“‘Not help me!’ exclaimed the chief of the little caucus in the Twenty-fourth ward; ‘then, by my soul, I’ll cast them forty votes for a hathen Chinee’—
“‘If you had not interrupted me, I was going to say that’—
“‘Oh, then, I beg Your Honor’s pardon; it is only just my bare rights that I am saking.’
“‘If you go to the Board of Aldermen and get an appropriation, and bring it to me, I will see that the work you claim shall be done.’
“‘Very well, then, and thank Your Honor,’ said Mulldoon, who in due course presented himself before the principal officer of the board, an Irishman like himself, and having considerable power.
“‘My name is Mulldoon; I live in the Twenty-fourth ward; I conthrol forty votes there; I kape hens; my cellar is inundated, and I want it pumped out at the public expinse. The mayor’s sent me to you for an appropriation, and, by St. Patrick! if you refuse it, divil a wan o’ them votes will ye ever get. I’ll cast them for a native American first!’
“‘I don’t see how I can get you an appropriation, Mr. Mulldoon.’
“‘You don’t; well, then, the party may go to the divil, and Tammany Hall wid it! I’m ag’in’ the lot o’ ye!’
“‘Don’t lose your temper, Mr. Mulldoon, I’ll see what can be done for you; but, in the meantime, will you allow me to suggest that it would be less dangerous for the party, considering the situation of your residence, if, in the future, you would arrange to keep ducks!’”