ r-road again.  He took his cornet with him in a green bag; an’, whin he got in front iv Donahue’s house, he outs with th’ horn, an’ begins to play.  Well, sir, at th’ first note half th’ block was in th’ sthreet.  Women come fr’m their houses, with their shawls on their heads; an’ all th’ forty-fives games was broke up be raison iv th’ la-ads lavin’ f’r to hear the music.  Befure Felix had got fairly started f’r to serrynade Molly Donahue, th’ crowd was big an’ boistherous.  He started on th’ ol’ favor-ite, ‘Th’ Vale iv Avoca’; an’ near ivry man in th’ crowd had heerd him practisin’ it.  He wint along splendid till he come to ‘shall fade fr’m me heart,’ an’ thin he broke, ‘Thry again,’ says th’ crowd; an’ he stharted over.  He done no betther on th’ second whirl.  ‘Niver say die, Felix,’ says th’ crowd.  “Go afther it.  We’re all with ye.’  At that th’ poor, deluded loon tackled it again; an’ th’ crowd yells:  ‘Hist it up.  There ye go.  No, be hivins he fell at th’ last jump.’  An’, by dad, though he thried f’r half an hour, he cud not land th’ ‘shall fade fr’m me heart.’  At th’ last break th’ light in Molly Donahue’s window wint out, an’ th’ crowd dispersed.  Felix was discons’late.  ‘I had it right befure I come up,’ he says, ’but I missed me holt whin th’ crowd come.  Me heart’s broke,’ he says.  ‘Th’ cornet’s not ye’er insthrument,’ says Dorsey.  ’Ye shud thry to play th’ base dhrum.  It’s asier.’”

“Is that all that’s going on?” asked Mr. McKenna.

“That an’ th’ death iv wan iv Hinnissy’s goats,—­Marguerite.  No, no, not that wan.  That’s Odalia.  Th’ wan with th’ brown spots.  That’s her.  She thried to ate wan iv thim new theayter posthers, an’ perished in great ag’ny.  They say th’ corpse turned red at th’ wake, but ye can’t believe all ye hear.”

THE HAY FLEET.

Mr. Dooley had been reading about General Shafter’s unfortunately abandoned enterprise for capturing Santiago by means of a load of hay, and it filled him with great enthusiasm.  Laying down his paper, he said:  “By dad, I always said they give me frind Shafter th’ worst iv it.  If they’d left him do th’ job th’ way he wanted to do it, he’d ‘ve taken Sandago without losin’ an ounce.”

“How was it he wanted to do it?” Mr. Hennessy asked.

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “‘twas this way.  This is th’ way it was.  Ol’ Cervera’s fleet was in th’ harbor an’ bottled up, as th’ man says.  Shafter he says to Sampson:  ‘Look here, me bucko, what th’ divvle ar-re ye loafin’ ar-round out there f’r,’ he says, ’like a dep’ty sheriff at a prize fight?’ he says.  ‘Why don’t ye go in, an’ smash th’ Castiles?’ he says.  ‘I’m doin’ well where