Michiganensian. [1900]

H-hots'-can we leave him without a pain at hearts? Sausages,
mustard, dog-can, buns, smoky lamps and all! What a perfect whole he
did constitute; and that brogue —ah! Bob, that brogue would make the
Lord Mayor of Dublin emerald with envy. Yes, here's to Pat, Mike, Brian
Boru, Erin g'br-a-agh, whichever you choose-the noblest Roman of
'em all.
"And finally, Bob, there have been drinks that we drank —some
slowly, some swiftly, some mellow and brown, some red as the grape's
blood, and some white, sparkling and effervescent. So we will remember
that table —long, brown, polished and carven,-where were the names of
the great and the small of democratic old Michigan, with the block M over
all; where we sat and sang and talked, and dreamed dreams through the
bottoms of our glasses when the amber had gone low —that initial table
down at Joe's. Look at them all. Twenty years later these will you remember when the other things are forgotten, Bob."
The pipes were out; the fire was low; the rain still beat against
the shutters.

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