says.  ’That’s Wagner,’ she says. ‘’Tis th’ music iv th’ future,’ she says.  ‘Yes,’ says Donahue, ‘but I don’t want me hell on earth.  I can wait f’r it,’ he says, ‘with th’ kind permission iv Mrs. Donahue,’ he says.  ’Play us th’ “Wicklow Mountaineer,"’ he says, ‘an’ threat th’ masheen kindly,’ he says, ‘She’ll play no “Wicklow Mountaineer,"’ says Mrs. Donahue.  ’If ye want to hear that kind iv chune, ye can go down to Finucane’s Hall,’ she says, ‘an’ call in Crowley, th’ blind piper,’ she says.  ‘Molly,’ she says, ‘give us wan iv thim Choochooski things,’ she said.  ‘They’re so ginteel.’

“With that Donahue rose up.  ‘Come on,’ says he.  ’This is no place f’r us,’ he says.  Slavin, with th’ politeness iv a man who’s gettin’ even, turns at th’ dure.  I’m sorry I can’t remain,’ he says.  ‘I think th’ wurruld an’ all iv Choochooski,’ he says.  ’Me brother used to play his chunes,’ he says,—­’me brother Mike, that run th’ grip ca-ar,’ he says.  ‘But there’s wan thing missin’ fr’m Molly’s playing’, he says.  ‘And what may that be?’ says Mrs. Donahue.  ‘An ax,’ says Slavin, backin’ out.

“So Donahue has took to dhrink.”

GRAND OPERA.

“Jawn,” said Mr. Dooley, “’tis a gr-reat thing to be a polisman.  Me frind Doheny, what used to be at Deerin’ Sthreet, have got on th’ crossin’ an’ they’ve planted him down be th’ Audjitooroom.  He was up here las’ week, an’ says he, ‘Run in, an’ look at th’ op’ra,’ says he.  ‘Run in, an’ take a flash iv it,’ he says. ‘’Tis gr-reat,’ he says.  So I takes Duggan, an’ we goes down together.

“Well, Doheny does be gr-reat paper with thim.  He was standin’ be th’ dure, with white gloves over his hands; an’, whin we come, he give th’ office to th’ la-ad on th’ gate, an’ says th’ la-ad, ‘Sure thing,’ he says.  ‘Sure thing,’ an’ in we goes.  They was a lot iv Gazoorios there, some iv thim settin’ in seats an’ some iv thim in bur-rd cages up above, an’ more standin’.  Thim standin’ was th’ la-ads that Doheny rushed in.  Ye niver see such a lot iv thim,—­Cassidy, O’Regan, Hogan, Mulcahey, Shay, Mullaney, Mullvihill, an’ th’ eight O’Neills,—­all sint through be Doheny without cridintials.  Sure, it looked like a meetin’ iv th’ Wolf Tones.  It did that.

“Th’ op’ra was on whin we wint in, an’ they was whalin’ away in Eyetallian.  Duggan listened; an’ says he, ‘What’s the man sayin’?’ he says.  ‘I dinnaw,’ I says.  ‘He’s talkin’ Chinese, an’,’ says I, ’they’re goin’ to sind him to th’ laundhry,’ says I.  ‘Look,’ I says.  ’They’re puttin’ him in th’ clothes-basket,’ I says.  ‘If they do,’ says he, ‘he’ll niver come back,’ he says, ‘or else he’ll have another name,’ he says.  ‘Let’s buy a scoor ca-ard,’ says he.  So he bought wan, an’ was r-readin’ it an’ lookin’ over th’ top iv it at th’ women in th’ boxes, an’ wondhrin’ why some wan didn’t tell thim their dhresses was slippin’ down, whin over comes Cassidy, and says he, ‘What’s th’ news in th’ Sixth?’ ‘Nawthin,’ says Duggan.  ‘Will O’Brien win?’ says Cassidy.  ‘They can’t beat him,’ says Duggan.  ‘I dinnaw,’ says Cassidy.  ‘Come over here, an’ I’ll tell ye,’ says Duggan.  Dinny Shay an’ Hogan an’ Mullaney jined us, an’ we wint an’ set on the steps.