did she'd have a good cry, because she injyes cryin', an' thin she'd put on her bonnet an' r-run over an' sick th' widow O'Brien on me.

"Whin a lady begins to wondher if I'm not onhappy in me squalid home without th' touch iv a woman's hand ayether in th' tidy on th' chair or in th' inside pocket iv th' coat, I say: 'No, ma'am, I live in gr-reat luxury surrounded be all that money can buy an' manny things that it can't or won't. There ar-re Turkish rugs on th' flure an' chandyleers hang fr'm th' ceilins. There I set at night dhrinkin' absinthe, sherry wine, port wine, champagne, beer, whisky, rum, claret, kimmel, weiss beer, cream de mint, curaso, an' binidictine, occas'nally takin' a dhraw at an opeem pipe an' r-readin' a Fr-rinch novel. Th' touch iv a woman's hand wudden't help this here abode iv luxury. Wanst, whin I was away, th' beautiful Swede slave that scrubs out me place iv business broke into th' palachal boodoor an' in thryin' to set straight th' ile paintin' iv th' Chicago fire burnin' Ilivator B, broke a piece off a frame that cost me two dollars iv good money.' If they knew that th' on'y furniture in me room was a cane-bottomed chair an' a thrunk an' that there was nawthin' on th' flure but oilcloth an' me clothes, an' that 'tis so long since me bed was made up that it's now a life-size plaster cast iv me, I'd be dhragged to th' altar at th' end iv a chain.

"Speakin' as wan iv th' few survivin' bachelors, an old vethran that's escaped manny a peril an' got out iv manny a difficult position with honor, I wish to say that fair woman is niver so dangerous as whin she's sorry f'r ye. Whin th' wurruds 'Poor man' rises to her lips an' th' nurse light comes into her eyes, I know 'tis time f'r me to take me hat an' go. An' if th' hat's not handy I go without it.

"I bet ye th' idee iv taxin' bachelors started with th' dear ladies. But I say to thim: 'Ladies, is not this a petty revenge on ye'er best frinds? Look on ye'er own husbands an' think what us bachelors have saved manny iv ye'er sisters fr'm. Besides aren't we th' hope iv th' future iv th' instichoochion iv mathrimony? If th' onmarrid ladies ar-re to marry at all, 'tis us, th' bold bachelors, they must look forward to. We're not bachelors fr'm choice. We're bachelors because we can't make a choice. Ye all look so lovely to us that we hate to bring th' tears into th' eyes iv others iv ye be marryin' some iv ye. Considher our onforchnit position an' be kind. Don't oppress us. We were not meant f'r slaves. Don't thry to coerce us. Continue to lay f'r us an' hope on. If ye tax us there's hardly an old bachelor in th' land that won't fling his five dollars acrost th' counter at th' tax office an' say: 'Hang th' expense.'"

THE RISING OF THE SUBJECT RACES

"Ye'er frind Simpson was in here awhile ago," said Mr. Dooley, "an' he was that mad."

"What ailed him?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "it seems he wint into me frind Hip Lung's laundhry to get his shirt an' it wasn't ready. Followin' what Hogan calls immemoryal usage, he called Hip Lung such names as he cud remimber and thried to dhrag him around th' place be his shinin' braid. But instead iv askin' f'r mercy, as he ought to, Hip Lung swung a flat-iron on him an' thin ironed out his spine as he galloped up th' stairs. He come to me f'r advice an' I advised him to see th' American consul. Who's th' American consul in Chicago now? I don't know. But Hogan, who was here at th' time, grabs him be th' hand an' says he: 'I congratulate ye, me boy,' he says. 'Ye have a chance to be wan iv th' first martyrs iv th' white race in th' gr-reat sthruggle that's comin' between thim an' th' smoked or tinted races iv th' wurruld,' he says. 'Ye'll be another Jawn Brown's body or Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Go back an' let th' Chink kill ye an' cinchries hence people will come with wreathes and ate hard-biled eggs on ye'er grave,' he says.

"But Simpson said he did not care to be a martyr. He said he was a retail grocer be pro-fissyon an' Hip Lung was a customer iv his, though he got most iv his vittles fr'm th' taxydermist up th' sthreet an' he thought he'd go around to-morrah an' concilyate him. So he wint away.

"Hogan, d'ye mind, has a theery that it's all been up with us blondes since th' Jap'nese war. Hogan is a prophet. He's wan iv th' gr-reatest prophets I know. A prophet, Hinnissy, is a man that foresees throuble. No wan wud listen a minyit to anny prophet that prophesized pleasant days. A successful weather prophet is wan that predicts thunder storms, hurrycanes an' earthquakes; a good financial prophet is wan that predicts panics; a pollytickal prophet must look into th' tea leaves an' see th' institutions iv th' wurruld cracked wide open an' th' smiling not to say grinnin', fields iv this counthry iv ours,' or somebody's laid waste with fire and soord. Hogan's that kind iv a prophet. I'm onhappy about to-day but cheerful about to-morrah. Hogan is th' happyest man in th' wurruld about to-day but to-morrah something is goin' to happen. I hate to-day because to-morrah looks so good. He's happy to-day because it is so pleasant compared with what to-morrah is goin' to be. Says I: 'Cheer up; well have a good time at th' picnic next Saturdah.' Says he: 'It will rain at th' picnic.'

"He's a rale prophet. I wudden't pick him out as a well-finder. He cudden't find a goold mine f'r ye but he cud see th' bottom iv wan through three thousand feet iv bullyon. He can peer into th' most blindin' sunshine an' see th' darkness lurkin' behind it. He's predicted ivry war that has happened in our time and eight thousand that haven't happened to happen. If he had his way th' United States navy wud be so big that there wudden't be room f'r a young fellow to row his girl in Union Park. He can see a war cloud where I can't see annything but somebody cookin' his dinner or lightin' his pipe. He'd made th' gr-reat foreign iditor an' he'd be fine f'r th' job f'r he's best late at night.

"Hogan says th' time has come f'r th' subjick races iv th' wurruld to rejooce us fair wans to their own complexion be batin' us black and blue. Up to now 'twas: 'Sam, ye black rascal, tow in thim eggs or I'll throw ye in th' fire. 'Yassir,' says Sam. 'Comin',' he says. 'Twas: 'Wow Chow, while ye'er idly stewin' me cuffs I'll set fire to me unpaid bills.' I wud feel repaid be a kick,' says Wow Chow. 'Twas: 'Maharajah Sewar, swing th' fan swifter or I'll have to roll over f'r me dog whip.' 'Higgins Sahib,' says Maharajah Sewar, 'Higgins Sahib, beloved iv Gawd an' Kipling, ye'er punishments ar-re th' nourishment iv th' faithful. My blood hath served thine f'r manny ginerations. At laste two. 'Twas thine old man that blacked my father's eye an' sint my uncle up f'r eighty days. How will ye'er honor have th' accursed swine's flesh cooked f'r breakfast in th' mornin' when I'm through fannin' ye?'

"But now, says Hogan, it's all changed. Iver since th' Rooshyans were starved out at Port Arthur and Portsmouth, th' wurrad has passed around an' ivry naygur fr'm lemon color to coal is bracin' up. He says they have aven a system of tilly-graftin' that bates ours be miles. They have no wires or poles or wathered stock but th' population is so thick that whin they want to sind wurrud along th' line all they have to do is f'r wan man to nudge another an' something happens in Northern Chiny is known in Southern Indya befure sunset. And so it passed through th' undherwurruld that th' color line was not to be dhrawn anny more, an' Hogan says that almost anny time he ixpicts to see a black face peerin' through a window an' in a few years I'll be takin' in laundhry in a basement instead iv occypyin' me present impeeryal position, an' ye'll be settin' in front iv ye'er cabin home playin' on a banjo an' watchin' ye'er little pickahinnissies rollickin' on th' ground an' wondhrn' whin th' lynchin' party'll arrive.

"That's what Hogan says. I niver knew th' subjick races had so much in thim befure. A few years ago I had no more thought