asses my place, he walks in th' middle iv th'
sthreet, an' crosses himsilf. I'll swear off on annything but Dorsey.
He's a good man, an' I despise him. Here's long life to him."

ON GOLD-SEEKING.

"Well, sir," said Mr. Hennessy, "that Alaska's th' gr-reat place. I
thought 'twas nawthin' but an iceberg with a few seals roostin' on it,
an' wan or two hundherd Ohio politicians that can't be killed on account
iv th' threaty iv Pawrs. But here they tell me 'tis fairly smothered in
goold. A man stubs his toe on th' ground, an lifts th' top off iv a
goold mine. Ye go to bed at night, an' wake up with goold fillin' in
ye'er teeth."

"Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "Clancy's son was in here this mornin', an' he
says a frind iv his wint to sleep out in th' open wan night, an' whin he
got up his pants assayed four ounces iv goold to th' pound, an' his
whiskers panned out as much as thirty dollars net."

"If I was a young man an' not tied down here," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd
go there: I wud so."

"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I was a young man in th' ol'
counthry, we heerd th' same story about all America. We used to set be
th' tur-rf fire o' nights, kickin' our bare legs on th' flure an'
wishin' we was in New York, where all ye had to do was to hold ye'er hat
an' th' goold guineas'd dhrop into it. An' whin I got to be a man, I
come over here with a ham and a bag iv oatmeal, as sure that I'd return
in a year with money enough to dhrive me own ca-ar as I was that me name
was Martin Dooley. An' that was a cinch.

"But, faith, whin I'd been here a week, I seen that there was nawthin'
but mud undher th' pavement,--I larned that be means iv a pick-axe at
tin shillin's th' day,--an' that, though there was plenty iv goold, thim
that had it were froze to it; an' I come west, still lookin' f'r mines.
Th' on'y mine I sthruck at Pittsburgh was a hole f'r sewer pipe. I made
it. Siven shillin's th' day. Smaller thin New York, but th' livin' was
cheaper, with Mon'gahela rye at five a throw, put ye'er hand around th'
glass.

"I was still dreamin' goold, an' I wint down to Saint Looey. Th'
nearest I come to a fortune there was findin' a quarther on th' sthreet
as I leaned over th' dashboord iv a car to whack th' off mule. Whin I
got to Chicago, I looked around f'r the goold mine. They was Injuns here
thin. But they wasn't anny mines I cud see. They was mud to be shovelled
an' dhrays to be dhruv an' beats to be walked. I choose th' dhr