Oh, yez may laugh away! Ye are all for the red, white, an'
blue, till the Mare belts yez wid the red, white, an' blue, for he says
he does everythin' in honor o' thim colors, though I don't see how it
honors thim to insult the green. He may be a Livingshtone in name, but
he's a dead wan for me."

The Senator grew more cheerful as this talk grew warmer, and then,
seeing Arthur's wonderment, he made an explanation.

"Livingstone is a good fellow, but he's not a politician, Artie. He
thinks he can ru--manage the affairs of this vil--metropolis without the
Irish and especially without the Catholics. Oh, he's death on them,
except as boot-blacks, cooks, and ditch-diggers. He'd let them
ru--manage all the saloons. He's as mad--as indignant as a hornet that
he could not boo--get rid of them entirely during his term of office,
and he had to speak out his feelings or bu--die. And he has put his foot
in it artistically. He has challenged the Irish and their friends, and
he goes out of office forever next fall. No party wants a man that lets
go of his mouth at critical moments. It might be a neat thing for you to
touch him up in your speech at the banquet."

The Senator spoke with unctuousness and delight, and Arthur saw that the
politicians rejoiced at the loquacity and bad temper of the Honorable
Quincy Livingstone, whom the Endicotts included among their distant
relatives.

"I'll take your subject, Judy," said he.

"Then rade up the histhory of Ireland," replied the old lady flattered.

Close observation of the present proved more interesting and amusing
than the study of the past. Quincy Livingstone's strictures on the
exiles of Erin stirred them to the depths, and his refusal to float the
green flag from the city hall brought a blossoming of green ribbon on
St. Patrick's Day which only Spring could surpass in her decorations of
the hills. The merchants blessed the sour spirit which had provoked
this display to the benefit of their treasuries. The hard streets seemed
to be sprouting as the crowds moved about, and even the steps and
corridors of the mayor's office glistened with the proscribed color. The
cathedral on Mott Street was the center of attraction, and a regiment
which had done duty in the late war the center of interest. Arthur
wondered at the enthusiasm of the crowd as the veterans carrying their
torn battle-flags marched down the street and under the arched entrance
of the church to take their places for the