's goin' on beyant. You an' Jawn D.
Rockefeller an' Phil Ar-rmour an' Jay Pierpont Morgan an' th' r-rest iv
ye is settin' back at home figurin' how ye can make some wan else pay
ye'er taxes f'r ye. What is it to ye that me nevvew Terry is sleepin' in
ditch wather an' atin' hard tacks an' coffee an' bein' r-robbed be
leeber Cubians, an' catchin' yallow fever without a chanst iv givin' it
to e'er a Spanyard. Ye think more iv a stamp thin ye do iv ye'er
counthry. Ye're like th' Sugar Thrust. F'r two cints ye'd refuse to
support th' govermint. I know ye, ye bloated monno-polist."

"I'm no such thing," said Mr. Hennessy, hotly. "I've been a Dimmycrat
f'r thirty year."

"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Dooley, "don't speak disrayspictful iv th'
ar-rmy. Lave me r-read you Terry's letter fr'm th' fr-ront. 'M--m: In
th' trinches, two miles fr'm Sandago, with a land crab as big as a
lobster crawlin' up me back be way iv Kingston, June 6, Dear Uncle
Martin.' That's th' way it begins. 'Dear Uncle Martin: We are all well
here, except thim that is not, an' hope ye're injyin' th' same gr-reat
blessin'. It's hotter down here thin Billy-be-dam'd. They'se a
rollin'-mill near here jus' th' same as at home, but all th' hands is
laid off on account iv bad times. They used ol'-fashioned wooden
wheelbahrs an' fired with wood. I don't think they cud handle th' pig
th' way we done, bein' small la-ads. Th' coke has to be hauled up in
sacks be th' gang. Th' derrick hands got six a week, but hadn't anny
union. Helpers got four twinty. Puddlers was well paid. I wint through
th' plant befure we come up here, an' r-run a wagon up th' plank jus'
to keep me hand in. Tell me frinds that wan gang iv good la-ads fr'm th'
r-road cud wurruk anny three iv th' gangs down here. Th' mills is owned
be Rockefellar, so no more at prisint fr'm yer affecshunate nevvew,
Peter Casey, who's writin' this f'r me.'"

"'Tis a good letter," said Mr. Hennessy. "I don't see how they cud get
derrick hands f'r six a week."

"Me frind Jawn D. knows how," said Mr. Dooley.

ON OUR CUBAN ALLIES.

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "dam thim Cubians! If I was Gin'ral
Shafter, I'd back up th' wagon in front iv th' dure, an' I'd say to
Gin'ral Garshy, I'd say, 'I want you'; an' I'd have thim all down at th'
station an' dacently booked be th' desk sergeant befure th' fall iv
night. Th' impydince iv thim!"

"What have they been doin'?" Mr. Hennessy asked.

"Failin' to undherstand