Easter comes, plaze Gawd, I'll smoke mesilf
black an' blue in th' face,' he says.

"That was th' beginnin' iv th' downfall. Choosdah he was settin' in
front iv th' fire with a pipe in his mouth. 'Why, Terrence,' says me
mother, 'ye're smokin' again.' 'I'm not,' says he: ''tis a dhry
smoke,' he says; ''tisn't lighted,' he says. Wan week afther th'
swear-off he came fr'm th' field with th' pipe in his face, an' him
puffin' away like a chimney. 'Terrence,' says me mother, 'it isn't
Easter morn.' 'Ah-ho,' says he, 'I know it,' he says; 'but,' he says,
'what th' divvle do I care?' he says. 'I wanted f'r to find out
whether it had th' masthery over me; an',' he says, 'I've proved that
it hasn't,' he says. 'But what's th' good iv swearin' off, if ye don't
break it?' he says. 'An' annyhow,' he says, 'I glory in me shame.'

"Now, Jawn," Mr. Dooley went on, "I've got what Hogan calls a theery,
an' it's this: that what's thrue iv wan man's thrue iv all men. I'm me
father's son a'most to th' hour an' day. Put me in th' County
Roscommon forty year ago, an' I'd done what he'd done. Put him on th'
Ar-rchey Road, an' he'd be deliverin' ye a lecture on th' sin iv
thinkin' ye're able to overcome th' pride iv th' flesh, as Father
Kelly says. Two weeks ago I looked with contimpt on Hinnissy f'r an'
because he'd not even promise to fast an' obstain fr'm croquet durin'
Lent. To-night you see me mixin' me toddy without th' shadow iv
remorse about me. I'm proud iv it. An' why not? I was histin' in me
first wan whin th' soggarth come down fr'm a sick call, an' looked in
at me. 'In Lent?' he says, half-laughin' out in thim quare eyes iv
his. 'Yes,' said I. 'Well,' he says, 'I'm not authorized to say this
be th' propaganda,' he says, 'an' 'tis no part iv th' directions f'r
Lent,' he says; 'but,' he says, 'I'll tell ye this, Martin,' he says,
'that they'se more ways than wan iv keepin' th' season,' he says.
'I've knowed thim that starved th' stomach to feast th' evil temper,'
he says. 'They'se a little priest down be th' Ninth Ward that niver
was known to keep a fast day; but Lent or Christmas tide, day in an'
day out, he goes to th' hospital where they put th' people that has
th' small-pox. Starvation don't always mean salvation. If it did,' he
says, 'they'd have to insure th' pavemint in wan place, an' they'd
be money to burn in another. Not,' he says, 'that I want ye to
undherstand that I look kindly on th' sin iv'--

"''Tis a cold night out