likes iv me an’ Hinnissy out iv a convintion.  We braced up to wan iv th’ dures, an’ a man stopped Hinnissy.  ‘Who ar-re ye?’ he says.  “I am a Dimmycrat,’ says Hinnissy.  ‘Is ye’er name Hill?’ says th’ la-ad.  ‘It is not,’ says Hinnissy.  ’I tol’ ye I’m a Dimmycrat; an’,’ he says, ’I’ll have no man call me out iv me name.’  Hinnissy was f’r rollin’ him on th’ flure there an’ thin f’r an insult, but I flagged a polisman.  ‘Is ye’er name Sullivan?’ says I.  ‘It is,’ says he.  ‘Roscommon?’ says I, fr’m th’ way he spoke.  ‘Sure ye’re right,’ he says.  ‘Me name’s Dooley,’ I says.  ‘Here,’ say he to th’ dure-keeper, ‘don’t stand in th’ way iv th’ sinitor iv th’ State iv Mitchigan,’ he says.  ‘Lave him an’ his frind go in,’ he says.  I minded afther I was good to him whin Simon O’Donnell was chief iv polis, may he rest in peace!

“Hinnissy an’ me got a seat be some dhroll ol’ boys fr’m out in Iaway.  Afther a man be th’ name iv Martin, a sergeant-iv-arms, had addhressed th’ meetin’ twinty or thirty times,—­I kep no count iv him,—­th’ chairman inthrojooced th’ dillygates to nommynate th’ big men.  It wint all right with Hinnissy for a little while till a man got up an’ shook his fist at th’ chairman.  ‘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.  ‘Dooley,’ he says, ’this here Dimmycrat wants to know if Bill ‘ll make a good fight.  Why,’ he says, ‘if he iver gets to Washington an’ wan iv th’ opprissors iv th’ people goes again him, give him Jackson Park or a clothes closet, gun or soord, ice-pick or billyard cue, chair or stove leg, an’ Bill ‘ll make him climb a tree,’ he says.  ’I’d like to see wan iv thim supreme justices again Bill O’Brien on an income tax or anny other ord-nance,’ he says.  ‘He’d go in an’ lame thim with th’ Revised Statutes.’  ‘I presume,’ says th’ lad, ‘that ye’er fr’m Omaha.’  ’I’ll tear ye’er hair out,’ says Hinnissy.’

“‘Ye idjit,’ says I, whin I had him in th’ sthreet, ’it wasn’t Bill O’Brien was nommynated,’ says I.  ‘What ar-re ye talkin’ about?’ says he.  ‘I seen him on th’ flure,’ he says.  ‘He had th’ sinitor iv Missoury be th’ throat whin ye took me away,’ he says.