ime in th' ol' town to-night.' A liftnant come up to where Admiral
Sampson was settin' playin' sivin up with Admiral Schley. 'Bill,' he
says, 'th' Spanish fleet is comin' out,' he says. 'What talk have ye?'
says Sampson. 'Sind out some row-boats an' a yacht, an' desthroy thim.
Clubs is thrumps,' he says, and he wint on playin'. Th' Spanish fleet
was attackted on all sides be our br-rave la-ads, nobly assisted be th'
dispatch boats iv the newspapers. Wan by wan they was desthroyed. Three
battle-ships attackted th' convarted yacht Gloucester. Th' Gloucester
used to be owned be Pierpont Morgan; but 'twas convarted, an' is now
leadin' a dacint life. Th' Gloucester sunk thim all, th' Christobell
Comma, the Viscera, an' th' Admiral O'Quinn. It thin wint up to two
Spanish torpedo boats an' giv thim wan punch, an' away they wint. Be
this time th' sojers had heerd of the victhry, an' they gathered on th'
shore, singin' th' naytional anthem, 'They'll be a hot time in th' ol'
town to-night, me babby.' Th' gloryous ol' chune, to which Washington
an' Grant an' Lincoln marched, was took up be th' sailors on th' ships,
an' Admiral Cervera r-run wan iv his boats ashore, an' jumped into th'
sea. At last accounts th' followin' dispatches had been received: 'To
Willum McKinley: Congratulations on ye'er noble victhry. (Signed) Willum
McKinley.' 'To Russell A. Alger: Ye done splendid. (Signed) Russell A.
Alger.' 'To James Wilson, Sicrety iv Agriculture: This is a gr-reat day
f'r Ioway. Ar-re ye much hur-rted? (Signed) James Wilson.'"

"Where did ye hear all this?" asked Mr. Hennessy, in great amazement.

"I r-read it," said Mr. Dooley, impressively, "in the Staats Zeitung."

ON A LETTER TO MR. DEPEW.

"I usen't to know," said Mr. Dooley, "what me frind Gin'ral Sherman
meant whin he said that thing about war. I've been through two iv thim,
not to speak iv convintions an' prim'ries, an' divvle th' bit iv har-rm
come to me no more thin if I was settin' on a roof playin' an accorjeen.
But I know now what th' ol' la-ad meant. He meant war was hell whin
'twas over.

"I ain't heerd anny noise fr'm th' fellows that wint into threnches an'
plugged th' villyanious Spanyard. Most iv thim is too weak to kick. But
th' proud an' fearless pathrites who restrained thimsilves, an' didn't
go to th' fr-ront, th' la-ads that sthruggled hard with their warlike
tindincies, an' fin'lly downed thim an' stayed at home an' practised up
upon th' typewrite