Connecticut western news., 1889-12-11
MICKEY FINN'S STORY.

MICKEY FINN'S STORY. A few evenings since Mrs. OBrien, Mike Coogan, "the wan-legged accordion player as wares the red flag and kapes the cows off the railroad track, and the somnolent Mike Welsh, had gathered around the wood fire in the Finn shanty. The lamp was lit, the supper dishes had been cleared away, and an air of lazy content per vaded the room. After the current gossip had been exchanged and the probability of late or early closing of the canal discussed in all its bearings, the conversation began to lag. Mrs. O'Brien turned to little Mike, who was industriously boring over primary geography, and said:
 eFwhat hav' ye there, Mickey; a sthory buke2"
 s.No, mann; it's gogerfy," replied Mickey.
 "And does it tell about animals, Mickey dear"
 "It do, and fwhat's more, it tills about min and countries like Ireland and Agypt."
 "Oh, dear mel" exclaimed Mrs. O'Brien. "That's mighty quare. And fwhat's that we're r'adin' about now?" s'Only goats and wolves," replied little Mike, with an impatient gesture, burying his hands in his hair, and re- stunning his scrutiny of the map of Siberia. But Mrs. O'Brien would not be put of. She exclaimed:
 ssArrah, Mickey; tell us all about it. That's dear. Now do."
 To this appeal was added the gently supplicating look of his mother. These .persuasions were SO eloquent that even the studied conservatism of the coming "ly'yer" was melted, and he complied, with the provision that every word he uttered was to be taken for truth as pure as gospel. MT. Finn reloaded his pipe and lit the tobacco with 8 daring splinter of maple wood. Mike Welsh gulped down cough for fear that it should interfere with the re- cital, and Mrs. Finn's fingers fingered in her knitting as she looked proudly upon her boy. Mickey cleared hii throat, as Fallahdean is supposed te have done when he told his marvellou. stories to Lalla Rookh. Said he:
 "Well, thin, ye must know tha wanst upon 8 time, about the time tha little apples was first med, thare was grate king in Dublin, and his nam' was Kishogue the Crate, he was tha high and wide. And he was a yer, wise man and fond of fresh eggs ant goats- Now, goats was scarce in Dub lin in them days, bekase they were no plinty like pigs. But the king was sor at heart bekase he had no goat to dra, him around in his jaunting ca whin he'd be collectin'. his rent and going to the races. So he put u handbills all over Dublin, offerin' te pound reward to the man as 'ud brin him . goat as big ss Donegal cali broken to harness. Wan day, whi the King was after havin' his dime and noggin O the cratur to take tn bad taste O the food out of his mouth thare kem rap at the palace gate Whin Patsey Colligan, the King coortier, opened the gate on 8 crac he seen . wiid-looking man wid blac whiskers staudin' forninst him.
 "sAnd who are you" says Patsey
 "Pm Roosisn prophet says tt black stranger.
 "sAnd phwat brings you here" sa. Patsey.
 "'Me legs,' says the prophet, 'an they're that sore wid walkin' all u WAY 1TOh bOOSlo, eoy . hC.
 "sHave ye nadles or pins to sell says Patsey, fur he thought ivel sthrapger wid black beard was pc dler.
 "sDivil nadle or pin hav' I, ga, the prophet. sPm just here to tell u King where he can buy white go twelve hands high, wid long gr' beard. and wid eyes as red as coal fire, for ten shillin's, eight pence,' sa he.
 "Well, Pstsey let . shilloo out him when he heard about the goat ye c'ud hear a mile away, and it bruI the King to the windy of the palac And when the King heerd about t goat and the prophet he axed the bla' man wud he come in, and the bla' man said he'd be mighty glad to, ar in he went wid the nose of him in t air to zee c'ud he shmell amy su power on the shove, fur he was hu