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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr. Dooley in Peace and in
War
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Title: Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War
Author: Finley Peter Dunne
Release date: September 7, 2007 [eBook #22537]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22537
Credits: E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Graeme Mackreth, and the
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. DOOLEY
IN PEACE AND IN WAR ***
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Graeme Mackreth,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
War
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will
have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this eBook.
Title: Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War
Author: Finley Peter Dunne
Release date: September 7, 2007 [eBook #22537]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22537
Credits: E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Graeme Mackreth, and the
Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. DOOLEY
IN PEACE AND IN WAR ***
E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Graeme Mackreth,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
Page 4
Mr. DOOLEY
In Peace and in War
In Peace and in War
Page 5
Boston
Small, Maynard & Company
1899
Copyright, 1898, by the Chicago Journal
Copyright, 1898, by Small, Maynard & Company
First Edition (10,000 copies) November, 1898
Second Edition (10,000 copies) December, 1898
Third Edition (10,000 copies) January, 1899
Press of George H. Ellis, Boston, U.S.A.
Small, Maynard & Company
1899
Copyright, 1898, by the Chicago Journal
Copyright, 1898, by Small, Maynard & Company
First Edition (10,000 copies) November, 1898
Second Edition (10,000 copies) December, 1898
Third Edition (10,000 copies) January, 1899
Press of George H. Ellis, Boston, U.S.A.
Page 6
TO W.H. TURNER
Page 7
PREFACE.
Archey Road stretches back for many miles from the heart of an ugly city to
the cabbage gardens that gave the maker of the seal his opportunity to call
the city "urbs in horto." Somewhere between the two—that is to say,
forninst th' gas-house and beyant Healey's slough and not far from the polis
station—lives Martin Dooley, doctor of philosophy.
There was a time when Archey Road was purely Irish. But the Huns, turned
back from the Adriatic and the stock-yards and overrunning Archey Road,
have nearly exhausted the original population,—not driven them out as they
drove out less vigorous races, with thick clubs and short spears, but edged
them out with the more biting weapons of modern civilization,—
overworked and under-eaten them into more languid surroundings remote
from the tanks of the gas-house and the blast furnaces of the rolling-mill.
But Mr. Dooley remains, and enough remain with him to save the Archey
Road. In this community you can hear all the various accents of Ireland,
from the awkward brogue of the "far-downer" to the mild and aisy
Elizabethan English of the southern Irishman, and all the exquisite
variations to be heard between Armagh and Bantry Bay, with the difference
that would naturally arise from substituting cinders and sulphuretted
hydrogen for soft misty air and peat smoke. Here also you can see the
wakes and christenings, the marriages and funerals, and the other fêtes of
the ol' counthry somewhat modified and darkened by American usage. The
Banshee has been heard many times in Archey Road. On the eve of All
Saints' Day it is well known that here alone the pookies play thricks in
cabbage gardens. In 1893 it was reported that Malachi Dempsey was called
"by the other people," and disappeared west of the tracks, and never came
back.
A simple people! "Simple, says ye!" remarked Mr. Dooley. "Simple like th'
air or th' deep sea. Not complicated like a watch that stops whin th' shoot iv
clothes ye got it with wears out. Whin Father Butler wr-rote a book he niver
Archey Road stretches back for many miles from the heart of an ugly city to
the cabbage gardens that gave the maker of the seal his opportunity to call
the city "urbs in horto." Somewhere between the two—that is to say,
forninst th' gas-house and beyant Healey's slough and not far from the polis
station—lives Martin Dooley, doctor of philosophy.
There was a time when Archey Road was purely Irish. But the Huns, turned
back from the Adriatic and the stock-yards and overrunning Archey Road,
have nearly exhausted the original population,—not driven them out as they
drove out less vigorous races, with thick clubs and short spears, but edged
them out with the more biting weapons of modern civilization,—
overworked and under-eaten them into more languid surroundings remote
from the tanks of the gas-house and the blast furnaces of the rolling-mill.
But Mr. Dooley remains, and enough remain with him to save the Archey
Road. In this community you can hear all the various accents of Ireland,
from the awkward brogue of the "far-downer" to the mild and aisy
Elizabethan English of the southern Irishman, and all the exquisite
variations to be heard between Armagh and Bantry Bay, with the difference
that would naturally arise from substituting cinders and sulphuretted
hydrogen for soft misty air and peat smoke. Here also you can see the
wakes and christenings, the marriages and funerals, and the other fêtes of
the ol' counthry somewhat modified and darkened by American usage. The
Banshee has been heard many times in Archey Road. On the eve of All
Saints' Day it is well known that here alone the pookies play thricks in
cabbage gardens. In 1893 it was reported that Malachi Dempsey was called
"by the other people," and disappeared west of the tracks, and never came
back.
A simple people! "Simple, says ye!" remarked Mr. Dooley. "Simple like th'
air or th' deep sea. Not complicated like a watch that stops whin th' shoot iv
clothes ye got it with wears out. Whin Father Butler wr-rote a book he niver
Page 8
finished, he said simplicity was not wearin' all ye had on ye'er shirt-front,
like a tin-horn gambler with his di'mon' stud. An' 'tis so."
The barbarians around them are moderately but firmly governed,
encouraged to passionate votings for the ruling race, but restrained from the
immoral pursuit of office.
The most generous, thoughtful, honest, and chaste people in the world are
these friends of Mr. Dooley,—knowing and innocent; moral, but giving no
heed at all to patented political moralities.
Among them lives and prospers the traveller, archæologist, historian, social
observer, saloon-keeper, economist, and philosopher, who has not been out
of the ward for twenty-five years "but twict." He reads the newspapers with
solemn care, heartily hates them, and accepts all they print for the sake of
drowning Hennessy's rising protests against his logic. From the cool heights
of life in the Archey Road, uninterrupted by the jarring noises of crickets
and cows, he observes the passing show, and meditates thereon. His
impressions are transferred to the desensitized plate of Mr. Hennessy's
mind, where they can do no harm.
"There's no betther place to see what's goin' on thin the Ar-rchey Road,"
says Mr. Dooley. "Whin th' ilicthric cars is hummin' down th' sthreet an' th'
blast goin' sthrong at th' mills, th' noise is that gr-reat ye can't think."
He is opulent in good advice, as becomes a man of his station; for he has
mastered most of the obstacles in a business career, and by leading a
prudent and temperate life has established himself so well that he owns his
own house and furniture, and is only slightly behind on his license. It would
be indelicate to give statistics as to his age. Mr. Hennessy says he was a
"grown man whin th' pikes was out in forty-eight, an' I was hedge-high, an'
I'm near fifty-five." Mr. Dooley says Mr. Hennessy is eighty. He closes
discussion on his own age with the remark, "I'm old enough to know
betther." He has served his country with distinction. His conduct of the
important office of captain of his precinct (1873-75) was highly
commended, and there was some talk of nominating him for alderman. At
the expiration of his term he was personally thanked by the Hon. M.
McGee, at one time a member of the central committee. But the activity of
public life was unsuited to a man of Mr. Dooley's tastes; and, while he
like a tin-horn gambler with his di'mon' stud. An' 'tis so."
The barbarians around them are moderately but firmly governed,
encouraged to passionate votings for the ruling race, but restrained from the
immoral pursuit of office.
The most generous, thoughtful, honest, and chaste people in the world are
these friends of Mr. Dooley,—knowing and innocent; moral, but giving no
heed at all to patented political moralities.
Among them lives and prospers the traveller, archæologist, historian, social
observer, saloon-keeper, economist, and philosopher, who has not been out
of the ward for twenty-five years "but twict." He reads the newspapers with
solemn care, heartily hates them, and accepts all they print for the sake of
drowning Hennessy's rising protests against his logic. From the cool heights
of life in the Archey Road, uninterrupted by the jarring noises of crickets
and cows, he observes the passing show, and meditates thereon. His
impressions are transferred to the desensitized plate of Mr. Hennessy's
mind, where they can do no harm.
"There's no betther place to see what's goin' on thin the Ar-rchey Road,"
says Mr. Dooley. "Whin th' ilicthric cars is hummin' down th' sthreet an' th'
blast goin' sthrong at th' mills, th' noise is that gr-reat ye can't think."
He is opulent in good advice, as becomes a man of his station; for he has
mastered most of the obstacles in a business career, and by leading a
prudent and temperate life has established himself so well that he owns his
own house and furniture, and is only slightly behind on his license. It would
be indelicate to give statistics as to his age. Mr. Hennessy says he was a
"grown man whin th' pikes was out in forty-eight, an' I was hedge-high, an'
I'm near fifty-five." Mr. Dooley says Mr. Hennessy is eighty. He closes
discussion on his own age with the remark, "I'm old enough to know
betther." He has served his country with distinction. His conduct of the
important office of captain of his precinct (1873-75) was highly
commended, and there was some talk of nominating him for alderman. At
the expiration of his term he was personally thanked by the Hon. M.
McGee, at one time a member of the central committee. But the activity of
public life was unsuited to a man of Mr. Dooley's tastes; and, while he
Page 9
continues to view the political situation always with interest and sometimes
with alarm, he has resolutely declined to leave the bar for the forum. His
early experience gave him wisdom in discussing public affairs. "Politics,"
he says, "ain't bean bag. 'Tis a man's game; an' women, childher, an' pro-
hybitionists'd do well to keep out iv it." Again he remarks, "As Shakespeare
says, 'Ol' men f'r th' council, young men f'r th' ward.'"
An attempt has been made in this book to give permanent form to a few of
the more characteristic and important of Mr. Dooley's utterances. For
permission to reprint the articles the thanks of the editor are due to Mr.
George G. Booth, of the Chicago Journal, and to Mr. Dooley's constant
friend, Mr. H.H. Kohlsaat, of the Chicago Evening Post.
f
.
p
.
d
.
with alarm, he has resolutely declined to leave the bar for the forum. His
early experience gave him wisdom in discussing public affairs. "Politics,"
he says, "ain't bean bag. 'Tis a man's game; an' women, childher, an' pro-
hybitionists'd do well to keep out iv it." Again he remarks, "As Shakespeare
says, 'Ol' men f'r th' council, young men f'r th' ward.'"
An attempt has been made in this book to give permanent form to a few of
the more characteristic and important of Mr. Dooley's utterances. For
permission to reprint the articles the thanks of the editor are due to Mr.
George G. Booth, of the Chicago Journal, and to Mr. Dooley's constant
friend, Mr. H.H. Kohlsaat, of the Chicago Evening Post.
f
.
p
.
d
.
Page 10
CONTENTS.
MR. DOOLEY IN WAR
ON DIPLOMACY.
ON WAR PREPARATIONS
ON FITZ-HUGH LEE.
ON MULES AND OTHERS
ON HIS COUSIN GEORGE.
ON SOME ARMY APPOINTMENTS.
ON STRATEGY.
ON GENERAL MILES'S MOONLIGHT EXCURSION.
ON ADMIRAL DEWEY'S ACTIVITY.
ON THE PHILIPPINES.
ON PRAYERS FOR VICTORY.
ON THE ANGLO-SAXON.
ON A LETTER FROM THE FRONT.
ON OUR CUBAN ALLIES.
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET.
MR. DOOLEY IN WAR
ON DIPLOMACY.
ON WAR PREPARATIONS
ON FITZ-HUGH LEE.
ON MULES AND OTHERS
ON HIS COUSIN GEORGE.
ON SOME ARMY APPOINTMENTS.
ON STRATEGY.
ON GENERAL MILES'S MOONLIGHT EXCURSION.
ON ADMIRAL DEWEY'S ACTIVITY.
ON THE PHILIPPINES.
ON PRAYERS FOR VICTORY.
ON THE ANGLO-SAXON.
ON A LETTER FROM THE FRONT.
ON OUR CUBAN ALLIES.
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET.
Page 11
ON A LETTER TO MR. DEPEW.
ON THE PRESIDENT'S CAT.
ON A SPEECH BY PRESIDENT McKINLEY.
ON THE HERO IN POLITICS.
MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE
ON NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS.
ON GOLD-SEEKING.
ON BOOKS.
ON REFORM CANDIDATES.
ON PATERNAL DUTY.
ON CRIMINALS.
ON A PLOT.
ON THE NEW WOMAN.
ON EXPERT TESTIMONY.
ON THE POPULARITY OF FIREMEN.
ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL.
ON THE NECESSITY OF MODESTY AMONG THE RICH.
ON THE POWER OF LOVE.
ON THE VICTORIAN ERA.
ON THE PRESIDENT'S CAT.
ON A SPEECH BY PRESIDENT McKINLEY.
ON THE HERO IN POLITICS.
MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE
ON NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS.
ON GOLD-SEEKING.
ON BOOKS.
ON REFORM CANDIDATES.
ON PATERNAL DUTY.
ON CRIMINALS.
ON A PLOT.
ON THE NEW WOMAN.
ON EXPERT TESTIMONY.
ON THE POPULARITY OF FIREMEN.
ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL.
ON THE NECESSITY OF MODESTY AMONG THE RICH.
ON THE POWER OF LOVE.
ON THE VICTORIAN ERA.
Page 12
ON THE CURRENCY QUESTION.
ON POLITICAL PARADES.
ON CHARITY.
ON NANSEN.
ON A POPULIST CONVENTION.
ON A FAMILY REUNION.
ON A FAMOUS WEDDING.
ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND GERMANY.
ON ORATORY IN POLITICS.
ON CHRISTMAS GIFTS.
ON ANARCHISTS.
ON THE DREYFUS CASE.
ON THE DECADENCE OF GREECE.
ON THE INDIAN WAR.
ON GOLF.
ON THE FRENCH CHARACTER.
ON POLITICAL PARADES.
ON CHARITY.
ON NANSEN.
ON A POPULIST CONVENTION.
ON A FAMILY REUNION.
ON A FAMOUS WEDDING.
ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND GERMANY.
ON ORATORY IN POLITICS.
ON CHRISTMAS GIFTS.
ON ANARCHISTS.
ON THE DREYFUS CASE.
ON THE DECADENCE OF GREECE.
ON THE INDIAN WAR.
ON GOLF.
ON THE FRENCH CHARACTER.
Page 13
MR. DOOLEY IN WAR
Page 14
ON DIPLOMACY.
"I'll explain it to ye," said Mr. Dooley. "'Tis this way. Ye see, this here
Sagasta is a boonco steerer like Canada Bill, an' th' likes iv him. A smart
man is this Sagasta, an' wan that can put a crimp in th' ca-ards that ye
cudden't take out with a washerwoman's wringer. He's been through manny
a ha-ard game. Talk about th' County Dimocracy picnic, where a three-ca-
ard man goes in debt ivry time he hurls th' broads, 'tis nawthin' to what this
here Spanish onion has been again an' beat. F'r years an' years he's played
on'y profissionals. Th' la-ads he's tackled have more marked ca-ards in their
pockets thin a preacher fr'm Mitchigan an' more bad money thin ye cud
shake out iv th' coat-tail pockets iv a prosp'rous banker fr'm Injianny. He's
been up again Gladstun an' Bisma-arck an' ol' what-ye-call-'im, th'
Eyetalian,—his name's got away from me,—an' he's done thim all.
"Well, business is bad. No wan will play with him. No money's comin' in.
Th' circus has moved on to th' nex' town, an' left him without a customer.
Th' Jew man that loaned him th' bank-roll threatens to seize th' ca-ards on'
th' table. Whin, lo an' behold, down th' sthreet comes a ma-an fr'm th'
counthry,—a lawyer fr'm Ohio, with a gripsack in his hand. Oh, but he's a
proud man. He's been in town long enough f'r to get out iv th' way iv th'
throlley ca-ar whin th' bell rings. He's larned not to thry an' light his see-gar
at th' ilicthric light. He doesn't offer to pay th' ilivator ma-an f'r carryin' him
upstairs. He's got so he can pass a tall buildin' without thryin' f'r to turn a
back summersault. An' he's as haughty about it as a new man on an ice-
wagon. They'se nawthin' ye can tell him. He thinks iv himsilf goin' back to
Canton with a r-red necktie on, an' settin' on a cracker box an' tellin' th' lads
whin they come in fr'm pitchin' hor-rseshoes what a hot time he's had, an'
how he's seen th' hootchy-kootchy an' th' Pammer House barber shop, an' th'
other ondacint sights iv a gr-reat city.
"An' so he comes up to where Sagasta is kind iv throwin' th' ca-ards idly on
th' top iv th' bar'l, an' Sagasta pipes him out iv th' corner iv his eye, an' says
to himsilf: 'Oh, I dinnaw,' an' thanks hiven f'r th' law that has a sucker bor-rn
ivry minyit. An' th' la-ad fr'm Canton thinks he can pick out th' Jack, an'
"I'll explain it to ye," said Mr. Dooley. "'Tis this way. Ye see, this here
Sagasta is a boonco steerer like Canada Bill, an' th' likes iv him. A smart
man is this Sagasta, an' wan that can put a crimp in th' ca-ards that ye
cudden't take out with a washerwoman's wringer. He's been through manny
a ha-ard game. Talk about th' County Dimocracy picnic, where a three-ca-
ard man goes in debt ivry time he hurls th' broads, 'tis nawthin' to what this
here Spanish onion has been again an' beat. F'r years an' years he's played
on'y profissionals. Th' la-ads he's tackled have more marked ca-ards in their
pockets thin a preacher fr'm Mitchigan an' more bad money thin ye cud
shake out iv th' coat-tail pockets iv a prosp'rous banker fr'm Injianny. He's
been up again Gladstun an' Bisma-arck an' ol' what-ye-call-'im, th'
Eyetalian,—his name's got away from me,—an' he's done thim all.
"Well, business is bad. No wan will play with him. No money's comin' in.
Th' circus has moved on to th' nex' town, an' left him without a customer.
Th' Jew man that loaned him th' bank-roll threatens to seize th' ca-ards on'
th' table. Whin, lo an' behold, down th' sthreet comes a ma-an fr'm th'
counthry,—a lawyer fr'm Ohio, with a gripsack in his hand. Oh, but he's a
proud man. He's been in town long enough f'r to get out iv th' way iv th'
throlley ca-ar whin th' bell rings. He's larned not to thry an' light his see-gar
at th' ilicthric light. He doesn't offer to pay th' ilivator ma-an f'r carryin' him
upstairs. He's got so he can pass a tall buildin' without thryin' f'r to turn a
back summersault. An' he's as haughty about it as a new man on an ice-
wagon. They'se nawthin' ye can tell him. He thinks iv himsilf goin' back to
Canton with a r-red necktie on, an' settin' on a cracker box an' tellin' th' lads
whin they come in fr'm pitchin' hor-rseshoes what a hot time he's had, an'
how he's seen th' hootchy-kootchy an' th' Pammer House barber shop, an' th'
other ondacint sights iv a gr-reat city.
"An' so he comes up to where Sagasta is kind iv throwin' th' ca-ards idly on
th' top iv th' bar'l, an' Sagasta pipes him out iv th' corner iv his eye, an' says
to himsilf: 'Oh, I dinnaw,' an' thanks hiven f'r th' law that has a sucker bor-rn
ivry minyit. An' th' la-ad fr'm Canton thinks he can pick out th' Jack, an'
Page 15
sometimes he can an' sometimes he can't; but th' end iv it is th' Spanyard
has him thrimmed down to his chest protector, an' he'll be goin' back to
Canton in a blanket. Ye see it ain't his game. If it was pitchin' hor-rseshoes,
'twud be diff'rent. He cud bate Sagasta at that. He cud do him at rasslin' or
chasin' th' greased pig, or in a wan-legged race or th' tug-iv-war. He cud
make him look foolish at liftin' a kag iv beer or hitchin' up a team. But,
whin it comes to di-plo-macy, th' Spanyard has him again th' rail, an' counts
on him till his ar-rm is sore."
"Why don't he tur-rn in an' fight?" demanded the patriotic Mr. Hennessy.
"Lord knows," said Mr. Dooley. "Mebbe 'twill tur-rn out th' way it did with
two frinds iv mine. They was Joe Larkin an' a little r-red-headed man be th'
name iv O'Brien, an' they wint out to th' picanic at Ogden's grove, where
wanst a year Ireland's freed. They was a shell ma-an wurrukin' near th'
fence, an' Larkin says, says he: 'He's aisy. Lave me have some money, an'
we'll do him. I can see th' pea go undher th' shell ivry time.' So O'Brien
bein' a hot spoort loaned him th' money, an' he wint at it. Ivry time Larkin
cud see th' pea go undher th' shell as plain as day. Wanst or twict th' shell
man was so careless that he left th' pea undher th' edge iv th' shell. But in
five minyits all iv O'Brien's money was in th' bad ma-an's pockits, an' he
was lookin' around f'r more foolish pathrites. It took O'Brien some time f'r
to decide what to do. Thin says he, ''Twas my money this fool blowed in.'
An' he made a dash f'r th' shell ma'an; an' he not on'y got what he'd lost, but
all th' r-rest iv th' capital besides. Ye see, that was his game. That was where
he come in. An' he took th' money an' carrid it over to a cor-rner iv th' gr-
rounds where a la-ad had wan iv thim matcheens where ye pay tin cints f'r
th' privilege iv seein' how har-rd ye can hit with a sledge-hammer, an' there
he stayed till th' polis come ar-round to dhrive people off th' gr-rounds."
has him thrimmed down to his chest protector, an' he'll be goin' back to
Canton in a blanket. Ye see it ain't his game. If it was pitchin' hor-rseshoes,
'twud be diff'rent. He cud bate Sagasta at that. He cud do him at rasslin' or
chasin' th' greased pig, or in a wan-legged race or th' tug-iv-war. He cud
make him look foolish at liftin' a kag iv beer or hitchin' up a team. But,
whin it comes to di-plo-macy, th' Spanyard has him again th' rail, an' counts
on him till his ar-rm is sore."
"Why don't he tur-rn in an' fight?" demanded the patriotic Mr. Hennessy.
"Lord knows," said Mr. Dooley. "Mebbe 'twill tur-rn out th' way it did with
two frinds iv mine. They was Joe Larkin an' a little r-red-headed man be th'
name iv O'Brien, an' they wint out to th' picanic at Ogden's grove, where
wanst a year Ireland's freed. They was a shell ma-an wurrukin' near th'
fence, an' Larkin says, says he: 'He's aisy. Lave me have some money, an'
we'll do him. I can see th' pea go undher th' shell ivry time.' So O'Brien
bein' a hot spoort loaned him th' money, an' he wint at it. Ivry time Larkin
cud see th' pea go undher th' shell as plain as day. Wanst or twict th' shell
man was so careless that he left th' pea undher th' edge iv th' shell. But in
five minyits all iv O'Brien's money was in th' bad ma-an's pockits, an' he
was lookin' around f'r more foolish pathrites. It took O'Brien some time f'r
to decide what to do. Thin says he, ''Twas my money this fool blowed in.'
An' he made a dash f'r th' shell ma'an; an' he not on'y got what he'd lost, but
all th' r-rest iv th' capital besides. Ye see, that was his game. That was where
he come in. An' he took th' money an' carrid it over to a cor-rner iv th' gr-
rounds where a la-ad had wan iv thim matcheens where ye pay tin cints f'r
th' privilege iv seein' how har-rd ye can hit with a sledge-hammer, an' there
he stayed till th' polis come ar-round to dhrive people off th' gr-rounds."
Page 16
ON WAR PREPARATIONS
"Well," Mr. Hennessy asked, "how goes th' war?"
"Splendid, thank ye," said Mr. Dooley. "Fine, fine. It makes me hear-rt
throb with pride that I'm a citizen iv th' Sixth Wa-ard."
"Has th' ar-rmy started f'r Cuba yet?"
"Wan ar-rmy, says ye? Twinty! Las' Choosdah an advance ar-rmy iv wan
hundherd an' twinty thousand men landed fr'm th' Gussie, with tin thousand
cannons hurlin' projick-tyles weighin' eight hundherd pounds sivinteen
miles. Winsdah night a second ar-rmy iv injineers, miners, plumbers, an'
lawn tinnis experts, numberin' in all four hundherd an' eighty thousand men,
ar-rmed with death-dealin' canned goods, was hurried to Havana to storm
th' city.
"Thursdah mornin' three thousand full rigimints iv r-rough r-riders swum
their hor-rses acrost to Matoonzas, an' afther a spirited battle captured th'
Rainy Christiny golf links, two up an' hell to play, an' will hold thim again
all comers. Th' same afthernoon th' reg'lar cavalry, con-sistin' iv four
hundherd an' eight thousan' well-mounted men, was loaded aboord th' tug
Lucy J., and departed on their earned iv death amidst th' cheers iv eight
millyon sojers left behind at Chickamaha. These cav'lry'll co-operate with
Commodore Schlow; an' whin he desthroys th' Spanish fleet, as he does
ivry Sundah an' holy day except in Lent, an' finds out where they ar-re an'
desthroys thim, afther batterin' down th' forts where they ar-re con-cealed so
that he can't see thim, but thinks they ar-re on their way f'r to fight Cousin
George Dooley, th' cav'lry will make a dash back to Tampa, where Gin'ral
Miles is preparin' to desthroy th' Spanish at wan blow,—an' he's th' boy to
blow.
"The gin'ral arrived th' other day, fully prepared f'r th' bloody wurruk iv war.
He had his intire fam'ly with him. He r-rode recklessly into camp, mounted
on a superb specyal ca-ar. As himsilf an' Uncle Mike Miles, an' Cousin
Hennery Miles, an' Master Miles, aged eight years, dismounted fr'm th'
"Well," Mr. Hennessy asked, "how goes th' war?"
"Splendid, thank ye," said Mr. Dooley. "Fine, fine. It makes me hear-rt
throb with pride that I'm a citizen iv th' Sixth Wa-ard."
"Has th' ar-rmy started f'r Cuba yet?"
"Wan ar-rmy, says ye? Twinty! Las' Choosdah an advance ar-rmy iv wan
hundherd an' twinty thousand men landed fr'm th' Gussie, with tin thousand
cannons hurlin' projick-tyles weighin' eight hundherd pounds sivinteen
miles. Winsdah night a second ar-rmy iv injineers, miners, plumbers, an'
lawn tinnis experts, numberin' in all four hundherd an' eighty thousand men,
ar-rmed with death-dealin' canned goods, was hurried to Havana to storm
th' city.
"Thursdah mornin' three thousand full rigimints iv r-rough r-riders swum
their hor-rses acrost to Matoonzas, an' afther a spirited battle captured th'
Rainy Christiny golf links, two up an' hell to play, an' will hold thim again
all comers. Th' same afthernoon th' reg'lar cavalry, con-sistin' iv four
hundherd an' eight thousan' well-mounted men, was loaded aboord th' tug
Lucy J., and departed on their earned iv death amidst th' cheers iv eight
millyon sojers left behind at Chickamaha. These cav'lry'll co-operate with
Commodore Schlow; an' whin he desthroys th' Spanish fleet, as he does
ivry Sundah an' holy day except in Lent, an' finds out where they ar-re an'
desthroys thim, afther batterin' down th' forts where they ar-re con-cealed so
that he can't see thim, but thinks they ar-re on their way f'r to fight Cousin
George Dooley, th' cav'lry will make a dash back to Tampa, where Gin'ral
Miles is preparin' to desthroy th' Spanish at wan blow,—an' he's th' boy to
blow.
"The gin'ral arrived th' other day, fully prepared f'r th' bloody wurruk iv war.
He had his intire fam'ly with him. He r-rode recklessly into camp, mounted
on a superb specyal ca-ar. As himsilf an' Uncle Mike Miles, an' Cousin
Hennery Miles, an' Master Miles, aged eight years, dismounted fr'm th'
Page 17
specyal train, they were received with wild cheers be eight millyon iv th'
bravest sojers that iver give up their lives f'r their counthry. Th' press
cinchorship is so pow'rful that no news is allowed to go out; but I have it
fr'm th' specyal corryspondint iv Mesilf, Clancy th' Butcher, Mike Casey,
an' th' City Direchtry that Gin'ral Miles instantly repaired himsilf to th'
hotel, where he made his plans f'r cr-rushin' th' Spanyards at wan blow. He
will equip th' ar-rmy with blow-guns at wanst. His uniforms ar-re comin'
down in specyal steel protected bullyon trains fr'm th' mint, where they've
been kept f'r a year. He has ordhered out th' gold resarve f'r to equip his
staff, numberin' eight thousan' men, manny iv whom ar-re clubmen; an', as
soon as he can have his pitchers took, he will cr-rush th' Spanish with wan
blow. Th' purpose iv th' gin'ral is to permit no delay. Decisive action is
demanded be th' people. An', whin th' hot air masheens has been sint to th'
front, Gin'ral Miles will strike wan blow that'll be th' damdest blow since th'
year iv th' big wind in Ireland.
"Iv coorse, they'se dissinsions in th' cabinet; but they don't amount to
nawthin'. Th' Sicrety iv War is in favor iv sawin' th' Spanish ar-rmy into
two-be-four joists. Th' Sicrety iv th' Three-asury has a scheme f'r roonin'
thim be lindin' thim money. Th' Sicrety iv th' Navy wants to sue thim befure
th' Mattsachusetts Supreme Coort. I've heerd that th' Prisident is arrangin' a
knee dhrill, with th' idee iv prayin' th' villyans to th' divvil. But these
diff'rences don't count. We're all wan people, an' we look to Gin'ral Miles to
desthroy th' Spanish with wan blow. Whin it comes, trees will be lifted out
be th' roots. Morro Castle'll cave in, an' th' air'll be full iv Spanish whiskers.
A long blow, a sthrong blow, an' a blow all together."
"We're a gr-reat people," said Mr. Hennessy, earnestly.
"We ar-re," said Mr. Dooley. "We ar-re that. An' th' best iv it is, we know we
ar-re."
bravest sojers that iver give up their lives f'r their counthry. Th' press
cinchorship is so pow'rful that no news is allowed to go out; but I have it
fr'm th' specyal corryspondint iv Mesilf, Clancy th' Butcher, Mike Casey,
an' th' City Direchtry that Gin'ral Miles instantly repaired himsilf to th'
hotel, where he made his plans f'r cr-rushin' th' Spanyards at wan blow. He
will equip th' ar-rmy with blow-guns at wanst. His uniforms ar-re comin'
down in specyal steel protected bullyon trains fr'm th' mint, where they've
been kept f'r a year. He has ordhered out th' gold resarve f'r to equip his
staff, numberin' eight thousan' men, manny iv whom ar-re clubmen; an', as
soon as he can have his pitchers took, he will cr-rush th' Spanish with wan
blow. Th' purpose iv th' gin'ral is to permit no delay. Decisive action is
demanded be th' people. An', whin th' hot air masheens has been sint to th'
front, Gin'ral Miles will strike wan blow that'll be th' damdest blow since th'
year iv th' big wind in Ireland.
"Iv coorse, they'se dissinsions in th' cabinet; but they don't amount to
nawthin'. Th' Sicrety iv War is in favor iv sawin' th' Spanish ar-rmy into
two-be-four joists. Th' Sicrety iv th' Three-asury has a scheme f'r roonin'
thim be lindin' thim money. Th' Sicrety iv th' Navy wants to sue thim befure
th' Mattsachusetts Supreme Coort. I've heerd that th' Prisident is arrangin' a
knee dhrill, with th' idee iv prayin' th' villyans to th' divvil. But these
diff'rences don't count. We're all wan people, an' we look to Gin'ral Miles to
desthroy th' Spanish with wan blow. Whin it comes, trees will be lifted out
be th' roots. Morro Castle'll cave in, an' th' air'll be full iv Spanish whiskers.
A long blow, a sthrong blow, an' a blow all together."
"We're a gr-reat people," said Mr. Hennessy, earnestly.
"We ar-re," said Mr. Dooley. "We ar-re that. An' th' best iv it is, we know we
ar-re."
Page 18
ON FITZ-HUGH LEE.
"Iv coorse, he's Irish," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' Fitz-Hughs an' th' McHughs
an' th' McKeoughs is not far apart. I have a cousin be th' name iv
McKeough, an' like as not th' gin'ral is a relation iv mine."
"If I was you, I'd write him an' see," said Mr. Hennessy. "He's a gr-reat ma-
an."
"He is so," said Mr. Dooley. "He is that. Wan iv th' gr-reatest. An' why
shudden't he be with thim two names? They'se pothry in both iv thim. Fitz-
Hugh Lee! Did ye iver see a pitcher iv him? A fat ma-an, with a head like a
football an' a neck big enough to pump blood into his brain an' keep it fr'm
starvin'. White-haired an' r-red-faced. Th' kind iv ma-an that can get mad in
ivry vein in his body. Whin he's hot, I bet ye his face looks like a fire in a
furniture facthry. Whin a ma-an goes pale with r-rage, look out f'r a knife in
th' back. But, whin he flames up so that th' perspi-ration sizzles on his brow,
look out f'r hand an' feet an' head an' coupling pins an' rapid-firin' guns. Fitz
can be ca'm whin they'se annything to be ca'm about, but he can't wait. If he
was a waiter, he'd be wurrukin' at th' thrade. Look at th' jaw iv him! It's like
a paving block.
"Does Fitz believe in di-plomacy? Not him. He sets there in his office in
Havana, smokin' a good see-gar, an' a boy comes in an' tells him they've
jugged an American citizen. He jams his hat down on his eyes, an' r-rushes
over to where Gin'ral Blanco has his office. 'Look here,' says he, 'ye
pizenous riptile,' he says, 'if ye don't lave me counthryman out iv th' bull-
pen in fifteen minyits be th' watch,' he says, 'I'll take ye be th' hair iv th'
head an' pull ye fr'm th' corner iv Halsted Sthreet to th' r-red bridge,' he
says. 'Lave us debate this,' says Blanco. 'I'll debate nawthin', says Fitz.
'Hurry up, or I'll give ye a slap,' he says. 'R-run over an' wake up th' loot at
th' station, an' let thim Americans out, or,' he says, 'we'll go to the flure,' he
says.
"That's Fitz. He's ca'm, an' he waits part iv th' time. That's whin he's asleep.
But, as soon as his eyes opins, his face begins to flare up like wan iv thim r-
"Iv coorse, he's Irish," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' Fitz-Hughs an' th' McHughs
an' th' McKeoughs is not far apart. I have a cousin be th' name iv
McKeough, an' like as not th' gin'ral is a relation iv mine."
"If I was you, I'd write him an' see," said Mr. Hennessy. "He's a gr-reat ma-
an."
"He is so," said Mr. Dooley. "He is that. Wan iv th' gr-reatest. An' why
shudden't he be with thim two names? They'se pothry in both iv thim. Fitz-
Hugh Lee! Did ye iver see a pitcher iv him? A fat ma-an, with a head like a
football an' a neck big enough to pump blood into his brain an' keep it fr'm
starvin'. White-haired an' r-red-faced. Th' kind iv ma-an that can get mad in
ivry vein in his body. Whin he's hot, I bet ye his face looks like a fire in a
furniture facthry. Whin a ma-an goes pale with r-rage, look out f'r a knife in
th' back. But, whin he flames up so that th' perspi-ration sizzles on his brow,
look out f'r hand an' feet an' head an' coupling pins an' rapid-firin' guns. Fitz
can be ca'm whin they'se annything to be ca'm about, but he can't wait. If he
was a waiter, he'd be wurrukin' at th' thrade. Look at th' jaw iv him! It's like
a paving block.
"Does Fitz believe in di-plomacy? Not him. He sets there in his office in
Havana, smokin' a good see-gar, an' a boy comes in an' tells him they've
jugged an American citizen. He jams his hat down on his eyes, an' r-rushes
over to where Gin'ral Blanco has his office. 'Look here,' says he, 'ye
pizenous riptile,' he says, 'if ye don't lave me counthryman out iv th' bull-
pen in fifteen minyits be th' watch,' he says, 'I'll take ye be th' hair iv th'
head an' pull ye fr'm th' corner iv Halsted Sthreet to th' r-red bridge,' he
says. 'Lave us debate this,' says Blanco. 'I'll debate nawthin', says Fitz.
'Hurry up, or I'll give ye a slap,' he says. 'R-run over an' wake up th' loot at
th' station, an' let thim Americans out, or,' he says, 'we'll go to the flure,' he
says.
"That's Fitz. He's ca'm, an' he waits part iv th' time. That's whin he's asleep.
But, as soon as his eyes opins, his face begins to flare up like wan iv thim r-
Page 19
round stoves in a woodman's shanty whin rosiny wood is thrun in. An' fr'm
that time on till he's r-ready to tur-rn in an' sleep peaceful an' quite,—not
like a lamb full iv vigetable food, but like a line that's wur-rked ha-ard an' et
meat,—he niver stops rampin' an' ragin'. Ye don't hear iv Fitz lookin' worn
with th' sthruggle. Ye don't r-read iv him missin' anny meals. No one fears
that Fitz will break down undher th' suspinse. That ain't in th' breed. He's
another kind iv a man. He hasn't got th' time to be tired an' worrid. He needs
food, an' he has it; an' he needs sleep, an' he takes it; an' he needs fightin',
an' he gets it. That's Fitz. They ain't such a lot iv diff'rence between th'
bravest man in the wurruld an' th' cow'rdliest. Not such a lot. It ain't a
question iv morality, Hinnissy. I've knowed men that wint to church ivry
Sundah an' holyday reg'lar, an' give to th' poor an' loved their neighbors, an'
they wudden't defind their wives against a murdherer. An' I've knowed th'
worst villyuns on earth that'd die in their thracks to save a stranger's child
fr'm injury. 'Tis a question iv how th' blood is pumped. Whin a man shows
th' sthrain, whin he gets thin an' pale an' worrid in th' time f'r fightin', he's
mighty near a cow'rd. But, whin his face flames an' his neck swells an' his
eyes look like a couple iv ilicthric lamps again a cyclone sky, he'd lead a
forlorn hope acrost th' battlemints iv hell."
that time on till he's r-ready to tur-rn in an' sleep peaceful an' quite,—not
like a lamb full iv vigetable food, but like a line that's wur-rked ha-ard an' et
meat,—he niver stops rampin' an' ragin'. Ye don't hear iv Fitz lookin' worn
with th' sthruggle. Ye don't r-read iv him missin' anny meals. No one fears
that Fitz will break down undher th' suspinse. That ain't in th' breed. He's
another kind iv a man. He hasn't got th' time to be tired an' worrid. He needs
food, an' he has it; an' he needs sleep, an' he takes it; an' he needs fightin',
an' he gets it. That's Fitz. They ain't such a lot iv diff'rence between th'
bravest man in the wurruld an' th' cow'rdliest. Not such a lot. It ain't a
question iv morality, Hinnissy. I've knowed men that wint to church ivry
Sundah an' holyday reg'lar, an' give to th' poor an' loved their neighbors, an'
they wudden't defind their wives against a murdherer. An' I've knowed th'
worst villyuns on earth that'd die in their thracks to save a stranger's child
fr'm injury. 'Tis a question iv how th' blood is pumped. Whin a man shows
th' sthrain, whin he gets thin an' pale an' worrid in th' time f'r fightin', he's
mighty near a cow'rd. But, whin his face flames an' his neck swells an' his
eyes look like a couple iv ilicthric lamps again a cyclone sky, he'd lead a
forlorn hope acrost th' battlemints iv hell."
Page 20
ON MULES AND OTHERS
"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first gr-reat land battle iv th' war has been
fought."
"Where was that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, in great excitement. "Lord
save us, but where was that?"
"Th' Alger gyards," said Mr. Dooley, "bruk fr'm th' corral where they had
thim tied up, atin' thistles, an' med a desp'rate charge on th' camp at Tampa.
They dayscinded like a whur-rl-wind, dhrivin' th' astonished throops before
thim, an' thin charged back again, completin' their earned iv desthruction.
At th' las' account th' brave sojers was climbin' threes an' tillygraft poles, an'
a rig'mint iv mules was kickin' th' pink silk linin' out iv th' officers'
quarthers. Th' gallant mules was led be a most courageous jackass, an' 'tis
undhersthud that me frind Mack will appint him a brigadier-gin-ral jus' as
soon as he can find out who his father is. 'Tis too bad he'll have no childher
to perpituate th' fame iv him. He wint through th' camp at th' head iv his
throops iv mules without castin' a shoe. He's th' biggest jackass in Tampa
to-day, not exciptin' th' cinsor; an' I doubt if they'se a bigger wan in
Wash'n'ton, though I cud name a few that cud thry a race with him.
Annyhow, they'll know how to reward him. They know a jackass whin they
see wan, an' they see a good manny in that peaceful city.
"Th' charge iv Tampa'll go into histhry as th' first land action iv th' war. An',
be th' way, Hinnissy, if this here sociable is f'r to go on at th' prisint rate, I'm
sthrong to ar-rm th' wild ar-rmy mules an' the unbridled jackasses iv th' pe-
rary an' give thim a chanst to set Cuba free. Up to this time th' on'y hero kilt
on th' Spanish side was a jackass that poked an ear above th' batthries at
Matoonzas f'r to hear what was goin' on. 'Behold,' says Sampson, 'th'
insolince iv th' foe,' he says. 'For-rm in line iv battle, an' hur-rl death an'
desthruction at yon Castilyan gin'ral.' 'Wait,' says an officer. 'It may be wan
iv our own men. It looks like th' Sicrety iv'—'Hush!' says th' commander. 'It
can't be an American jackass, or he'd speak,' he says. 'Fire on him.' Shot
afther shot fell round th' inthrepid ass; but he remained firm till th'
"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first gr-reat land battle iv th' war has been
fought."
"Where was that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, in great excitement. "Lord
save us, but where was that?"
"Th' Alger gyards," said Mr. Dooley, "bruk fr'm th' corral where they had
thim tied up, atin' thistles, an' med a desp'rate charge on th' camp at Tampa.
They dayscinded like a whur-rl-wind, dhrivin' th' astonished throops before
thim, an' thin charged back again, completin' their earned iv desthruction.
At th' las' account th' brave sojers was climbin' threes an' tillygraft poles, an'
a rig'mint iv mules was kickin' th' pink silk linin' out iv th' officers'
quarthers. Th' gallant mules was led be a most courageous jackass, an' 'tis
undhersthud that me frind Mack will appint him a brigadier-gin-ral jus' as
soon as he can find out who his father is. 'Tis too bad he'll have no childher
to perpituate th' fame iv him. He wint through th' camp at th' head iv his
throops iv mules without castin' a shoe. He's th' biggest jackass in Tampa
to-day, not exciptin' th' cinsor; an' I doubt if they'se a bigger wan in
Wash'n'ton, though I cud name a few that cud thry a race with him.
Annyhow, they'll know how to reward him. They know a jackass whin they
see wan, an' they see a good manny in that peaceful city.
"Th' charge iv Tampa'll go into histhry as th' first land action iv th' war. An',
be th' way, Hinnissy, if this here sociable is f'r to go on at th' prisint rate, I'm
sthrong to ar-rm th' wild ar-rmy mules an' the unbridled jackasses iv th' pe-
rary an' give thim a chanst to set Cuba free. Up to this time th' on'y hero kilt
on th' Spanish side was a jackass that poked an ear above th' batthries at
Matoonzas f'r to hear what was goin' on. 'Behold,' says Sampson, 'th'
insolince iv th' foe,' he says. 'For-rm in line iv battle, an' hur-rl death an'
desthruction at yon Castilyan gin'ral.' 'Wait,' says an officer. 'It may be wan
iv our own men. It looks like th' Sicrety iv'—'Hush!' says th' commander. 'It
can't be an American jackass, or he'd speak,' he says. 'Fire on him.' Shot
afther shot fell round th' inthrepid ass; but he remained firm till th'
Page 21
dinnymite boat Vesoovyus fired three hundherd an' forty thousand pounds
iv gum cotton at him, an' the poor crather was smothered to death. Now,
says I, give these Tampa mules a chanst, an' we'll have no need iv wastin'
ammun-ni-tion. Properly led, they'd go fr'm wan end iv Cuba to th' other,
kickin' th' excelsior out iv ivry stuffed Spanish gin'ral fr'm Bahoohoo
Hoondoo to Sandago de Cuba. They'd be no loss iv life. Th' sojers who
haven't gone away cud come home an' get cured iv th' measles an' th'
whoopin'-cough an' th' cholera infantum befure th' public schools opens in
th' fall, an' ivrything wud be peaceful an' quiet an' prosp'rous. Th' officers in
th' field at prisint is well qualified f'r command iv th' new ar-rmy; an', if
they'd put blinders on th' mules, they wudden't be scared back be wan iv
thim Spanish fleets that a jackass sees whin he's been up all night, secretly
stuffing himsilf with silo. They'd give wan hew-haw, an' follow their leaders
through th' hear-rt iv th' inimy's counthry. But give thim th' wurrud to git ap,
an' they'd ate their thistles undher th' guns iv some ol' Morro Castle befure
night.
"Ye don't see th' diff'rence, says ye. They ain't anny i' th' leaders. As
efficient a lot iv mules as iver exposed their ears. Th' throuble is with th'
rank an' file. They're men. What's needed to carry on this war as it goes to-
day is an ar-rmy iv jacks an' mules. Whin ye say to a man, 'Git ap, whoa,
gee, back up, get alang!' he don't know what ye'er dhrivin' at or to. But a
mule hears th' ordhers with a melancholy smile, dhroops his ears, an'
follows his war-rm, moist breath. Th' ordhers fr'm Washin'ton is perfectly
comprehinsible to a jackass, but they don't mane annything to a poor,
foolish man. No human bein', Hinnissy, can undherstand what the divvie
use it was to sink a ship that cost two hundherd thousan' dollars an' was
worth at laste eighty dollars in Sandago Harbor, if we have to keep fourteen
ships outside to prevint five Spanish ships fr'm sailin'. Th' poor, tired human
mind don't tumble, Hinnissy, to th' raison f'r landin' four hundherd marines
at Guanotommy to clear th' forests, whin Havana is livin' free on hot
tamales an' ice-cream. Th' mind iv a Demostheens or a Tim Hogan would
be crippled thryin' to figure out why throops ar-re sint out fr'm Tampa an'
thin ordhered back through a speakin' chube, while wan iv th' new briga-
deer-gin'rals has his hands manicured an' says good-by to his nurse. But it
ought to be as plain to th' mule that hears it as it is to th' jackasses that gets
it up. What we need, Hinnissy, is a perfect undherstandin' between th' ar-
iv gum cotton at him, an' the poor crather was smothered to death. Now,
says I, give these Tampa mules a chanst, an' we'll have no need iv wastin'
ammun-ni-tion. Properly led, they'd go fr'm wan end iv Cuba to th' other,
kickin' th' excelsior out iv ivry stuffed Spanish gin'ral fr'm Bahoohoo
Hoondoo to Sandago de Cuba. They'd be no loss iv life. Th' sojers who
haven't gone away cud come home an' get cured iv th' measles an' th'
whoopin'-cough an' th' cholera infantum befure th' public schools opens in
th' fall, an' ivrything wud be peaceful an' quiet an' prosp'rous. Th' officers in
th' field at prisint is well qualified f'r command iv th' new ar-rmy; an', if
they'd put blinders on th' mules, they wudden't be scared back be wan iv
thim Spanish fleets that a jackass sees whin he's been up all night, secretly
stuffing himsilf with silo. They'd give wan hew-haw, an' follow their leaders
through th' hear-rt iv th' inimy's counthry. But give thim th' wurrud to git ap,
an' they'd ate their thistles undher th' guns iv some ol' Morro Castle befure
night.
"Ye don't see th' diff'rence, says ye. They ain't anny i' th' leaders. As
efficient a lot iv mules as iver exposed their ears. Th' throuble is with th'
rank an' file. They're men. What's needed to carry on this war as it goes to-
day is an ar-rmy iv jacks an' mules. Whin ye say to a man, 'Git ap, whoa,
gee, back up, get alang!' he don't know what ye'er dhrivin' at or to. But a
mule hears th' ordhers with a melancholy smile, dhroops his ears, an'
follows his war-rm, moist breath. Th' ordhers fr'm Washin'ton is perfectly
comprehinsible to a jackass, but they don't mane annything to a poor,
foolish man. No human bein', Hinnissy, can undherstand what the divvie
use it was to sink a ship that cost two hundherd thousan' dollars an' was
worth at laste eighty dollars in Sandago Harbor, if we have to keep fourteen
ships outside to prevint five Spanish ships fr'm sailin'. Th' poor, tired human
mind don't tumble, Hinnissy, to th' raison f'r landin' four hundherd marines
at Guanotommy to clear th' forests, whin Havana is livin' free on hot
tamales an' ice-cream. Th' mind iv a Demostheens or a Tim Hogan would
be crippled thryin' to figure out why throops ar-re sint out fr'm Tampa an'
thin ordhered back through a speakin' chube, while wan iv th' new briga-
deer-gin'rals has his hands manicured an' says good-by to his nurse. But it
ought to be as plain to th' mule that hears it as it is to th' jackasses that gets
it up. What we need, Hinnissy, is a perfect undherstandin' between th' ar-
Page 22
rmy an' th' administhration. We need what Hogan calls th' esphrite th'
corpse, an' we'll on'y have it whin th' mules begins to move."
"I shud think," said Mr. Hennessy, "now that th' jackasses has begun to be
onaisy"—
"We ought to be afraid th' cabinet an' th' Boord iv Sthrateejy 'll be
stampeded?" Mr. Dooley interrupted. "Niver fear. They're too near th'
fodder."
corpse, an' we'll on'y have it whin th' mules begins to move."
"I shud think," said Mr. Hennessy, "now that th' jackasses has begun to be
onaisy"—
"We ought to be afraid th' cabinet an' th' Boord iv Sthrateejy 'll be
stampeded?" Mr. Dooley interrupted. "Niver fear. They're too near th'
fodder."
Page 23
ON HIS COUSIN GEORGE.
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, in tones of chastened joy: "Dewey didn't do a
thing to thim. I hope th' poor la-ad ain't cooped up there in Minneapolis."
"Niver fear," said Mr. Dooley, calmly. "Cousin George is all r-right."
"Cousin George?" Mr. Hennessy exclaimed.
"Sure," said Mr. Dooley. "Dewey or Dooley, 'tis all th' same. We dhrop a
letter here an' there, except th' haitches,—we niver dhrop thim,—but we're
th' same breed iv fightin' men. Georgy has th' thraits iv th' fam'ly. Me uncle
Mike, that was a handy man, was tol' wanst he'd be sint to hell f'r his manny
sins, an' he desarved it; f'r, lavin' out th' wan sin iv runnin' away fr'm
annywan, he was booked f'r ivrything from murdher to missin' mass. 'Well,'
he says, 'anny place I can get into,' he says, 'I can get out iv,' he says. 'Ye bet
on that,' he says.
"So it is with Cousin George. He knew th' way in, an' it's th' same way out.
He didn't go in be th' fam'ly inthrance, sneakin' along with th' can undher
his coat. He left Ding Dong, or whativer 'tis ye call it, an' says he, 'Thank
Gawd,' he says, 'I'm where no man can give me his idees iv how to r-run a
quiltin' party, an' call it war,' he says. An' so he sint a man down in a divin'
shute, an' cut th' cables, so's Mack cudden't chat with him. Thin he prances
up to th' Spanish forts, an' hands thim a few oranges. Tosses thim out like a
man throwin' handbills f'r a circus. 'Take that,' he says, 'an' raymimber th'
Maine,' he says. An' he goes into th' harbor, where Admiral What-th'-'ell is,
an', says he, 'Surrinder,' he says. 'Niver,' says th' Dago. 'Well,' says Cousin
George, 'I'll just have to push ye ar-round,' he says. An' he tosses a few
slugs at th' Spanyards. Th' Spanish admiral shoots at him with a bow an'
arrow, an' goes over an' writes a cable. 'This mornin' we was attackted,' he
says. 'An' he says, 'we fought the inimy with great courage,' he says. 'Our
victhry is complete,' he says. 'We have lost ivrything we had,' he says. 'Th'
threachrous foe,' he says, 'afther destroyin' us, sought refuge behind a mud-
scow,' he says; 'but nawthin' daunted us. What boats we cudden't r-run
ashore we surrindered,' he says. 'I cannot write no more,' he says, 'as me
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, in tones of chastened joy: "Dewey didn't do a
thing to thim. I hope th' poor la-ad ain't cooped up there in Minneapolis."
"Niver fear," said Mr. Dooley, calmly. "Cousin George is all r-right."
"Cousin George?" Mr. Hennessy exclaimed.
"Sure," said Mr. Dooley. "Dewey or Dooley, 'tis all th' same. We dhrop a
letter here an' there, except th' haitches,—we niver dhrop thim,—but we're
th' same breed iv fightin' men. Georgy has th' thraits iv th' fam'ly. Me uncle
Mike, that was a handy man, was tol' wanst he'd be sint to hell f'r his manny
sins, an' he desarved it; f'r, lavin' out th' wan sin iv runnin' away fr'm
annywan, he was booked f'r ivrything from murdher to missin' mass. 'Well,'
he says, 'anny place I can get into,' he says, 'I can get out iv,' he says. 'Ye bet
on that,' he says.
"So it is with Cousin George. He knew th' way in, an' it's th' same way out.
He didn't go in be th' fam'ly inthrance, sneakin' along with th' can undher
his coat. He left Ding Dong, or whativer 'tis ye call it, an' says he, 'Thank
Gawd,' he says, 'I'm where no man can give me his idees iv how to r-run a
quiltin' party, an' call it war,' he says. An' so he sint a man down in a divin'
shute, an' cut th' cables, so's Mack cudden't chat with him. Thin he prances
up to th' Spanish forts, an' hands thim a few oranges. Tosses thim out like a
man throwin' handbills f'r a circus. 'Take that,' he says, 'an' raymimber th'
Maine,' he says. An' he goes into th' harbor, where Admiral What-th'-'ell is,
an', says he, 'Surrinder,' he says. 'Niver,' says th' Dago. 'Well,' says Cousin
George, 'I'll just have to push ye ar-round,' he says. An' he tosses a few
slugs at th' Spanyards. Th' Spanish admiral shoots at him with a bow an'
arrow, an' goes over an' writes a cable. 'This mornin' we was attackted,' he
says. 'An' he says, 'we fought the inimy with great courage,' he says. 'Our
victhry is complete,' he says. 'We have lost ivrything we had,' he says. 'Th'
threachrous foe,' he says, 'afther destroyin' us, sought refuge behind a mud-
scow,' he says; 'but nawthin' daunted us. What boats we cudden't r-run
ashore we surrindered,' he says. 'I cannot write no more,' he says, 'as me
Page 24
coat-tails are afire,' he says; 'an' I am bravely but rapidly leapin' fr'm wan
vessel to another, followed be me valiant crew with a fire-engine,' he says.
'If I can save me coat-tails,' he says, 'they'll be no kick comin', he says.
'Long live Spain, long live mesilf.'
"Well, sir, in twinty-eight minyits be th' clock Dewey he had all th' Spanish
boats sunk, an' that there harbor lookin' like a Spanish stew. Thin he r-run
down th' bay, an' handed a few war-rm wans into th' town. He set it on fire,
an' thin wint ashore to war-rm his poor hands an' feet. It chills th' blood not
to have annything to do f'r an hour or more."
"Thin why don't he write something?" Mr. Hennessy demanded.
"Write?" echoed Mr. Dooley. "Write? Why shud he write? D'ye think
Cousin George ain't got nawthin' to do but to set down with a fountain pen,
an' write: 'Dear Mack,—At 8 o'clock I begun a peaceful blockade iv this
town. Ye can see th' pieces ivrywhere. I hope ye're injyin' th' same gr-reat
blessin'. So no more at prisint. Fr'm ye'ers thruly, George Dooley.' He ain't
that kind. 'Tis a nice day, an' he's there smokin' a good tin-cint see-gar, an'
throwin' dice f'r th' dhrinks. He don't care whether we know what he's done
or not. I'll bet ye, whin we come to find out about him, we'll hear he's ilicted
himself king iv th' F'lip-ine Islands. Dooley th' Wanst. He'll be settin' up
there undher a pa'm-three with naygurs fannin' him an' a dhrop iv licker in
th' hollow iv his ar-rm, an' hootchy-kootchy girls dancin' befure him, an'
ivry tin or twinty minyits some wan bringin' a prisoner in. 'Who's this?' says
King Dooley. 'A Spanish gin'ral,' says th' copper. 'Give him a typewriter an'
set him to wurruk,' says th' king. 'On with th' dance,' he says. An' afther
awhile, whin he gits tired iv th' game, he'll write home an' say he's got the
islands; an' he'll tur-rn thim over to th' gover'mint an' go back to his ship, an'
Mark Hanna'll organize th' F'lip-ine Islands Jute an' Cider Comp'ny, an' th'
rivolutchinists'll wish they hadn't. That's what'll happen. Mark me wurrud."
vessel to another, followed be me valiant crew with a fire-engine,' he says.
'If I can save me coat-tails,' he says, 'they'll be no kick comin', he says.
'Long live Spain, long live mesilf.'
"Well, sir, in twinty-eight minyits be th' clock Dewey he had all th' Spanish
boats sunk, an' that there harbor lookin' like a Spanish stew. Thin he r-run
down th' bay, an' handed a few war-rm wans into th' town. He set it on fire,
an' thin wint ashore to war-rm his poor hands an' feet. It chills th' blood not
to have annything to do f'r an hour or more."
"Thin why don't he write something?" Mr. Hennessy demanded.
"Write?" echoed Mr. Dooley. "Write? Why shud he write? D'ye think
Cousin George ain't got nawthin' to do but to set down with a fountain pen,
an' write: 'Dear Mack,—At 8 o'clock I begun a peaceful blockade iv this
town. Ye can see th' pieces ivrywhere. I hope ye're injyin' th' same gr-reat
blessin'. So no more at prisint. Fr'm ye'ers thruly, George Dooley.' He ain't
that kind. 'Tis a nice day, an' he's there smokin' a good tin-cint see-gar, an'
throwin' dice f'r th' dhrinks. He don't care whether we know what he's done
or not. I'll bet ye, whin we come to find out about him, we'll hear he's ilicted
himself king iv th' F'lip-ine Islands. Dooley th' Wanst. He'll be settin' up
there undher a pa'm-three with naygurs fannin' him an' a dhrop iv licker in
th' hollow iv his ar-rm, an' hootchy-kootchy girls dancin' befure him, an'
ivry tin or twinty minyits some wan bringin' a prisoner in. 'Who's this?' says
King Dooley. 'A Spanish gin'ral,' says th' copper. 'Give him a typewriter an'
set him to wurruk,' says th' king. 'On with th' dance,' he says. An' afther
awhile, whin he gits tired iv th' game, he'll write home an' say he's got the
islands; an' he'll tur-rn thim over to th' gover'mint an' go back to his ship, an'
Mark Hanna'll organize th' F'lip-ine Islands Jute an' Cider Comp'ny, an' th'
rivolutchinists'll wish they hadn't. That's what'll happen. Mark me wurrud."
Page 25
ON SOME ARMY APPOINTMENTS.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I didn't vote f'r Mack, but I'm with him now. I
had me doubts whether he was th' gr-reatest military janius iv th' cinchry,
but they'se no question about it. We go into this war, if we iver do go into it,
with th' most fash'n-able ar-rmy that iver creased its pants. 'Twill be a daily
hint fr'm Paris to th' crool foe.
"Other gin'rals iv th' r-rough-house kind, like Napoleon Bonypart, th' impror
iv th' Frinch, Gin'ral Ulis S. Grant, an' Cousin George Dooley, hired coarse,
rude men that wudden't know th' diff'rence between goluf an' crokay, an'
had their pants tucked in their boots an' chewed tobacco be th' pound.
Thank Hivin, McKinley knows betther thin to sind th' likes iv thim abroad
to shock our frinds be dumpin' their coffee into thimsilves fr'm a saucer.
"Th' dure bell rings, an' a futman in liv'ry says: 'I'm Master Willie
Dooselbery's man, an' he's come to be examined f'r th' army,' says he.
'Admit him,' says McKinley; an' Master Willie enters, accompanied be his
val-lay, his mah an' pah an' th' comity iv th' goluf club. 'Willie,' says th'
Prisident, 'ye ar-re enthrin' upon a gloryous car-eer, an' 'tis nic'ssry that ye
shud be thurly examined, so that ye can teach th' glories iv civilization to th'
tyr-ranies iv Europe that is supported be ye'er pah an' mah,' he says. ''Twud
be a tur-r'ble thing,' he says, 'if some day they shud meet a Spanish gin'ral in
Mahdrid, an' have him say to thim, "I seen ye'er son Willie durin' th' war
wearin' a stovepipe hat an' tan shoes." Let us begin th' examination,' he
says. 'Ar-re ye a good goluf player?' 'I am,' says Willie. 'Thin I appint ye a
liftnant. What we need in th' ar-rmy is good goluf players,' he says. 'In our
former war,' he says, 'we had th' misfortune to have men in command that
didn't know th' diff'rence between a goluf stick an' a beecycle; an' what was
th' raysult? We foozled our approach at Bull R-run,' he says. 'Ar-re ye a
mimber iv anny clubs?' he says. 'Four,' says Willie. 'Thin I make ye a major,'
he says. 'Where d'ye get ye'er pants?' he says. 'Fr'm England,' says Willie.
'Gloryous,' says McKinley. 'I make ye a colonel,' he says. 'Let me thry ye in
tactics,' he says. 'Suppose ye was confronted be a Spanish ar-rmy in th'
afthernoon, how wud ye dhress?' he says. 'I'd wear a stovepipe hat, a long
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I didn't vote f'r Mack, but I'm with him now. I
had me doubts whether he was th' gr-reatest military janius iv th' cinchry,
but they'se no question about it. We go into this war, if we iver do go into it,
with th' most fash'n-able ar-rmy that iver creased its pants. 'Twill be a daily
hint fr'm Paris to th' crool foe.
"Other gin'rals iv th' r-rough-house kind, like Napoleon Bonypart, th' impror
iv th' Frinch, Gin'ral Ulis S. Grant, an' Cousin George Dooley, hired coarse,
rude men that wudden't know th' diff'rence between goluf an' crokay, an'
had their pants tucked in their boots an' chewed tobacco be th' pound.
Thank Hivin, McKinley knows betther thin to sind th' likes iv thim abroad
to shock our frinds be dumpin' their coffee into thimsilves fr'm a saucer.
"Th' dure bell rings, an' a futman in liv'ry says: 'I'm Master Willie
Dooselbery's man, an' he's come to be examined f'r th' army,' says he.
'Admit him,' says McKinley; an' Master Willie enters, accompanied be his
val-lay, his mah an' pah an' th' comity iv th' goluf club. 'Willie,' says th'
Prisident, 'ye ar-re enthrin' upon a gloryous car-eer, an' 'tis nic'ssry that ye
shud be thurly examined, so that ye can teach th' glories iv civilization to th'
tyr-ranies iv Europe that is supported be ye'er pah an' mah,' he says. ''Twud
be a tur-r'ble thing,' he says, 'if some day they shud meet a Spanish gin'ral in
Mahdrid, an' have him say to thim, "I seen ye'er son Willie durin' th' war
wearin' a stovepipe hat an' tan shoes." Let us begin th' examination,' he
says. 'Ar-re ye a good goluf player?' 'I am,' says Willie. 'Thin I appint ye a
liftnant. What we need in th' ar-rmy is good goluf players,' he says. 'In our
former war,' he says, 'we had th' misfortune to have men in command that
didn't know th' diff'rence between a goluf stick an' a beecycle; an' what was
th' raysult? We foozled our approach at Bull R-run,' he says. 'Ar-re ye a
mimber iv anny clubs?' he says. 'Four,' says Willie. 'Thin I make ye a major,'
he says. 'Where d'ye get ye'er pants?' he says. 'Fr'm England,' says Willie.
'Gloryous,' says McKinley. 'I make ye a colonel,' he says. 'Let me thry ye in
tactics,' he says. 'Suppose ye was confronted be a Spanish ar-rmy in th'
afthernoon, how wud ye dhress?' he says. 'I'd wear a stovepipe hat, a long
Page 26
coat, a white vest, an' lavender pants,' says Willie. 'An' if th' attack was be
night?' he says. 'I'd put on me dhress shoot, an' go out to meet thim,' says
Willie. 'A thuro sojer,' says McKinley. 'Suppose th' sociable lasted all night?'
he says. 'I'd sound th' rethreat at daybreak, an' have me brave boys change
back,' he says, 'to suitable appar'l,' he says. 'Masterly,' says McKinley. 'I will
sind ye'er name in as a brigadier-gin'ral,' he says. 'Thank Gawd, th' r-rich,'
he says, 'is brave an' pathriotic,' he says. 'Ye will jine th' other boys fr'm th'
club at Tampa,' he says. 'Ye shud be careful iv ye'er equipment,' he says. 'I
have almost ivrything r-ready,' says Willie. 'Me man attinded to thim
details,' he says. 'But I fear I can't go to th' fr-ront immejetly,' he says. 'Me
pink silk pijammas hasn't arrived,' he says. 'Well,' says Mack,' 'wait f'r thim,'
he says. 'I'm anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war,' he says, 'which has cost me
manny a sleepy night,' he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer
onprepared to battle,' he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas,' he says. 'Thin on to
war,' he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er manners,"' he
says.
"'They'se a man out here,' says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see ye,' he
says. 'He's a r-rough-lookin' charackter that was in th' Soo war,' he says. 'His
name is Gin'ral Fiteum,' he says. 'Throw th' stiff out,' says Mack. 'I seen him
in Pinnsylvania Avnoo yisterdah, r-ridin' in a sthreet ca-ar,' he says. 'Ah,
Willie, me boy,' he says, ''tis little ye know what throuble I have fr'm these
vulgar sojers with pants that bags at th' knees. Give me a goold-tipped
cigareet, an' tell me whether shirt waists is much worn in New York this
year.'
"Yis, Hinnissy, we'll put th' tastiest ar-rmy in th' field that iver come out iv a
millinery shop. 'Right dhress!' will be an ordher that'll mean somethin'. Th'
ar-rmy'll be followed be specyal correspondints fr'm Butthrick's Pattherns
an' Harper's Bazar; an', if our brave boys don't gore an' pleat th' inimy, 'twill
be because th' inimy'll be r-rude enough to shoot in anny kind iv clothes
they find on th' chair whin they wake up."
night?' he says. 'I'd put on me dhress shoot, an' go out to meet thim,' says
Willie. 'A thuro sojer,' says McKinley. 'Suppose th' sociable lasted all night?'
he says. 'I'd sound th' rethreat at daybreak, an' have me brave boys change
back,' he says, 'to suitable appar'l,' he says. 'Masterly,' says McKinley. 'I will
sind ye'er name in as a brigadier-gin'ral,' he says. 'Thank Gawd, th' r-rich,'
he says, 'is brave an' pathriotic,' he says. 'Ye will jine th' other boys fr'm th'
club at Tampa,' he says. 'Ye shud be careful iv ye'er equipment,' he says. 'I
have almost ivrything r-ready,' says Willie. 'Me man attinded to thim
details,' he says. 'But I fear I can't go to th' fr-ront immejetly,' he says. 'Me
pink silk pijammas hasn't arrived,' he says. 'Well,' says Mack,' 'wait f'r thim,'
he says. 'I'm anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war,' he says, 'which has cost me
manny a sleepy night,' he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer
onprepared to battle,' he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas,' he says. 'Thin on to
war,' he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er manners,"' he
says.
"'They'se a man out here,' says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see ye,' he
says. 'He's a r-rough-lookin' charackter that was in th' Soo war,' he says. 'His
name is Gin'ral Fiteum,' he says. 'Throw th' stiff out,' says Mack. 'I seen him
in Pinnsylvania Avnoo yisterdah, r-ridin' in a sthreet ca-ar,' he says. 'Ah,
Willie, me boy,' he says, ''tis little ye know what throuble I have fr'm these
vulgar sojers with pants that bags at th' knees. Give me a goold-tipped
cigareet, an' tell me whether shirt waists is much worn in New York this
year.'
"Yis, Hinnissy, we'll put th' tastiest ar-rmy in th' field that iver come out iv a
millinery shop. 'Right dhress!' will be an ordher that'll mean somethin'. Th'
ar-rmy'll be followed be specyal correspondints fr'm Butthrick's Pattherns
an' Harper's Bazar; an', if our brave boys don't gore an' pleat th' inimy, 'twill
be because th' inimy'll be r-rude enough to shoot in anny kind iv clothes
they find on th' chair whin they wake up."
Page 27
ON STRATEGY.
"A sthrateejan," said Mr. Dooley, in response to Mr. Hennessy's request for
information, "is a champeen checker-player. Whin th' war broke out, me
frind Mack wint to me frind Hanna, an' says he, 'What,' he says, 'what can
we do to cr-rush th' haughty power iv Spain,' he says, 'a'n br-ring this
hateful war to a early conclusion?" he says. 'Mobilize th' checker-players,'
says Hanna. An' fr'm all cor-rners iv th' counthry they've gone to
Washin'ton, where they're called th' Sthrateejy Board.
"Day an' night they set in a room with a checker-board on th' end iv a flour
bar'l, an' study problems iv th' navy. At night Mack dhrops in. 'Well, boys,'
says he, 'how goes th' battle?' he says. 'Gloryous,' says th' Sthrateejy Board.
'Two more moves, an' we'll be in th' king row.' 'Ah,' says Mack, 'this is too
good to be thrue,' he says. 'In but a few brief minyits th' dhrinks'll be on
Spain,' he says. 'Have ye anny plans f'r Sampson's fleet?' he says. 'Where is
it?' says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'I dinnaw,' says Mack. 'Good,' says th'
Sthrateejy Board. 'Where's th' Spanish fleet?' says they. 'Bombardin' Boston,
at Cadiz, in San June de Matzoon, sighted near th' gas-house be our special
correspondint, copyright, 1898, be Mike O'Toole.' 'A sthrong position,' says
th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Undoubtedly, th' fleet is headed south to attack and
seize Armour's glue facthory. Ordher Sampson to sail north as fast as he
can, an' lay in a supply iv ice. Th' summer's comin' on. Insthruct Schley to
put on all steam, an' thin put it off again, an' call us up be telephone. R-rush
eighty-three millyon throops an' four mules to Tampa, to Mobile, to
Chickenmaha, to Coney Island, to Ireland, to th' divvle, an' r-rush thim back
again. Don't r-rush thim. Ordher Sampson to pick up th' cable at Lincoln
Par-rk, an' run into th' bar-rn. Is th' balloon corpse r-ready? It is? Thin don't
sind it up. Sind it up. Have th' Mulligan Gyards co-op'rate with Gomez, an'
tell him to cut away his whiskers. They've got tangled in th' riggin'. We need
yellow-fever throops. Have ye anny yellow fever in th' house? Give it to
twinty thousand three hundherd men, an' sind thim afther Gov'nor Tanner.
Teddy Rosenfelt's r-rough r-riders ar-re downstairs, havin' their uniforms
pressed. Ordher thim to th' goluf links at wanst. They must be no
indecision. Where's Richard Harding Davis? On th' bridge iv the New York?
"A sthrateejan," said Mr. Dooley, in response to Mr. Hennessy's request for
information, "is a champeen checker-player. Whin th' war broke out, me
frind Mack wint to me frind Hanna, an' says he, 'What,' he says, 'what can
we do to cr-rush th' haughty power iv Spain,' he says, 'a'n br-ring this
hateful war to a early conclusion?" he says. 'Mobilize th' checker-players,'
says Hanna. An' fr'm all cor-rners iv th' counthry they've gone to
Washin'ton, where they're called th' Sthrateejy Board.
"Day an' night they set in a room with a checker-board on th' end iv a flour
bar'l, an' study problems iv th' navy. At night Mack dhrops in. 'Well, boys,'
says he, 'how goes th' battle?' he says. 'Gloryous,' says th' Sthrateejy Board.
'Two more moves, an' we'll be in th' king row.' 'Ah,' says Mack, 'this is too
good to be thrue,' he says. 'In but a few brief minyits th' dhrinks'll be on
Spain,' he says. 'Have ye anny plans f'r Sampson's fleet?' he says. 'Where is
it?' says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'I dinnaw,' says Mack. 'Good,' says th'
Sthrateejy Board. 'Where's th' Spanish fleet?' says they. 'Bombardin' Boston,
at Cadiz, in San June de Matzoon, sighted near th' gas-house be our special
correspondint, copyright, 1898, be Mike O'Toole.' 'A sthrong position,' says
th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Undoubtedly, th' fleet is headed south to attack and
seize Armour's glue facthory. Ordher Sampson to sail north as fast as he
can, an' lay in a supply iv ice. Th' summer's comin' on. Insthruct Schley to
put on all steam, an' thin put it off again, an' call us up be telephone. R-rush
eighty-three millyon throops an' four mules to Tampa, to Mobile, to
Chickenmaha, to Coney Island, to Ireland, to th' divvle, an' r-rush thim back
again. Don't r-rush thim. Ordher Sampson to pick up th' cable at Lincoln
Par-rk, an' run into th' bar-rn. Is th' balloon corpse r-ready? It is? Thin don't
sind it up. Sind it up. Have th' Mulligan Gyards co-op'rate with Gomez, an'
tell him to cut away his whiskers. They've got tangled in th' riggin'. We need
yellow-fever throops. Have ye anny yellow fever in th' house? Give it to
twinty thousand three hundherd men, an' sind thim afther Gov'nor Tanner.
Teddy Rosenfelt's r-rough r-riders ar-re downstairs, havin' their uniforms
pressed. Ordher thim to th' goluf links at wanst. They must be no
indecision. Where's Richard Harding Davis? On th' bridge iv the New York?
Page 28
Tur-rn th' bridge. Seize Gin'ral Miles' uniform. We must strengthen th' gold
resarve. Where's th' Gussie? Runnin' off to Cuba with wan hundherd men
an' ar-rms, iv coorse. Oh, war is a dhreadful thing. It's ye'er move, Claude,'
says th' Sthrateejy Board.
"An' so it goes on; an' day by day we r-read th' tur-rble story iv our brave
sthrateejans sacrificin' their time on th' altar iv their counthry, as Hogan
says. Little we thought, whin we wint into this war, iv th' horrors it wud
bring. Little we thought iv th' mothers at home weepin' f'r their brave boys
down at Washin'ton hur-rtin their poor eyes over a checker-board. Little we
thought iv these devoted men, as Hogan says, with achin' heads, plannin' to
sind three hundherd thousand millyon men an' a carload iv beans to their
fate at Tampa, Fla. But some wan must be sacrificed, as Hogan says. An'
these poor fellows in Washin'ton with their r-red eyes an' their tired backs
will be an example to future ginerations, as Hogan says, iv how an
American sojer can face his jooty whin he has to, an' how he can't whin he
hasn't to."
"Dewey ain't a sthrateejan?" inquired Mr. Hennessy.
"No," said Mr. Dooley. "Cousin George is a good man, an' I'm very fond iv
him,—more be raison iv his doin' that May-o bosthoon Pat Mountjoy, but
he has low tastes. We niver cud make a sthrateejan iv him. They'se a kind iv
a vulgar fightin' sthrain in him that makes him want to go out an' slug some
wan wanst a month. I'm glad he ain't in Washin'ton. Th' chances ar-re he'd
go to th' Sthrateejy Board and pull its hair."
resarve. Where's th' Gussie? Runnin' off to Cuba with wan hundherd men
an' ar-rms, iv coorse. Oh, war is a dhreadful thing. It's ye'er move, Claude,'
says th' Sthrateejy Board.
"An' so it goes on; an' day by day we r-read th' tur-rble story iv our brave
sthrateejans sacrificin' their time on th' altar iv their counthry, as Hogan
says. Little we thought, whin we wint into this war, iv th' horrors it wud
bring. Little we thought iv th' mothers at home weepin' f'r their brave boys
down at Washin'ton hur-rtin their poor eyes over a checker-board. Little we
thought iv these devoted men, as Hogan says, with achin' heads, plannin' to
sind three hundherd thousand millyon men an' a carload iv beans to their
fate at Tampa, Fla. But some wan must be sacrificed, as Hogan says. An'
these poor fellows in Washin'ton with their r-red eyes an' their tired backs
will be an example to future ginerations, as Hogan says, iv how an
American sojer can face his jooty whin he has to, an' how he can't whin he
hasn't to."
"Dewey ain't a sthrateejan?" inquired Mr. Hennessy.
"No," said Mr. Dooley. "Cousin George is a good man, an' I'm very fond iv
him,—more be raison iv his doin' that May-o bosthoon Pat Mountjoy, but
he has low tastes. We niver cud make a sthrateejan iv him. They'se a kind iv
a vulgar fightin' sthrain in him that makes him want to go out an' slug some
wan wanst a month. I'm glad he ain't in Washin'ton. Th' chances ar-re he'd
go to th' Sthrateejy Board and pull its hair."
Page 29
ON GENERAL MILES'S MOONLIGHT
EXCURSION.
"Dear, oh, dear," said Mr. Dooley, "I'd give five dollars—an' I'd kill a man
f'r three—if I was out iv this Sixth Wa-ard to-night, an' down with Gin'ral
Miles' gran' picnic an' moonlight excursion in Porther Ricky. 'Tis no
comfort in bein' a cow'rd whin ye think iv thim br-rave la-ads facin' death
be suffication in bokays an' dyin' iv waltzin' with th' pretty girls iv Porther
Ricky.
"I dinnaw whether Gin'ral Miles picked out th' job or whether 'twas picked
out f'r him. But, annyhow, whin he got to Sandago de Cubia an' looked ar-
round him, he says to his frind Gin'ral Shafter, 'Gin'ral,' says he, 'ye have
done well so far,' he says. ''Tis not f'r me to take th' lorls fr'm th' steamin'
brow iv a thrue hero,' he says. 'I lave ye here,' he says, 'f'r to complete th'
victhry ye have so nobly begun,' he says. 'F'r you,' he says, 'th' wallop in th'
eye fr'm th' newspaper rayporther, th' r-round robbing, an' th' sunsthroke,' he
says, 'f'r me th' hardship iv th' battlefield, th' late dinner, th' theayter party,
an' th' sickenin' polky,' he says. 'Gather,' he says, 'th' fruits iv ye'er bravery,'
he says. 'Return,' he says, 'to ye'er native land, an' receive anny gratichood
th' Sicrety iv War can spare fr'm his own fam'ly,' he says. 'F'r me,' he says,
'there is no way but f'r to tur-rn me back upon this festive scene,' he says,
'an' go where jooty calls me,' he says. 'Ordherly,' he says, 'put a bottle on th'
ice, an' see that me goold pants that I wear with th' pale blue vest with th'
di'mon buttons is irned out,' he says. An' with a haggard face he walked
aboord th' excursion steamer, an' wint away.
"I'd hate to tell ye iv th'thriles iv th' expedition, Hinnissy. Whin th' picnic
got as far as Punch, on th' southern coast iv Porther Ricky, Gin'ral Miles
gazes out, an' says he, 'This looks like a good place to hang th' hammicks,
an' have lunch,' says he. 'Forward, brave men,' says he, 'where ye see me
di'mon's sparkle,' says he. 'Forward, an' plant th' crokay ar-rches iv our
beloved counthry,' he says. An' in they wint, like inthrepid warryors that
they ar-re. On th' beach they was met be a diligation fr'm th' town of Punch,
con-sistin' iv th' mayor, th' common council, th' polis an' fire departments,
EXCURSION.
"Dear, oh, dear," said Mr. Dooley, "I'd give five dollars—an' I'd kill a man
f'r three—if I was out iv this Sixth Wa-ard to-night, an' down with Gin'ral
Miles' gran' picnic an' moonlight excursion in Porther Ricky. 'Tis no
comfort in bein' a cow'rd whin ye think iv thim br-rave la-ads facin' death
be suffication in bokays an' dyin' iv waltzin' with th' pretty girls iv Porther
Ricky.
"I dinnaw whether Gin'ral Miles picked out th' job or whether 'twas picked
out f'r him. But, annyhow, whin he got to Sandago de Cubia an' looked ar-
round him, he says to his frind Gin'ral Shafter, 'Gin'ral,' says he, 'ye have
done well so far,' he says. ''Tis not f'r me to take th' lorls fr'm th' steamin'
brow iv a thrue hero,' he says. 'I lave ye here,' he says, 'f'r to complete th'
victhry ye have so nobly begun,' he says. 'F'r you,' he says, 'th' wallop in th'
eye fr'm th' newspaper rayporther, th' r-round robbing, an' th' sunsthroke,' he
says, 'f'r me th' hardship iv th' battlefield, th' late dinner, th' theayter party,
an' th' sickenin' polky,' he says. 'Gather,' he says, 'th' fruits iv ye'er bravery,'
he says. 'Return,' he says, 'to ye'er native land, an' receive anny gratichood
th' Sicrety iv War can spare fr'm his own fam'ly,' he says. 'F'r me,' he says,
'there is no way but f'r to tur-rn me back upon this festive scene,' he says,
'an' go where jooty calls me,' he says. 'Ordherly,' he says, 'put a bottle on th'
ice, an' see that me goold pants that I wear with th' pale blue vest with th'
di'mon buttons is irned out,' he says. An' with a haggard face he walked
aboord th' excursion steamer, an' wint away.
"I'd hate to tell ye iv th'thriles iv th' expedition, Hinnissy. Whin th' picnic
got as far as Punch, on th' southern coast iv Porther Ricky, Gin'ral Miles
gazes out, an' says he, 'This looks like a good place to hang th' hammicks,
an' have lunch,' says he. 'Forward, brave men,' says he, 'where ye see me
di'mon's sparkle,' says he. 'Forward, an' plant th' crokay ar-rches iv our
beloved counthry,' he says. An' in they wint, like inthrepid warryors that
they ar-re. On th' beach they was met be a diligation fr'm th' town of Punch,
con-sistin' iv th' mayor, th' common council, th' polis an' fire departments,
Page 30
th' Gr-rand Ar-rmy iv th' Raypublic, an' prominent citizens in carredges.
Gin'ral Miles, makin' a hasty tielet, advanced onflinchingly to meet thim.
'Gintlemen,' says he, 'what can I do f'r ye?' he says. 'We come,' says th'
chairman iv th' comity, 'f'r to offer ye,' he says, 'th' r-run iv th' town,' he
says. 'We have held out,' he says, 'as long as we cud,' he says. 'But,' he says,
'they'se a limit to human endurance,' he says. 'We can withstand ye no
longer,' he says. 'We surrinder. Take us prisoners, an' rayceive us into ye'er
gloryous an' well-fed raypublic,' he says. 'Br-rave men,' says Gin'ral Miles,
'I congratulate ye,' he says, 'on th' heeroism iv yer definse,' he says. 'Ye
stuck manfully to yer colors, whativer they ar-re,' he says. 'I on'y wondher
that ye waited f'r me to come befure surrindhrin,' he says. 'I welcome ye
into th' Union,' he says. 'I don't know how th' Union'll feel about it, but
that's no business iv mine,' he says. 'Ye will get ye'er wur-rkin-cards fr'm th'
walkin' diligate,' he says; 'an' ye'll be entitled,' he says, 'to pay ye'er share iv
th' taxes an' to live awhile an' die whin ye get r-ready,' he says, 'jus' th' same
as if ye was bor-rn at home,' he says. 'I don't know th' names iv ye; but I'll
call ye all Casey, f'r short,' he says. 'Put ye'er bokays in th' hammick,' he
says, 'an' return to Punch,' he says; 'an' freeze somethin' f'r me,' he says, 'f'r
me thrawt is parched with th' labors iv th' day,' he says. Th' r-rest iv th'
avenin' was spint in dancin,' music, an' boat-r-ridin'; an' an inj'yable time
was had.
"Th' nex' day th' army moved on Punch; an' Gin'ral Miles marched into th'
ill-fated city, preceded be flower-girls sthrewin' r-roses an' geranyums
befure him. In th' afthernoon they was a lawn tinnis party, an' at night the
gin'ral attinded a banket at th' Gran' Palace Hotel. At midnight he was
serenaded be th' Raymimber th' Maine Banjo an' Mandolin Club. Th' entire
popylace attinded, with pork chops in their buttonholes to show their
pathreetism. Th' nex' day, afther breakfastin' with Mayor Casey, he set out
on his weary march over th' r-rough, flower-strewn paths f'r San Joon. He
has been in gr-reat purl fr'm a witherin' fire iv bokays, an' he has met an'
overpowered some iv th' mos' savage orators in Porther Ricky; but, whin I
las' heerd iv him, he had pitched his tents an' ice-cream freezers near the
inimy's wall, an' was grajully silencin' thim with proclamations."
"They'll kill him with kindness if he don't look out," said Mr. Hennessy.
Gin'ral Miles, makin' a hasty tielet, advanced onflinchingly to meet thim.
'Gintlemen,' says he, 'what can I do f'r ye?' he says. 'We come,' says th'
chairman iv th' comity, 'f'r to offer ye,' he says, 'th' r-run iv th' town,' he
says. 'We have held out,' he says, 'as long as we cud,' he says. 'But,' he says,
'they'se a limit to human endurance,' he says. 'We can withstand ye no
longer,' he says. 'We surrinder. Take us prisoners, an' rayceive us into ye'er
gloryous an' well-fed raypublic,' he says. 'Br-rave men,' says Gin'ral Miles,
'I congratulate ye,' he says, 'on th' heeroism iv yer definse,' he says. 'Ye
stuck manfully to yer colors, whativer they ar-re,' he says. 'I on'y wondher
that ye waited f'r me to come befure surrindhrin,' he says. 'I welcome ye
into th' Union,' he says. 'I don't know how th' Union'll feel about it, but
that's no business iv mine,' he says. 'Ye will get ye'er wur-rkin-cards fr'm th'
walkin' diligate,' he says; 'an' ye'll be entitled,' he says, 'to pay ye'er share iv
th' taxes an' to live awhile an' die whin ye get r-ready,' he says, 'jus' th' same
as if ye was bor-rn at home,' he says. 'I don't know th' names iv ye; but I'll
call ye all Casey, f'r short,' he says. 'Put ye'er bokays in th' hammick,' he
says, 'an' return to Punch,' he says; 'an' freeze somethin' f'r me,' he says, 'f'r
me thrawt is parched with th' labors iv th' day,' he says. Th' r-rest iv th'
avenin' was spint in dancin,' music, an' boat-r-ridin'; an' an inj'yable time
was had.
"Th' nex' day th' army moved on Punch; an' Gin'ral Miles marched into th'
ill-fated city, preceded be flower-girls sthrewin' r-roses an' geranyums
befure him. In th' afthernoon they was a lawn tinnis party, an' at night the
gin'ral attinded a banket at th' Gran' Palace Hotel. At midnight he was
serenaded be th' Raymimber th' Maine Banjo an' Mandolin Club. Th' entire
popylace attinded, with pork chops in their buttonholes to show their
pathreetism. Th' nex' day, afther breakfastin' with Mayor Casey, he set out
on his weary march over th' r-rough, flower-strewn paths f'r San Joon. He
has been in gr-reat purl fr'm a witherin' fire iv bokays, an' he has met an'
overpowered some iv th' mos' savage orators in Porther Ricky; but, whin I
las' heerd iv him, he had pitched his tents an' ice-cream freezers near the
inimy's wall, an' was grajully silencin' thim with proclamations."
"They'll kill him with kindness if he don't look out," said Mr. Hennessy.
Page 31
"I dinnaw about that," said Mr. Dooley; "but I know this, that there's th'
makin' iv gr-reat statesmen in Porther Ricky. A proud people that can switch
as quick as thim la-ads have nawthin' to larn in th' way iv what Hogan calls
th' signs iv gover'mint, even fr'm th' Supreme Court."
makin' iv gr-reat statesmen in Porther Ricky. A proud people that can switch
as quick as thim la-ads have nawthin' to larn in th' way iv what Hogan calls
th' signs iv gover'mint, even fr'm th' Supreme Court."
Page 32
ON ADMIRAL DEWEY'S ACTIVITY.
"If they don't catch up with him pretty soon," said Mr. Dooley, "he'll fight
his way ar-round th' wurruld, an' come out through Barsaloona or Cades."
"Who's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Me Cousin George, no less," said Mr. Dooley. "I suppose ye think th' war
is over an' peace has rayturned jus' because Tiddy Rosenfelt is back home
again an' th' sojers ar-re hungry in New York 'stead iv in Sandago. That's
where ye'er wrong, Hinnissy. That's where ye'er wrong, me bucko. Th' war
is not over till Cousin George stops fightin'. Th' Spanyards have had
enough, but among thrue fightin' men it don't make anny diff'rence what th'
feelin's iv th' la-ad undherneath may be. 'Tis whin th' man on top has had his
fill iv fightin' that th' throuble's over, an' be the look iv things Cousin
George has jus' begun to take tay.
"Whin me frind Mack con-cluded 'twas time f'r us to stop fightin' an' begin
skinning each other in what Hogan calls th' marts iv thrade, ye thought that
ended it. So did Mack. He says, says he, 'Let us have peace,' he says. An'
Mark Hanna came out iv' th' cellar, where he's been since Cousin George
presinted his compliments to th' Ph'lippines an' wud they prefer to be kilt or
dhrownded, an' pro-posals was made to bond th' Cubian pathrites, an' all th'
deuces in th' deck begun to look like face car-rds again, whin suddently
there comes a message fr'm Cousin George. 'In pursooance iv ordhers that
niver come,' he says, 'to-day th' squadhron undher my command knocked th'
divvle out iv th' fortifications iv th' Ph'lippines, bombarded the city, an'
locked up th' insurgent gin'ral. The gov'nor got away be swimmin' aboord a
Dutch ship, an' th' Dutchman took him to Ding Dong. I'll attind to th'
Dutchman some afthernoon whin I have nawthin'else to do. I'm settin' in the
palace with me feet on th' pianny. Write soon. I won't get it. So no more at
prisint, fr'm ye'er ol' frind an' well-wisher, George Dooley.'
"How ar-re they goin' to stop him? How ar-re they goin' to stop him?
There's Mack on th' shore bawlin' ordhers. 'Come back,' he says. 'Come
back, I command ye,' he says. 'George, come back,' he says. 'Th' war is
"If they don't catch up with him pretty soon," said Mr. Dooley, "he'll fight
his way ar-round th' wurruld, an' come out through Barsaloona or Cades."
"Who's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Me Cousin George, no less," said Mr. Dooley. "I suppose ye think th' war
is over an' peace has rayturned jus' because Tiddy Rosenfelt is back home
again an' th' sojers ar-re hungry in New York 'stead iv in Sandago. That's
where ye'er wrong, Hinnissy. That's where ye'er wrong, me bucko. Th' war
is not over till Cousin George stops fightin'. Th' Spanyards have had
enough, but among thrue fightin' men it don't make anny diff'rence what th'
feelin's iv th' la-ad undherneath may be. 'Tis whin th' man on top has had his
fill iv fightin' that th' throuble's over, an' be the look iv things Cousin
George has jus' begun to take tay.
"Whin me frind Mack con-cluded 'twas time f'r us to stop fightin' an' begin
skinning each other in what Hogan calls th' marts iv thrade, ye thought that
ended it. So did Mack. He says, says he, 'Let us have peace,' he says. An'
Mark Hanna came out iv' th' cellar, where he's been since Cousin George
presinted his compliments to th' Ph'lippines an' wud they prefer to be kilt or
dhrownded, an' pro-posals was made to bond th' Cubian pathrites, an' all th'
deuces in th' deck begun to look like face car-rds again, whin suddently
there comes a message fr'm Cousin George. 'In pursooance iv ordhers that
niver come,' he says, 'to-day th' squadhron undher my command knocked th'
divvle out iv th' fortifications iv th' Ph'lippines, bombarded the city, an'
locked up th' insurgent gin'ral. The gov'nor got away be swimmin' aboord a
Dutch ship, an' th' Dutchman took him to Ding Dong. I'll attind to th'
Dutchman some afthernoon whin I have nawthin'else to do. I'm settin' in the
palace with me feet on th' pianny. Write soon. I won't get it. So no more at
prisint, fr'm ye'er ol' frind an' well-wisher, George Dooley.'
"How ar-re they goin' to stop him? How ar-re they goin' to stop him?
There's Mack on th' shore bawlin' ordhers. 'Come back,' he says. 'Come
back, I command ye,' he says. 'George, come back,' he says. 'Th' war is
Page 33
over,' he says. 'We're at peace with th' wurruld,' he says. 'George,' he says,
'George, be a good fellow,' he says. 'Lave up on thim,' he says. 'Hivins an'
earth, he's batin' that poor Spanyard with a pavin' block. George, George, ye
break me hear-rt,' he says.
"But George Dooley, he gives th' wink to his frinds, an' says he, 'What's that
man yellin' on th' shore about?' he says. 'Louder,' he says. 'I can't hear ye,'
he says. 'Sing it,' he says. 'Write it to me on a postal ca-ard at Mahdrid,' he
says. 'Don't stop me now,' he says. 'This is me, busy day,' he says; an' away
he goes with a piece iv lead pipe in wan hand an' a couplin' pin in th' other.
"What'll we do with him? We can't catch up with him. He's goin' too fast.
Mack's a week behind him ivry time he stops annywhere. He has sthrung a
throlley acrost th' islands, an' he's climbin' mountains with his fleet. Th' on'y
thing I see, Hinnissy, that Mack can do is to go east an' meet him comin' r-
round. If he hurries, he'll sthrike him somewhere in Rooshia or
Boohlgahria, an' say to him: 'George, th' war's over. Won't ye come home
with me?' I think he'll listen to reason."
"I think a man ought to stop fightin' whin th' war is ended," said Mr.
Hennessy.
"I dinnaw about that," said Mr. Dooley. "He started without askin' our lave,
an' I don't see what we've got to do with th' way he finishes. 'Tis a tur-rble
thing to be a man iv high sperrits, an' not to know whin th' other fellow's
licked."
'George, be a good fellow,' he says. 'Lave up on thim,' he says. 'Hivins an'
earth, he's batin' that poor Spanyard with a pavin' block. George, George, ye
break me hear-rt,' he says.
"But George Dooley, he gives th' wink to his frinds, an' says he, 'What's that
man yellin' on th' shore about?' he says. 'Louder,' he says. 'I can't hear ye,'
he says. 'Sing it,' he says. 'Write it to me on a postal ca-ard at Mahdrid,' he
says. 'Don't stop me now,' he says. 'This is me, busy day,' he says; an' away
he goes with a piece iv lead pipe in wan hand an' a couplin' pin in th' other.
"What'll we do with him? We can't catch up with him. He's goin' too fast.
Mack's a week behind him ivry time he stops annywhere. He has sthrung a
throlley acrost th' islands, an' he's climbin' mountains with his fleet. Th' on'y
thing I see, Hinnissy, that Mack can do is to go east an' meet him comin' r-
round. If he hurries, he'll sthrike him somewhere in Rooshia or
Boohlgahria, an' say to him: 'George, th' war's over. Won't ye come home
with me?' I think he'll listen to reason."
"I think a man ought to stop fightin' whin th' war is ended," said Mr.
Hennessy.
"I dinnaw about that," said Mr. Dooley. "He started without askin' our lave,
an' I don't see what we've got to do with th' way he finishes. 'Tis a tur-rble
thing to be a man iv high sperrits, an' not to know whin th' other fellow's
licked."
Page 34
ON THE PHILIPPINES.
"I know what I'd do if I was Mack," said Mr. Hennessy. "I'd hist a flag over
th' Ph'lippeens, an' I'd take in th' whole lot iv thim."
"An' yet," said Mr. Dooley, "tis not more thin two months since ye larned
whether they were islands or canned goods. Ye'er back yard is so small that
ye'er cow can't turn r-round without buttin' th' woodshed off th' premises,
an' ye wudden't go out to th' stock yards without takin' out a policy on yer
life. Suppose ye was standin' at th' corner iv State Sthreet an' Archey R-
road, wud ye know what car to take to get to th' Ph'lippeens? If yer son
Packy was to ask ye where th' Ph'lippeens is, cud ye give him anny good
idea whether they was in Rooshia or jus' west iv th' thracks?"
"Mebbe I cudden't," said Mr. Hennessy, haughtily, "but I'm f'r takin' thim in,
annyhow."
"So might I be," said Mr. Dooley, "if I cud on'y get me mind on it. Wan iv
the worst things about this here war is th' way it's makin' puzzles f'r our
poor, tired heads. Whin I wint into it, I thought all I'd have to do was to set
up here behind th' bar with a good tin-cint see-gar in me teeth, an' toss
dinnymite bombs into th' hated city iv Havana. But look at me now. Th' war
is still goin' on; an' ivry night, whin I'm countin' up the cash, I'm askin'
mesilf will I annex Cubia or lave it to the Cubians? Will I take Porther
Ricky or put it by? An' what shud I do with the Ph'lippeens? Oh, what shud
I do with thim? I can't annex thim because I don't know where they ar-re. I
can't let go iv thim because some wan else'll take thim if I do. They are
eight thousan' iv thim islands, with a popylation iv wan hundherd millyon
naked savages; an' me bedroom's crowded now with me an' th' bed. How
can I take thim in, an' how on earth am I goin' to cover th' nakedness iv thim
savages with me wan shoot iv clothes? An' yet 'twud break me heart to think
iv givin' people I niver see or heerd tell iv back to other people I don't
know. An', if I don't take thim, Schwartzmeister down th' sthreet, that has
half me thrade already, will grab thim sure.
"I know what I'd do if I was Mack," said Mr. Hennessy. "I'd hist a flag over
th' Ph'lippeens, an' I'd take in th' whole lot iv thim."
"An' yet," said Mr. Dooley, "tis not more thin two months since ye larned
whether they were islands or canned goods. Ye'er back yard is so small that
ye'er cow can't turn r-round without buttin' th' woodshed off th' premises,
an' ye wudden't go out to th' stock yards without takin' out a policy on yer
life. Suppose ye was standin' at th' corner iv State Sthreet an' Archey R-
road, wud ye know what car to take to get to th' Ph'lippeens? If yer son
Packy was to ask ye where th' Ph'lippeens is, cud ye give him anny good
idea whether they was in Rooshia or jus' west iv th' thracks?"
"Mebbe I cudden't," said Mr. Hennessy, haughtily, "but I'm f'r takin' thim in,
annyhow."
"So might I be," said Mr. Dooley, "if I cud on'y get me mind on it. Wan iv
the worst things about this here war is th' way it's makin' puzzles f'r our
poor, tired heads. Whin I wint into it, I thought all I'd have to do was to set
up here behind th' bar with a good tin-cint see-gar in me teeth, an' toss
dinnymite bombs into th' hated city iv Havana. But look at me now. Th' war
is still goin' on; an' ivry night, whin I'm countin' up the cash, I'm askin'
mesilf will I annex Cubia or lave it to the Cubians? Will I take Porther
Ricky or put it by? An' what shud I do with the Ph'lippeens? Oh, what shud
I do with thim? I can't annex thim because I don't know where they ar-re. I
can't let go iv thim because some wan else'll take thim if I do. They are
eight thousan' iv thim islands, with a popylation iv wan hundherd millyon
naked savages; an' me bedroom's crowded now with me an' th' bed. How
can I take thim in, an' how on earth am I goin' to cover th' nakedness iv thim
savages with me wan shoot iv clothes? An' yet 'twud break me heart to think
iv givin' people I niver see or heerd tell iv back to other people I don't
know. An', if I don't take thim, Schwartzmeister down th' sthreet, that has
half me thrade already, will grab thim sure.
Page 35
"It ain't that I'm afraid iv not doin' th' r-right thing in th' end, Hinnissy.
Some mornin' I'll wake up an' know jus' what to do, an' that I'll do. But 'tis
th' annoyance in th' mane time. I've been r-readin' about th' counthry. 'Tis
over beyant ye'er left shoulder whin ye're facin' east. Jus' throw ye'er thumb
back, an' ye have it as ac'rate as anny man in town. 'Tis farther thin
Boohlgahrya an' not so far as Blewchoochoo. It's near Chiny, an' it's not so
near; an', if a man was to bore a well through fr'm Goshen, Indianny, he
might sthrike it, an' thin again he might not. It's a poverty-sthricken
counthry, full iv goold an' precious stones, where th' people can pick dinner
off th' threes an' ar-re starvin' because they have no step-ladders. Th'
inhabitants is mostly naygurs an' Chinnymen, peaceful, industhrus, an' law-
abidin', but savage an' bloodthirsty in their methods. They wear no clothes
except what they have on, an' each woman has five husbands an' each man
has five wives. Th' r-rest goes into th' discard, th' same as here. Th' islands
has been ownded be Spain since befure th' fire; an' she's threated thim so
well they're now up in ar-rms again her, except a majority iv thim which is
thurly loyal. Th' natives seldom fight, but whin they get mad at wan another
they r-run-a-muck. Whin a man r-runs-a-muck, sometimes they hang him
an' sometimes they discharge him an' hire a new motorman. Th' women ar-
re beautiful, with languishin' black eyes, an' they smoke see-gars, but ar-re
hurried an' incomplete in their dhress. I see a pitcher iv wan th' other day
with nawthin' on her but a basket of cocoanuts an' a hoop-skirt. They're no
prudes. We import juke, hemp, cigar wrappers, sugar, an' fairy tales fr'm th'
Ph'lippeens, an' export six-inch shells an' th' like. Iv late th' Ph'lippeens has
awaked to th' fact that they're behind th' times, an' has received much
American amminition in their midst. They say th' Spanyards is all tore up
about it.
"I larned all this fr'm th' papers, an' I know 'tis sthraight. An' yet, Hinnissy, I
dinnaw what to do about th' Ph'lippeens. An' I'm all alone in th' wurruld.
Ivrybody else has made up his mind. Ye ask anny con-ducthor on Ar-rchy
R-road, an' he'll tell ye. Ye can find out fr'm the papers; an', if ye really want
to know, all ye have to do is to ask a prom'nent citizen who can mow all th'
lawn he owns with a safety razor. But I don't know."
"Hang on to thim," said Mr. Hennessy, stoutly. "What we've got we must
hold."
Some mornin' I'll wake up an' know jus' what to do, an' that I'll do. But 'tis
th' annoyance in th' mane time. I've been r-readin' about th' counthry. 'Tis
over beyant ye'er left shoulder whin ye're facin' east. Jus' throw ye'er thumb
back, an' ye have it as ac'rate as anny man in town. 'Tis farther thin
Boohlgahrya an' not so far as Blewchoochoo. It's near Chiny, an' it's not so
near; an', if a man was to bore a well through fr'm Goshen, Indianny, he
might sthrike it, an' thin again he might not. It's a poverty-sthricken
counthry, full iv goold an' precious stones, where th' people can pick dinner
off th' threes an' ar-re starvin' because they have no step-ladders. Th'
inhabitants is mostly naygurs an' Chinnymen, peaceful, industhrus, an' law-
abidin', but savage an' bloodthirsty in their methods. They wear no clothes
except what they have on, an' each woman has five husbands an' each man
has five wives. Th' r-rest goes into th' discard, th' same as here. Th' islands
has been ownded be Spain since befure th' fire; an' she's threated thim so
well they're now up in ar-rms again her, except a majority iv thim which is
thurly loyal. Th' natives seldom fight, but whin they get mad at wan another
they r-run-a-muck. Whin a man r-runs-a-muck, sometimes they hang him
an' sometimes they discharge him an' hire a new motorman. Th' women ar-
re beautiful, with languishin' black eyes, an' they smoke see-gars, but ar-re
hurried an' incomplete in their dhress. I see a pitcher iv wan th' other day
with nawthin' on her but a basket of cocoanuts an' a hoop-skirt. They're no
prudes. We import juke, hemp, cigar wrappers, sugar, an' fairy tales fr'm th'
Ph'lippeens, an' export six-inch shells an' th' like. Iv late th' Ph'lippeens has
awaked to th' fact that they're behind th' times, an' has received much
American amminition in their midst. They say th' Spanyards is all tore up
about it.
"I larned all this fr'm th' papers, an' I know 'tis sthraight. An' yet, Hinnissy, I
dinnaw what to do about th' Ph'lippeens. An' I'm all alone in th' wurruld.
Ivrybody else has made up his mind. Ye ask anny con-ducthor on Ar-rchy
R-road, an' he'll tell ye. Ye can find out fr'm the papers; an', if ye really want
to know, all ye have to do is to ask a prom'nent citizen who can mow all th'
lawn he owns with a safety razor. But I don't know."
"Hang on to thim," said Mr. Hennessy, stoutly. "What we've got we must
hold."
Page 36
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "if I was Mack, I'd lave it to George. I'd say:
'George,' I'd say, 'if ye're f'r hangin' on, hang on it is. If ye say, lave go, I
dhrop thim.' 'Twas George won thim with th' shells, an' th' question's up to
him."
'George,' I'd say, 'if ye're f'r hangin' on, hang on it is. If ye say, lave go, I
dhrop thim.' 'Twas George won thim with th' shells, an' th' question's up to
him."
Page 37
ON PRAYERS FOR VICTORY.
"It looks to me," said Mr. Dooley, "as though me frind Mack'd got tired iv
th' Sthrateejy Board, an' was goin' to lave th' war to th' men in black."
"How's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy, who has at best but a clouded view of
public affairs.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "while th' sthrateejans have been wearin' out their
jeans on cracker-boxes in Wash'n'ton, they'se been goin' on th' mos' deadly
conflict iver heerd tell iv between th' pow'rful preachin' navies iv th' two
counthries. Manila is nawthin' at all to th' scenes iv carnage an' slaughter, as
Hogan says, that's been brought about be these desthroyers. Th' Spanyards
fired th' openin' gun whin th' bishop iv Cades, a pow'rful turreted monitor
(ol' style), attackted us with both for'ard guns, an' sint a storm iv brimstone
an' hell into us. But th' victhry was not f'r long with th' hated Spanyard. He
was answered be our whole fleet iv preachers. Thin he was jined be th'
bishop iv Barsaloona an' th' bishop iv Mahdrid an' th' bishop iv Havana, all
battle-ships iv th' first class, followed be a fleet iv cruisers r-runnin' all th'
way fr'm a full-ar-rmored vicar gin'ral to a protected parish priest. To meet
thim, we sint th' bishop iv New York, th' bishop iv Philadelphia, th' bishop
iv Baltimore, an' th' bishop iv Chicago, accompanied be a flyin' squadhron
iv Methodists, three Presbyteryan monitors, a fleet iv Baptist submarine
desthroyers, an' a formidable array iv Universalist an' Unitaryan torpedo
boats, with a Jew r-ram. Manetime th' bishop iv Manila had fired a solid
prayer, weighin' a ton, at San Francisco; an' a masked batthry iv
Congregationalists replied, inflictin' severe damage. Our Atlantic fleet is
now sarchin' f'r th' inimy, an' the bishop iv New York is blockadin' th'
bishop iv Sandago de Cuba; an' they'se been an exchange iv prayers
between th' bishop iv Baltimore an' th' bishop iv Havana without much
damage.
"Th' Lord knows how it'll come out. First wan side prays that th' wrath iv
Hiven'll descind on th' other, an' thin th' other side returns th' compliment
with inthrest. Th' Spanish bishop says we're a lot iv murdherin', irreligious
"It looks to me," said Mr. Dooley, "as though me frind Mack'd got tired iv
th' Sthrateejy Board, an' was goin' to lave th' war to th' men in black."
"How's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy, who has at best but a clouded view of
public affairs.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "while th' sthrateejans have been wearin' out their
jeans on cracker-boxes in Wash'n'ton, they'se been goin' on th' mos' deadly
conflict iver heerd tell iv between th' pow'rful preachin' navies iv th' two
counthries. Manila is nawthin' at all to th' scenes iv carnage an' slaughter, as
Hogan says, that's been brought about be these desthroyers. Th' Spanyards
fired th' openin' gun whin th' bishop iv Cades, a pow'rful turreted monitor
(ol' style), attackted us with both for'ard guns, an' sint a storm iv brimstone
an' hell into us. But th' victhry was not f'r long with th' hated Spanyard. He
was answered be our whole fleet iv preachers. Thin he was jined be th'
bishop iv Barsaloona an' th' bishop iv Mahdrid an' th' bishop iv Havana, all
battle-ships iv th' first class, followed be a fleet iv cruisers r-runnin' all th'
way fr'm a full-ar-rmored vicar gin'ral to a protected parish priest. To meet
thim, we sint th' bishop iv New York, th' bishop iv Philadelphia, th' bishop
iv Baltimore, an' th' bishop iv Chicago, accompanied be a flyin' squadhron
iv Methodists, three Presbyteryan monitors, a fleet iv Baptist submarine
desthroyers, an' a formidable array iv Universalist an' Unitaryan torpedo
boats, with a Jew r-ram. Manetime th' bishop iv Manila had fired a solid
prayer, weighin' a ton, at San Francisco; an' a masked batthry iv
Congregationalists replied, inflictin' severe damage. Our Atlantic fleet is
now sarchin' f'r th' inimy, an' the bishop iv New York is blockadin' th'
bishop iv Sandago de Cuba; an' they'se been an exchange iv prayers
between th' bishop iv Baltimore an' th' bishop iv Havana without much
damage.
"Th' Lord knows how it'll come out. First wan side prays that th' wrath iv
Hiven'll descind on th' other, an' thin th' other side returns th' compliment
with inthrest. Th' Spanish bishop says we're a lot iv murdherin', irreligious
Page 38
thieves, an' ought to be swept fr'm th' face iv th' earth. We say his people ar-
re th' same, an' manny iv thim. He wishes Hivin to sink our ships an'
desthroy our men; an' we hope he'll injye th' same gr-reat blessin'. We have
a shade th' best iv him, f'r his fleets ar-re all iv th' same class an' ol' style, an'
we have some iv th' most modhern prayin' machines in the warruld; but he
prays har-rd, an' 'tis no aisy wurruk to silence him."
"What d'ye think about it?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I dinnaw jus' what to think iv it. Me own idee is
that war is not a matther iv prayers so much as a matther iv punchin'; an' th'
on'y place a prayer book stops a bullet is in th' story books. 'Tis like what
Father Kelly said. Three weeks ago las' Sundah he met Hogan; an' Hogan,
wantin' to be smart, ast him if he'd offered up prayers f'r th' success iv th'
cause. 'Faith, I did not,' says th' good man. 'I was in too much iv a hurry to
get away.' 'What was th' matther?' ast Hogan. 'I had me uniform to brush up
an' me soord to polish,' says Father Kelly. 'I am goin' with th' rig'mint to-
morrah,' he says; an' he says, 'If ye hear iv me waitin' to pray,' he says, 'anny
time they'se a call f'r me,' he says, 'to be in a fight,' he says, 'ye may
conclude,' he says, 'that I've lost me mind, an' won't be back to me parish,'
he says. 'Hogan,' he says, 'I'll go into th' battle with a prayer book in wan
hand an' a soord in th' other,' he says; 'an' if th' wurruk calls f'r two hands,
'tis not th' soord I'll dhrop,' he says. 'Don't ye believe in prayer?' says
Hogan. 'I do,' says th' good man; 'but,' he says, 'a healthy person ought,' he
says, 'to be ashamed,' he says, 'to ask f'r help in a fight,' he says."
"That's th' way I look at it," said Mr. Hennessy. "When 'tis an aven thing in
th' prayin', may th' best man win."
"Ye're r-right, Hinnissy," said Mr. Dooley, warmly. "Ye're r-right. An' th'
best man will win."
re th' same, an' manny iv thim. He wishes Hivin to sink our ships an'
desthroy our men; an' we hope he'll injye th' same gr-reat blessin'. We have
a shade th' best iv him, f'r his fleets ar-re all iv th' same class an' ol' style, an'
we have some iv th' most modhern prayin' machines in the warruld; but he
prays har-rd, an' 'tis no aisy wurruk to silence him."
"What d'ye think about it?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I dinnaw jus' what to think iv it. Me own idee is
that war is not a matther iv prayers so much as a matther iv punchin'; an' th'
on'y place a prayer book stops a bullet is in th' story books. 'Tis like what
Father Kelly said. Three weeks ago las' Sundah he met Hogan; an' Hogan,
wantin' to be smart, ast him if he'd offered up prayers f'r th' success iv th'
cause. 'Faith, I did not,' says th' good man. 'I was in too much iv a hurry to
get away.' 'What was th' matther?' ast Hogan. 'I had me uniform to brush up
an' me soord to polish,' says Father Kelly. 'I am goin' with th' rig'mint to-
morrah,' he says; an' he says, 'If ye hear iv me waitin' to pray,' he says, 'anny
time they'se a call f'r me,' he says, 'to be in a fight,' he says, 'ye may
conclude,' he says, 'that I've lost me mind, an' won't be back to me parish,'
he says. 'Hogan,' he says, 'I'll go into th' battle with a prayer book in wan
hand an' a soord in th' other,' he says; 'an' if th' wurruk calls f'r two hands,
'tis not th' soord I'll dhrop,' he says. 'Don't ye believe in prayer?' says
Hogan. 'I do,' says th' good man; 'but,' he says, 'a healthy person ought,' he
says, 'to be ashamed,' he says, 'to ask f'r help in a fight,' he says."
"That's th' way I look at it," said Mr. Hennessy. "When 'tis an aven thing in
th' prayin', may th' best man win."
"Ye're r-right, Hinnissy," said Mr. Dooley, warmly. "Ye're r-right. An' th'
best man will win."
Page 39
ON THE ANGLO-SAXON.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I see be th' pa-apers that th' snow-white pigeon iv
peace have tied up th' dogs iv war. It's all over now. All we've got to do is to
arrest th' pathrites an' make th' reconcenthradios pay th' stamp tax, an' be r-
ready f'r to take a punch at Germany or France or Rooshia or anny counthry
on th' face iv th' globe.
"An' I'm glad iv it. This war, Hinnissy, has been a gr-reat sthrain on me. To
think iv th' suffrin' I've endured! F'r weeks I lay awake at nights fearin' that
th' Spanish ar-rmadillo'd lave the Cape Verde Islands, where it wasn't, an'
take th' thrain out here, an' hur-rl death an' desthruction into me little store.
Day be day th' pitiless exthries come out an' beat down on me. Ye hear iv
Teddy Rosenfelt plungin' into ambus-cades an' Sicrity iv Wars; but d'ye hear
iv Martin Dooley, th' man behind th' guns, four thousan' miles behind thim,
an' willin' to be further? They ar-re no bokays f'r me. I'm what Hogan calls
wan iv th' mute, ingloryous heroes iv th' war; an' not so dam mute, ayther.
Some day, Hinnissy, justice'll be done me, an' th' likes iv me; an', whin th'
story iv a gr-reat battle is written, they'll print th' kilt, th' wounded, th'
missin', an' th' seryously disturbed. An' thim that have bore thimsilves well
an' bravely an' paid th' taxes an' faced th' deadly newspa-apers without
flinchin' 'll be advanced six pints an' given a chanst to tur-rn jack f'r th'
game.
"But me wurruk ain't over jus' because Mack has inded th' war an' Teddy
Rosenfelt is comin' home to bite th' Sicrety iv War. You an' me, Hinnissy,
has got to bring on this here Anglo-Saxon 'lieance. An Anglo-Saxon,
Hinnissy, is a German that's forgot who was his parents. They're a lot iv
thim in this counthry. There must be as manny as two in Boston: they'se
wan up in Maine, an' another lives at Bogg's Ferry in New York State, an'
dhrives a milk wagon. Mack is an Anglo-Saxon. His folks come fr'm th'
County Armagh, an' their naytional Anglo-Saxon hymn is 'O'Donnell Aboo.'
Teddy Rosenfelt is another Anglo-Saxon. An' I'm an Anglo-Saxon. I'm wan
iv th' hottest Anglo-Saxons that iver come out iv Anglo-Saxony. Th' name iv
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I see be th' pa-apers that th' snow-white pigeon iv
peace have tied up th' dogs iv war. It's all over now. All we've got to do is to
arrest th' pathrites an' make th' reconcenthradios pay th' stamp tax, an' be r-
ready f'r to take a punch at Germany or France or Rooshia or anny counthry
on th' face iv th' globe.
"An' I'm glad iv it. This war, Hinnissy, has been a gr-reat sthrain on me. To
think iv th' suffrin' I've endured! F'r weeks I lay awake at nights fearin' that
th' Spanish ar-rmadillo'd lave the Cape Verde Islands, where it wasn't, an'
take th' thrain out here, an' hur-rl death an' desthruction into me little store.
Day be day th' pitiless exthries come out an' beat down on me. Ye hear iv
Teddy Rosenfelt plungin' into ambus-cades an' Sicrity iv Wars; but d'ye hear
iv Martin Dooley, th' man behind th' guns, four thousan' miles behind thim,
an' willin' to be further? They ar-re no bokays f'r me. I'm what Hogan calls
wan iv th' mute, ingloryous heroes iv th' war; an' not so dam mute, ayther.
Some day, Hinnissy, justice'll be done me, an' th' likes iv me; an', whin th'
story iv a gr-reat battle is written, they'll print th' kilt, th' wounded, th'
missin', an' th' seryously disturbed. An' thim that have bore thimsilves well
an' bravely an' paid th' taxes an' faced th' deadly newspa-apers without
flinchin' 'll be advanced six pints an' given a chanst to tur-rn jack f'r th'
game.
"But me wurruk ain't over jus' because Mack has inded th' war an' Teddy
Rosenfelt is comin' home to bite th' Sicrety iv War. You an' me, Hinnissy,
has got to bring on this here Anglo-Saxon 'lieance. An Anglo-Saxon,
Hinnissy, is a German that's forgot who was his parents. They're a lot iv
thim in this counthry. There must be as manny as two in Boston: they'se
wan up in Maine, an' another lives at Bogg's Ferry in New York State, an'
dhrives a milk wagon. Mack is an Anglo-Saxon. His folks come fr'm th'
County Armagh, an' their naytional Anglo-Saxon hymn is 'O'Donnell Aboo.'
Teddy Rosenfelt is another Anglo-Saxon. An' I'm an Anglo-Saxon. I'm wan
iv th' hottest Anglo-Saxons that iver come out iv Anglo-Saxony. Th' name iv
Page 40
Dooley has been th' proudest Anglo-Saxon name in th' County Roscommon
f'r many years.
"Schwartzmeister is an Anglo-Saxon, but he doesn't know it, an' won't till
some wan tells him. Pether Bowbeen down be th' Frinch church is formin'
th' Circle Francaize Anglo-Saxon club, an' me ol' frind Dominigo that used
to boss th' Ar-rchey R-road wagon whin Callaghan had th' sthreet conthract
will march at th' head iv th' Dago Anglo-Saxons whin th' time comes. There
ar-re twinty thousan' Rooshian Jews at a quarther a vote in th' Sivinth Ward;
an', ar-rmed with rag hooks, they'd be a tur-rble thing f'r anny inimy iv th'
Anglo-Saxon 'lieance to face. Th' Bohemians an' Pole Anglo-Saxons may
be a little slow in wakin' up to what th' pa-apers calls our common hurtage,
but ye may be sure they'll be all r-right whin they're called on. We've got
together an Anglo-Saxon 'lieance in this wa-ard, an' we're goin' to ilict
Sarsfield O'Brien prisidint, Hugh O'Neill Darsey vice-prisidint, Robert
Immitt Clancy sicrety, an' Wolfe Tone Malone three-asurer. O'Brien'll be a
good wan to have. He was in the Fenian r-raid, an' his father carrid a pike in
forty-eight. An' he's in th' Clan. Besides, he has a sthrong pull with th'
Ancient Ordher iv Anglo-Saxon Hibernyans.
"I tell ye, whin th' Clan an' th' Sons iv Sweden an' th' Banana Club an' th'
Circle Francaize an' th' Pollacky Benivolent Society an' th' Rooshian Sons
of Dinnymite an' th' Benny Brith an' th' Coffee Clutch that Schwartzmeister
r-runs an' th' Tur-rnd'ye-mind an' th' Holland society an' th' Afro-Americans
an' th' other Anglo-Saxons begin f'r to raise their Anglo-Saxon battle-cry,
it'll be all day with th' eight or nine people in th' wurruld that has th'
misfortune iv not bein' brought up Anglo-Saxons."
"They'se goin' to be a debate on th' 'lieance at th' ninety-eight picnic at
Ogden's gr-rove," said Mr. Hennessy.
"P'r'aps," said Mr. Dooley, sweetly, "ye might like to borry th' loan iv an
ice-pick."
f'r many years.
"Schwartzmeister is an Anglo-Saxon, but he doesn't know it, an' won't till
some wan tells him. Pether Bowbeen down be th' Frinch church is formin'
th' Circle Francaize Anglo-Saxon club, an' me ol' frind Dominigo that used
to boss th' Ar-rchey R-road wagon whin Callaghan had th' sthreet conthract
will march at th' head iv th' Dago Anglo-Saxons whin th' time comes. There
ar-re twinty thousan' Rooshian Jews at a quarther a vote in th' Sivinth Ward;
an', ar-rmed with rag hooks, they'd be a tur-rble thing f'r anny inimy iv th'
Anglo-Saxon 'lieance to face. Th' Bohemians an' Pole Anglo-Saxons may
be a little slow in wakin' up to what th' pa-apers calls our common hurtage,
but ye may be sure they'll be all r-right whin they're called on. We've got
together an Anglo-Saxon 'lieance in this wa-ard, an' we're goin' to ilict
Sarsfield O'Brien prisidint, Hugh O'Neill Darsey vice-prisidint, Robert
Immitt Clancy sicrety, an' Wolfe Tone Malone three-asurer. O'Brien'll be a
good wan to have. He was in the Fenian r-raid, an' his father carrid a pike in
forty-eight. An' he's in th' Clan. Besides, he has a sthrong pull with th'
Ancient Ordher iv Anglo-Saxon Hibernyans.
"I tell ye, whin th' Clan an' th' Sons iv Sweden an' th' Banana Club an' th'
Circle Francaize an' th' Pollacky Benivolent Society an' th' Rooshian Sons
of Dinnymite an' th' Benny Brith an' th' Coffee Clutch that Schwartzmeister
r-runs an' th' Tur-rnd'ye-mind an' th' Holland society an' th' Afro-Americans
an' th' other Anglo-Saxons begin f'r to raise their Anglo-Saxon battle-cry,
it'll be all day with th' eight or nine people in th' wurruld that has th'
misfortune iv not bein' brought up Anglo-Saxons."
"They'se goin' to be a debate on th' 'lieance at th' ninety-eight picnic at
Ogden's gr-rove," said Mr. Hennessy.
"P'r'aps," said Mr. Dooley, sweetly, "ye might like to borry th' loan iv an
ice-pick."
Page 41
ON A LETTER FROM THE FRONT.
Mr. Dooley looked important, but affected indifference, as he mopped the
bar. Mr. Hennessy, who had learned to study his friend in order to escape
disagreeable complications, patiently waited for the philosopher to speak.
Mr. Dooley rubbed the bar to the end, tossed the cloth into a mysterious
recess with a practised movement, moved a glass or two on the shelf,
cleaned his spectacles, and drew a letter from his pocket.
"Hm-m!" he said: "I have news fr'm th' fr-ront. Me nevvew, Terry Donahue,
has sint me a letther tellin' me all about it."
"How shud he know?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"How shud he know, is it?" Mr. Dooley demanded warmly. "How shudden't
he know? Isn't he a sojer in th' ar-rmy? Isn't it him that's down there in
Sandago fightin' f'r th' honor iv th' flag, while th' likes iv you is up here
livin' like a prince, an' doin' nawthin' all th' livelong day but shovel at th'
rollin'-mills? Who are ye f'r to criticize th' dayfinders iv our counthry who
ar-re lyin' in th' trinches, an' havin' th' clothes stole off their backs be th'
pathriotic Cubians, I'd like to know? F'r two pins, Hinnissy, you an' I'd
quarrel."
"I didn't mean nawthin'," Mr. Hennessy apologized. "I didn't know he was
down there."
"Nayether did I," said Mr. Dooley. "But I informed mesilf. I'll have no wan
in this place speak again th' ar-rmy. Ye can have ye'er say about Mack. He
has a good job, an' 'tis r-right an' proper f'r to baste him fr'm time to time. It
shows ye'er in good thrim, an' it don't hur-rt him. They'se no wan to stop his
pay. He goes up to th' cashier an' dhraws his forty-wan-sixty-six jus' th'
same whether he's sick or well, an' whether he's pulled th' box reg-lar or has
been playin' forty-fives in th' back room. But whin ye come to castin'
aspersions on th' ar'rmy, be hivens, ye'll find that I can put me thumb on this
showcase an' go over at wan lep."
Mr. Dooley looked important, but affected indifference, as he mopped the
bar. Mr. Hennessy, who had learned to study his friend in order to escape
disagreeable complications, patiently waited for the philosopher to speak.
Mr. Dooley rubbed the bar to the end, tossed the cloth into a mysterious
recess with a practised movement, moved a glass or two on the shelf,
cleaned his spectacles, and drew a letter from his pocket.
"Hm-m!" he said: "I have news fr'm th' fr-ront. Me nevvew, Terry Donahue,
has sint me a letther tellin' me all about it."
"How shud he know?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"How shud he know, is it?" Mr. Dooley demanded warmly. "How shudden't
he know? Isn't he a sojer in th' ar-rmy? Isn't it him that's down there in
Sandago fightin' f'r th' honor iv th' flag, while th' likes iv you is up here
livin' like a prince, an' doin' nawthin' all th' livelong day but shovel at th'
rollin'-mills? Who are ye f'r to criticize th' dayfinders iv our counthry who
ar-re lyin' in th' trinches, an' havin' th' clothes stole off their backs be th'
pathriotic Cubians, I'd like to know? F'r two pins, Hinnissy, you an' I'd
quarrel."
"I didn't mean nawthin'," Mr. Hennessy apologized. "I didn't know he was
down there."
"Nayether did I," said Mr. Dooley. "But I informed mesilf. I'll have no wan
in this place speak again th' ar-rmy. Ye can have ye'er say about Mack. He
has a good job, an' 'tis r-right an' proper f'r to baste him fr'm time to time. It
shows ye'er in good thrim, an' it don't hur-rt him. They'se no wan to stop his
pay. He goes up to th' cashier an' dhraws his forty-wan-sixty-six jus' th'
same whether he's sick or well, an' whether he's pulled th' box reg-lar or has
been playin' forty-fives in th' back room. But whin ye come to castin'
aspersions on th' ar'rmy, be hivens, ye'll find that I can put me thumb on this
showcase an' go over at wan lep."
Page 42
"I didn't say annything," said Mr. Hennessy. "I didn't know about Terry."
"Iv coorse, ye didn't," said Mr. Dooley. "An' that's what I'm sayin'. Ye're
here wallowin' in luxury, wheelin' pig ir'n fr'm morn till night; an' ye have
no thought iv what's goin' on beyant. You an' Jawn D. Rockefeller an' Phil
Ar-rmour an' Jay Pierpont Morgan an' th' r-rest iv ye is settin' back at home
figurin' how ye can make some wan else pay ye'er taxes f'r ye. What is it to
ye that me nevvew Terry is sleepin' in ditch wather an' atin' hard tacks an'
coffee an' bein' r-robbed be leeber Cubians, an' catchin' yallow fever
without a chanst iv givin' it to e'er a Spanyard. Ye think more iv a stamp
thin ye do iv ye'er counthry. Ye're like th' Sugar Thrust. F'r two cints ye'd
refuse to support th' govermint. I know ye, ye bloated monno-polist."
"I'm no such thing," said Mr. Hennessy, hotly. "I've been a Dimmycrat f'r
thirty year."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Dooley, "don't speak disrayspictful iv th' ar-rmy.
Lave me r-read you Terry's letter fr'm th' fr-ront. 'M—m: In th' trinches, two
miles fr'm Sandago, with a land crab as big as a lobster crawlin' up me back
be way iv Kingston, June 6, Dear Uncle Martin.' That's th' way it begins.
'Dear Uncle Martin: We are all well here, except thim that is not, an' hope
ye're injyin' th' same gr-reat blessin'. It's hotter down here thin Billy-be-
dam'd. They'se a rollin'-mill near here jus' th' same as at home, but all th'
hands is laid off on account iv bad times. They used ol'-fashioned wooden
wheelbahrs an' fired with wood. I don't think they cud handle th' pig th' way
we done, bein' small la-ads. Th' coke has to be hauled up in sacks be th'
gang. Th' derrick hands got six a week, but hadn't anny union. Helpers got
four twinty. Puddlers was well paid. I wint through th' plant befure we come
up here, an' r-run a wagon up th' plank jus' to keep me hand in. Tell me
frinds that wan gang iv good la-ads fr'm th' r-road cud wurruk anny three iv
th' gangs down here. Th' mills is owned be Rockefellar, so no more at
prisint fr'm yer affecshunate nevvew, Peter Casey, who's writin' this f'r me.'"
"'Tis a good letter," said Mr. Hennessy. "I don't see how they cud get derrick
hands f'r six a week."
"Me frind Jawn D. knows how," said Mr. Dooley.
"Iv coorse, ye didn't," said Mr. Dooley. "An' that's what I'm sayin'. Ye're
here wallowin' in luxury, wheelin' pig ir'n fr'm morn till night; an' ye have
no thought iv what's goin' on beyant. You an' Jawn D. Rockefeller an' Phil
Ar-rmour an' Jay Pierpont Morgan an' th' r-rest iv ye is settin' back at home
figurin' how ye can make some wan else pay ye'er taxes f'r ye. What is it to
ye that me nevvew Terry is sleepin' in ditch wather an' atin' hard tacks an'
coffee an' bein' r-robbed be leeber Cubians, an' catchin' yallow fever
without a chanst iv givin' it to e'er a Spanyard. Ye think more iv a stamp
thin ye do iv ye'er counthry. Ye're like th' Sugar Thrust. F'r two cints ye'd
refuse to support th' govermint. I know ye, ye bloated monno-polist."
"I'm no such thing," said Mr. Hennessy, hotly. "I've been a Dimmycrat f'r
thirty year."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Dooley, "don't speak disrayspictful iv th' ar-rmy.
Lave me r-read you Terry's letter fr'm th' fr-ront. 'M—m: In th' trinches, two
miles fr'm Sandago, with a land crab as big as a lobster crawlin' up me back
be way iv Kingston, June 6, Dear Uncle Martin.' That's th' way it begins.
'Dear Uncle Martin: We are all well here, except thim that is not, an' hope
ye're injyin' th' same gr-reat blessin'. It's hotter down here thin Billy-be-
dam'd. They'se a rollin'-mill near here jus' th' same as at home, but all th'
hands is laid off on account iv bad times. They used ol'-fashioned wooden
wheelbahrs an' fired with wood. I don't think they cud handle th' pig th' way
we done, bein' small la-ads. Th' coke has to be hauled up in sacks be th'
gang. Th' derrick hands got six a week, but hadn't anny union. Helpers got
four twinty. Puddlers was well paid. I wint through th' plant befure we come
up here, an' r-run a wagon up th' plank jus' to keep me hand in. Tell me
frinds that wan gang iv good la-ads fr'm th' r-road cud wurruk anny three iv
th' gangs down here. Th' mills is owned be Rockefellar, so no more at
prisint fr'm yer affecshunate nevvew, Peter Casey, who's writin' this f'r me.'"
"'Tis a good letter," said Mr. Hennessy. "I don't see how they cud get derrick
hands f'r six a week."
"Me frind Jawn D. knows how," said Mr. Dooley.
Page 43
ON OUR CUBAN ALLIES.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "dam thim Cubians! If I was Gin'ral Shafter, I'd
back up th' wagon in front iv th' dure, an' I'd say to Gin'ral Garshy, I'd say, 'I
want you'; an' I'd have thim all down at th' station an' dacently booked be th'
desk sergeant befure th' fall iv night. Th' impydince iv thim!"
"What have they been doin'?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"Failin' to undherstand our civilization," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye see, it was
this way. This is th' way it was: Gin'ral Garshy with wan hundherd thousan'
men's been fightin' bravely f'r two years f'r to liberyate Cubia. F'r two years
he's been marchin' his sivinty-five thousan' men up an' down th' island,
desthroyin' th' haughty Spanyard be th' millyons. Whin war was declared,
he offered his own sarvice an' th' sarvices iv his ar-rmy iv fifty thousan' men
to th' United States; an', while waitin' f'r ships to arrive, he marched at th'
head iv his tin thousan' men down to Sandago de Cuba an' captured a cigar
facthry, which they soon rayjooced to smokin' ruins. They was holdin' this
position—Gin'ral Garshy an' his gallant wan thousan' men—whin Gin'ral
Shafter arrived. Gin'ral Garshy immedjitly offered th' sarvices iv himsilf an'
his two hundherd men f'r th' capture iv Sandago; an', when Gin'ral Shafter
arrived, there was Gin'ral Garshy with his gallant band iv fifty Cubians, r-
ready to eat at a minyit's notice.
"Gin'ral Shafter is a big, coorse, two-fisted man fr'm Mitchigan, an', whin
he see Gin'ral Garshy an' his twinty-five gallant followers, 'Fr-ront,' says he.
'This way,' he says, 'step lively,' he says, 'an' move some iv these things,' he
says. 'Sir,' says Gin'ral Garshy, 'd'ye take me f'r a dhray?' he says. 'I'm a
sojer,' he says, 'not a baggage car,' he says. 'I'm a Cubian pathrite, an' I'd lay
down me life an' the lives iv ivry wan iv th' eighteen brave men iv me
devoted ar-rmy,' he says; 'but I'll be dam'd if I carry a thrunk,' he says. 'I'll
fight whiniver 'tis cool,' he says, 'an' they ain't wan iv these twelve men here
that wudden't follow me to hell if they was awake at th' time,' he says; 'but,'
he says, 'if 'twas wurruk we were lookin' f'r, we cud have found it long ago,'
he says. 'They'se a lot iv it in this counthry that nobody's usin',' he says.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "dam thim Cubians! If I was Gin'ral Shafter, I'd
back up th' wagon in front iv th' dure, an' I'd say to Gin'ral Garshy, I'd say, 'I
want you'; an' I'd have thim all down at th' station an' dacently booked be th'
desk sergeant befure th' fall iv night. Th' impydince iv thim!"
"What have they been doin'?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"Failin' to undherstand our civilization," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye see, it was
this way. This is th' way it was: Gin'ral Garshy with wan hundherd thousan'
men's been fightin' bravely f'r two years f'r to liberyate Cubia. F'r two years
he's been marchin' his sivinty-five thousan' men up an' down th' island,
desthroyin' th' haughty Spanyard be th' millyons. Whin war was declared,
he offered his own sarvice an' th' sarvices iv his ar-rmy iv fifty thousan' men
to th' United States; an', while waitin' f'r ships to arrive, he marched at th'
head iv his tin thousan' men down to Sandago de Cuba an' captured a cigar
facthry, which they soon rayjooced to smokin' ruins. They was holdin' this
position—Gin'ral Garshy an' his gallant wan thousan' men—whin Gin'ral
Shafter arrived. Gin'ral Garshy immedjitly offered th' sarvices iv himsilf an'
his two hundherd men f'r th' capture iv Sandago; an', when Gin'ral Shafter
arrived, there was Gin'ral Garshy with his gallant band iv fifty Cubians, r-
ready to eat at a minyit's notice.
"Gin'ral Shafter is a big, coorse, two-fisted man fr'm Mitchigan, an', whin
he see Gin'ral Garshy an' his twinty-five gallant followers, 'Fr-ront,' says he.
'This way,' he says, 'step lively,' he says, 'an' move some iv these things,' he
says. 'Sir,' says Gin'ral Garshy, 'd'ye take me f'r a dhray?' he says. 'I'm a
sojer,' he says, 'not a baggage car,' he says. 'I'm a Cubian pathrite, an' I'd lay
down me life an' the lives iv ivry wan iv th' eighteen brave men iv me
devoted ar-rmy,' he says; 'but I'll be dam'd if I carry a thrunk,' he says. 'I'll
fight whiniver 'tis cool,' he says, 'an' they ain't wan iv these twelve men here
that wudden't follow me to hell if they was awake at th' time,' he says; 'but,'
he says, 'if 'twas wurruk we were lookin' f'r, we cud have found it long ago,'
he says. 'They'se a lot iv it in this counthry that nobody's usin',' he says.
Page 44
'What we want,' he says, 'is freedom,' he says; 'an', if ye think we have been
in th' woods dodgin' th' savage corryspondint f'r two year,' he says, 'f'r th'
sake iv r-rushin' yer laundhry home,' he says, ''tis no wondher,' he says, 'that
th' r-roads fr'm Marinette to Kalamazoo is paved with goold bricks bought
be th' people iv ye'er native State,' he says.
"So Shafter had to carry his own thrunk; an' well it was f'r him that it wasn't
Gin'ral Miles', the weather bein' hot. An' Shafter was mad clear through; an',
whin he took hold iv Sandago, an' was sendin' out invitations, he scratched
Garshy. Garshy took his gallant band iv six back to th' woods; an' there th'
three iv thim ar-re now, ar-rmed with forty r-rounds iv canned lobster, an'
ready to raysist to th' death. Him an' th' other man has written to Gin'ral
Shafter to tell him what they think iv him, an' it don't take long."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I think Shafter done wrong. He might've asked
Garshy in f'r to see th' show, seein' that he's been hangin' ar-round f'r a long
time, doin' th' best he cud."
"It isn't that," explained Mr. Dooley. "Th' throuble is th' Cubians don't
undherstand our civilization. Over here freedom means hard wurruk. What
is th' ambition iv all iv us, Hinnissy? 'Tis ayether to hold our job or to get
wan. We want wurruk. We must have it. D'ye raymimber th' sign th' mob
carrid in th' procession las' year? 'Give us wurruk, or we perish,' it said.
They had their heads bate in be polismen because no philan-thropist'd come
along an' make thim shovel coal. Now, in Cubia, whin th' mobs turns out,
they carry a banner with the wurruds, 'Give us nawthin' to do, or we perish.'
Whin a Cubian comes home at night with a happy smile on his face, he
don't say to his wife an' childher, 'Thank Gawd, I've got wurruk at last!' He
says, 'Thank Gawd, I've been fired.' An' th' childher go out, and they say,
'Pah-pah has lost his job.' And Mrs. Cubian buys hersilf a new bonnet; and
where wanst they was sorrow an' despair all is happiness an' a cottage
organ.
"Ye can't make people here undherstand that, an' ye can't make a Cubian
undherstand that freedom means th' same thing as a pinitinchry sintince.
Whin we thry to get him to wurruk, he'll say: 'Why shud I? I haven't
committed anny crime.' That's goin' to be th' throuble. Th' first thing we
know we'll have another war in Cubia whin we begin disthributin' good
in th' woods dodgin' th' savage corryspondint f'r two year,' he says, 'f'r th'
sake iv r-rushin' yer laundhry home,' he says, ''tis no wondher,' he says, 'that
th' r-roads fr'm Marinette to Kalamazoo is paved with goold bricks bought
be th' people iv ye'er native State,' he says.
"So Shafter had to carry his own thrunk; an' well it was f'r him that it wasn't
Gin'ral Miles', the weather bein' hot. An' Shafter was mad clear through; an',
whin he took hold iv Sandago, an' was sendin' out invitations, he scratched
Garshy. Garshy took his gallant band iv six back to th' woods; an' there th'
three iv thim ar-re now, ar-rmed with forty r-rounds iv canned lobster, an'
ready to raysist to th' death. Him an' th' other man has written to Gin'ral
Shafter to tell him what they think iv him, an' it don't take long."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I think Shafter done wrong. He might've asked
Garshy in f'r to see th' show, seein' that he's been hangin' ar-round f'r a long
time, doin' th' best he cud."
"It isn't that," explained Mr. Dooley. "Th' throuble is th' Cubians don't
undherstand our civilization. Over here freedom means hard wurruk. What
is th' ambition iv all iv us, Hinnissy? 'Tis ayether to hold our job or to get
wan. We want wurruk. We must have it. D'ye raymimber th' sign th' mob
carrid in th' procession las' year? 'Give us wurruk, or we perish,' it said.
They had their heads bate in be polismen because no philan-thropist'd come
along an' make thim shovel coal. Now, in Cubia, whin th' mobs turns out,
they carry a banner with the wurruds, 'Give us nawthin' to do, or we perish.'
Whin a Cubian comes home at night with a happy smile on his face, he
don't say to his wife an' childher, 'Thank Gawd, I've got wurruk at last!' He
says, 'Thank Gawd, I've been fired.' An' th' childher go out, and they say,
'Pah-pah has lost his job.' And Mrs. Cubian buys hersilf a new bonnet; and
where wanst they was sorrow an' despair all is happiness an' a cottage
organ.
"Ye can't make people here undherstand that, an' ye can't make a Cubian
undherstand that freedom means th' same thing as a pinitinchry sintince.
Whin we thry to get him to wurruk, he'll say: 'Why shud I? I haven't
committed anny crime.' That's goin' to be th' throuble. Th' first thing we
know we'll have another war in Cubia whin we begin disthributin' good
Page 45
jobs, twelve hours a day, wan sivinty-five. Th' Cubians ain't civilized in our
way. I sometimes think I've got a touch iv Cubian blood in me own veins."
way. I sometimes think I've got a touch iv Cubian blood in me own veins."
Page 46
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S
FLEET.
[These comments were made by Mr. Dooley during a strike of the
stereotypers, which caused the English newspapers of Chicago temporarily
to suspend publication.]
"I hear," said Mr. Hennessy, "that th' stereopticons on th' newspapers have
sthruck."
"I sh'd think they wud," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' las' time I was down town
was iliction night, whin Charter Haitch's big la-ad was ilicted, an' they was
wurrukin' th' stereopticons till they was black in th' face. What's th' news?"
"Th' What Cheer, Ioway, Lamp iv Freedom is on th' sthreets with a
tillygram that Shafter has captured Sandago de Cuba, an' is now settin' on
Gin'ral Pando's chest with his hands in his hair. But this is denied be th' Palo
Gazoot, the Macoupin County Raygisther, an' th' Meridyan Sthreet Afro-
American. I also see be th' Daily Scoor Card, th' Wine List, th' Deef Mute's
Spokesman, th' Morgue Life, the Bill iv Fare, th' Stock Yards Sthraight
Steer, an' Jack's Tips on th' Races, the on'y daily paper printed in Chicago,
that Sampson's fleet is in th' Suez Canal bombarding Cades. Th'
Northwestern Christyan Advycate says this is not thrue, but that George
Dixon was outpointed be an English boxer in a twinty-r-round go in New
York."
"Ye've got things mixed up," said Mr. Dooley. "I get th' news sthraight.
'Twas this way. Th' Spanish fleet was bottled up in Sandago Harbor, an' they
dhrew th' cork. That's a joke. I see it in th' pa-apers. Th' gallant boys iv th'
navy was settin' out on th' deck, defindin' their counthry an' dhrawin' three
ca-ards apiece, whin th' Spanish admiral con-cluded 'twud be better f'r him
to be desthroyed on th' ragin' sea, him bein' a sailor, thin to have his fleet
captured be cav'lry. Annyhow, he was willin' to take a chance; an' he says to
his sailors: 'Spanyards,' he says, 'Castiles,' he says, 'we have et th' las' bed-
tick,' he says; 'an', if we stay here much longer,' he says, 'I'll have to have a
FLEET.
[These comments were made by Mr. Dooley during a strike of the
stereotypers, which caused the English newspapers of Chicago temporarily
to suspend publication.]
"I hear," said Mr. Hennessy, "that th' stereopticons on th' newspapers have
sthruck."
"I sh'd think they wud," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' las' time I was down town
was iliction night, whin Charter Haitch's big la-ad was ilicted, an' they was
wurrukin' th' stereopticons till they was black in th' face. What's th' news?"
"Th' What Cheer, Ioway, Lamp iv Freedom is on th' sthreets with a
tillygram that Shafter has captured Sandago de Cuba, an' is now settin' on
Gin'ral Pando's chest with his hands in his hair. But this is denied be th' Palo
Gazoot, the Macoupin County Raygisther, an' th' Meridyan Sthreet Afro-
American. I also see be th' Daily Scoor Card, th' Wine List, th' Deef Mute's
Spokesman, th' Morgue Life, the Bill iv Fare, th' Stock Yards Sthraight
Steer, an' Jack's Tips on th' Races, the on'y daily paper printed in Chicago,
that Sampson's fleet is in th' Suez Canal bombarding Cades. Th'
Northwestern Christyan Advycate says this is not thrue, but that George
Dixon was outpointed be an English boxer in a twinty-r-round go in New
York."
"Ye've got things mixed up," said Mr. Dooley. "I get th' news sthraight.
'Twas this way. Th' Spanish fleet was bottled up in Sandago Harbor, an' they
dhrew th' cork. That's a joke. I see it in th' pa-apers. Th' gallant boys iv th'
navy was settin' out on th' deck, defindin' their counthry an' dhrawin' three
ca-ards apiece, whin th' Spanish admiral con-cluded 'twud be better f'r him
to be desthroyed on th' ragin' sea, him bein' a sailor, thin to have his fleet
captured be cav'lry. Annyhow, he was willin' to take a chance; an' he says to
his sailors: 'Spanyards,' he says, 'Castiles,' he says, 'we have et th' las' bed-
tick,' he says; 'an', if we stay here much longer,' he says, 'I'll have to have a
Page 47
steak off th' armor plate fried f'r ye,' he says. 'Lave us go out where we can
have a r-run f'r our money,' he says. An' away they wint. I'll say this much
f'r him, he's a brave man, a dam brave man. I don't like a Spanyard no more
than ye do, Hinnissy. I niver see wan. But, if this here man was a—was a
Zulu, I'd say he was a brave man. If I was aboord wan iv thim yachts that
was convarted, I'd go to this here Cervera, an' I'd say: 'Manuel,' I'd say,
'ye're all right, me boy. Ye ought to go to a doctor an' have ye'er eyes re-set,
but ye're a good fellow. Go downstairs,' I'd say, 'into th' basemint iv the
ship,' I'd say, 'an' open th' cupboard jus' nex' to th' head iv th' bed, an' find th'
bottle marked "Floridy Wather," an' threat ye'ersilf kindly.' That's what I'd
say to Cervera. He's all right.
"Well, whin our boys see th' Spanish fleet comin' out iv th' harbor, they
gathered on th' deck an' sang th' naytional anthem, 'They'll be a hot time in
th' ol' town to-night.' A liftnant come up to where Admiral Sampson was
settin' playin' sivin up with Admiral Schley. 'Bill,' he says, 'th' Spanish fleet
is comin' out,' he says. 'What talk have ye?' says Sampson. 'Sind out some
row-boats an' a yacht, an' desthroy thim. Clubs is thrumps,' he says, and he
wint on playin'. Th' Spanish fleet was attackted on all sides be our br-rave
la-ads, nobly assisted be th' dispatch boats iv the newspapers. Wan by wan
they was desthroyed. Three battle-ships attackted th' convarted yacht
Gloucester. Th' Gloucester used to be owned be Pierpont Morgan; but 'twas
convarted, an' is now leadin' a dacint life. Th' Gloucester sunk thim all, th'
Christobell Comma, the Viscera, an' th' Admiral O'Quinn. It thin wint up to
two Spanish torpedo boats an' giv thim wan punch, an' away they wint. Be
this time th' sojers had heerd of the victhry, an' they gathered on th' shore,
singin' th' naytional anthem, 'They'll be a hot time in th' ol' town to-night,
me babby.' Th' gloryous ol' chune, to which Washington an' Grant an'
Lincoln marched, was took up be th' sailors on th' ships, an' Admiral
Cervera r-run wan iv his boats ashore, an' jumped into th' sea. At last
accounts th' followin' dispatches had been received: 'To Willum McKinley:
Congratulations on ye'er noble victhry. (Signed) Willum McKinley.' 'To
Russell A. Alger: Ye done splendid. (Signed) Russell A. Alger.' 'To James
Wilson, Sicrety iv Agriculture: This is a gr-reat day f'r Ioway. Ar-re ye
much hur-rted? (Signed) James Wilson.'"
"Where did ye hear all this?" asked Mr. Hennessy, in great amazement.
have a r-run f'r our money,' he says. An' away they wint. I'll say this much
f'r him, he's a brave man, a dam brave man. I don't like a Spanyard no more
than ye do, Hinnissy. I niver see wan. But, if this here man was a—was a
Zulu, I'd say he was a brave man. If I was aboord wan iv thim yachts that
was convarted, I'd go to this here Cervera, an' I'd say: 'Manuel,' I'd say,
'ye're all right, me boy. Ye ought to go to a doctor an' have ye'er eyes re-set,
but ye're a good fellow. Go downstairs,' I'd say, 'into th' basemint iv the
ship,' I'd say, 'an' open th' cupboard jus' nex' to th' head iv th' bed, an' find th'
bottle marked "Floridy Wather," an' threat ye'ersilf kindly.' That's what I'd
say to Cervera. He's all right.
"Well, whin our boys see th' Spanish fleet comin' out iv th' harbor, they
gathered on th' deck an' sang th' naytional anthem, 'They'll be a hot time in
th' ol' town to-night.' A liftnant come up to where Admiral Sampson was
settin' playin' sivin up with Admiral Schley. 'Bill,' he says, 'th' Spanish fleet
is comin' out,' he says. 'What talk have ye?' says Sampson. 'Sind out some
row-boats an' a yacht, an' desthroy thim. Clubs is thrumps,' he says, and he
wint on playin'. Th' Spanish fleet was attackted on all sides be our br-rave
la-ads, nobly assisted be th' dispatch boats iv the newspapers. Wan by wan
they was desthroyed. Three battle-ships attackted th' convarted yacht
Gloucester. Th' Gloucester used to be owned be Pierpont Morgan; but 'twas
convarted, an' is now leadin' a dacint life. Th' Gloucester sunk thim all, th'
Christobell Comma, the Viscera, an' th' Admiral O'Quinn. It thin wint up to
two Spanish torpedo boats an' giv thim wan punch, an' away they wint. Be
this time th' sojers had heerd of the victhry, an' they gathered on th' shore,
singin' th' naytional anthem, 'They'll be a hot time in th' ol' town to-night,
me babby.' Th' gloryous ol' chune, to which Washington an' Grant an'
Lincoln marched, was took up be th' sailors on th' ships, an' Admiral
Cervera r-run wan iv his boats ashore, an' jumped into th' sea. At last
accounts th' followin' dispatches had been received: 'To Willum McKinley:
Congratulations on ye'er noble victhry. (Signed) Willum McKinley.' 'To
Russell A. Alger: Ye done splendid. (Signed) Russell A. Alger.' 'To James
Wilson, Sicrety iv Agriculture: This is a gr-reat day f'r Ioway. Ar-re ye
much hur-rted? (Signed) James Wilson.'"
"Where did ye hear all this?" asked Mr. Hennessy, in great amazement.
Page 48
"I r-read it," said Mr. Dooley, impressively, "in the Staats Zeitung."
Page 49
ON A LETTER TO MR. DEPEW.
"I usen't to know," said Mr. Dooley, "what me frind Gin'ral Sherman meant
whin he said that thing about war. I've been through two iv thim, not to
speak iv convintions an' prim'ries, an' divvle th' bit iv har-rm come to me no
more thin if I was settin' on a roof playin' an accorjeen. But I know now
what th' ol' la-ad meant. He meant war was hell whin 'twas over.
"I ain't heerd anny noise fr'm th' fellows that wint into threnches an' plugged
th' villyanious Spanyard. Most iv thim is too weak to kick. But th' proud an'
fearless pathrites who restrained thimsilves, an' didn't go to th' fr-ront, th' la-
ads that sthruggled hard with their warlike tindincies, an' fin'lly downed
thim an' stayed at home an' practised up upon th' typewriter, they're ragin'
an' tearin' an' desthroyin' their foes.
"Did ye see what me frind Alger wrote to Chansy Depoo? Well, sir, Alger
has been misthreated. There's a good man. I say he's a good man. An' he is,
too. At anny thrick fr'm shingles to two-be-fours he's as good as th' best.
But no wan apprechated Alger. No wan undherstud him. No wan even
thried to. Day be day he published th' private letters iv other people, an' that
didn't throw anny light on his charackter. Day be day he had his pitchers
took, an' still th' people didn't get onto th' cur-rves iv him. Day be day he
chatted iv th' turrors iv war, an' still people on'y said: 'An' Alger also r-ran.'
But th' time come whin Alger cud contain himsilf no longer, an' he set down
an' wrote to Chansy Depoo.
"'Mr. Chansy Depot, care iv Grand Cintral Depew, New York, N.Y.,
Esquire. Dear Chanse: I've been expectin' a letter fr'm ye f'r three or four
days. In reply to same will say: Oh, Chanse, ye don't know how I suffer. I'm
that low in me mind I feel like a bunch iv lathes. Oh, dear, to think iv what
I've gone through. I wint into th' war onprepared. I had on'y so many r-
rounds iv catridges an' a cross-cut saw, an' I failed to provide mesilf with th'
ord'nary necessities iv life. But, in spite iv me deficiencies, I wint bravely
ahead. Th' sthrain was something tur-r'ble on me. Me mind give out
repeatedly. I cud not think at times, but I niver faltered. In two months I had
"I usen't to know," said Mr. Dooley, "what me frind Gin'ral Sherman meant
whin he said that thing about war. I've been through two iv thim, not to
speak iv convintions an' prim'ries, an' divvle th' bit iv har-rm come to me no
more thin if I was settin' on a roof playin' an accorjeen. But I know now
what th' ol' la-ad meant. He meant war was hell whin 'twas over.
"I ain't heerd anny noise fr'm th' fellows that wint into threnches an' plugged
th' villyanious Spanyard. Most iv thim is too weak to kick. But th' proud an'
fearless pathrites who restrained thimsilves, an' didn't go to th' fr-ront, th' la-
ads that sthruggled hard with their warlike tindincies, an' fin'lly downed
thim an' stayed at home an' practised up upon th' typewriter, they're ragin'
an' tearin' an' desthroyin' their foes.
"Did ye see what me frind Alger wrote to Chansy Depoo? Well, sir, Alger
has been misthreated. There's a good man. I say he's a good man. An' he is,
too. At anny thrick fr'm shingles to two-be-fours he's as good as th' best.
But no wan apprechated Alger. No wan undherstud him. No wan even
thried to. Day be day he published th' private letters iv other people, an' that
didn't throw anny light on his charackter. Day be day he had his pitchers
took, an' still th' people didn't get onto th' cur-rves iv him. Day be day he
chatted iv th' turrors iv war, an' still people on'y said: 'An' Alger also r-ran.'
But th' time come whin Alger cud contain himsilf no longer, an' he set down
an' wrote to Chansy Depoo.
"'Mr. Chansy Depot, care iv Grand Cintral Depew, New York, N.Y.,
Esquire. Dear Chanse: I've been expectin' a letter fr'm ye f'r three or four
days. In reply to same will say: Oh, Chanse, ye don't know how I suffer. I'm
that low in me mind I feel like a bunch iv lathes. Oh, dear, to think iv what
I've gone through. I wint into th' war onprepared. I had on'y so many r-
rounds iv catridges an' a cross-cut saw, an' I failed to provide mesilf with th'
ord'nary necessities iv life. But, in spite iv me deficiencies, I wint bravely
ahead. Th' sthrain was something tur-r'ble on me. Me mind give out
repeatedly. I cud not think at times, but I niver faltered. In two months I had
Page 50
enough supplies piled up in Maine to feed ivry sojer in Cubia. They were
thousands iv r-rounds iv catridges f'r ivry rig'mint, and all th' rig'mints had
to do was to write f'r thim. Th' navy had taken Manila an' Cervera's fleet, an'
th' ar-rmy had taken Sandago an' th' yellow fever. Th' war is over, an' peace
wanst more wags her wings over th' counthry. Pine scantlings is quoted
sthrong. Ivrywhere is peace an' contint. Me photographs are on sale at all
first-class newsdealers. Yet there is no ca'm f'r me. Onthinkin' wans insult
me. They tell me a sojer can't ate gin'ral ordhers. They want me to raysign
an' go back to me humble home in Mitchigan. Disgustin' men that've done
nawthin' but get thimsilves shot, ask f'r milk an' quinine. They'll be askin'
me to carry food to thim nex'. Oh, Chanse, oh, hivens, ye can't know how
grieved I am! Rather wud I have perished in a logjam thin to've indured this
ingratichood. But, in lookin' back over me past life, I can think iv no wrong
I've done. If me mim'ry is at fault, please note. Me car-eer is an open book.
I've held nawthin' back fr'm th' public, not even whin 'twas mar-rked
private. I can say with th' pote that I done me jooty. But, oh, Chanse! don't
iver aspire to my job. Be sicrety of war, if ye will; but niver be sicrety iv A
war. Do not offer this letter to th' newspapers. Make thim take it. How's
things goin' with ye, ol' pal? I hope to see ye at th' seaside. Till thin, I'm
yours, sick at heart, but atin' reg'lar. Russ.'"
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "th' poor man must've had a har-rd time iv it."
"He did," said Mr. Dooley. "Niver laid his head to a pillow before eight, up
with th' moon: he's suffered as no man can tell. But he'll be all r-right whin
his mind's at r-rest."
thousands iv r-rounds iv catridges f'r ivry rig'mint, and all th' rig'mints had
to do was to write f'r thim. Th' navy had taken Manila an' Cervera's fleet, an'
th' ar-rmy had taken Sandago an' th' yellow fever. Th' war is over, an' peace
wanst more wags her wings over th' counthry. Pine scantlings is quoted
sthrong. Ivrywhere is peace an' contint. Me photographs are on sale at all
first-class newsdealers. Yet there is no ca'm f'r me. Onthinkin' wans insult
me. They tell me a sojer can't ate gin'ral ordhers. They want me to raysign
an' go back to me humble home in Mitchigan. Disgustin' men that've done
nawthin' but get thimsilves shot, ask f'r milk an' quinine. They'll be askin'
me to carry food to thim nex'. Oh, Chanse, oh, hivens, ye can't know how
grieved I am! Rather wud I have perished in a logjam thin to've indured this
ingratichood. But, in lookin' back over me past life, I can think iv no wrong
I've done. If me mim'ry is at fault, please note. Me car-eer is an open book.
I've held nawthin' back fr'm th' public, not even whin 'twas mar-rked
private. I can say with th' pote that I done me jooty. But, oh, Chanse! don't
iver aspire to my job. Be sicrety of war, if ye will; but niver be sicrety iv A
war. Do not offer this letter to th' newspapers. Make thim take it. How's
things goin' with ye, ol' pal? I hope to see ye at th' seaside. Till thin, I'm
yours, sick at heart, but atin' reg'lar. Russ.'"
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "th' poor man must've had a har-rd time iv it."
"He did," said Mr. Dooley. "Niver laid his head to a pillow before eight, up
with th' moon: he's suffered as no man can tell. But he'll be all r-right whin
his mind's at r-rest."
Page 51
ON THE PRESIDENT'S CAT.
"'Twas this way about Dr. Huckenlooper. Mack has a cat that was give him
f'r a Chris'mas prisint be me frind Pierpont Morgan, an' th' cat was a gr-reat
favor-ite in th' White House. 'Twas as quite as th' Sicrety iv Agriculture an'
as affectionate as th' Sicrety iv th' Three-asury. Th' cat was called Goold
Bonds, because iv th' inthrest he dhrew. He very often played with th'
Sicrety iv th' Navy, an' ivry wan that come to th' White House f'r a job loved
him.
"But wan day Goold Bonds begun to look bad. He cudden't ate th' r-rich
crame out iv th' di'mon'-studded saucer. He stopped castin' an eye at th'
c'nary in th' cage. Whin th' Sicrety iv th' Navy wint down f'r to play with
him, Goold Bonds spit at that good an' gr-reat man. Mack was shavin'
himsilf befure th' lookin'-glass, an' had jus' got his face pulled r-round to
wan side f'r a good gash, whin he heerd a scream iv ag'ny behind him, an'
tur-rned to see Goold Bonds leap up with his paws on his stomach an' hit th'
ceilin'. Mack give a cry iv turror, an' grabbed at Goold Bonds. Away wint
Goold Bonds through th' house. Th' Sicrety iv War seen him comin', an'
called, 'Pussy, pussy.' Goold Bonds wint through his legs, an' galloped f'r
where th' Postmaster-gin'ral was settin' editin' his pa-aper. Th' Postmaster-
gin'ral had jus' got as far as 'we opine,' whin he see Goold Bonds, an' he
bate th' cat to th' windy be a whisker.
"Well, Goold Bonds ended up in th' coal cellar, an' they was a cab'net
council f'r to see what was to be done. 'Sind f'r Doctor Heinegagubler,' says
th' Sicrety iv War. 'He's wan iv th' gr-reatest surgeons iv our time,' he says,
'an' can cure annything fr'm pips to glanders,' he says. Th' famous Doctor
Honeycooler was summoned. 'Sir,' says Mack, 'Goold Bonds, th' pride iv th'
administhration, has had a fit,' he says. ''Twud br-reak our hear-rts to lose
our little pet,' he says. 'Go,' he says, 'an' take such measures as ye'er noble
healin' ar-rt sug-gists,' he says; 'an' may th' prayers iv an agonized foster-
parent go with ye,' he says. An' Doctor Higgenlocker wint down into th'
coal-shed; an' whin he come back, it was with Goold Bonds in his ar-rms,
weak an' pale, but with a wan smile on his lips.
"'Twas this way about Dr. Huckenlooper. Mack has a cat that was give him
f'r a Chris'mas prisint be me frind Pierpont Morgan, an' th' cat was a gr-reat
favor-ite in th' White House. 'Twas as quite as th' Sicrety iv Agriculture an'
as affectionate as th' Sicrety iv th' Three-asury. Th' cat was called Goold
Bonds, because iv th' inthrest he dhrew. He very often played with th'
Sicrety iv th' Navy, an' ivry wan that come to th' White House f'r a job loved
him.
"But wan day Goold Bonds begun to look bad. He cudden't ate th' r-rich
crame out iv th' di'mon'-studded saucer. He stopped castin' an eye at th'
c'nary in th' cage. Whin th' Sicrety iv th' Navy wint down f'r to play with
him, Goold Bonds spit at that good an' gr-reat man. Mack was shavin'
himsilf befure th' lookin'-glass, an' had jus' got his face pulled r-round to
wan side f'r a good gash, whin he heerd a scream iv ag'ny behind him, an'
tur-rned to see Goold Bonds leap up with his paws on his stomach an' hit th'
ceilin'. Mack give a cry iv turror, an' grabbed at Goold Bonds. Away wint
Goold Bonds through th' house. Th' Sicrety iv War seen him comin', an'
called, 'Pussy, pussy.' Goold Bonds wint through his legs, an' galloped f'r
where th' Postmaster-gin'ral was settin' editin' his pa-aper. Th' Postmaster-
gin'ral had jus' got as far as 'we opine,' whin he see Goold Bonds, an' he
bate th' cat to th' windy be a whisker.
"Well, Goold Bonds ended up in th' coal cellar, an' they was a cab'net
council f'r to see what was to be done. 'Sind f'r Doctor Heinegagubler,' says
th' Sicrety iv War. 'He's wan iv th' gr-reatest surgeons iv our time,' he says,
'an' can cure annything fr'm pips to glanders,' he says. Th' famous Doctor
Honeycooler was summoned. 'Sir,' says Mack, 'Goold Bonds, th' pride iv th'
administhration, has had a fit,' he says. ''Twud br-reak our hear-rts to lose
our little pet,' he says. 'Go,' he says, 'an' take such measures as ye'er noble
healin' ar-rt sug-gists,' he says; 'an' may th' prayers iv an agonized foster-
parent go with ye,' he says. An' Doctor Higgenlocker wint down into th'
coal-shed; an' whin he come back, it was with Goold Bonds in his ar-rms,
weak an' pale, but with a wan smile on his lips.
Page 52
"Afther embracin' Goold Bonds an' tuckin' him away in bed, Mack tur-rns
to th' Dock. 'Dock,' he says, 'ye have performed a noble sarvice,' he says. 'I
appint ye a major-gin'ral,' he says. 'I'm that already,' says th' Dock. 'I've r-
rich relatives in Philadelphia,' he says. 'But,' says Mack, ''tis a shame to
think iv ye'er noble sarvices bein' wasted,' he says, 'whin ye'er counthry
calls,' he says. 'I appint ye,' he says, 'surgeon-gin'ral,' he says. 'Pro-ceed,' he
says, 'to Cubia, an' stamp out th' dhread ravages,' he says, 'iv r-ringbone an'
stagger,' he says.
"That's how Dock got th'job. He was a gr-reat man down there, an' now he's
wan iv th' vethranaryans iv th' war. Ye heerd iv typhoid an' yellow fever in
th' threnches; but did ye hear annything iv spavin or th' foot-an'-mouth
disease? Not wanst. Dock was on jooty late an' early. Sleepless an' vigilant,
he stood beside th' suffrin' mules, allayin' their pain, an' slowly but surely
dhraggin' thim out iv th' clutches iv pinkeye an' epizootic. He had a cheery
wurrud, a pleasant smile, an' a bottle iv liniment f'r wan an' all. He cured
Teddy Rosenfelt's hor-rse iv intherference an' made a soothin' lotion iv axle-
grease f'r Gin'ral Shafter's buckboard. Ye might see him anny time
wandhrin' through th' camp with a hatful of oats or a wisp of hay. They
called him th' Stall Angel, and countless thousands iv sick hor-rses blessed
him. He's a gr-reat man is th' Dock. But, if it hadn't been f'r Goold Bonds,
th' counthry wud niver have had his sarvices. Who knows but that Mack's
cat was th' rale victhor at Sandago?"
"Didn't he cure anny men?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Sure," said Mr. Dooley. "He cured Teddy Rosenfelt iv boltin'."
to th' Dock. 'Dock,' he says, 'ye have performed a noble sarvice,' he says. 'I
appint ye a major-gin'ral,' he says. 'I'm that already,' says th' Dock. 'I've r-
rich relatives in Philadelphia,' he says. 'But,' says Mack, ''tis a shame to
think iv ye'er noble sarvices bein' wasted,' he says, 'whin ye'er counthry
calls,' he says. 'I appint ye,' he says, 'surgeon-gin'ral,' he says. 'Pro-ceed,' he
says, 'to Cubia, an' stamp out th' dhread ravages,' he says, 'iv r-ringbone an'
stagger,' he says.
"That's how Dock got th'job. He was a gr-reat man down there, an' now he's
wan iv th' vethranaryans iv th' war. Ye heerd iv typhoid an' yellow fever in
th' threnches; but did ye hear annything iv spavin or th' foot-an'-mouth
disease? Not wanst. Dock was on jooty late an' early. Sleepless an' vigilant,
he stood beside th' suffrin' mules, allayin' their pain, an' slowly but surely
dhraggin' thim out iv th' clutches iv pinkeye an' epizootic. He had a cheery
wurrud, a pleasant smile, an' a bottle iv liniment f'r wan an' all. He cured
Teddy Rosenfelt's hor-rse iv intherference an' made a soothin' lotion iv axle-
grease f'r Gin'ral Shafter's buckboard. Ye might see him anny time
wandhrin' through th' camp with a hatful of oats or a wisp of hay. They
called him th' Stall Angel, and countless thousands iv sick hor-rses blessed
him. He's a gr-reat man is th' Dock. But, if it hadn't been f'r Goold Bonds,
th' counthry wud niver have had his sarvices. Who knows but that Mack's
cat was th' rale victhor at Sandago?"
"Didn't he cure anny men?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Sure," said Mr. Dooley. "He cured Teddy Rosenfelt iv boltin'."
Page 53
ON A SPEECH BY PRESIDENT McKINLEY.
"I hear-r that Mack's in town," said Mr. Dooley.
"Didn't ye see him?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Faith, I did not!" said Mr. Dooley. "If 'tis meetin' me he's afther, all he has
to do is to get on a ca-ar an' r-ride out to number nine-double-naught-nine
Archey R-road, an' stop whin he sees th' sign iv th' Tip-p'rary Boodweiser
Brewin' Company. I'm here fr'm eight in the mornin' till midnight, an' th' r-
rest iv th' time I'm in the back room in th' ar-rms iv Or-rphyus, as Hogan
says. Th' Presidint is as welcome as anny rayspictable marrid man. I will
give him a chat an' a dhrink f'r fifteen cints; an', as we're not, as a frind iv
mine in th' grocery an' pothry business says, intirely a commercial an'
industhreel nation, if he has th' Sicrety iv th' Threasury with him, I'll give
thim two f'r twinty-five cints, which is th' standard iv value among civilized
nations th' wurruld over. Prisidint iv th' United States, says ye? Well, I'm
prisidint iv this liquor store, fr'm th' pitcher iv th' Chicago fire above th'
wash-stand in th' back room to th' dure-step. Beyond that belongs to th'
polisman on th' bate. An Amurrican's home, as wan iv th' potes says, is his
castle till th' morgedge falls due. An' divvle a fut will I put out iv this dure
to see e'er a prisidint, prince, or potentate, fr'm th' czar iv Rooshia to th'
king iv Chiny. There's Prisidint Mack at th' Audjiotoroom, an' here's
Prisidint Dooley at nine-double-naught-nine, an' th' len'th iv th' sthreet
between thim. Says he, 'Come over to th' hotel an' see me.' Says I, 'If ye find
ye'ersilf thrun fr'm a ca-ar in me neighborhood, dhrop in.' An' there ye ar-re.
"I may niver see him. I may go to me grave without gettin' an' eye on th'
wan man besides mesilf that don't know what th' furrin' policy iv th' United
States is goin' to be. An he, poor man, whin some wan asts him, 'Did ye iver
meet Dooley:' 'll have to say, 'No, I had th' chanst wanst, but me ac-cursed
pride kept me from visitin' him.'
"I r-read his speeches, though, an' know what he's doin.' Some iv thim ar-re
gr-reat. He attinded th' banket given be th' Prospurity Brigade at th' hotel
where he's stoppin'. 'Twas a magnificent assimblage iv th' laborin' classes,
"I hear-r that Mack's in town," said Mr. Dooley.
"Didn't ye see him?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Faith, I did not!" said Mr. Dooley. "If 'tis meetin' me he's afther, all he has
to do is to get on a ca-ar an' r-ride out to number nine-double-naught-nine
Archey R-road, an' stop whin he sees th' sign iv th' Tip-p'rary Boodweiser
Brewin' Company. I'm here fr'm eight in the mornin' till midnight, an' th' r-
rest iv th' time I'm in the back room in th' ar-rms iv Or-rphyus, as Hogan
says. Th' Presidint is as welcome as anny rayspictable marrid man. I will
give him a chat an' a dhrink f'r fifteen cints; an', as we're not, as a frind iv
mine in th' grocery an' pothry business says, intirely a commercial an'
industhreel nation, if he has th' Sicrety iv th' Threasury with him, I'll give
thim two f'r twinty-five cints, which is th' standard iv value among civilized
nations th' wurruld over. Prisidint iv th' United States, says ye? Well, I'm
prisidint iv this liquor store, fr'm th' pitcher iv th' Chicago fire above th'
wash-stand in th' back room to th' dure-step. Beyond that belongs to th'
polisman on th' bate. An Amurrican's home, as wan iv th' potes says, is his
castle till th' morgedge falls due. An' divvle a fut will I put out iv this dure
to see e'er a prisidint, prince, or potentate, fr'm th' czar iv Rooshia to th'
king iv Chiny. There's Prisidint Mack at th' Audjiotoroom, an' here's
Prisidint Dooley at nine-double-naught-nine, an' th' len'th iv th' sthreet
between thim. Says he, 'Come over to th' hotel an' see me.' Says I, 'If ye find
ye'ersilf thrun fr'm a ca-ar in me neighborhood, dhrop in.' An' there ye ar-re.
"I may niver see him. I may go to me grave without gettin' an' eye on th'
wan man besides mesilf that don't know what th' furrin' policy iv th' United
States is goin' to be. An he, poor man, whin some wan asts him, 'Did ye iver
meet Dooley:' 'll have to say, 'No, I had th' chanst wanst, but me ac-cursed
pride kept me from visitin' him.'
"I r-read his speeches, though, an' know what he's doin.' Some iv thim ar-re
gr-reat. He attinded th' banket given be th' Prospurity Brigade at th' hotel
where he's stoppin'. 'Twas a magnificent assimblage iv th' laborin' classes,
Page 54
costin' fifteen dollars a plate, an' on'y disturbed whin a well-to-do gintleman
in th' dhry-goods business had to be thrun out f'r takin' a kick at a waiter. I r-
read be th' papers that whin Mack come in he was rayceived be th' gatherin'
with shouts iv approval. Th' proceedin's was opened with a prayer that
Providence might r-remain undher th' protection iv th' administhration. Th'
Sicrety iv th' Treasury followed with a gran' speech, highly commindin' th'
action iv th' threasury department durin' th' late war; 'but,' says he, 'I cannot,'
he says, 'so far forget mesilf,' he says, 'as not to mintion,' he says, 'that,' he
says, 'if it hadn't been f'r the sublime pathreetism an' courage,' he says, 'iv
th' gintleman whom we honor,' he says, 'in puttin' me on th' foorce,' he says,
'I might not be here to-night,' he says.
"Th' Sicrety iv th' Threasury was followed be th' Gin'ral Shafter.
'Gintlemen,' says he, 'it gives me,' he says, 'gr-reat pleasure,' he says, 'to be
prisint in th' mist iv so manny an' so various vittles,' he says. 'Iv coorse,' he
says, 'I re-elize me own gr-reat worth,' he says; 'but,' he says, 'I wud have to
be more thin human,' he says, 'to overlook th' debt iv gratichood,' he says,
'th' counthry owes,' he says, 'to th' man whose foresight, wisdom, an'
prudence brought me for-ard at such an opparchune time,' he says.
'Gintlemen,' he says, 'onless ye have lived in th' buckboard f'r months on th'
parched deserts iv Cubia,' he says, 'ye little know what a pleasure it is,' he
says, 'to dhrink,' he says, 'to th' author iv our bein' here,' he says. An' Gin-ral
Miles wint out an' punched th' bell-boy. Mack r-rose up in a perfect hurcane
iv applause, an' says he, 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'an' fellow-heroes,' he says,
'ye do me too much honor;' he says. 'I alone shud not have th' credit iv this
gloryous victhry. They ar-re others.' [A voice: 'Shafter.' Another voice:
'Gage.' Another voice: 'Dooley.'] 'But I pass to a more conganial line iv
thought,' he says. 'We have just emerged fr'm a turrible war,' he says.
'Again,' he says, 'we ar-re a united union,' he says. 'No north,' he says, 'no
south, no east,' he says, 'no west. No north east a point east,' he says. 'Th'
inimies iv our counthry has been cr-rushed,' he says, 'or is stuck down in
Floridy with his rig'mint talkin',' he says, 'his hellish docthrines to th'
allygatars,' he says. 'Th' nation is wanst more at peace undher th' gran' goold
standard,' he says. 'Now,' he says, 'th' question is what shall we do with th'
fruits iv victhry?' he says. [A voice, 'Can thim.'] 'Our duty to civilization
commands us to be up an' doin',' he says. 'We ar-re bound,' he says, 'to—to
re-elize our destiny, whativer it may be,' he says. 'We can not tur-rn back,'
in th' dhry-goods business had to be thrun out f'r takin' a kick at a waiter. I r-
read be th' papers that whin Mack come in he was rayceived be th' gatherin'
with shouts iv approval. Th' proceedin's was opened with a prayer that
Providence might r-remain undher th' protection iv th' administhration. Th'
Sicrety iv th' Treasury followed with a gran' speech, highly commindin' th'
action iv th' threasury department durin' th' late war; 'but,' says he, 'I cannot,'
he says, 'so far forget mesilf,' he says, 'as not to mintion,' he says, 'that,' he
says, 'if it hadn't been f'r the sublime pathreetism an' courage,' he says, 'iv
th' gintleman whom we honor,' he says, 'in puttin' me on th' foorce,' he says,
'I might not be here to-night,' he says.
"Th' Sicrety iv th' Threasury was followed be th' Gin'ral Shafter.
'Gintlemen,' says he, 'it gives me,' he says, 'gr-reat pleasure,' he says, 'to be
prisint in th' mist iv so manny an' so various vittles,' he says. 'Iv coorse,' he
says, 'I re-elize me own gr-reat worth,' he says; 'but,' he says, 'I wud have to
be more thin human,' he says, 'to overlook th' debt iv gratichood,' he says,
'th' counthry owes,' he says, 'to th' man whose foresight, wisdom, an'
prudence brought me for-ard at such an opparchune time,' he says.
'Gintlemen,' he says, 'onless ye have lived in th' buckboard f'r months on th'
parched deserts iv Cubia,' he says, 'ye little know what a pleasure it is,' he
says, 'to dhrink,' he says, 'to th' author iv our bein' here,' he says. An' Gin-ral
Miles wint out an' punched th' bell-boy. Mack r-rose up in a perfect hurcane
iv applause, an' says he, 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'an' fellow-heroes,' he says,
'ye do me too much honor;' he says. 'I alone shud not have th' credit iv this
gloryous victhry. They ar-re others.' [A voice: 'Shafter.' Another voice:
'Gage.' Another voice: 'Dooley.'] 'But I pass to a more conganial line iv
thought,' he says. 'We have just emerged fr'm a turrible war,' he says.
'Again,' he says, 'we ar-re a united union,' he says. 'No north,' he says, 'no
south, no east,' he says, 'no west. No north east a point east,' he says. 'Th'
inimies iv our counthry has been cr-rushed,' he says, 'or is stuck down in
Floridy with his rig'mint talkin',' he says, 'his hellish docthrines to th'
allygatars,' he says. 'Th' nation is wanst more at peace undher th' gran' goold
standard,' he says. 'Now,' he says, 'th' question is what shall we do with th'
fruits iv victhry?' he says. [A voice, 'Can thim.'] 'Our duty to civilization
commands us to be up an' doin',' he says. 'We ar-re bound,' he says, 'to—to
re-elize our destiny, whativer it may be,' he says. 'We can not tur-rn back,'
Page 55
he says, 'th hands iv th' clock that, even as I speak, he says, 'is r-rushin'
through th' hear-rts iv men,' he says, 'dashin' its spray against th' star iv
liberty an' hope, an' no north, no south, no east, no west, but a steady
purpose to do th' best we can, considerin' all th' circumstances iv the case.'
he says. 'I hope I have made th' matther clear to ye,' he says, 'an', with these
few remarks,' he says, 'I will tur-rn th' job over to destiny,' he says, 'which is
sure to lead us iver on an' on, an' back an' forth, a united an' happy people,
livin',' he says, 'undher an administhration that, thanks to our worthy
Prisidint an' his cap-ble an' earnest advisers, is second to none,' he says."
"What do you think ought to be done with th' fruits iv victhry?" Mr.
Hennessy asked.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "if 'twas up to me, I'd eat what was r-ripe an' give
what wasn't r-ripe to me inimy. An' I guess that's what Mack means."
through th' hear-rts iv men,' he says, 'dashin' its spray against th' star iv
liberty an' hope, an' no north, no south, no east, no west, but a steady
purpose to do th' best we can, considerin' all th' circumstances iv the case.'
he says. 'I hope I have made th' matther clear to ye,' he says, 'an', with these
few remarks,' he says, 'I will tur-rn th' job over to destiny,' he says, 'which is
sure to lead us iver on an' on, an' back an' forth, a united an' happy people,
livin',' he says, 'undher an administhration that, thanks to our worthy
Prisidint an' his cap-ble an' earnest advisers, is second to none,' he says."
"What do you think ought to be done with th' fruits iv victhry?" Mr.
Hennessy asked.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "if 'twas up to me, I'd eat what was r-ripe an' give
what wasn't r-ripe to me inimy. An' I guess that's what Mack means."
Page 56
ON THE HERO IN POLITICS.
"'Tis as much as a man's life is worth these days," said Mr. Dooley, "to have
a vote. Look here," he continued, diving under the bar and producing a roll
of paper.
"Here's th' pitchers iv candydates I pulled down fr'm th' windy, an' jus'
knowin' they're here makes me that nervous f'r th' contints iv th' cash
dhrawer I'm afraid to tur-rn me back f'r a minyit. I'm goin' to throw thim out
in th' back yard.
"All heroes, too, Hinnissy. They'se Mike O'Toole, th' hero iv Sandago, that
near lost his life be dhrink on his way to th' arm'ry, an' had to be sint home
without lavin' th' city. There's Turror Teddy Mangan, th' night man at
Flaher-ty's, that loaded th' men that loaded th' guns that kilt th' mules at
Matoonzas. There's Hero O'Brien, that wud've inlisted if he hadn't been too
old, an' th' contractin' business in such good shape. There's Bill Cory, that
come near losin' his life at a cinematograph iv th' battle iv Manila. They're
all here, bedad, r-ready to sarve their country to th' bitter end, an' to r-rush,
voucher in hand, to th' city threasurer's office at a minyit's notice.
"I wint to a hero meetin' th' other night, Hinnissy, an' that's sthrange f'r me.
Whin a man gets to be my age, he laves th' shoutin' f'r th' youth iv th' land,
onless he has a pol-itical job. I niver had a job but wanst. That was whin I
was precin't cap'n; an' a good wan I was, too. None betther. I'd been on th'
cinthral comity to-day, but f'r me losin' ambition whin they r-run a man be
th' name iv Eckstein f'r aldherman. I was sayin', Hinnissy, whin a man gets
to be my age, he ducks pol-itical meetin's, an' r-reads th' papers an' weighs
th' ividence an' th' argymints,—pro-argymints an' con-argymints,—an'
makes up his mind ca'mly, an' votes th' Dimmycratic ticket. But young
Dorsey he med me go with him to th' hero's meetin' in Finucane's hall.
"Well, sir, there was O'Toole an' all th' rest on th' platform in unyform, with
flags over thim, an' the bands playin' 'They'll be a hot time in th' ol' town to-
night again'; an' th' chairman was Plunkett. Ye know Plunkett: a good man if
they was no gr-rand juries. He was makin' a speech. 'Whin th' battle r-
"'Tis as much as a man's life is worth these days," said Mr. Dooley, "to have
a vote. Look here," he continued, diving under the bar and producing a roll
of paper.
"Here's th' pitchers iv candydates I pulled down fr'm th' windy, an' jus'
knowin' they're here makes me that nervous f'r th' contints iv th' cash
dhrawer I'm afraid to tur-rn me back f'r a minyit. I'm goin' to throw thim out
in th' back yard.
"All heroes, too, Hinnissy. They'se Mike O'Toole, th' hero iv Sandago, that
near lost his life be dhrink on his way to th' arm'ry, an' had to be sint home
without lavin' th' city. There's Turror Teddy Mangan, th' night man at
Flaher-ty's, that loaded th' men that loaded th' guns that kilt th' mules at
Matoonzas. There's Hero O'Brien, that wud've inlisted if he hadn't been too
old, an' th' contractin' business in such good shape. There's Bill Cory, that
come near losin' his life at a cinematograph iv th' battle iv Manila. They're
all here, bedad, r-ready to sarve their country to th' bitter end, an' to r-rush,
voucher in hand, to th' city threasurer's office at a minyit's notice.
"I wint to a hero meetin' th' other night, Hinnissy, an' that's sthrange f'r me.
Whin a man gets to be my age, he laves th' shoutin' f'r th' youth iv th' land,
onless he has a pol-itical job. I niver had a job but wanst. That was whin I
was precin't cap'n; an' a good wan I was, too. None betther. I'd been on th'
cinthral comity to-day, but f'r me losin' ambition whin they r-run a man be
th' name iv Eckstein f'r aldherman. I was sayin', Hinnissy, whin a man gets
to be my age, he ducks pol-itical meetin's, an' r-reads th' papers an' weighs
th' ividence an' th' argymints,—pro-argymints an' con-argymints,—an'
makes up his mind ca'mly, an' votes th' Dimmycratic ticket. But young
Dorsey he med me go with him to th' hero's meetin' in Finucane's hall.
"Well, sir, there was O'Toole an' all th' rest on th' platform in unyform, with
flags over thim, an' the bands playin' 'They'll be a hot time in th' ol' town to-
night again'; an' th' chairman was Plunkett. Ye know Plunkett: a good man if
they was no gr-rand juries. He was makin' a speech. 'Whin th' battle r-
Page 57
raged,' he says, 'an' th' bullets fr'm th' haughty Spanyards' raypeatin' Mouser
r-rifles,' he says, 'where was Cassidy?' he says. 'In his saloon,' says I, 'in
I'mrald Av'noo,' says I. 'Thrue f'r ye,' says Plunkett. 'An' where,' he says,
'was our candydate?' he says. 'In somebody else's saloon,' says I. 'No,' says
he. 'Whin th' Prisidint,' he says, 'called th' nation to ar-rms,' he says, 'an'
Congress voted fifty million good bucks f'r th' naytional definse,' he says,
'Thomas Francis Dorgan,' he says, 'in that minyit iv naytional pearl,' says
he, 'left his good job in the pipe-yard,' he says, 'an' wint down to th'
raycruitin' office, an' says, "How manny calls f'r volunteers is out?" he says.
"Wan," says th' officer. "Put me down," says Dorgan, "f'r th' tenth call," he
says. This, gintlemen iv th' foorth precin't,' he says, 'is Thomas Francis
Dorgan, a man who, if ilicted,' he says, 'victhry'll perch,' he says, 'upon our
banners,' he says; 'an',' he says, 'th' naytional honor will be maintained,' he
says, 'in th' county boord,' he says.
"I wint out to take th' air, an' I met me frind Clohessy, th' little tailor fr'm
Halsted Sthreet. Him an' me had a shell iv beer together at th' German's; an'
says I, 'What d'ye think iv th' heroes?' I says. 'Well,' says he, 'I make no
doubt 'twas brave iv Dorgan,' he says, 'f'r to put his name in f'r th' tenth call,'
he says; 'but,' he says, 'I don't like Plunkett, an' it seems to me a man'd have
to be a hell iv a sthrong man, even if he was a hero, to be Plunkett's man,
an' keep his hands out iv ye'er pockets,' he says. 'I'm with Clancy's
candydate,' he says. 'He niver offered to enlist for th' war,' he says, 'but 'twas
Clancy put Terence on th' polis foorce an' got th' school f'r Aggie,' he says.
"That's the way I feel," said Mr. Hennessy. "I wudden't thrust Plunkett as far
as I cud throw a cow be th' tail. If Dorgan was Clancy's war hero, I'd be
with him."
"Annyhow," said Mr. Dooley, "mighty few iv th' rale heroes iv th' war is r-
runnin' f'r office. Most iv thim put on their blue overalls whin they was
mustered out an' wint up an' ast f'r their ol' jobs back—an' sometimes got
thim. Ye can see as manny as tin iv thim at the rollin'-mills defindin' th'
nation's honor with wheelbahr's an' a slag shovel."
r-rifles,' he says, 'where was Cassidy?' he says. 'In his saloon,' says I, 'in
I'mrald Av'noo,' says I. 'Thrue f'r ye,' says Plunkett. 'An' where,' he says,
'was our candydate?' he says. 'In somebody else's saloon,' says I. 'No,' says
he. 'Whin th' Prisidint,' he says, 'called th' nation to ar-rms,' he says, 'an'
Congress voted fifty million good bucks f'r th' naytional definse,' he says,
'Thomas Francis Dorgan,' he says, 'in that minyit iv naytional pearl,' says
he, 'left his good job in the pipe-yard,' he says, 'an' wint down to th'
raycruitin' office, an' says, "How manny calls f'r volunteers is out?" he says.
"Wan," says th' officer. "Put me down," says Dorgan, "f'r th' tenth call," he
says. This, gintlemen iv th' foorth precin't,' he says, 'is Thomas Francis
Dorgan, a man who, if ilicted,' he says, 'victhry'll perch,' he says, 'upon our
banners,' he says; 'an',' he says, 'th' naytional honor will be maintained,' he
says, 'in th' county boord,' he says.
"I wint out to take th' air, an' I met me frind Clohessy, th' little tailor fr'm
Halsted Sthreet. Him an' me had a shell iv beer together at th' German's; an'
says I, 'What d'ye think iv th' heroes?' I says. 'Well,' says he, 'I make no
doubt 'twas brave iv Dorgan,' he says, 'f'r to put his name in f'r th' tenth call,'
he says; 'but,' he says, 'I don't like Plunkett, an' it seems to me a man'd have
to be a hell iv a sthrong man, even if he was a hero, to be Plunkett's man,
an' keep his hands out iv ye'er pockets,' he says. 'I'm with Clancy's
candydate,' he says. 'He niver offered to enlist for th' war,' he says, 'but 'twas
Clancy put Terence on th' polis foorce an' got th' school f'r Aggie,' he says.
"That's the way I feel," said Mr. Hennessy. "I wudden't thrust Plunkett as far
as I cud throw a cow be th' tail. If Dorgan was Clancy's war hero, I'd be
with him."
"Annyhow," said Mr. Dooley, "mighty few iv th' rale heroes iv th' war is r-
runnin' f'r office. Most iv thim put on their blue overalls whin they was
mustered out an' wint up an' ast f'r their ol' jobs back—an' sometimes got
thim. Ye can see as manny as tin iv thim at the rollin'-mills defindin' th'
nation's honor with wheelbahr's an' a slag shovel."
Page 58
MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE
Page 59
ON NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS.
Mr. Hennessy looked out at the rain dripping down in Archey Road, and
sighed, "A-ha, 'tis a bad spell iv weather we're havin'."
"Faith, it is," said Mr. Dooley, "or else we mind it more thin we did. I can't
remimber wan day fr'm another. Whin I was young, I niver thought iv rain
or snow, cold or heat. But now th' heat stings an' th' cold wrenches me
bones; an', if I go out in th' rain with less on me thin a ton iv rubber, I'll pay
dear f'r it in achin' j'ints, so I will. That's what old age means; an' now
another year has been put on to what we had befure, an' we're expected to
be gay. 'Ring out th' old,' says a guy at th' Brothers' School. 'Ring out th' old,
ring in th' new,' he says. 'Ring out th' false, ring in th' thrue,' says he. It's a
pretty sintimint, Hinnissy; but how ar-re we goin' to do it? Nawthin'd please
me betther thin to turn me back on th' wicked an' ingloryous past, rayform
me life, an' live at peace with th' wurruld to th' end iv me days. But how th'
divvle can I do it? As th' fellow says, 'Can th' leopard change his spots,' or
can't he?
"You know Dorsey, iv coorse, th' cross-eyed May-o man that come to this
counthry about wan day in advance iv a warrant f'r sheep-stealin'? Ye know
what he done to me, tellin' people I was caught in me cellar poorin' wather
into a bar'l? Well, last night says I to mesilf, thinkin' iv Dorsey, I says: 'I
swear that henceforth I'll keep me temper with me fellow-men. I'll not let
anger or jealousy get th' betther iv me,' I says. 'I'll lave off all me old feuds;
an' if I meet me inimy goin' down th' sthreet, I'll go up an' shake him be th'
hand, if I'm sure he hasn't a brick in th' other hand.' Oh, I was mighty
compliminthry to mesilf. I set be th' stove dhrinkin' hot wans, an' ivry wan I
dhrunk made me more iv a pote. 'Tis th' way with th' stuff. Whin I'm in
dhrink, I have manny a fine thought; an', if I wasn't too comfortable to go
an' look f'r th' ink-bottle, I cud write pomes that'd make Shakespeare an'
Mike Scanlan think they were wurrkin' on a dredge. 'Why,' says I, 'carry
into th' new year th' hathreds iv th' old?' I says. 'Let th' dead past bury its
dead,' says I. 'Tur-rn ye'er lamps up to th' blue sky,' I says. (It was rainin'
like th' divvle, an' th' hour was midnight; but I give no heed to that, bein'
Mr. Hennessy looked out at the rain dripping down in Archey Road, and
sighed, "A-ha, 'tis a bad spell iv weather we're havin'."
"Faith, it is," said Mr. Dooley, "or else we mind it more thin we did. I can't
remimber wan day fr'm another. Whin I was young, I niver thought iv rain
or snow, cold or heat. But now th' heat stings an' th' cold wrenches me
bones; an', if I go out in th' rain with less on me thin a ton iv rubber, I'll pay
dear f'r it in achin' j'ints, so I will. That's what old age means; an' now
another year has been put on to what we had befure, an' we're expected to
be gay. 'Ring out th' old,' says a guy at th' Brothers' School. 'Ring out th' old,
ring in th' new,' he says. 'Ring out th' false, ring in th' thrue,' says he. It's a
pretty sintimint, Hinnissy; but how ar-re we goin' to do it? Nawthin'd please
me betther thin to turn me back on th' wicked an' ingloryous past, rayform
me life, an' live at peace with th' wurruld to th' end iv me days. But how th'
divvle can I do it? As th' fellow says, 'Can th' leopard change his spots,' or
can't he?
"You know Dorsey, iv coorse, th' cross-eyed May-o man that come to this
counthry about wan day in advance iv a warrant f'r sheep-stealin'? Ye know
what he done to me, tellin' people I was caught in me cellar poorin' wather
into a bar'l? Well, last night says I to mesilf, thinkin' iv Dorsey, I says: 'I
swear that henceforth I'll keep me temper with me fellow-men. I'll not let
anger or jealousy get th' betther iv me,' I says. 'I'll lave off all me old feuds;
an' if I meet me inimy goin' down th' sthreet, I'll go up an' shake him be th'
hand, if I'm sure he hasn't a brick in th' other hand.' Oh, I was mighty
compliminthry to mesilf. I set be th' stove dhrinkin' hot wans, an' ivry wan I
dhrunk made me more iv a pote. 'Tis th' way with th' stuff. Whin I'm in
dhrink, I have manny a fine thought; an', if I wasn't too comfortable to go
an' look f'r th' ink-bottle, I cud write pomes that'd make Shakespeare an'
Mike Scanlan think they were wurrkin' on a dredge. 'Why,' says I, 'carry
into th' new year th' hathreds iv th' old?' I says. 'Let th' dead past bury its
dead,' says I. 'Tur-rn ye'er lamps up to th' blue sky,' I says. (It was rainin'
like th' divvle, an' th' hour was midnight; but I give no heed to that, bein'
Page 60
comfortable with th' hot wans.) An' I wint to th' dure, an', whin Mike Duffy
come by on number wan hundherd an' five, ringin' th' gong iv th' ca-ar, I
hollered to him: 'Ring out th' old, ring in th' new.' 'Go back into ye'er stall,'
he says, 'an' wring ye'ersilf out,' he says. 'Ye'er wet through,' he says.
"Whin I woke up this mornin', th' pothry had all disappeared, an' I begun to
think th' las' hot wan I took had somethin' wrong with it. Besides, th'
lumbago was grippin' me till I cud hardly put wan foot befure th' other. But
I remimbered me promises to mesilf, an' I wint out on th' sthreet, intindin' to
wish ivry wan a 'Happy New Year,' an' hopin' in me hear-rt that th' first wan
I wished it to'd tell me to go to th' divvle, so I cud hit him in th' eye. I hadn't
gone half a block before I spied Dorsey acrost th' sthreet. I picked up a half
a brick an' put it in me pocket, an' Dorsey done th' same. Thin we wint up to
each other. 'A Happy New Year,' says I. 'Th' same to you,' says he, 'an'
manny iv thim,' he says. 'Ye have a brick in ye'er hand,' says I. 'I was
thinkin' iv givin' ye a New Year's gift,' says he. 'Th' same to you, an' manny
iv thim,' says I, fondlin' me own ammunition. ''Tis even all around,' says he.
'It is,' says I. 'I was thinkin' las' night I'd give up me gredge again ye,' says
he. 'I had th' same thought mesilf,' says I. 'But, since I seen ye'er face,' he
says, 'I've con-cluded that I'd be more comfortable hatin' ye thin havin' ye f'r
a frind,' says he. 'Ye're a man iv taste,' says I. An' we backed away fr'm each
other. He's a Tip, an' can throw a stone like a rifleman; an', Hinnissy, I'm
somethin' iv an amachoor shot with a half-brick mesilf.
"Well, I've been thinkin' it over, an' I've argied it out that life'd not be worth
livin' if we didn't keep our inimies. I can have all th' frinds I need. Anny
man can that keeps a liquor sthore. But a rale sthrong inimy, specially a
May-o inimy,—wan that hates ye ha-ard, an' that ye'd take th' coat off yer
back to do a bad tur-rn to,—is a luxury that I can't go without in me ol'
days. Dorsey is th' right sort. I can't go by his house without bein' in fear
he'll spill th' chimbly down on me head; an', whin he passes my place, he
walks in th' middle iv th' sthreet, an' crosses himsilf. I'll swear off on
annything but Dorsey. He's a good man, an' I despise him. Here's long life
to him."
come by on number wan hundherd an' five, ringin' th' gong iv th' ca-ar, I
hollered to him: 'Ring out th' old, ring in th' new.' 'Go back into ye'er stall,'
he says, 'an' wring ye'ersilf out,' he says. 'Ye'er wet through,' he says.
"Whin I woke up this mornin', th' pothry had all disappeared, an' I begun to
think th' las' hot wan I took had somethin' wrong with it. Besides, th'
lumbago was grippin' me till I cud hardly put wan foot befure th' other. But
I remimbered me promises to mesilf, an' I wint out on th' sthreet, intindin' to
wish ivry wan a 'Happy New Year,' an' hopin' in me hear-rt that th' first wan
I wished it to'd tell me to go to th' divvle, so I cud hit him in th' eye. I hadn't
gone half a block before I spied Dorsey acrost th' sthreet. I picked up a half
a brick an' put it in me pocket, an' Dorsey done th' same. Thin we wint up to
each other. 'A Happy New Year,' says I. 'Th' same to you,' says he, 'an'
manny iv thim,' he says. 'Ye have a brick in ye'er hand,' says I. 'I was
thinkin' iv givin' ye a New Year's gift,' says he. 'Th' same to you, an' manny
iv thim,' says I, fondlin' me own ammunition. ''Tis even all around,' says he.
'It is,' says I. 'I was thinkin' las' night I'd give up me gredge again ye,' says
he. 'I had th' same thought mesilf,' says I. 'But, since I seen ye'er face,' he
says, 'I've con-cluded that I'd be more comfortable hatin' ye thin havin' ye f'r
a frind,' says he. 'Ye're a man iv taste,' says I. An' we backed away fr'm each
other. He's a Tip, an' can throw a stone like a rifleman; an', Hinnissy, I'm
somethin' iv an amachoor shot with a half-brick mesilf.
"Well, I've been thinkin' it over, an' I've argied it out that life'd not be worth
livin' if we didn't keep our inimies. I can have all th' frinds I need. Anny
man can that keeps a liquor sthore. But a rale sthrong inimy, specially a
May-o inimy,—wan that hates ye ha-ard, an' that ye'd take th' coat off yer
back to do a bad tur-rn to,—is a luxury that I can't go without in me ol'
days. Dorsey is th' right sort. I can't go by his house without bein' in fear
he'll spill th' chimbly down on me head; an', whin he passes my place, he
walks in th' middle iv th' sthreet, an' crosses himsilf. I'll swear off on
annything but Dorsey. He's a good man, an' I despise him. Here's long life
to him."
Page 61
ON GOLD-SEEKING.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Hennessy, "that Alaska's th' gr-reat place. I thought
'twas nawthin' but an iceberg with a few seals roostin' on it, an' wan or two
hundherd Ohio politicians that can't be killed on account iv th' threaty iv
Pawrs. But here they tell me 'tis fairly smothered in goold. A man stubs his
toe on th' ground, an lifts th' top off iv a goold mine. Ye go to bed at night,
an' wake up with goold fillin' in ye'er teeth."
"Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "Clancy's son was in here this mornin', an' he says a
frind iv his wint to sleep out in th' open wan night, an' whin he got up his
pants assayed four ounces iv goold to th' pound, an' his whiskers panned out
as much as thirty dollars net."
"If I was a young man an' not tied down here," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd go
there: I wud so."
"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I was a young man in th' ol' counthry,
we heerd th' same story about all America. We used to set be th' tur-rf fire o'
nights, kickin' our bare legs on th' flure an' wishin' we was in New York,
where all ye had to do was to hold ye'er hat an' th' goold guineas'd dhrop
into it. An' whin I got to be a man, I come over here with a ham and a bag iv
oatmeal, as sure that I'd return in a year with money enough to dhrive me
own ca-ar as I was that me name was Martin Dooley. An' that was a cinch.
"But, faith, whin I'd been here a week, I seen that there was nawthin' but
mud undher th' pavement,—I larned that be means iv a pick-axe at tin
shillin's th' day,—an' that, though there was plenty iv goold, thim that had it
were froze to it; an' I come west, still lookin' f'r mines. Th' on'y mine I
sthruck at Pittsburgh was a hole f'r sewer pipe. I made it. Siven shillin's th'
day. Smaller thin New York, but th' livin' was cheaper, with Mon'gahela rye
at five a throw, put ye'er hand around th' glass.
"I was still dreamin' goold, an' I wint down to Saint Looey. Th' nearest I
come to a fortune there was findin' a quarther on th' sthreet as I leaned over
th' dashboord iv a car to whack th' off mule. Whin I got to Chicago, I
"Well, sir," said Mr. Hennessy, "that Alaska's th' gr-reat place. I thought
'twas nawthin' but an iceberg with a few seals roostin' on it, an' wan or two
hundherd Ohio politicians that can't be killed on account iv th' threaty iv
Pawrs. But here they tell me 'tis fairly smothered in goold. A man stubs his
toe on th' ground, an lifts th' top off iv a goold mine. Ye go to bed at night,
an' wake up with goold fillin' in ye'er teeth."
"Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "Clancy's son was in here this mornin', an' he says a
frind iv his wint to sleep out in th' open wan night, an' whin he got up his
pants assayed four ounces iv goold to th' pound, an' his whiskers panned out
as much as thirty dollars net."
"If I was a young man an' not tied down here," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd go
there: I wud so."
"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I was a young man in th' ol' counthry,
we heerd th' same story about all America. We used to set be th' tur-rf fire o'
nights, kickin' our bare legs on th' flure an' wishin' we was in New York,
where all ye had to do was to hold ye'er hat an' th' goold guineas'd dhrop
into it. An' whin I got to be a man, I come over here with a ham and a bag iv
oatmeal, as sure that I'd return in a year with money enough to dhrive me
own ca-ar as I was that me name was Martin Dooley. An' that was a cinch.
"But, faith, whin I'd been here a week, I seen that there was nawthin' but
mud undher th' pavement,—I larned that be means iv a pick-axe at tin
shillin's th' day,—an' that, though there was plenty iv goold, thim that had it
were froze to it; an' I come west, still lookin' f'r mines. Th' on'y mine I
sthruck at Pittsburgh was a hole f'r sewer pipe. I made it. Siven shillin's th'
day. Smaller thin New York, but th' livin' was cheaper, with Mon'gahela rye
at five a throw, put ye'er hand around th' glass.
"I was still dreamin' goold, an' I wint down to Saint Looey. Th' nearest I
come to a fortune there was findin' a quarther on th' sthreet as I leaned over
th' dashboord iv a car to whack th' off mule. Whin I got to Chicago, I
Page 62
looked around f'r the goold mine. They was Injuns here thin. But they
wasn't anny mines I cud see. They was mud to be shovelled an' dhrays to be
dhruv an' beats to be walked. I choose th' dhray; f'r I was niver cut out f'r a
copper, an' I'd had me fill iv excavatin'. An' I dhruv th' dhray till I wint into
business.
"Me experyence with goold minin' is it's always in th' nex' county. If I was
to go to Alaska, they'd tell me iv th' finds in Seeberya. So I think I'll stay
here. I'm a silver man, annyhow; an' I'm contint if I can see goold wanst a
year, whin some prominent citizen smiles over his newspaper. I'm thinkin'
that ivry man has a goold mine undher his own dure-step or in his
neighbor's pocket at th' farthest."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd like to kick up th' sod, an' find a
ton iv goold undher me fut."
"What wud ye do if ye found it?" demanded Mr. Dooley.
"I—I dinnaw," said Mr. Hennessy, whose dreaming had not gone this far.
Then, recovering himself, he exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "I'd throw
up me job an'—an' live like a prince."
"I tell ye what ye'd do," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye'd come back here an' sthrut up
an' down th' sthreet with ye'er thumbs in ye'er armpits; an' ye'd dhrink too
much, an' ride in sthreet ca-ars. Thin ye'd buy foldin' beds an' piannies, an'
start a reel estate office. Ye'd be fooled a good deal an' lose a lot iv ye'er
money, an' thin ye'd tighten up. Ye'd be in a cold fear night an' day that ye'd
lose ye'er fortune. Ye'd wake up in th' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' that ye
was back at th' gas-house with ye'er money gone. Ye'd be prisidint iv a
charitable society. Ye'd have to wear ye'er shoes in th' house, an' ye'er wife'd
have ye around to rayciptions an dances.' Ye'd move to Mitchigan Avnoo,
an' ye'd hire a coachman that'd laugh at ye. Ye'er boys'd be joods an'
ashamed iv ye, an' ye'd support ye'er daughters' husbands. Ye'd rackrint
ye'er tinants an' lie about ye'er taxes. Ye'd go back to Ireland on a visit, an'
put on airs with ye'er cousin Mike. Ye'd be a mane, close-fisted,
onscrupulous ol' curmudgeon; an', whin ye'd die, it'd take half ye'er fortune
f'r rayqueems to put ye r-right. I don't want ye iver to speak to me whin ye
get rich, Hinnissy."
wasn't anny mines I cud see. They was mud to be shovelled an' dhrays to be
dhruv an' beats to be walked. I choose th' dhray; f'r I was niver cut out f'r a
copper, an' I'd had me fill iv excavatin'. An' I dhruv th' dhray till I wint into
business.
"Me experyence with goold minin' is it's always in th' nex' county. If I was
to go to Alaska, they'd tell me iv th' finds in Seeberya. So I think I'll stay
here. I'm a silver man, annyhow; an' I'm contint if I can see goold wanst a
year, whin some prominent citizen smiles over his newspaper. I'm thinkin'
that ivry man has a goold mine undher his own dure-step or in his
neighbor's pocket at th' farthest."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd like to kick up th' sod, an' find a
ton iv goold undher me fut."
"What wud ye do if ye found it?" demanded Mr. Dooley.
"I—I dinnaw," said Mr. Hennessy, whose dreaming had not gone this far.
Then, recovering himself, he exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "I'd throw
up me job an'—an' live like a prince."
"I tell ye what ye'd do," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye'd come back here an' sthrut up
an' down th' sthreet with ye'er thumbs in ye'er armpits; an' ye'd dhrink too
much, an' ride in sthreet ca-ars. Thin ye'd buy foldin' beds an' piannies, an'
start a reel estate office. Ye'd be fooled a good deal an' lose a lot iv ye'er
money, an' thin ye'd tighten up. Ye'd be in a cold fear night an' day that ye'd
lose ye'er fortune. Ye'd wake up in th' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' that ye
was back at th' gas-house with ye'er money gone. Ye'd be prisidint iv a
charitable society. Ye'd have to wear ye'er shoes in th' house, an' ye'er wife'd
have ye around to rayciptions an dances.' Ye'd move to Mitchigan Avnoo,
an' ye'd hire a coachman that'd laugh at ye. Ye'er boys'd be joods an'
ashamed iv ye, an' ye'd support ye'er daughters' husbands. Ye'd rackrint
ye'er tinants an' lie about ye'er taxes. Ye'd go back to Ireland on a visit, an'
put on airs with ye'er cousin Mike. Ye'd be a mane, close-fisted,
onscrupulous ol' curmudgeon; an', whin ye'd die, it'd take half ye'er fortune
f'r rayqueems to put ye r-right. I don't want ye iver to speak to me whin ye
get rich, Hinnissy."
Page 63
"I won't," said Mr. Hennessy.
Page 64
ON BOOKS.
"Ivry time I pick up me mornin' paper to see how th' scrap come out at
Batthry D," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first thing I r-run acrost is somethin' like
this: 'A hot an' handsome gift f'r Christmas is Lucy Ann Patzooni's "Jims iv
Englewood Thought"'; or 'If ye wud delight th' hear-rt iv yer child, ye'll give
him Dr. Harper's monymental histhry iv th' Jewish thribes fr'm Moses to
Dhry-fuss' or 'Ivrybody is r-readin' Roodyard Kiplin's "Busy Pomes f'r Busy
People."' Th' idee iv givin' books f'r Christmas prisints whin th' stores are
full iv tin hor-rns an' dhrums an' boxin' gloves an choo-choo ca-ars! People
must be crazy."
"They ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy. "My house is so full iv books ye cudden't
tur-rn around without stumblin' over thim. I found th' life iv an ex-convict,
the 'Prisoner iv Zinders,' in me high hat th' other day, where Mary Ann was
hidin' it fr'm her sister. Instead iv th' chidher fightin' an' skylarkin' in th'
evenin', they're settin' around th' table with their noses glued into books. Th'
ol' woman doesn't read, but she picks up what's goin' on. 'Tis 'Honoria, did
Lor-rd What's-his-name marry th' fair Aminta?' or 'But that Lady Jane was a
case.' An' so it goes. There's no injymint in th' house, an' they're usin' me
cravats f'r bookmarks."
"'Tis all wrong," said Mr. Dooley. "They're on'y three books in th' wurruld
worth readin',—Shakespeare, th' Bible, an' Mike Ahearn's histhry iv
Chicago. I have Shakespeare on thrust, Father Kelly r-reads th' Bible f'r me,
an' I didn't buy Mike Ahearn's histhry because I seen more thin he cud put
into it. Books is th' roon iv people, specially novels. Whin I was a young
man, th' parish priest used to preach again thim; but nobody knowed what
he meant. At that time Willum Joyce had th' on'y library in th' Sixth Wa-ard.
Th' mayor give him th' bound volumes iv th' council proceedings, an' they
was a very handsome set. Th' on'y books I seen was th' kind that has th' life
iv th' pope on th' outside an' a set iv dominos on th' inside. They're good
readin'. Nawthin' cud be better f'r a man whin he's tired out afther a day's
wurruk thin to go to his library an' take down wan iv th' gr-reat wurruks iv
lithratchoor an' play a game iv dominos f'r th' dhrinks out iv it. Anny other
"Ivry time I pick up me mornin' paper to see how th' scrap come out at
Batthry D," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first thing I r-run acrost is somethin' like
this: 'A hot an' handsome gift f'r Christmas is Lucy Ann Patzooni's "Jims iv
Englewood Thought"'; or 'If ye wud delight th' hear-rt iv yer child, ye'll give
him Dr. Harper's monymental histhry iv th' Jewish thribes fr'm Moses to
Dhry-fuss' or 'Ivrybody is r-readin' Roodyard Kiplin's "Busy Pomes f'r Busy
People."' Th' idee iv givin' books f'r Christmas prisints whin th' stores are
full iv tin hor-rns an' dhrums an' boxin' gloves an choo-choo ca-ars! People
must be crazy."
"They ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy. "My house is so full iv books ye cudden't
tur-rn around without stumblin' over thim. I found th' life iv an ex-convict,
the 'Prisoner iv Zinders,' in me high hat th' other day, where Mary Ann was
hidin' it fr'm her sister. Instead iv th' chidher fightin' an' skylarkin' in th'
evenin', they're settin' around th' table with their noses glued into books. Th'
ol' woman doesn't read, but she picks up what's goin' on. 'Tis 'Honoria, did
Lor-rd What's-his-name marry th' fair Aminta?' or 'But that Lady Jane was a
case.' An' so it goes. There's no injymint in th' house, an' they're usin' me
cravats f'r bookmarks."
"'Tis all wrong," said Mr. Dooley. "They're on'y three books in th' wurruld
worth readin',—Shakespeare, th' Bible, an' Mike Ahearn's histhry iv
Chicago. I have Shakespeare on thrust, Father Kelly r-reads th' Bible f'r me,
an' I didn't buy Mike Ahearn's histhry because I seen more thin he cud put
into it. Books is th' roon iv people, specially novels. Whin I was a young
man, th' parish priest used to preach again thim; but nobody knowed what
he meant. At that time Willum Joyce had th' on'y library in th' Sixth Wa-ard.
Th' mayor give him th' bound volumes iv th' council proceedings, an' they
was a very handsome set. Th' on'y books I seen was th' kind that has th' life
iv th' pope on th' outside an' a set iv dominos on th' inside. They're good
readin'. Nawthin' cud be better f'r a man whin he's tired out afther a day's
wurruk thin to go to his library an' take down wan iv th' gr-reat wurruks iv
lithratchoor an' play a game iv dominos f'r th' dhrinks out iv it. Anny other
Page 65
kind iv r-readin', barrin' th' newspapers, which will niver hurt anny
onedycated man, is desthructive iv morals.
"I had it out with Father Kelly th' other day in this very matther. He was
comin' up fr'm down town with an ar-rmful iv books f'r prizes at th' school.
'Have ye th' Key to Heaven there?' says I. 'No,' says he, 'th' childher that'll
get these books don't need no key. They go in under th' turnstile,' he says,
laughin'. 'Have ye th' Lives iv th' Saints, or the Christyan Dooty, or th' Story
iv Saint Rose iv Lima?' I says. 'I have not,' says he. 'I have some good story
books. I'd rather th' kids'd r-read Char-les Dickens than anny iv th' tales iv
thim holy men that was burned in ile or et up be lines,' he says. 'It does no
good in these degin'rate days to prove that th' best that can come to a man f'r
behavin' himsilf is to be cooked in a pot or di-gisted be a line,' he says.
'Ye're wrong,' says I. 'Beggin' ye'er riv'rince's pardon, ye're wrong,' I says.
'What ar-re ye goin' to do with thim young wans? Ye're goin' to make thim
near-sighted an' round-shouldered,' I says. 'Ye're goin' to have thim believe
that, if they behave thimsilves an' lead a virchous life, they'll marry rich an'
go to Congress. They'll wake up some day, an' find out that gettin' money an
behavin' ye'ersilf don't always go together,' I says. 'Some iv th' wickedest
men in th' wurruld have marrid rich,' I says. 'Ye're goin' to teach thim that a
man doesn't have to use an ax to get along in th' wurruld. Ye're goin' to
teach thim that a la-ad with a curlin' black mustache an' smokin' a cigareet
is always a villyan, whin he's more often a barber with a lar-rge family.
Life, says ye! There's no life in a book. If ye want to show thim what life is,
tell thim to look around thim. There's more life on a Saturdah night in th'
Ar-rchy Road thin in all th' books fr'm Shakespeare to th' rayport iv th'
drainage thrustees. No man,' I says, 'iver wrote a book if he had annything
to write about, except Shakespeare an' Mike Ahearn. Shakespeare was all r-
right. I niver read anny of his pieces, but they sound good; an' I know Mike
Ahearn is all r-right.'"
"What did he say?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"He took it all r-right," said Mr. Dooley. "He kind o' grinned, an' says he:
'What ye say is thrue, an' it's not thrue,' he says. 'Books is f'r thim that can't
injye thimsilves in anny other way,' he says. 'If ye're in good health, an' ar-
re atin' three squares a day, an' not ayether sad or very much in love with
ye'er lot, but just lookin' on an' not carin' a'—he said rush—'not carin' a
onedycated man, is desthructive iv morals.
"I had it out with Father Kelly th' other day in this very matther. He was
comin' up fr'm down town with an ar-rmful iv books f'r prizes at th' school.
'Have ye th' Key to Heaven there?' says I. 'No,' says he, 'th' childher that'll
get these books don't need no key. They go in under th' turnstile,' he says,
laughin'. 'Have ye th' Lives iv th' Saints, or the Christyan Dooty, or th' Story
iv Saint Rose iv Lima?' I says. 'I have not,' says he. 'I have some good story
books. I'd rather th' kids'd r-read Char-les Dickens than anny iv th' tales iv
thim holy men that was burned in ile or et up be lines,' he says. 'It does no
good in these degin'rate days to prove that th' best that can come to a man f'r
behavin' himsilf is to be cooked in a pot or di-gisted be a line,' he says.
'Ye're wrong,' says I. 'Beggin' ye'er riv'rince's pardon, ye're wrong,' I says.
'What ar-re ye goin' to do with thim young wans? Ye're goin' to make thim
near-sighted an' round-shouldered,' I says. 'Ye're goin' to have thim believe
that, if they behave thimsilves an' lead a virchous life, they'll marry rich an'
go to Congress. They'll wake up some day, an' find out that gettin' money an
behavin' ye'ersilf don't always go together,' I says. 'Some iv th' wickedest
men in th' wurruld have marrid rich,' I says. 'Ye're goin' to teach thim that a
man doesn't have to use an ax to get along in th' wurruld. Ye're goin' to
teach thim that a la-ad with a curlin' black mustache an' smokin' a cigareet
is always a villyan, whin he's more often a barber with a lar-rge family.
Life, says ye! There's no life in a book. If ye want to show thim what life is,
tell thim to look around thim. There's more life on a Saturdah night in th'
Ar-rchy Road thin in all th' books fr'm Shakespeare to th' rayport iv th'
drainage thrustees. No man,' I says, 'iver wrote a book if he had annything
to write about, except Shakespeare an' Mike Ahearn. Shakespeare was all r-
right. I niver read anny of his pieces, but they sound good; an' I know Mike
Ahearn is all r-right.'"
"What did he say?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"He took it all r-right," said Mr. Dooley. "He kind o' grinned, an' says he:
'What ye say is thrue, an' it's not thrue,' he says. 'Books is f'r thim that can't
injye thimsilves in anny other way,' he says. 'If ye're in good health, an' ar-
re atin' three squares a day, an' not ayether sad or very much in love with
ye'er lot, but just lookin' on an' not carin' a'—he said rush—'not carin' a
Page 66
rush, ye don't need books,' he says. 'But if ye're a down-spirited thing an'
want to get away an' can't, ye need books. 'Tis betther to be comfortable at
home thin to go to th' circus, an' 'tis betther to go to th' circus thin to r-read
anny book. But 'tis betther to r-read a book thin to want to go to th' circus
an' not be able to,' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'whin I was growin' up, half th'
congregation heard mass with their prayer books tur-rned upside down, an'
they were as pious as anny. Th' Apostles' Creed niver was as con-vincin' to
me afther I larned to r-read it as it was whin I cudden't read it, but believed
it.'"
want to get away an' can't, ye need books. 'Tis betther to be comfortable at
home thin to go to th' circus, an' 'tis betther to go to th' circus thin to r-read
anny book. But 'tis betther to r-read a book thin to want to go to th' circus
an' not be able to,' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'whin I was growin' up, half th'
congregation heard mass with their prayer books tur-rned upside down, an'
they were as pious as anny. Th' Apostles' Creed niver was as con-vincin' to
me afther I larned to r-read it as it was whin I cudden't read it, but believed
it.'"
Page 67
ON REFORM CANDIDATES.
"That frind iv ye'ers, Dugan, is an intilligent man," said Mr. Dooley. "All he
needs is an index an' a few illusthrations to make him a bicyclopedja iv
useless information."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, judiciously, "he ain't no Soc-rates an' he ain't no
answers-to-questions colum; but he's a good man that goes to his jooty, an'
as handy with a pick as some people are with a cocktail spoon. What's he
been doin' again ye?"
"Nawthin'," said Mr. Dooley, "but he was in here Choosday. 'Did ye vote?'
says I. 'I did,' says he. 'Which wan iv th' distinguished bunko steerers got
ye'er invalu'ble suffrage?' says I. 'I didn't have none with me,' says he, 'but I
voted f'r Charter Haitch,' says he. 'I've been with him in six ilictions,' says
he, 'an' he's a good man,' he says. 'D'ye think ye're votin' f'r th' best?' says I.
'Why, man alive,' I says, 'Charter Haitch was assassinated three years ago,' I
says. 'Was he?' says Dugan. 'Ah, well, he's lived that down be this time. He
was a good man,' he says.
"Ye see, that's what thim rayform lads wint up again. If I liked rayformers,
Hinnissy, an' wanted f'r to see thim win out wanst in their lifetime, I'd buy
thim each a suit iv chilled steel, ar-rm thim with raypeatin' rifles, an' take
thim east iv State Sthreet an' south iv Jackson Bullyvard. At prisint th'
opinion that pre-vails in th' ranks iv th' gloryous ar-rmy iv rayform is that
there ain't annything worth seein' in this lar-rge an' commodyous desert but
th' pest-house an' the bridewell. Me frind Willum J. O'Brien is no rayformer.
But Willum J. undherstands that there's a few hundherds iv thousands iv
people livin' in a part iv th' town that looks like nawthin' but smoke fr'm th'
roof iv th' Onion League Club that have on'y two pleasures in life, to
wurruk an' to vote, both iv which they do at th' uniform rate iv wan dollar
an' a half a day. That's why Willum J. O'Brien is now a sinitor an' will be an
aldherman afther next Thursdah, an' it's why other people are sinding him
flowers.
"That frind iv ye'ers, Dugan, is an intilligent man," said Mr. Dooley. "All he
needs is an index an' a few illusthrations to make him a bicyclopedja iv
useless information."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, judiciously, "he ain't no Soc-rates an' he ain't no
answers-to-questions colum; but he's a good man that goes to his jooty, an'
as handy with a pick as some people are with a cocktail spoon. What's he
been doin' again ye?"
"Nawthin'," said Mr. Dooley, "but he was in here Choosday. 'Did ye vote?'
says I. 'I did,' says he. 'Which wan iv th' distinguished bunko steerers got
ye'er invalu'ble suffrage?' says I. 'I didn't have none with me,' says he, 'but I
voted f'r Charter Haitch,' says he. 'I've been with him in six ilictions,' says
he, 'an' he's a good man,' he says. 'D'ye think ye're votin' f'r th' best?' says I.
'Why, man alive,' I says, 'Charter Haitch was assassinated three years ago,' I
says. 'Was he?' says Dugan. 'Ah, well, he's lived that down be this time. He
was a good man,' he says.
"Ye see, that's what thim rayform lads wint up again. If I liked rayformers,
Hinnissy, an' wanted f'r to see thim win out wanst in their lifetime, I'd buy
thim each a suit iv chilled steel, ar-rm thim with raypeatin' rifles, an' take
thim east iv State Sthreet an' south iv Jackson Bullyvard. At prisint th'
opinion that pre-vails in th' ranks iv th' gloryous ar-rmy iv rayform is that
there ain't annything worth seein' in this lar-rge an' commodyous desert but
th' pest-house an' the bridewell. Me frind Willum J. O'Brien is no rayformer.
But Willum J. undherstands that there's a few hundherds iv thousands iv
people livin' in a part iv th' town that looks like nawthin' but smoke fr'm th'
roof iv th' Onion League Club that have on'y two pleasures in life, to
wurruk an' to vote, both iv which they do at th' uniform rate iv wan dollar
an' a half a day. That's why Willum J. O'Brien is now a sinitor an' will be an
aldherman afther next Thursdah, an' it's why other people are sinding him
flowers.
Page 68
"This is th' way a rayform candydate is ilicted. Th' boys down town has
heerd that things ain't goin' r-right somehow. Franchises is bein' handed out
to none iv thim; an' wanst in a while a mimber iv th' club, comin' home a
little late an' thryin' to ricon-cile a pair iv r-round feet with an embroidered
sidewalk, meets a sthrong ar-rm boy that pushes in his face an' takes away
all his marbles. It begins to be talked that th' time has come f'r good citizens
f'r to brace up an' do somethin', an' they agree to nomynate a candydate f'r
aldherman. 'Who'll we put up?' says they. 'How's Clarence Doolittle?' says
wan. 'He's laid up with a coupon thumb, an' can't r-run.' 'An' how about
Arthur Doheny?' 'I swore an oath whin I came out iv colledge I'd niver vote
f'r a man that wore a made tie.' 'Well, thin, let's thry Willie Boye.' 'Good,'
says th' comity. 'He's jus' th' man f'r our money.' An' Willie Boye, after
thinkin' it over, goes to his tailor an' ordhers three dozen pairs iv pants, an'
decides f'r to be th' sthandard-bearer iv th' people. Musin' over his fried
eyesthers an' asparagus an' his champagne, he bets a polo pony again a box
of golf-balls he'll be ilicted unanimous; an' all th' good citizens make a vow
f'r to set th' alar-rm clock f'r half-past three on th' afthernoon iv iliction day,
so's to be up in time to vote f'r th' riprisintitive iv pure gover'mint.
"'Tis some time befure they comprehind that there ar-re other candydates in
th' field. But th' other candydates know it. Th' sthrongest iv thim—his name
is Flannigan, an' he's a re-tail dealer in wines an' liquors, an' he lives over
his establishment. Flannigan was nomynated enthusyastically at a prim'ry
held in his bar-rn; an' before Willie Boye had picked out pants that wud
match th' color iv th' Austhreelyan ballot this here Flannigan had put a man
on th' day watch, tol' him to speak gently to anny ray-gistered voter that
wint to sleep behind th' sthove, an' was out that night visitin' his frinds. Who
was it judged th' cake walk? Flannigan. Who was it carrid th' pall?
Flannigan. Who was it sthud up at th' christening? Flannigan. Whose ca-
ards did th' grievin' widow, th' blushin' bridegroom, or th' happy father find
in th' hack? Flannigan's. Ye bet ye'er life. Ye see Flannigan wasn't out f'r th'
good iv th' community. Flannigan was out f'r Flannigan an' th' stuff.
"Well, iliction day come around; an' all th' imminent frinds iv good
gover'mint had special wires sthrung into th' club, an' waited f'r th' returns.
Th' first precin't showed 28 votes f'r Willie Boye to 14 f'r Flannigan. 'That's
my precin't,' says Willie. 'I wondher who voted thim fourteen?' 'Coachmen,'
says Clarence Doolittle. 'There are thirty-five precin'ts in this ward,' says th'
heerd that things ain't goin' r-right somehow. Franchises is bein' handed out
to none iv thim; an' wanst in a while a mimber iv th' club, comin' home a
little late an' thryin' to ricon-cile a pair iv r-round feet with an embroidered
sidewalk, meets a sthrong ar-rm boy that pushes in his face an' takes away
all his marbles. It begins to be talked that th' time has come f'r good citizens
f'r to brace up an' do somethin', an' they agree to nomynate a candydate f'r
aldherman. 'Who'll we put up?' says they. 'How's Clarence Doolittle?' says
wan. 'He's laid up with a coupon thumb, an' can't r-run.' 'An' how about
Arthur Doheny?' 'I swore an oath whin I came out iv colledge I'd niver vote
f'r a man that wore a made tie.' 'Well, thin, let's thry Willie Boye.' 'Good,'
says th' comity. 'He's jus' th' man f'r our money.' An' Willie Boye, after
thinkin' it over, goes to his tailor an' ordhers three dozen pairs iv pants, an'
decides f'r to be th' sthandard-bearer iv th' people. Musin' over his fried
eyesthers an' asparagus an' his champagne, he bets a polo pony again a box
of golf-balls he'll be ilicted unanimous; an' all th' good citizens make a vow
f'r to set th' alar-rm clock f'r half-past three on th' afthernoon iv iliction day,
so's to be up in time to vote f'r th' riprisintitive iv pure gover'mint.
"'Tis some time befure they comprehind that there ar-re other candydates in
th' field. But th' other candydates know it. Th' sthrongest iv thim—his name
is Flannigan, an' he's a re-tail dealer in wines an' liquors, an' he lives over
his establishment. Flannigan was nomynated enthusyastically at a prim'ry
held in his bar-rn; an' before Willie Boye had picked out pants that wud
match th' color iv th' Austhreelyan ballot this here Flannigan had put a man
on th' day watch, tol' him to speak gently to anny ray-gistered voter that
wint to sleep behind th' sthove, an' was out that night visitin' his frinds. Who
was it judged th' cake walk? Flannigan. Who was it carrid th' pall?
Flannigan. Who was it sthud up at th' christening? Flannigan. Whose ca-
ards did th' grievin' widow, th' blushin' bridegroom, or th' happy father find
in th' hack? Flannigan's. Ye bet ye'er life. Ye see Flannigan wasn't out f'r th'
good iv th' community. Flannigan was out f'r Flannigan an' th' stuff.
"Well, iliction day come around; an' all th' imminent frinds iv good
gover'mint had special wires sthrung into th' club, an' waited f'r th' returns.
Th' first precin't showed 28 votes f'r Willie Boye to 14 f'r Flannigan. 'That's
my precin't,' says Willie. 'I wondher who voted thim fourteen?' 'Coachmen,'
says Clarence Doolittle. 'There are thirty-five precin'ts in this ward,' says th'
Page 69
leader iv th' rayform ilimint. 'At this rate, I'm sure iv 440 meejority.
Gossoon,' he says, 'put a keg iv sherry wine on th' ice,' he says. 'Well,' he
says, 'at last th' community is relieved fr'm misrule,' he says. 'To-morrah I
will start in arrangin' amindmints to th' tariff schedool an' th' ar-bitration
threety,' he says. 'We must be up an' doin',' he says. 'Hol' on there,' says wan
iv th' comity. 'There must be some mistake in this fr'm th' sixth precin't,' he
says. 'Where's the sixth precin't?' says Clarence. 'Over be th' dumps,' says
Willie. 'I told me futman to see to that. He lives at th' corner iv Desplaines
an Bloo Island Av'noo on Goose's Island,' he says. 'What does it show?'
'Flannigan, three hundherd an' eighty-five; Hansen, forty-eight; Schwartz,
twinty; O'Malley, sivinteen; Casey, ten; O'Day, eight; Larsen, five;
O'Rourke, three; Mulcahy, two; Schmitt, two; Moloney, two; Riordon, two;
O'Malley, two; Willie Boye, wan.' 'Gintlemin,' says Willie Boye, arisin' with
a stern look in his eyes, 'th' rascal has bethrayed me. Waither, take th' sherry
wine off th' ice. They'se no hope f'r sound financial legislation this year. I'm
goin' home.'
"An', as he goes down th' sthreet, he hears a band play an' sees a procission
headed be a calceem light; an', in a carredge, with his plug hat in his hand
an' his di'mond makin' th' calceem look like a piece iv punk in a smoke-
house, is Flannigan, payin' his first visit this side iv th' thracks."
Gossoon,' he says, 'put a keg iv sherry wine on th' ice,' he says. 'Well,' he
says, 'at last th' community is relieved fr'm misrule,' he says. 'To-morrah I
will start in arrangin' amindmints to th' tariff schedool an' th' ar-bitration
threety,' he says. 'We must be up an' doin',' he says. 'Hol' on there,' says wan
iv th' comity. 'There must be some mistake in this fr'm th' sixth precin't,' he
says. 'Where's the sixth precin't?' says Clarence. 'Over be th' dumps,' says
Willie. 'I told me futman to see to that. He lives at th' corner iv Desplaines
an Bloo Island Av'noo on Goose's Island,' he says. 'What does it show?'
'Flannigan, three hundherd an' eighty-five; Hansen, forty-eight; Schwartz,
twinty; O'Malley, sivinteen; Casey, ten; O'Day, eight; Larsen, five;
O'Rourke, three; Mulcahy, two; Schmitt, two; Moloney, two; Riordon, two;
O'Malley, two; Willie Boye, wan.' 'Gintlemin,' says Willie Boye, arisin' with
a stern look in his eyes, 'th' rascal has bethrayed me. Waither, take th' sherry
wine off th' ice. They'se no hope f'r sound financial legislation this year. I'm
goin' home.'
"An', as he goes down th' sthreet, he hears a band play an' sees a procission
headed be a calceem light; an', in a carredge, with his plug hat in his hand
an' his di'mond makin' th' calceem look like a piece iv punk in a smoke-
house, is Flannigan, payin' his first visit this side iv th' thracks."
Page 70
ON PATERNAL DUTY.
"I'm havin' a time iv it with Terence," said Mr. Hennessy, despondently.
"What's th' la-ad been doin'?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"It ain't so much what he's doin'," Mr. Hennessy explained, "as what he ain't
doin.' He ain't stayin' home iv nights, an' he ain't wurrukin'; but he does be
out on th' corner with th' Cromleys an' th' rest, dancin' jig steps an' whistlin'
th' 'Rogue's March' whin a polisman goes by. Sure, I can do nawthin' with
him, f'r he's that kind an' good at home that he'd melt th' heart iv a man iv
stone. But it's gray me life is, thinkin' iv what's to become iv him whin he
gets to be a man grown. Ye're lucky, Martin, that ye're childless."
"Sure, I cudden't be anny other way, an' hold me good name," said Mr.
Dooley. "An', whin I look about me sometimes, it's glad I am. They'se been
times, perhaps—But lave that go. Is there somethin' in th' air or is it in
oursilves that makes th' childher nowadays turn out to curse th' lives iv thim
that give thim life? It may be in th' thrainin'. Whin I was a kid, they were
brought up to love, honor, an' respect th' ol' folks, that their days might be
long in th' land. Amen. If they didn't, th' best they cud do was to say
nawthin' about it. 'Twas th' back iv th' hand an' th' sowl iv th' fut to th' la-ad
that put his spoon first into th' stirabout. Between th' whalin's we got at
school h'isted on th' back iv th' big boy that was bein' thrainned to be a
Christyan brother an' th' thumpin's we got at home, we was kept sore an'
sthraight fr'm wan year's end to another. 'Twas no mild doses they give us,
ayether. I mind wanst, whin I was near as big as I am now, I handed back
some onkind re-emarks to me poor father that's dead. May he rest in peace,
per Dominum! He must iv been a small man, an' bent with wurruk an'
worry. But did he take me jaw? He did not. He hauled off, an' give me a r-
right hook where th' bad wurruds come fr'm. I put up a pretty fight, f'r me
years; but th' man doesn't live that can lick his own father. He rowled me
acrost an oat-field, an' I give up. I didn't love him anny too well f'r that
lickin', but I respected him; an', if he'd come into this place to-night,—an'
he'd be near a hundherd: he was born in th' year '98, an' pikes was hid in his
"I'm havin' a time iv it with Terence," said Mr. Hennessy, despondently.
"What's th' la-ad been doin'?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"It ain't so much what he's doin'," Mr. Hennessy explained, "as what he ain't
doin.' He ain't stayin' home iv nights, an' he ain't wurrukin'; but he does be
out on th' corner with th' Cromleys an' th' rest, dancin' jig steps an' whistlin'
th' 'Rogue's March' whin a polisman goes by. Sure, I can do nawthin' with
him, f'r he's that kind an' good at home that he'd melt th' heart iv a man iv
stone. But it's gray me life is, thinkin' iv what's to become iv him whin he
gets to be a man grown. Ye're lucky, Martin, that ye're childless."
"Sure, I cudden't be anny other way, an' hold me good name," said Mr.
Dooley. "An', whin I look about me sometimes, it's glad I am. They'se been
times, perhaps—But lave that go. Is there somethin' in th' air or is it in
oursilves that makes th' childher nowadays turn out to curse th' lives iv thim
that give thim life? It may be in th' thrainin'. Whin I was a kid, they were
brought up to love, honor, an' respect th' ol' folks, that their days might be
long in th' land. Amen. If they didn't, th' best they cud do was to say
nawthin' about it. 'Twas th' back iv th' hand an' th' sowl iv th' fut to th' la-ad
that put his spoon first into th' stirabout. Between th' whalin's we got at
school h'isted on th' back iv th' big boy that was bein' thrainned to be a
Christyan brother an' th' thumpin's we got at home, we was kept sore an'
sthraight fr'm wan year's end to another. 'Twas no mild doses they give us,
ayether. I mind wanst, whin I was near as big as I am now, I handed back
some onkind re-emarks to me poor father that's dead. May he rest in peace,
per Dominum! He must iv been a small man, an' bent with wurruk an'
worry. But did he take me jaw? He did not. He hauled off, an' give me a r-
right hook where th' bad wurruds come fr'm. I put up a pretty fight, f'r me
years; but th' man doesn't live that can lick his own father. He rowled me
acrost an oat-field, an' I give up. I didn't love him anny too well f'r that
lickin', but I respected him; an', if he'd come into this place to-night,—an'
he'd be near a hundherd: he was born in th' year '98, an' pikes was hid in his
Page 71
cradle,—if he come in here to-night an' pulled me ear, I'd fear to go again
him. I wud so.
"'Tis th' other way about now. Did ye iver know a man be th' name iv
Ahearn? Ye did not? Well, maybe he was befure yer time. He was a cobbler
be thrade; but he picked up money be livin' off iv leather findings an'
wooden pegs, an' bought pieces iv th' prairie, an' starved an' bought more,
an' starved an' starved till his heart was shrivelled up like a washerwoman's
hand. But he made money. An' th' more he made, th' more he wanted, an',
wantin' nawthin' more, it come to him fr'm the divvle, who kept th' curse f'r
his own time. This man Ahearn, whin he had acres an' acres on Halsted
Sthreet, an' tinants be th' scoor that prayed at nights f'r him that he might
live long an' taste sorrow, he marrid a girl. Her name was Ryan, a little,
scared, foolish woman; an' she died whin a boy was bor-rn. Ahearn give her
a solemn rayqueem high mass an' a monument at Calv'ry that ye can see
fr'm th' fun'ral thrain. An' he come fr'm th' fun'ral with th' first smile on his
face that anny man iver see there, an' th' baby in his ar-rms.
"I'll not say Ahearn was a changed man. Th' love iv money was knitted into
his heart; an', afther th' la-ad come, th' way he ground th' people that lived
in his house was death an' destruction. 'I must provide f'r me own,' he said.
But thim that was kind to th' kid cud break th' crust, an' all th' r-rough, hard-
wurrkin' tenants paid f'r th' favors he give to th' ol' frauds an' beguilin'
women that petted Dan'l O'Connell Ahearn. Nawthin' was too good f'r th'
kid. He had nurses an' servants to wait on him. He had clothes that'd stock
this ba-ar f'r a year. Whin he was old enough, he was sint to Saint
Ignatyous. An' th' ol' man'd take him walkin' on a Sundah, an' pint out th'
rows an' rows iv houses, with th' childher in front gazin' in awe at th' great
man an' their fathers glowerin' fr'm the windows, an' say, 'Thim will all be
yours whin ye grow up, Dan'l O'Connell, avick.'
"Well, it didn't take an eye iv a witch to see that Dan'l O'Connell was a bor-
rn idjet. They was no rale harm in th' poor la-ad, on'y he was lazy an'
foolish an' sort iv tired like. To make a long story short, Hinnissy, his father
thried ivrything f'r him, an' got nawthin.' He didn't dhrink much, he cared
little f'r women, he liked to play ca-ards, but not f'r money. He did nawthin'
that was bad; an' yet he was no good at all, at all,—just a slow, tired, aisy-
goin', shamblin' la-ad,—th' sort that'd wrench th' heart iv a father like
him. I wud so.
"'Tis th' other way about now. Did ye iver know a man be th' name iv
Ahearn? Ye did not? Well, maybe he was befure yer time. He was a cobbler
be thrade; but he picked up money be livin' off iv leather findings an'
wooden pegs, an' bought pieces iv th' prairie, an' starved an' bought more,
an' starved an' starved till his heart was shrivelled up like a washerwoman's
hand. But he made money. An' th' more he made, th' more he wanted, an',
wantin' nawthin' more, it come to him fr'm the divvle, who kept th' curse f'r
his own time. This man Ahearn, whin he had acres an' acres on Halsted
Sthreet, an' tinants be th' scoor that prayed at nights f'r him that he might
live long an' taste sorrow, he marrid a girl. Her name was Ryan, a little,
scared, foolish woman; an' she died whin a boy was bor-rn. Ahearn give her
a solemn rayqueem high mass an' a monument at Calv'ry that ye can see
fr'm th' fun'ral thrain. An' he come fr'm th' fun'ral with th' first smile on his
face that anny man iver see there, an' th' baby in his ar-rms.
"I'll not say Ahearn was a changed man. Th' love iv money was knitted into
his heart; an', afther th' la-ad come, th' way he ground th' people that lived
in his house was death an' destruction. 'I must provide f'r me own,' he said.
But thim that was kind to th' kid cud break th' crust, an' all th' r-rough, hard-
wurrkin' tenants paid f'r th' favors he give to th' ol' frauds an' beguilin'
women that petted Dan'l O'Connell Ahearn. Nawthin' was too good f'r th'
kid. He had nurses an' servants to wait on him. He had clothes that'd stock
this ba-ar f'r a year. Whin he was old enough, he was sint to Saint
Ignatyous. An' th' ol' man'd take him walkin' on a Sundah, an' pint out th'
rows an' rows iv houses, with th' childher in front gazin' in awe at th' great
man an' their fathers glowerin' fr'm the windows, an' say, 'Thim will all be
yours whin ye grow up, Dan'l O'Connell, avick.'
"Well, it didn't take an eye iv a witch to see that Dan'l O'Connell was a bor-
rn idjet. They was no rale harm in th' poor la-ad, on'y he was lazy an'
foolish an' sort iv tired like. To make a long story short, Hinnissy, his father
thried ivrything f'r him, an' got nawthin.' He didn't dhrink much, he cared
little f'r women, he liked to play ca-ards, but not f'r money. He did nawthin'
that was bad; an' yet he was no good at all, at all,—just a slow, tired, aisy-
goin', shamblin' la-ad,—th' sort that'd wrench th' heart iv a father like
Page 72
Ahearn. I dinnaw what he did fin'lly, but wan night he come into my place
an' said he'd been turned out be his father an' wanted a place f'r to sleep.
'Ye'll sleep at home,' says I. 'Ye'er father sh'd take shame to himsilf,—him a
rich man.' An' I put on me coat, an' wint over to Ahearn's. I was a power in
th' wa-ard in thim days, an' feared no man alive. Th' ol' la-ad met us at th'
dure. Whin I started to speak, he blazed up. 'Misther Dooley,' says he, 'my
sorrows are me own. I'll keep thim here. As f'r ye,' he says, an' tur-rned like
a tiger on th' boy an' sthruck him with his ol' leathery hand. Th' boy stood f'r
a minyit, an' thin walked out, me with him. I niver see him since. We left
Ahearn standin' there, as we used to say iv th' fox in th' ol' counthry,
cornered between th' river an' th' wall."
"Ye're lucky to be alone," said Mr. Hennessy as he left.
"I think so," said Mr. Dooley. But there was no content upon his face as he
watched a lounging oaf of a boy catch up with Mr. Hennessy, exchange a
curtly affectionate greeting, and walk over to where Mrs. Hennessy could
be seen reading the "Key of Heaven" beside the parlor stove.
an' said he'd been turned out be his father an' wanted a place f'r to sleep.
'Ye'll sleep at home,' says I. 'Ye'er father sh'd take shame to himsilf,—him a
rich man.' An' I put on me coat, an' wint over to Ahearn's. I was a power in
th' wa-ard in thim days, an' feared no man alive. Th' ol' la-ad met us at th'
dure. Whin I started to speak, he blazed up. 'Misther Dooley,' says he, 'my
sorrows are me own. I'll keep thim here. As f'r ye,' he says, an' tur-rned like
a tiger on th' boy an' sthruck him with his ol' leathery hand. Th' boy stood f'r
a minyit, an' thin walked out, me with him. I niver see him since. We left
Ahearn standin' there, as we used to say iv th' fox in th' ol' counthry,
cornered between th' river an' th' wall."
"Ye're lucky to be alone," said Mr. Hennessy as he left.
"I think so," said Mr. Dooley. But there was no content upon his face as he
watched a lounging oaf of a boy catch up with Mr. Hennessy, exchange a
curtly affectionate greeting, and walk over to where Mrs. Hennessy could
be seen reading the "Key of Heaven" beside the parlor stove.
Page 73
ON CRIMINALS.
"Lord bless my sowl," said Mr. Dooley, "childher is a gr-reat risponsibility,
—agr-reat risponsibility. Whin I think iv it, I praise th' saints I niver was
married, though I had opporchunities enough whin I was a young man; an'
even now I have to wear me hat low whin I go down be Cologne Sthreet on
account iv th' Widow Grogan. Jawn, that woman'll take me dead or alive. I
wake up in a col' chill in th' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' iv her havin' me
in her clutches.
"But that's not here or there, avick. I was r-readin' in th' pa-apers iv a lad be
th' name iv Scanlan bein' sint down th' short r-road f'r near a lifetime; an' I
minded th' first time I iver see him,—a bit iv a curly-haired boy that played
tag around me place, an' 'd sing 'Blest Saint Joseph' with a smile on his face
like an angel's. Who'll tell what makes wan man a thief an' another man a
saint? I dinnaw. This here boy's father wur-rked fr'm morn till night in th'
mills, was at early mass Sundah mornin' befure th' alkalis lit th' candles, an'
niver knowed a month whin he failed his jooty. An' his mother was a sweet-
faced little woman, though fr'm th' County Kerry, that nursed th' sick an'
waked th' dead, an' niver had a hard thought in her simple mind f'r anny iv
Gawd's creatures. Poor sowl, she's dead now. May she rest in peace!
"He didn't git th' shtreak fr'm his father or fr'm his mother. His brothers an'
sisters was as fine a lot as iver lived. But this la-ad Petey Scanlan growed
up fr'm bein' a curly-haired angel f'r to be th' toughest villyun in th' r-road.
What was it at all, at all? Sometimes I think they'se poison in th' life iv a big
city. Th' flowers won't grow here no more thin they wud in a tannery, an' th'
bur-rds have no song; an' th' childher iv dacint men an' women come up
hard in th' mouth an' with their hands raised again their kind.
"Th' la-ad was th' scoorge iv th' polis. He was as quick as a cat an' as fierce
as a tiger, an' I well raymimber him havin' laid out big Kelly that used to
thravel this post,—'Whistlin'' Kelly that kep' us awake with imitations iv a
mockin' bur-rd,—I well raymimber him scuttlin' up th' alley with a score iv
polismin laborin' afther him, thryin' f'r a shot at him as he wint around th'
"Lord bless my sowl," said Mr. Dooley, "childher is a gr-reat risponsibility,
—agr-reat risponsibility. Whin I think iv it, I praise th' saints I niver was
married, though I had opporchunities enough whin I was a young man; an'
even now I have to wear me hat low whin I go down be Cologne Sthreet on
account iv th' Widow Grogan. Jawn, that woman'll take me dead or alive. I
wake up in a col' chill in th' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' iv her havin' me
in her clutches.
"But that's not here or there, avick. I was r-readin' in th' pa-apers iv a lad be
th' name iv Scanlan bein' sint down th' short r-road f'r near a lifetime; an' I
minded th' first time I iver see him,—a bit iv a curly-haired boy that played
tag around me place, an' 'd sing 'Blest Saint Joseph' with a smile on his face
like an angel's. Who'll tell what makes wan man a thief an' another man a
saint? I dinnaw. This here boy's father wur-rked fr'm morn till night in th'
mills, was at early mass Sundah mornin' befure th' alkalis lit th' candles, an'
niver knowed a month whin he failed his jooty. An' his mother was a sweet-
faced little woman, though fr'm th' County Kerry, that nursed th' sick an'
waked th' dead, an' niver had a hard thought in her simple mind f'r anny iv
Gawd's creatures. Poor sowl, she's dead now. May she rest in peace!
"He didn't git th' shtreak fr'm his father or fr'm his mother. His brothers an'
sisters was as fine a lot as iver lived. But this la-ad Petey Scanlan growed
up fr'm bein' a curly-haired angel f'r to be th' toughest villyun in th' r-road.
What was it at all, at all? Sometimes I think they'se poison in th' life iv a big
city. Th' flowers won't grow here no more thin they wud in a tannery, an' th'
bur-rds have no song; an' th' childher iv dacint men an' women come up
hard in th' mouth an' with their hands raised again their kind.
"Th' la-ad was th' scoorge iv th' polis. He was as quick as a cat an' as fierce
as a tiger, an' I well raymimber him havin' laid out big Kelly that used to
thravel this post,—'Whistlin'' Kelly that kep' us awake with imitations iv a
mockin' bur-rd,—I well raymimber him scuttlin' up th' alley with a score iv
polismin laborin' afther him, thryin' f'r a shot at him as he wint around th'
Page 74
bar-rns or undher th' thrucks. He slep' in th' coal-sheds afther that until th'
poor ol' man cud square it with th' loot. But, whin he come out, ye cud see
how his face had hardened an' his ways changed. He was as silent as an
animal, with a sideways manner that watched ivrything. Right here in this
place I seen him stand f'r a quarther iv an' hour, not seemin' to hear a dhrunk
man abusin' him, an' thin lep out like a snake. We had to pry him loose.
"Th' ol' folks done th' best they cud with him. They hauled him out iv
station an' jail an' bridewell. Wanst in a long while they'd dhrag him off to
church with his head down: that was always afther he'd been sloughed up f'r
wan thing or another. Between times th' polis give him his own side iv th'
sthreet, an' on'y took him whin his back was tur-rned. Thin he'd go in the
wagon with a mountain iv thim on top iv him, sway in' an' swearin' an'
sthrikin' each other in their hurry to put him to sleep with their clubs.
"I mind well th' time he was first took to be settled f'r good. I heerd a noise
in th' ya-ard, an' thin he come through th' place with his face dead gray an'
his lips just a turn grayer. 'Where ar-re ye goin', Petey?' says I. 'I was jus'
takin' a short cut home,' he says. In three minyits th' r-road was full iv
polismin. They'd been a robbery down in Halsted Sthreet. A man that had a
grocery sthore was stuck up, an' whin he fought was clubbed near to death;
an' they'd r-run Scanlan through th' alleys to his father's house. That was as
far as they'd go. They was enough iv thim to've kicked down th' little
cottage with their heavy boots, but they knew he was standin' behind th'
dure with th' big gun in his hand; an', though they was manny a good lad
there, they was none that cared f'r that short odds.
"They talked an' palavered outside, an' telephoned th' chief iv polis, an'
more pathrol wagons come up. Some was f'r settin' fire to th' buildin', but
no wan moved ahead. Thin th' fr-ront dure opened, an' who shud come out
but th' little mother. She was thin an' pale, an' she had her apron in her
hands, pluckin' at it. 'Gintlemin,' she says, 'what is it ye want iv me?' she
says. 'Liftinant Cassidy,' she says, ''tis sthrange f'r ye that I've knowed so
long to make scandal iv me before me neighbors,' she says. 'Mrs. Scanlan,'
says he, 'we want th' boy. I'm sorry, ma'am, but he's mixed up in a bad
scrape, an' we must have him,' he says. She made a curtsy to thim, an' wint
indures. 'Twas less than a minyit before she come out, clingin' to th' la-ad's
ar-rm. 'He'll go,' she says. 'Thanks be, though he's wild, they'se no crime on
poor ol' man cud square it with th' loot. But, whin he come out, ye cud see
how his face had hardened an' his ways changed. He was as silent as an
animal, with a sideways manner that watched ivrything. Right here in this
place I seen him stand f'r a quarther iv an' hour, not seemin' to hear a dhrunk
man abusin' him, an' thin lep out like a snake. We had to pry him loose.
"Th' ol' folks done th' best they cud with him. They hauled him out iv
station an' jail an' bridewell. Wanst in a long while they'd dhrag him off to
church with his head down: that was always afther he'd been sloughed up f'r
wan thing or another. Between times th' polis give him his own side iv th'
sthreet, an' on'y took him whin his back was tur-rned. Thin he'd go in the
wagon with a mountain iv thim on top iv him, sway in' an' swearin' an'
sthrikin' each other in their hurry to put him to sleep with their clubs.
"I mind well th' time he was first took to be settled f'r good. I heerd a noise
in th' ya-ard, an' thin he come through th' place with his face dead gray an'
his lips just a turn grayer. 'Where ar-re ye goin', Petey?' says I. 'I was jus'
takin' a short cut home,' he says. In three minyits th' r-road was full iv
polismin. They'd been a robbery down in Halsted Sthreet. A man that had a
grocery sthore was stuck up, an' whin he fought was clubbed near to death;
an' they'd r-run Scanlan through th' alleys to his father's house. That was as
far as they'd go. They was enough iv thim to've kicked down th' little
cottage with their heavy boots, but they knew he was standin' behind th'
dure with th' big gun in his hand; an', though they was manny a good lad
there, they was none that cared f'r that short odds.
"They talked an' palavered outside, an' telephoned th' chief iv polis, an'
more pathrol wagons come up. Some was f'r settin' fire to th' buildin', but
no wan moved ahead. Thin th' fr-ront dure opened, an' who shud come out
but th' little mother. She was thin an' pale, an' she had her apron in her
hands, pluckin' at it. 'Gintlemin,' she says, 'what is it ye want iv me?' she
says. 'Liftinant Cassidy,' she says, ''tis sthrange f'r ye that I've knowed so
long to make scandal iv me before me neighbors,' she says. 'Mrs. Scanlan,'
says he, 'we want th' boy. I'm sorry, ma'am, but he's mixed up in a bad
scrape, an' we must have him,' he says. She made a curtsy to thim, an' wint
indures. 'Twas less than a minyit before she come out, clingin' to th' la-ad's
ar-rm. 'He'll go,' she says. 'Thanks be, though he's wild, they'se no crime on
Page 75
his head. Is there, dear?' 'No,' says he, like th' game kid he is. Wan iv th'
polismin stharted to take hold iv him, but th' la-ad pushed him back; an' he
wint to th' wagon on his mother's ar-rm."
"And was he really innocent?" Mr. McKenna asked.
"No," said Mr. Dooley. "But she niver knowed it. Th' ol' man come home
an' found her: she was settin' in a big chair with her apron in her hands an
th' picture iv th' la-ad in her lap."
polismin stharted to take hold iv him, but th' la-ad pushed him back; an' he
wint to th' wagon on his mother's ar-rm."
"And was he really innocent?" Mr. McKenna asked.
"No," said Mr. Dooley. "But she niver knowed it. Th' ol' man come home
an' found her: she was settin' in a big chair with her apron in her hands an
th' picture iv th' la-ad in her lap."
Page 76
ON A PLOT.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "th' European situation is becomin' a little gay."
"It 'tis so," said Mr. Hennessy. "If I was conthrollin' anny iv the gr-reat
powers, I'd go down to th' Phosphorus an' take th' sultan be th' back iv th'
neck an' give him wan, two, three. 'Tis a shame f'r him to be desthroyin'
white people without anny man layin' hands on him. Th' man's no frind iv
mine. He ought to be impeached an' thrun out."
"Divvle take th' sultan," said Mr. Dooley. "It's little I care f'r him or th' likes
iv him or th' Ar-menyans or th' Phosphorus. I was runnin' over in me mind
about th' poor lads they have sloughed up beyant f'r attimptin' to blow up
Queen Victorya an' th cza-ar iv Rooshia. Glory be, but they'se nawthin' in
the wide wurruld as aisy to undherstand as a rivoluchonary plot be our own
people. You'll see a lad iv th' right sort that'd niver open his head fr'm wan
end iv th' year to th'other; but, whin he's picked out to go on a mission to
London, he niver laves off talkin' till they put him aboord th' steamer. Here
was Tynan. They say he had a hand in sindin' Lord Cavendish down th'
toboggan, though I'd not thrust his own tellin' as far as th' len'th iv me ar-
rm. Now he figured out that th' thrue way to free Ireland was to go over an'
blow th' windows in Winzer Palace, an' incidentally to hist th' queen an' th'
Rooshian cza-ar without th' aid iv th' elevator. What this here Tynan had
again th' Rooshian cza-ar I niver heerd. But 'twas something awful, ye may
be sure.
"Well, th' first thing th' la-ads done was to go to Madison Square Garden an'
hold a secret meetin', in which thim that was to hand th' package to th'
queen and thim that was to toss a piece iv gas pipe to his cza-ars was told
off. Thin a comity was sint around to th' newspaper offices to tell thim th'
expedition was about to start. Th' conspirators, heavily disgeesed, was
attinded to th' boat be a long procission. First come Tynan ridin' on a
wagon-load iv nithroglycerine; thin th' other conspirators, with gas-pipe
bombs an' picks an' chuvvels f'r tunnellin' undher Winzer Castle; thin th'
Ah-o-haitches; thin th' raypoorthers; thin a brigade iv Scotland Ya-ard spies
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "th' European situation is becomin' a little gay."
"It 'tis so," said Mr. Hennessy. "If I was conthrollin' anny iv the gr-reat
powers, I'd go down to th' Phosphorus an' take th' sultan be th' back iv th'
neck an' give him wan, two, three. 'Tis a shame f'r him to be desthroyin'
white people without anny man layin' hands on him. Th' man's no frind iv
mine. He ought to be impeached an' thrun out."
"Divvle take th' sultan," said Mr. Dooley. "It's little I care f'r him or th' likes
iv him or th' Ar-menyans or th' Phosphorus. I was runnin' over in me mind
about th' poor lads they have sloughed up beyant f'r attimptin' to blow up
Queen Victorya an' th cza-ar iv Rooshia. Glory be, but they'se nawthin' in
the wide wurruld as aisy to undherstand as a rivoluchonary plot be our own
people. You'll see a lad iv th' right sort that'd niver open his head fr'm wan
end iv th' year to th'other; but, whin he's picked out to go on a mission to
London, he niver laves off talkin' till they put him aboord th' steamer. Here
was Tynan. They say he had a hand in sindin' Lord Cavendish down th'
toboggan, though I'd not thrust his own tellin' as far as th' len'th iv me ar-
rm. Now he figured out that th' thrue way to free Ireland was to go over an'
blow th' windows in Winzer Palace, an' incidentally to hist th' queen an' th'
Rooshian cza-ar without th' aid iv th' elevator. What this here Tynan had
again th' Rooshian cza-ar I niver heerd. But 'twas something awful, ye may
be sure.
"Well, th' first thing th' la-ads done was to go to Madison Square Garden an'
hold a secret meetin', in which thim that was to hand th' package to th'
queen and thim that was to toss a piece iv gas pipe to his cza-ars was told
off. Thin a comity was sint around to th' newspaper offices to tell thim th'
expedition was about to start. Th' conspirators, heavily disgeesed, was
attinded to th' boat be a long procission. First come Tynan ridin' on a
wagon-load iv nithroglycerine; thin th' other conspirators, with gas-pipe
bombs an' picks an' chuvvels f'r tunnellin' undher Winzer Castle; thin th'
Ah-o-haitches; thin th' raypoorthers; thin a brigade iv Scotland Ya-ard spies
Page 77
in th' ga-arb iv polismin. An' so off they wint on their secret mission, with
th' band playin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th' Green,' an Tynan standin' on th' quarther
deck, smilin' an' bowin' an' wavin' a bag iv jint powdher over his head.
"No sooner had th' conspirators landed thin th' British gover'mint begun to
grow suspicious iv thim. Tynan was shadowed be detictives in citizens'
clothes; an', whin he was seen out in his backyard practisin' blowin' up a
bar'l that he'd dhressed in a shawl an' a little lace cap, th' suspicions growed.
Ivrywhere that Tynan wint he was purshooed be th' minions iv tyranny.
Whin he visited th' house nex' dure to th' queen's, an' unloaded a dhray full
iv explosives an' chuvvels, the fact was rayported to th' polis, who become
exthremely vigilant. Th' detictives followed him to Scotland Yard, where he
wint to inform th' captain iv th' conspiracy, an' overheard much damming
ividence iv th' plot until they become more an' more suspicious that
something was on, although what was th' intintions iv th' conspirators it was
hard to make out fr'm their peculiar actions. Whin Tynan gathered his
followers in Hyde Park, an' notified thim iv the positions they was to take
and disthributed th' dinnymite among thim, th' detictives become decidedly
suspicious. Their suspicions was again aroused whin Tynan asked
permission iv th' common council to build a bay window up close to th'
queen's bedroom. But th' time to act had not come, an' they continted
thimselves with thrackin' him through th' sthreets an' takin' notes iv such
suspicious remarks as 'Anny wan that wants mementoes iv th' queen has
on'y to be around this neighborhood nex' week with a shovel an' a basket,'
an' 'Onless ye want ye'er clothes to be spoiled be th' czar, ye'd best carry
umbrellas.' On th' followin' day Tynan took th' step that was needed f'r to
con-vince th' gover'mint that he had designs on the monarchs. He wint to
France. It's always been obsarved that, whin a dinnymiter had to blow up
annything in London, he laves th' counthry. Th' polis, now thoroughly
aroused, acted with commindable promptness. They arristed Tynan in
Booloon f'r th' murdher iv Cavendish.
"Thus," said Mr. Dooley, sadly, "thus is th' vengeance f'r which our beloved
counthry has awaited so long delayed be th' hand iv onscrupulious tyranny.
Sthrive as our heroes may, no secrecy is secure against th' corruption iv
British goold. Oh, Ireland, is this to be thy fate forever? Ar-re ye niver to
escape th' vigilance iv th' polis, thim cold-eyed sleuths that seem to read th'
very thoughts iv ye'er pathriot sons?"
th' band playin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th' Green,' an Tynan standin' on th' quarther
deck, smilin' an' bowin' an' wavin' a bag iv jint powdher over his head.
"No sooner had th' conspirators landed thin th' British gover'mint begun to
grow suspicious iv thim. Tynan was shadowed be detictives in citizens'
clothes; an', whin he was seen out in his backyard practisin' blowin' up a
bar'l that he'd dhressed in a shawl an' a little lace cap, th' suspicions growed.
Ivrywhere that Tynan wint he was purshooed be th' minions iv tyranny.
Whin he visited th' house nex' dure to th' queen's, an' unloaded a dhray full
iv explosives an' chuvvels, the fact was rayported to th' polis, who become
exthremely vigilant. Th' detictives followed him to Scotland Yard, where he
wint to inform th' captain iv th' conspiracy, an' overheard much damming
ividence iv th' plot until they become more an' more suspicious that
something was on, although what was th' intintions iv th' conspirators it was
hard to make out fr'm their peculiar actions. Whin Tynan gathered his
followers in Hyde Park, an' notified thim iv the positions they was to take
and disthributed th' dinnymite among thim, th' detictives become decidedly
suspicious. Their suspicions was again aroused whin Tynan asked
permission iv th' common council to build a bay window up close to th'
queen's bedroom. But th' time to act had not come, an' they continted
thimselves with thrackin' him through th' sthreets an' takin' notes iv such
suspicious remarks as 'Anny wan that wants mementoes iv th' queen has
on'y to be around this neighborhood nex' week with a shovel an' a basket,'
an' 'Onless ye want ye'er clothes to be spoiled be th' czar, ye'd best carry
umbrellas.' On th' followin' day Tynan took th' step that was needed f'r to
con-vince th' gover'mint that he had designs on the monarchs. He wint to
France. It's always been obsarved that, whin a dinnymiter had to blow up
annything in London, he laves th' counthry. Th' polis, now thoroughly
aroused, acted with commindable promptness. They arristed Tynan in
Booloon f'r th' murdher iv Cavendish.
"Thus," said Mr. Dooley, sadly, "thus is th' vengeance f'r which our beloved
counthry has awaited so long delayed be th' hand iv onscrupulious tyranny.
Sthrive as our heroes may, no secrecy is secure against th' corruption iv
British goold. Oh, Ireland, is this to be thy fate forever? Ar-re ye niver to
escape th' vigilance iv th' polis, thim cold-eyed sleuths that seem to read th'
very thoughts iv ye'er pathriot sons?"
Page 78
"There must have been a spy in th' ranks," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Sure thing," said Mr. Dooley, winking at Mr. McKenna. "Sure thing,
Hinnissy. Ayether that or th' accomplished detictives at Scotland Yards keep
a close watch iv the newspapers. Or it may be—who knows?—that Tynan
was indiscreet. He may have dhropped a hint of his intintions."
"Sure thing," said Mr. Dooley, winking at Mr. McKenna. "Sure thing,
Hinnissy. Ayether that or th' accomplished detictives at Scotland Yards keep
a close watch iv the newspapers. Or it may be—who knows?—that Tynan
was indiscreet. He may have dhropped a hint of his intintions."
Page 79
ON THE NEW WOMAN.
"Molly Donahue have up an' become a new woman!
"It's been a good thing f'r ol' man Donahue, though, Jawn. He shtud
ivrything that mortal man cud stand. He seen her appearin' in th' road
wearin' clothes that no lady shud wear an' ridin' a bicycle; he was
humiliated whin she demanded to vote; he put his pride under his ar-rm an'
ma-arched out iv th' house whin she committed assault-an'-batthry on th'
piannah. But he's got to th' end iv th' rope now. He was in here las' night,
how-come-ye-so, with his hat cocked over his eye an' a look iv risolution on
his face; an' whin he left me, he says, says he, 'Dooley,' he says, 'I'll conquir,
or I'll die,' he says.
"It's been comin f'r months, but it on'y bust oh Donahue las' week. He'd
come home at night tired out, an' afther supper he was pullin' off his boots,
whin Mollie an' th' mother begun talkin' about th' rights iv females. ''Tis th'
era iv th' new woman,' says Mollie. 'Ye're right,' says th' mother. 'What d'ye
mean be the new woman?' says Donahue, holdin' his boot in his hand. 'Th'
new woman,' says Mollie, ''ll be free fr'm th' opprision iv man,' she says.
'She'll wurruk out her own way, without help or hinderance,' she says. She'll
wear what clothes she wants,' she says, 'an' she'll be no man's slave,' she
says. 'They'll be no such thing as givin' a girl in marredge to a clown an'
makin' her dipindant on his whims,' she says. 'Th' women'll earn their own
livin',' she says; 'an' mebbe,' she says, 'th' men'll stay at home an' dredge in
th' house wurruk,' she says. 'A-ho,' says Donahue. 'An' that's th' new
woman, is it?' he says. An' he said no more that night.
"But th' nex' mornin' Mrs. Donahue an' Mollie come to his dure. 'Get up,'
says Mrs. Donahue, 'an' bring in some coal,' she says. 'Ye drowsy man, ye'll
be late f'r ye'er wurruk.' 'Divvle th' bit iv coal I'll fetch,' says Donahue. 'Go
away an' lave me alone,' he says. 'Ye're inthruptin' me dreams.' 'What ails
ye, man alive?' says Mrs. Donahue. 'Get up.' 'Go away,' says Donahue, 'an
lave me slumber,' he says. 'Th' idee iv a couple iv big strong women like
you makin' me wurruk f'r ye,' he says. 'Mollie 'll bring in th' coal,' he says.
"Molly Donahue have up an' become a new woman!
"It's been a good thing f'r ol' man Donahue, though, Jawn. He shtud
ivrything that mortal man cud stand. He seen her appearin' in th' road
wearin' clothes that no lady shud wear an' ridin' a bicycle; he was
humiliated whin she demanded to vote; he put his pride under his ar-rm an'
ma-arched out iv th' house whin she committed assault-an'-batthry on th'
piannah. But he's got to th' end iv th' rope now. He was in here las' night,
how-come-ye-so, with his hat cocked over his eye an' a look iv risolution on
his face; an' whin he left me, he says, says he, 'Dooley,' he says, 'I'll conquir,
or I'll die,' he says.
"It's been comin f'r months, but it on'y bust oh Donahue las' week. He'd
come home at night tired out, an' afther supper he was pullin' off his boots,
whin Mollie an' th' mother begun talkin' about th' rights iv females. ''Tis th'
era iv th' new woman,' says Mollie. 'Ye're right,' says th' mother. 'What d'ye
mean be the new woman?' says Donahue, holdin' his boot in his hand. 'Th'
new woman,' says Mollie, ''ll be free fr'm th' opprision iv man,' she says.
'She'll wurruk out her own way, without help or hinderance,' she says. She'll
wear what clothes she wants,' she says, 'an' she'll be no man's slave,' she
says. 'They'll be no such thing as givin' a girl in marredge to a clown an'
makin' her dipindant on his whims,' she says. 'Th' women'll earn their own
livin',' she says; 'an' mebbe,' she says, 'th' men'll stay at home an' dredge in
th' house wurruk,' she says. 'A-ho,' says Donahue. 'An' that's th' new
woman, is it?' he says. An' he said no more that night.
"But th' nex' mornin' Mrs. Donahue an' Mollie come to his dure. 'Get up,'
says Mrs. Donahue, 'an' bring in some coal,' she says. 'Ye drowsy man, ye'll
be late f'r ye'er wurruk.' 'Divvle th' bit iv coal I'll fetch,' says Donahue. 'Go
away an' lave me alone,' he says. 'Ye're inthruptin' me dreams.' 'What ails
ye, man alive?' says Mrs. Donahue. 'Get up.' 'Go away,' says Donahue, 'an
lave me slumber,' he says. 'Th' idee iv a couple iv big strong women like
you makin' me wurruk f'r ye,' he says. 'Mollie 'll bring in th' coal,' he says.
Page 80
'An' as f'r you, Honoria, ye'd best see what there is in th' cupboord an' put it
in ye'er dinner-pail,' he says. 'I heerd th' first whistle blow a minyit ago,' he
says; 'an' there's a pile iv slag at th' mills that has to be wheeled off befure
th' sup'rintindint comes around,' he says. 'Ye know ye can't afford to lose
ye'er job with me in this dilicate condition,' he says. 'I'm going to sleep
now,' he says. 'An', Mollie, do ye bring me in a cup iv cocoa an' a pooched
igg at tin,' he says. 'I ixpect me music-teacher about that time. We have to
take a wallop out iv Wagner an' Bootoven befure noon.' 'Th' Lord save us
fr'm harm,' says Mrs. Donahue. 'Th' man's clean crazy.' 'Divvle's th' bit,'
says Donahue, wavin' his red flannel undhershirt in th' air. 'I'm the new
man,' he says.
"Well, sir, Donahue said it flured thim complete. They didn't know what to
say. Mollie was game, an' she fetched in th' coal; but Mrs. Donahue got
nervous as eight o'clock come around. 'Ye're not goin' to stay in bed all day
an' lose ye'er job,' she says. 'Th' 'ell with me job,' says Donahue. 'I'm not th'
man to take wurruk whin they'se industhrees women with nawthin' to do,'
he says. 'Show me th' pa-apers,' he says. 'I want to see where I can get an
eighty-cint bonnet f'r two and a half.' He's that stubborn he'd've stayed in
bed all day, but th' good woman weakened. 'Come,' she says, 'don't be
foolish,' she says. 'Ye wudden't have th' ol' woman wurrukin' in th' mills,'
she says. ''Twas all a joke,' she says. 'Oh-ho, th' ol' woman!' he says. 'Th' ol'
woman! Well, that's a horse iv another color,' he says. 'An' I don't mind
tellin' ye th' mills is closed down to-day, Honoria.' So he dhressed himsilf
an' wint out; an' says he to Mollie, he says: 'Miss Newwoman,' says he, 'ye
may find wurruk enough around th' house,' he says. 'An', if ye have time, ye
might paint th' stoop,' he says. 'Th' ol' man is goin' to take th' ol' woman
down be Halsted Sthreet' an' blow himsilf f'r a new shawl f'r her.'
"An' he's been that proud iv th' victhry that he's been a reg'lar customer f'r a
week."
in ye'er dinner-pail,' he says. 'I heerd th' first whistle blow a minyit ago,' he
says; 'an' there's a pile iv slag at th' mills that has to be wheeled off befure
th' sup'rintindint comes around,' he says. 'Ye know ye can't afford to lose
ye'er job with me in this dilicate condition,' he says. 'I'm going to sleep
now,' he says. 'An', Mollie, do ye bring me in a cup iv cocoa an' a pooched
igg at tin,' he says. 'I ixpect me music-teacher about that time. We have to
take a wallop out iv Wagner an' Bootoven befure noon.' 'Th' Lord save us
fr'm harm,' says Mrs. Donahue. 'Th' man's clean crazy.' 'Divvle's th' bit,'
says Donahue, wavin' his red flannel undhershirt in th' air. 'I'm the new
man,' he says.
"Well, sir, Donahue said it flured thim complete. They didn't know what to
say. Mollie was game, an' she fetched in th' coal; but Mrs. Donahue got
nervous as eight o'clock come around. 'Ye're not goin' to stay in bed all day
an' lose ye'er job,' she says. 'Th' 'ell with me job,' says Donahue. 'I'm not th'
man to take wurruk whin they'se industhrees women with nawthin' to do,'
he says. 'Show me th' pa-apers,' he says. 'I want to see where I can get an
eighty-cint bonnet f'r two and a half.' He's that stubborn he'd've stayed in
bed all day, but th' good woman weakened. 'Come,' she says, 'don't be
foolish,' she says. 'Ye wudden't have th' ol' woman wurrukin' in th' mills,'
she says. ''Twas all a joke,' she says. 'Oh-ho, th' ol' woman!' he says. 'Th' ol'
woman! Well, that's a horse iv another color,' he says. 'An' I don't mind
tellin' ye th' mills is closed down to-day, Honoria.' So he dhressed himsilf
an' wint out; an' says he to Mollie, he says: 'Miss Newwoman,' says he, 'ye
may find wurruk enough around th' house,' he says. 'An', if ye have time, ye
might paint th' stoop,' he says. 'Th' ol' man is goin' to take th' ol' woman
down be Halsted Sthreet' an' blow himsilf f'r a new shawl f'r her.'
"An' he's been that proud iv th' victhry that he's been a reg'lar customer f'r a
week."
Page 81
ON EXPERT TESTIMONY.
"Annything new?" said Mr. Hennessy, who had been waiting patiently for
Mr. Dooley to put down his newspaper.
"I've been r-readin' th' tistimony iv th' Lootgert case," said Mr. Dooley.
"What d'ye think iv it?"
"I think so," said Mr. Dooley.
"Think what?"
"How do I know?" said Mr. Dooley. "How do I know what I think? I'm no
combination iv chemist, doctor, osteologist, polisman, an' sausage-maker,
that I can give ye an opinion right off th' bat. A man needs to be all iv thim
things to detarmine annything about a murdher trile in these days. This
shows how intilligent our methods is, as Hogan says. A large German man
is charged with puttin' his wife away into a breakfas'-dish, an' he says he
didn't do it. Th' on'y question, thin, is, Did or did not Alphonse Lootgert
stick Mrs. L. into a vat, an' rayjooce her to a quick lunch? Am I right?"
"Ye ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy.
"That's simple enough. What th' coort ought to've done was to call him up,
an' say: 'Lootgert, where's ye'er good woman?' If Lootgert cudden't tell, he
ought to be hanged on gin'ral principles; f'r a man must keep his wife
around th' house, an' whin she isn't there, it shows he's a poor provider. But,
if Lootgert says, 'I don't know where me wife is,' the coort shud say: 'Go
out, an' find her. If ye can't projooce her in a week, I'll fix ye.' An' let that be
th' end iv it.
"But what do they do? They get Lootgert into coort an' stand him up befure
a gang iv young rayporthers an' th' likes iv thim to make pitchers iv him.
Thin they summon a jury composed iv poor tired, sleepy expressmen an'
tailors an' clerks. Thin they call in a profissor from a colledge. 'Profissor,'
says th' lawyer f'r the State, 'I put it to ye if a wooden vat three hundherd an'
"Annything new?" said Mr. Hennessy, who had been waiting patiently for
Mr. Dooley to put down his newspaper.
"I've been r-readin' th' tistimony iv th' Lootgert case," said Mr. Dooley.
"What d'ye think iv it?"
"I think so," said Mr. Dooley.
"Think what?"
"How do I know?" said Mr. Dooley. "How do I know what I think? I'm no
combination iv chemist, doctor, osteologist, polisman, an' sausage-maker,
that I can give ye an opinion right off th' bat. A man needs to be all iv thim
things to detarmine annything about a murdher trile in these days. This
shows how intilligent our methods is, as Hogan says. A large German man
is charged with puttin' his wife away into a breakfas'-dish, an' he says he
didn't do it. Th' on'y question, thin, is, Did or did not Alphonse Lootgert
stick Mrs. L. into a vat, an' rayjooce her to a quick lunch? Am I right?"
"Ye ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy.
"That's simple enough. What th' coort ought to've done was to call him up,
an' say: 'Lootgert, where's ye'er good woman?' If Lootgert cudden't tell, he
ought to be hanged on gin'ral principles; f'r a man must keep his wife
around th' house, an' whin she isn't there, it shows he's a poor provider. But,
if Lootgert says, 'I don't know where me wife is,' the coort shud say: 'Go
out, an' find her. If ye can't projooce her in a week, I'll fix ye.' An' let that be
th' end iv it.
"But what do they do? They get Lootgert into coort an' stand him up befure
a gang iv young rayporthers an' th' likes iv thim to make pitchers iv him.
Thin they summon a jury composed iv poor tired, sleepy expressmen an'
tailors an' clerks. Thin they call in a profissor from a colledge. 'Profissor,'
says th' lawyer f'r the State, 'I put it to ye if a wooden vat three hundherd an'
Page 82
sixty feet long, twenty-eight feet deep, an' sivinty-five feet wide, an' if three
hundherd pounds iv caustic soda boiled, an' if the leg iv a guinea pig, an' ye
said yestherdah about bi-carbonate iv soda, an' if it washes up an' washes
over, an' th' slimy, slippery stuff, an' if a false tooth or a lock iv hair or a
jawbone or a goluf ball across th' cellar eleven feet nine inches—that is, two
inches this way an' five gallons that?' 'I agree with ye intirely,' says th'
profissor. 'I made lab'ratory experiments in an' ir'n basin, with bichloride iv
gool, which I will call soup-stock, an' coal tar, which I will call ir'n filings. I
mixed th' two over a hot fire, an' left in a cool place to harden. I thin packed
it in ice, which I will call glue, an' rock-salt, which I will call fried eggs, an'
obtained a dark, queer solution that is a cure f'r freckles, which I will call
antimony or doughnuts or annything I blamed please.'
"'But,' says th' lawyer f'r th' State, 'measurin' th' vat with gas,—an' I lave it
to ye whether this is not th' on'y fair test,—an' supposin' that two feet acrost
is akel to tin feet sideways, an' supposin' that a thick green an' hard
substance, an' I daresay it wud; an' supposin' you may, takin' into account th'
measuremints,—twelve be eight,—th' vat bein' wound with twine six inches
fr'm th' handle an' a rub iv th' green, thin ar-re not human teeth often found
in counthry sausage?' 'In th' winter,' says th' profissor. 'But th' sisymoid
bone is sometimes seen in th' fut, sometimes worn as a watch-charm. I took
two sisymoid bones, which I will call poker dice, an' shook thim together in
a cylinder, which I will call Fido, poored in a can iv milk, which I will call
gum arabic, took two pounds iv rough-on-rats, which I rayfuse to call; but
th' raysult is th' same.' Question be th' coort: 'Different?' Answer: 'Yis.' Th'
coort: 'Th' same.' Be Misther McEwen: 'Whose bones?' Answer: 'Yis.' Be
Misther Vincent: 'Will ye go to th' divvle?' Answer: 'It dissolves th' hair.'
"Now what I want to know is where th' jury gets off. What has that
collection iv pure-minded pathrites to larn fr'm this here polite discussion,
where no wan is so crool as to ask what anny wan else means? Thank th'
Lord, whin th' case is all over, the jury'll pitch th' tistimony out iv th'
window, an' consider three questions: 'Did Lootgert look as though he'd kill
his wife? Did his wife look as though she ought to be kilt? Isn't it time we
wint to supper?' An', howiver they answer, they'll be right, an' it'll make
little difference wan way or th' other. Th' German vote is too large an'
ignorant, annyhow."
hundherd pounds iv caustic soda boiled, an' if the leg iv a guinea pig, an' ye
said yestherdah about bi-carbonate iv soda, an' if it washes up an' washes
over, an' th' slimy, slippery stuff, an' if a false tooth or a lock iv hair or a
jawbone or a goluf ball across th' cellar eleven feet nine inches—that is, two
inches this way an' five gallons that?' 'I agree with ye intirely,' says th'
profissor. 'I made lab'ratory experiments in an' ir'n basin, with bichloride iv
gool, which I will call soup-stock, an' coal tar, which I will call ir'n filings. I
mixed th' two over a hot fire, an' left in a cool place to harden. I thin packed
it in ice, which I will call glue, an' rock-salt, which I will call fried eggs, an'
obtained a dark, queer solution that is a cure f'r freckles, which I will call
antimony or doughnuts or annything I blamed please.'
"'But,' says th' lawyer f'r th' State, 'measurin' th' vat with gas,—an' I lave it
to ye whether this is not th' on'y fair test,—an' supposin' that two feet acrost
is akel to tin feet sideways, an' supposin' that a thick green an' hard
substance, an' I daresay it wud; an' supposin' you may, takin' into account th'
measuremints,—twelve be eight,—th' vat bein' wound with twine six inches
fr'm th' handle an' a rub iv th' green, thin ar-re not human teeth often found
in counthry sausage?' 'In th' winter,' says th' profissor. 'But th' sisymoid
bone is sometimes seen in th' fut, sometimes worn as a watch-charm. I took
two sisymoid bones, which I will call poker dice, an' shook thim together in
a cylinder, which I will call Fido, poored in a can iv milk, which I will call
gum arabic, took two pounds iv rough-on-rats, which I rayfuse to call; but
th' raysult is th' same.' Question be th' coort: 'Different?' Answer: 'Yis.' Th'
coort: 'Th' same.' Be Misther McEwen: 'Whose bones?' Answer: 'Yis.' Be
Misther Vincent: 'Will ye go to th' divvle?' Answer: 'It dissolves th' hair.'
"Now what I want to know is where th' jury gets off. What has that
collection iv pure-minded pathrites to larn fr'm this here polite discussion,
where no wan is so crool as to ask what anny wan else means? Thank th'
Lord, whin th' case is all over, the jury'll pitch th' tistimony out iv th'
window, an' consider three questions: 'Did Lootgert look as though he'd kill
his wife? Did his wife look as though she ought to be kilt? Isn't it time we
wint to supper?' An', howiver they answer, they'll be right, an' it'll make
little difference wan way or th' other. Th' German vote is too large an'
ignorant, annyhow."
Page 83
Page 84
ON THE POPULARITY OF FIREMEN.
"I knowed a man be th' name iv Clancy wanst, Jawn. He was fr'm th'
County May-o, but a good man f'r all that; an', whin he'd growed to be a
big, sthrappin' fellow, he wint on to th' fire departmint. They'se an Irishman
'r two on th' fire departmint an' in th' army, too, Jawn, though ye'd think be
hearin' some talk they was all runnin' prim'ries an' thryin' to be cinthral
comitymen. So ye wud. Ye niver hear iv thim on'y whin they die; an' thin,
murther, what funerals they have!
"Well, this Clancy wint on th' fire departmint, an' they give him a place in
thruck twinty-three. All th' r-road was proud iv him, an' faith he was proud
iv himsilf. He r-rode free on th' sthreet ca-ars, an' was th' champeen hand-
ball player f'r miles around. Ye shud see him goin' down th' sthreet, with his
blue shirt an' his blue coat with th' buttons on it, an' his cap on his ear. But
ne'er a cap or coat'd he wear whin they was a fire. He might be shiv'rin' be
th' stove in th' ingine house with a buffalo robe over his head; but, whin th'
gong sthruck, 'twas off with coat an' cap an' buffalo robe, an' out come me
brave Clancy, bare-headed an' bare hand, dhrivin' with wan line an' spillin'
th' hose cart on wan wheel at ivry jump iv th' horse. Did anny wan iver see a
fireman with his coat on or a polisman with his off? Why, wanst, whin
Clancy was standin' up f'r Grogan's eighth, his son come runnin' in to tell
him they was a fire in Vogel's packin' house. He dhropped th' kid at Father
Kelly's feet, an' whipped off his long coat an' wint tearin' f'r th' dure, kickin'
over th' poorbox an' buttin' ol' Mis' O'Neill that'd come in to say th' stations.
'Twas lucky 'twas wan iv th' Grogans. They're a fine family f'r falls. Jawn
Grogan was wurrukin' on th' top iv Metzri an' O'Connell's brewery wanst,
with a man be th' name iv Dorsey. He slipped an' fell wan hundherd feet.
Whin they come to see if he was dead, he got up, an' says he: 'Lave me at
him.' 'At who?' says they. 'He's deliryous,' they says. 'At Dorsey,' says
Grogan. 'He thripped me.' So it didn't hurt Grogan's eighth to fall four 'r five
feet.
"Well, Clancy wint to fires an' fires. Whin th' big organ facthry burnt, he
carrid th' hose up to th' fourth story an' was squirtin' whin th' walls fell.
"I knowed a man be th' name iv Clancy wanst, Jawn. He was fr'm th'
County May-o, but a good man f'r all that; an', whin he'd growed to be a
big, sthrappin' fellow, he wint on to th' fire departmint. They'se an Irishman
'r two on th' fire departmint an' in th' army, too, Jawn, though ye'd think be
hearin' some talk they was all runnin' prim'ries an' thryin' to be cinthral
comitymen. So ye wud. Ye niver hear iv thim on'y whin they die; an' thin,
murther, what funerals they have!
"Well, this Clancy wint on th' fire departmint, an' they give him a place in
thruck twinty-three. All th' r-road was proud iv him, an' faith he was proud
iv himsilf. He r-rode free on th' sthreet ca-ars, an' was th' champeen hand-
ball player f'r miles around. Ye shud see him goin' down th' sthreet, with his
blue shirt an' his blue coat with th' buttons on it, an' his cap on his ear. But
ne'er a cap or coat'd he wear whin they was a fire. He might be shiv'rin' be
th' stove in th' ingine house with a buffalo robe over his head; but, whin th'
gong sthruck, 'twas off with coat an' cap an' buffalo robe, an' out come me
brave Clancy, bare-headed an' bare hand, dhrivin' with wan line an' spillin'
th' hose cart on wan wheel at ivry jump iv th' horse. Did anny wan iver see a
fireman with his coat on or a polisman with his off? Why, wanst, whin
Clancy was standin' up f'r Grogan's eighth, his son come runnin' in to tell
him they was a fire in Vogel's packin' house. He dhropped th' kid at Father
Kelly's feet, an' whipped off his long coat an' wint tearin' f'r th' dure, kickin'
over th' poorbox an' buttin' ol' Mis' O'Neill that'd come in to say th' stations.
'Twas lucky 'twas wan iv th' Grogans. They're a fine family f'r falls. Jawn
Grogan was wurrukin' on th' top iv Metzri an' O'Connell's brewery wanst,
with a man be th' name iv Dorsey. He slipped an' fell wan hundherd feet.
Whin they come to see if he was dead, he got up, an' says he: 'Lave me at
him.' 'At who?' says they. 'He's deliryous,' they says. 'At Dorsey,' says
Grogan. 'He thripped me.' So it didn't hurt Grogan's eighth to fall four 'r five
feet.
"Well, Clancy wint to fires an' fires. Whin th' big organ facthry burnt, he
carrid th' hose up to th' fourth story an' was squirtin' whin th' walls fell.
Page 85
They dug him out with pick an' shovel, an' he come up fr'm th' brick an'
boards an' saluted th' chief. 'Clancy,' says th' chief, 'ye betther go over an'
get a dhrink.' He did so, Jawn. I heerd it. An' Clancy was that proud!
"Whin th' Hogan flats on Halsted Sthreet took fire, they got all th' people
out but wan; an' she was a woman asleep on th' fourth flure. 'Who'll go up?'
says Bill Musham. 'Sure, sir,' says Clancy, 'I'll go'; an' up he wint. His
captain was a man be th' name iv O'Connell, fr'm th' County Kerry; an' he
had his fut on th' ladder whin Clancy started. Well, th' good man wint into
th' smoke, with his wife faintin' down below. 'He'll be kilt,' says his brother.
'Ye don't know him,' says Bill Musham. An' sure enough, whin ivry wan'd
give him up, out comes me brave Clancy, as black as a Turk, with th' girl in
his arms. Th' others wint up like monkeys, but he shtud wavin' thim off, an'
come down th' ladder face forward. 'Where'd ye larn that?' says Bill
Musham. 'I seen a man do it at th' Lyceem whin I was a kid,' says Clancy.
'Was it all right?' 'I'll have ye up before th' ol' man,' says Bill Musham. 'I'll
teach ye to come down a laddher as if ye was in a quadhrille, ye horse-
stealin', ham-sthringin' May-o man,' he says. But he didn't. Clancy wint
over to see his wife. 'O Mike,' says she, ''twas fine,' she says. 'But why d'ye
take th' risk?' she says. 'Did ye see th' captain?' he says with a scowl. 'He
wanted to go. Did ye think I'd follow a Kerry man with all th' ward lukkin'
on?' he says.
"Well, so he wint dhrivin' th' hose-cart on wan wheel, an' jumpin' whin he
heerd a man so much as hit a glass to make it ring. All th' people looked up
to him, an' th' kids followed him down th' sthreet; an' 'twas th' gr-reatest
priv'lige f'r anny wan f'r to play dominos with him near th' joker. But about
a year ago he come in to see me, an' says he, 'Well, I'm goin' to quit.' 'Why,'
says I, 'ye'er a young man yet,' I says. 'Faith,' he says, 'look at me hair,' he
says,—'young heart, ol' head. I've been at it these twinty year, an' th' good
woman's wantin' to see more iv me thin blowin' into a saucer iv coffee,' he
says. 'I'm goin' to quit,' he says, 'on'y I want to see wan more good fire,' he
says. 'A rale good ol' hot wan,' he says, 'with th' win' blowin' f'r it an' a good
dhraft in th' ilivator-shaft, an' about two stories, with pitcher-frames an'
gasoline an' excelsior, an' to hear th' chief yellin': "Play 'way, sivinteen.
What th' hell an' damnation are ye standin' aroun' with that pipe f'r? Is this a
fire 'r a dam livin' pitcher? I'll break ivry man iv eighteen, four, six, an'
boards an' saluted th' chief. 'Clancy,' says th' chief, 'ye betther go over an'
get a dhrink.' He did so, Jawn. I heerd it. An' Clancy was that proud!
"Whin th' Hogan flats on Halsted Sthreet took fire, they got all th' people
out but wan; an' she was a woman asleep on th' fourth flure. 'Who'll go up?'
says Bill Musham. 'Sure, sir,' says Clancy, 'I'll go'; an' up he wint. His
captain was a man be th' name iv O'Connell, fr'm th' County Kerry; an' he
had his fut on th' ladder whin Clancy started. Well, th' good man wint into
th' smoke, with his wife faintin' down below. 'He'll be kilt,' says his brother.
'Ye don't know him,' says Bill Musham. An' sure enough, whin ivry wan'd
give him up, out comes me brave Clancy, as black as a Turk, with th' girl in
his arms. Th' others wint up like monkeys, but he shtud wavin' thim off, an'
come down th' ladder face forward. 'Where'd ye larn that?' says Bill
Musham. 'I seen a man do it at th' Lyceem whin I was a kid,' says Clancy.
'Was it all right?' 'I'll have ye up before th' ol' man,' says Bill Musham. 'I'll
teach ye to come down a laddher as if ye was in a quadhrille, ye horse-
stealin', ham-sthringin' May-o man,' he says. But he didn't. Clancy wint
over to see his wife. 'O Mike,' says she, ''twas fine,' she says. 'But why d'ye
take th' risk?' she says. 'Did ye see th' captain?' he says with a scowl. 'He
wanted to go. Did ye think I'd follow a Kerry man with all th' ward lukkin'
on?' he says.
"Well, so he wint dhrivin' th' hose-cart on wan wheel, an' jumpin' whin he
heerd a man so much as hit a glass to make it ring. All th' people looked up
to him, an' th' kids followed him down th' sthreet; an' 'twas th' gr-reatest
priv'lige f'r anny wan f'r to play dominos with him near th' joker. But about
a year ago he come in to see me, an' says he, 'Well, I'm goin' to quit.' 'Why,'
says I, 'ye'er a young man yet,' I says. 'Faith,' he says, 'look at me hair,' he
says,—'young heart, ol' head. I've been at it these twinty year, an' th' good
woman's wantin' to see more iv me thin blowin' into a saucer iv coffee,' he
says. 'I'm goin' to quit,' he says, 'on'y I want to see wan more good fire,' he
says. 'A rale good ol' hot wan,' he says, 'with th' win' blowin' f'r it an' a good
dhraft in th' ilivator-shaft, an' about two stories, with pitcher-frames an'
gasoline an' excelsior, an' to hear th' chief yellin': "Play 'way, sivinteen.
What th' hell an' damnation are ye standin' aroun' with that pipe f'r? Is this a
fire 'r a dam livin' pitcher? I'll break ivry man iv eighteen, four, six, an'
Page 86
chem'cal five to-morrah mornin' befure breakfast." Oh,' he says, bringin' his
fist down, 'wan more, an' I'll quit.'
"An' he did, Jawn. Th' day th' Carpenter Brothers' box factory burnt. 'Twas
wan iv thim big, fine-lookin' buildings that pious men built out iv celluloid
an' plasther iv Paris. An' Clancy was wan iv th' men undher whin th' wall
fell. I seen thim bringin' him home; an' th' little woman met him at th' dure,
rumplin' her apron in her hands."
fist down, 'wan more, an' I'll quit.'
"An' he did, Jawn. Th' day th' Carpenter Brothers' box factory burnt. 'Twas
wan iv thim big, fine-lookin' buildings that pious men built out iv celluloid
an' plasther iv Paris. An' Clancy was wan iv th' men undher whin th' wall
fell. I seen thim bringin' him home; an' th' little woman met him at th' dure,
rumplin' her apron in her hands."
Page 87
ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL.
"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long time ago,
—but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if I had
anny inimies,—I played futball, but 'twas not th' futball I see whin th'
Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' week on th' pee-
raries.
"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' field where
th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'd pick one
man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I choose O'Connor,' 'I choose
Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till there was twinty-five or thirty on
a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an' all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it
back; an' thin wan iv th' other side'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th'
game'd get so timpischous that all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile,
kickin' away at wan or th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was
mos'ly a la-ad that cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he
was whin he wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked
be ivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an' kicked
th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight.
"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin' iv
histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give it such a boost
that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister—bad luck to him, he was a
kind man—that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I was th' finest player in th'
whole county, I was so.
"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th' pagan fistival iv
Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seen th'
Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yestherdah in his futball clothes,—a pair
iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a mask over his nose, an' a
bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followed be three men with
bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined thim. They was a big crowd
on th' peerary,—a bigger crowd than ye cud get to go f'r to see a prize fight.
Both sides had their frinds that give th' colledge cries. Says wan crowd:
"Whin I was a young man," said Mr. Dooley, "an' that was a long time ago,
—but not so long ago as manny iv me inimies'd like to believe, if I had
anny inimies,—I played futball, but 'twas not th' futball I see whin th'
Brothers' school an' th' Saint Aloysius Tigers played las' week on th' pee-
raries.
"Whin I was a la-ad, iv a Sundah afthernoon we'd get out in th' field where
th' oats'd been cut away, an' we'd choose up sides. Wan cap'n'd pick one
man, an' th' other another. 'I choose Dooley,' 'I choose O'Connor,' 'I choose
Dimpsey,' 'I choose Riordan,' an' so on till there was twinty-five or thirty on
a side. Thin wan cap'n'd kick th' ball, an' all our side'd r-run at it an' kick it
back; an' thin wan iv th' other side'd kick it to us, an' afther awhile th'
game'd get so timpischous that all th' la-ads iv both sides'd be in wan pile,
kickin' away at wan or th' other or at th' ball or at th' impire, who was
mos'ly a la-ad that cudden't play an' that come out less able to play thin he
was whin he wint in. An', if anny wan laid hands on th' ball, he was kicked
be ivry wan else an' be th' impire. We played fr'm noon till dark, an' kicked
th' ball all th' way home in the moonlight.
"That was futball, an' I was a great wan to play it. I'd think nawthin' iv
histin' th' ball two hundherd feet in th' air, an' wanst I give it such a boost
that I stove in th' ribs iv th' Prowtestant minister—bad luck to him, he was a
kind man—that was lookin' on fr'm a hedge. I was th' finest player in th'
whole county, I was so.
"But this here game that I've been seein' ivry time th' pagan fistival iv
Thanksgivin' comes ar-round, sure it ain't th' game I played. I seen th'
Dorgan la-ad comin' up th' sthreet yestherdah in his futball clothes,—a pair
iv matthresses on his legs, a pillow behind, a mask over his nose, an' a
bushel measure iv hair on his head. He was followed be three men with
bottles, Dr. Ryan, an' th' Dorgan fam'ly. I jined thim. They was a big crowd
on th' peerary,—a bigger crowd than ye cud get to go f'r to see a prize fight.
Both sides had their frinds that give th' colledge cries. Says wan crowd:
Page 88
'Take an ax, an ax, an ax to thim. Hooroo, hooroo, hellabaloo. Christyan
Bro-others!' an' th' other says, 'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim,
Saint Aloysius!' Well, afther awhile they got down to wurruk. 'Sivin,
eighteen, two, four,' says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures
durin' th' free silver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to
go out an' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' same
effect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on their
fathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punch in th'
stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th' cinter rush iv th'
Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lung iv wan iv th' Christyan
Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. Four Christyan Brothers leaped
most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an' rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint
Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th' Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he
pounded th' pile with him as I've seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All
this time young Dorgan was standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv
a suddent he give a cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile.
'Down!' says th' impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I, 'Will iver they get
up?' 'They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he.
"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint Aloysiuses
was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'y wan iv them
remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nose in th' mud.
'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with a merry smile. 'Twas my
boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll be arrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He
will not,' says he. 'There's on'y wan polisman in town cud take him, an' he's
down town doin' th' same f'r somebody,' he says. Well, they carried th'
corpse to th' side, an' took th' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch,
an' th' game was ray-shumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint
Aloysius; an' young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another
young la-ad r-runnin' in fr-front iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th'
Christyan Brothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint
Aloysius grabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrun
him over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interferin',' says he.
'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says. ''Tis such
interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an' I come away.
"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it. Whin we
larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' pie belt a thrick or
Bro-others!' an' th' other says, 'Hit thim, saw thim, gnaw thim, chaw thim,
Saint Aloysius!' Well, afther awhile they got down to wurruk. 'Sivin,
eighteen, two, four,' says a la-ad. I've seen people go mad over figures
durin' th' free silver campaign, but I niver see figures make a man want f'r to
go out an' kill his fellow-men befure. But these here figures had th' same
effect on th' la-ads that a mintion iv Lord Castlereagh'd have on their
fathers. Wan la-ad hauled off, an' give a la-ad acrost fr'm him a punch in th'
stomach. His frind acrost th' way caught him in th' ear. Th' cinter rush iv th'
Saint Aloysiuses took a runnin' jump at th' left lung iv wan iv th' Christyan
Brothers, an' wint to th' grass with him. Four Christyan Brothers leaped
most crooly at four Saint Aloysiuses, an' rolled thim. Th' cap'n iv th' Saint
Aloysiuses he took th' cap'n iv th' Christyan Brothers be th' leg, an' he
pounded th' pile with him as I've seen a section hand tamp th' thrack. All
this time young Dorgan was standin' back, takin' no hand in th' affray. All iv
a suddent he give a cry iv rage, an' jumped feet foremost into th' pile.
'Down!' says th' impire. 'Faith, they are all iv that,' says I, 'Will iver they get
up?' 'They will,' says ol' man Dorgan. 'Ye can't stop thim,' says he.
"It took some time f'r to pry thim off. Near ivry man iv th' Saint Aloysiuses
was tied in a knot around wan iv th' Christyan Brothers. On'y wan iv them
remained on th' field. He was lyin' face down, with his nose in th' mud.
'He's kilt,' says I. 'I think he is,' says Dorgan, with a merry smile. 'Twas my
boy Jimmy done it, too,' says he. 'He'll be arrested f'r murdher,' says I. 'He
will not,' says he. 'There's on'y wan polisman in town cud take him, an' he's
down town doin' th' same f'r somebody,' he says. Well, they carried th'
corpse to th' side, an' took th' ball out iv his stomach with a monkey wrinch,
an' th' game was ray-shumed. 'Sivin, sixteen, eight, eleven,' says Saint
Aloysius; an' young Dorgan started to run down th' field. They was another
young la-ad r-runnin' in fr-front iv Dorgan; an', as fast as wan iv th'
Christyan Brothers come up an' got in th' way, this here young Saint
Aloysius grabbed him be th' hair iv th' head an' th' sole iv th' fut, an' thrun
him over his shoulder. 'What's that la-ad doin'?' says I. 'Interferin',' says he.
'I shud think he was,' says I, 'an' most impudent,' I says. ''Tis such
interference as this,' I says, 'that breaks up fam'lies'; an' I come away.
"'Tis a noble sport, an' I'm glad to see us Irish ar-re gettin' into it. Whin we
larn it thruly, we'll teach thim colledge joods fr'm th' pie belt a thrick or
Page 89
two."
"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsin
with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named Patsy
O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm th'
Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway."
"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they cud
bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank."
"We have already," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se a team up in Wisconsin
with a la-ad be th' name iv Jeremiah Riordan f'r cap'n, an' wan named Patsy
O'Dea behind him. They come down here, an' bate th' la-ads fr'm th'
Chicawgo Colledge down be th' Midway."
"Iv coorse, they did," said Mr. Dooley. "Iv coorse, they did. An' they cud
bate anny collection iv Baptists that iver come out iv a tank."
Page 90
ON THE NECESSITY OF MODESTY AMONG
THE RICH.
"I wondher," said Mr. Hennessy, "if thim Hadley-Markhams that's goin' to
give th' ball is anny kin iv th' aldherman?"
"I doubt it," said Mr. Dooley. "I knowed all his folks. They're Monaghan
people, an' I niver heerd iv thim marryin' into th' Hadleys, who come fr'm
away beyant near th' Joynt's Causeway. What med ye think iv thim?"
"I was readin' about th' Prowtestant minister that give thim such a turnin'
over th' other night," said Hennessy. Then the Philistine went on: "It looks
to me as though th' man was wr-rong, an' th' Hadley-Markhams was right.
Faith, th' more th' poor can get out iv th' r-rich, th' better f'r thim. I seen it
put just r-right in th' paper th' other day. If these people didn't let go iv their
coin here, they'd take it away with thim to Paris or West Baden, Indiana, an'
spind it instid iv puttin' it in circulation amongst th' florists an'
dhressmakers an' hackmen they'll have to hire. I believe in encouragin' th'
rich to walk away fr'm their change. 'Tis gr-reat f'r business."
Mr. Dooley mused over this proposition some time before he said:—
"Years ago, whin I was a little bit iv a kid, hardly high enough to look into
th' pot iv stirabout on th' peat fire, they was a rich landlord in our part iv
Ireland; an' he ownded near half th' counthryside. His name was Dorsey,—
Willum Edmund Fitzgerald Dorsey, justice iv th' peace, mimber iv
Parlymint.
"I'll niver tell ye how much land that man had in his own r-right. Ye cud
walk f'r a day without lavin' it, bog an' oat-field an' pasthure an' game
presarves. He was smothered with money, an' he lived in a house as big as
th' Audjitoroom Hotel. Manny's th' time I've seen him ride by our place, an'
me father'd raise his head from th' kish iv turf an' touch his hat to th' gr-reat
man. An' wanst or twict in th' month th' dogs'd come yelpin' acrost our little
place, with lads follerin' afther in r-red coats; f'r this Dorsey was a gr-reat
huntsman, bad scran to his evil face.
THE RICH.
"I wondher," said Mr. Hennessy, "if thim Hadley-Markhams that's goin' to
give th' ball is anny kin iv th' aldherman?"
"I doubt it," said Mr. Dooley. "I knowed all his folks. They're Monaghan
people, an' I niver heerd iv thim marryin' into th' Hadleys, who come fr'm
away beyant near th' Joynt's Causeway. What med ye think iv thim?"
"I was readin' about th' Prowtestant minister that give thim such a turnin'
over th' other night," said Hennessy. Then the Philistine went on: "It looks
to me as though th' man was wr-rong, an' th' Hadley-Markhams was right.
Faith, th' more th' poor can get out iv th' r-rich, th' better f'r thim. I seen it
put just r-right in th' paper th' other day. If these people didn't let go iv their
coin here, they'd take it away with thim to Paris or West Baden, Indiana, an'
spind it instid iv puttin' it in circulation amongst th' florists an'
dhressmakers an' hackmen they'll have to hire. I believe in encouragin' th'
rich to walk away fr'm their change. 'Tis gr-reat f'r business."
Mr. Dooley mused over this proposition some time before he said:—
"Years ago, whin I was a little bit iv a kid, hardly high enough to look into
th' pot iv stirabout on th' peat fire, they was a rich landlord in our part iv
Ireland; an' he ownded near half th' counthryside. His name was Dorsey,—
Willum Edmund Fitzgerald Dorsey, justice iv th' peace, mimber iv
Parlymint.
"I'll niver tell ye how much land that man had in his own r-right. Ye cud
walk f'r a day without lavin' it, bog an' oat-field an' pasthure an' game
presarves. He was smothered with money, an' he lived in a house as big as
th' Audjitoroom Hotel. Manny's th' time I've seen him ride by our place, an'
me father'd raise his head from th' kish iv turf an' touch his hat to th' gr-reat
man. An' wanst or twict in th' month th' dogs'd come yelpin' acrost our little
place, with lads follerin' afther in r-red coats; f'r this Dorsey was a gr-reat
huntsman, bad scran to his evil face.
Page 91
"He had th' r-reputation iv bein' a good landlord so long as th' crops come
regular. He was vilent, it's thrue, an' 'd as lave as not cut a farmer acrost th'
face with his whip f'r crossin' th' thrail iv th' fox; but he was liberal with his
money, an', Hinnissy, that's a thrait that covers a multitude iv sins. He give
freely to th' church, an' was as gin'rous to th' priest as to th' parson. He had
th' gintry f'r miles around to his big house f'r balls an' dinners an' huntin'
meetin's, an' half th' little shopkeepers in th' neighborin' town lived on th'
money he spent f'r th' things he didn't bring fr'm Dublin or London. I mind
wanst a great roar wint up whin he stayed th' whole season in England with
his fam'ly. It near broke th' townsfolk, an' they were wild with delight whin
he come back an' opened up th' big house.
"But wan year there come a flood iv rain, an' th nex' year another flood, an'
th' third year there wasn't a lumper turned up that wasn't blue-black to th'
hear-rt. We was betther off than most, an' we suffered our share, Gawd
knows; but thim that was scrapin' th' sod f'r a bare livin' fr'm day to day
perished like th' cattle in th' field.
"Thin come th' writs an' th' evictions. Th' bailiffs dhrove out in squads,
seizin' cattle an' turnin' people into th' r-road. Nawthin' wud soften th' hear-
rt iv Dorsey. I seen th' priest an' th' 'Piscopal ministher dhrivin' over to plead
with him wan night; an' th' good man stopped at our house, comin' back, an'
spent th' night with us. I heerd him tell me father what Dorsey said. 'Haven't
I been lib'ral with me people?' he says. 'Haven't I give freely to ye'er
churches? Haven't I put up soup-houses an' disthributed blankets whin th'
weather was cold? Haven't I kept th' shopkeepers iv th' town beyant fr'm
starvin' be thradin' with thim an' stayin' in this cur-rsed counthry, whin, if I'd
done what me wife wanted, I'd been r-runnin' around Europe, enj'yin' life?
I'm a risidint landlord. I ain't like Kilduff, that laves his estate in th' hands iv
an agint. I'm proud iv me station. I was bor-rn here, an' here I'll die; but I'll
have me r-rights. These here people owes their rent, an' I'll get th' rent or th'
farms if I have to call on ivry rig'mint fr'm Bombay to Cape Clear, an' turn
ivry oat-field into a pasture f'r me cattle. I stand on th' law. I'm a just man,
an' I ask no more thin what belongs to me.'
"Ivry night they was a party on th' hill, an' th' people come fr'm miles
around; an' th' tinants trudgin' over th' muddy roads with th' peelers behind
thim cud see th' light poorin' out fr'm th' big house an' hear Devine's band
regular. He was vilent, it's thrue, an' 'd as lave as not cut a farmer acrost th'
face with his whip f'r crossin' th' thrail iv th' fox; but he was liberal with his
money, an', Hinnissy, that's a thrait that covers a multitude iv sins. He give
freely to th' church, an' was as gin'rous to th' priest as to th' parson. He had
th' gintry f'r miles around to his big house f'r balls an' dinners an' huntin'
meetin's, an' half th' little shopkeepers in th' neighborin' town lived on th'
money he spent f'r th' things he didn't bring fr'm Dublin or London. I mind
wanst a great roar wint up whin he stayed th' whole season in England with
his fam'ly. It near broke th' townsfolk, an' they were wild with delight whin
he come back an' opened up th' big house.
"But wan year there come a flood iv rain, an' th nex' year another flood, an'
th' third year there wasn't a lumper turned up that wasn't blue-black to th'
hear-rt. We was betther off than most, an' we suffered our share, Gawd
knows; but thim that was scrapin' th' sod f'r a bare livin' fr'm day to day
perished like th' cattle in th' field.
"Thin come th' writs an' th' evictions. Th' bailiffs dhrove out in squads,
seizin' cattle an' turnin' people into th' r-road. Nawthin' wud soften th' hear-
rt iv Dorsey. I seen th' priest an' th' 'Piscopal ministher dhrivin' over to plead
with him wan night; an' th' good man stopped at our house, comin' back, an'
spent th' night with us. I heerd him tell me father what Dorsey said. 'Haven't
I been lib'ral with me people?' he says. 'Haven't I give freely to ye'er
churches? Haven't I put up soup-houses an' disthributed blankets whin th'
weather was cold? Haven't I kept th' shopkeepers iv th' town beyant fr'm
starvin' be thradin' with thim an' stayin' in this cur-rsed counthry, whin, if I'd
done what me wife wanted, I'd been r-runnin' around Europe, enj'yin' life?
I'm a risidint landlord. I ain't like Kilduff, that laves his estate in th' hands iv
an agint. I'm proud iv me station. I was bor-rn here, an' here I'll die; but I'll
have me r-rights. These here people owes their rent, an' I'll get th' rent or th'
farms if I have to call on ivry rig'mint fr'm Bombay to Cape Clear, an' turn
ivry oat-field into a pasture f'r me cattle. I stand on th' law. I'm a just man,
an' I ask no more thin what belongs to me.'
"Ivry night they was a party on th' hill, an' th' people come fr'm miles
around; an' th' tinants trudgin' over th' muddy roads with th' peelers behind
thim cud see th' light poorin' out fr'm th' big house an' hear Devine's band
Page 92
playin' to th' dancers. Th' shopkeepers lived in clover, an' thanked th' lord f'r
a good landlord, an' wan that lived at home. But one avnin' a black man be
th' name iv Shaughnessy, that had thramped acrost th' hills fr'm Galway just
in time to rent f'r th' potato rot, wint and hid himself in a hedge along th'
road with a shotgun loaded with hardware under his coat. Dorsey'd heerd
talk iv the people bein' aggrieved at him givin' big parties while his bailiffs
were hustlin' men and women off their hold-in's; but he was a high-handed
man, an' foolish in his pride, an' he'd have it no other way but that he'd go
about without protection. This night he rode alongside th' carredge iv some
iv his frinds goin' to th' other side iv town, an' come back alone in th'
moonlight. Th' Irish ar-re poor marksmen, Hinnissy, except whin they fire
in platoons; but that big man loomin' up in th' moonlight on a black horse
cud no more be missed thin th' r-rock iv Cashel. He niver knowed what hit
him; an' Pether th' Packer come down th' followin' month, an' a jury iv
shopkeepers hanged Shaughnessy so fast it med even th' judge smile."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I suppose he desarved it; but, if I'd been on th'
jury, I'd've starved to death before I'd give th' verdict."
"Thrue," said Mr. Dooley. "An' Dorsey was a fool. He might've evicted
twinty thousan' tinants, an' lived to joke about it over his bottle. 'Twas th'
music iv th' band an' th' dancin' on th' hill an' th' lights th' Galway man seen
whin he wint up th' muddy road with his babby in his arrums that done th'
business f'r Dorsey."
a good landlord, an' wan that lived at home. But one avnin' a black man be
th' name iv Shaughnessy, that had thramped acrost th' hills fr'm Galway just
in time to rent f'r th' potato rot, wint and hid himself in a hedge along th'
road with a shotgun loaded with hardware under his coat. Dorsey'd heerd
talk iv the people bein' aggrieved at him givin' big parties while his bailiffs
were hustlin' men and women off their hold-in's; but he was a high-handed
man, an' foolish in his pride, an' he'd have it no other way but that he'd go
about without protection. This night he rode alongside th' carredge iv some
iv his frinds goin' to th' other side iv town, an' come back alone in th'
moonlight. Th' Irish ar-re poor marksmen, Hinnissy, except whin they fire
in platoons; but that big man loomin' up in th' moonlight on a black horse
cud no more be missed thin th' r-rock iv Cashel. He niver knowed what hit
him; an' Pether th' Packer come down th' followin' month, an' a jury iv
shopkeepers hanged Shaughnessy so fast it med even th' judge smile."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I suppose he desarved it; but, if I'd been on th'
jury, I'd've starved to death before I'd give th' verdict."
"Thrue," said Mr. Dooley. "An' Dorsey was a fool. He might've evicted
twinty thousan' tinants, an' lived to joke about it over his bottle. 'Twas th'
music iv th' band an' th' dancin' on th' hill an' th' lights th' Galway man seen
whin he wint up th' muddy road with his babby in his arrums that done th'
business f'r Dorsey."
Page 93
ON THE POWER OF LOVE.
"'Twas this way," said Mr. Hennessy, sparring at Mr. Dooley. "Fitz led his
right light on head, thin he stuck his thumb in Corbett's hear-rt, an' that was
th' end iv th' fight an' iv Pompydour Jim. I tol' ye how it wud come out. Th'
punch over th' hear-rt done th' business."
"Not at all," said Mr. Dooley. "Not at all. 'Twas Mrs. Fitzsimmons done th'
business. Did ye see the pitcher iv that lady? Did ye? Well, 'twud've gone
har-rd with th' lad if he'd lost th' fight in th' ring. He'd have to lose another
at home. I'll bet five dollars that th' first lady iv th' land licks th' champeen
without th' aid iv a stove lid. I know it.
"As me good frind, Jawn Sullivan, says, 'tis a great comfort to have little
reminders iv home near by whin ye're fightin'. Jawn had none, poor lad; an'
that accounts f'r th' way he wint down at last. Th' home infloo-ence is felt in
ivry walk iv life. Whin Corbett was poundin' th' first jintleman iv th' land
like a man shinglin' a roof, th' first lady iv th' land stood in th' corner,
cheerin' on th' bruised an' bleedin' hero. 'Darlin'' she says, 'think iv ye'er
home, me love. Think,' she says, 'iv our little child larnin' his caddychism in
Rahway, New Jersey,' she says. 'Think iv th' love I bear ye,' she says, 'an'
paste him,' she says, 'in th' slats. Don't hit him on th' jaw,' she says. 'He's
well thrained there. But tuck ye'er lovin' hooks into his diseased an' achin'
ribs,' she says. 'Ah, love!' she says, 'recall thim happy goolden days iv our
coortship, whin we walked th' counthry lane in th' light iv th' moon,' she
says, 'an hurl yer maulies into his hoops,' she says. 'Hit him on th' slats!' An'
Fitz looked over his shoulder an' seen her face, an' strange feelin's iv
tendherness come over him; an' thinks he to himself: 'What is so good as th'
love iv a pure woman? If I don't nail this large man, she'll prob'ly kick in
me head.' An' with this sacred sintimint in his heart he wint over an' jolted
Corbett wan over th' lathes that retired him to th' home f'r decayed actors.
"'Twas woman's love that done it, Hinnissy. I'll make a bet with ye that, if
th' first lady iv th' land had been in th' ring instead iv th' first jintleman,
Corbett wudden't have lasted wan r-round. I'd like to have such a wife as
"'Twas this way," said Mr. Hennessy, sparring at Mr. Dooley. "Fitz led his
right light on head, thin he stuck his thumb in Corbett's hear-rt, an' that was
th' end iv th' fight an' iv Pompydour Jim. I tol' ye how it wud come out. Th'
punch over th' hear-rt done th' business."
"Not at all," said Mr. Dooley. "Not at all. 'Twas Mrs. Fitzsimmons done th'
business. Did ye see the pitcher iv that lady? Did ye? Well, 'twud've gone
har-rd with th' lad if he'd lost th' fight in th' ring. He'd have to lose another
at home. I'll bet five dollars that th' first lady iv th' land licks th' champeen
without th' aid iv a stove lid. I know it.
"As me good frind, Jawn Sullivan, says, 'tis a great comfort to have little
reminders iv home near by whin ye're fightin'. Jawn had none, poor lad; an'
that accounts f'r th' way he wint down at last. Th' home infloo-ence is felt in
ivry walk iv life. Whin Corbett was poundin' th' first jintleman iv th' land
like a man shinglin' a roof, th' first lady iv th' land stood in th' corner,
cheerin' on th' bruised an' bleedin' hero. 'Darlin'' she says, 'think iv ye'er
home, me love. Think,' she says, 'iv our little child larnin' his caddychism in
Rahway, New Jersey,' she says. 'Think iv th' love I bear ye,' she says, 'an'
paste him,' she says, 'in th' slats. Don't hit him on th' jaw,' she says. 'He's
well thrained there. But tuck ye'er lovin' hooks into his diseased an' achin'
ribs,' she says. 'Ah, love!' she says, 'recall thim happy goolden days iv our
coortship, whin we walked th' counthry lane in th' light iv th' moon,' she
says, 'an hurl yer maulies into his hoops,' she says. 'Hit him on th' slats!' An'
Fitz looked over his shoulder an' seen her face, an' strange feelin's iv
tendherness come over him; an' thinks he to himself: 'What is so good as th'
love iv a pure woman? If I don't nail this large man, she'll prob'ly kick in
me head.' An' with this sacred sintimint in his heart he wint over an' jolted
Corbett wan over th' lathes that retired him to th' home f'r decayed actors.
"'Twas woman's love that done it, Hinnissy. I'll make a bet with ye that, if
th' first lady iv th' land had been in th' ring instead iv th' first jintleman,
Corbett wudden't have lasted wan r-round. I'd like to have such a wife as
Page 94
that. I'd do th' cookin', an' lave th' fightin' to her. There ought to be more
like her. Th' throuble with th' race we're bringin' up is that th' fair sect, as
Shakespeare calls thim, lacks inthrest in their jooty to their husbands. It's th'
business iv men to fight, an' th' business iv their wives f'r to make thim
fight. Ye may talk iv th' immyrality iv nailin' a man on th' jaw, but 'tis in this
way on'y that th' wurruld increases in happiness an' th' race in strenth. Did
ye see annywan th' other day that wasn't askin' to know how th' fight come
out? They might say that they re-garded th' exhibition as brutal an'
disgustin', but divvle a wan iv thim but was waitin' around th' corner f'r th'
rayturns, an' prayin' f'r wan or th' other iv th' big lads. Father Kelly
mentioned th' scrap in his sermon last Sundah. He said it was a disgraceful
an' corruptin' affair, an' he was ashamed to see th' young men iv th' parish
takin' such an inthrest in it in Lent. But late Winsdah afthernoon he came
bust-lin' down th' sthreet. 'Nice day,' he says. It was poorin' rain. 'Fine,' says
I. 'They was no parade to-day,' he says. 'No,' says I. 'Too bad,' says he; an'
he started to go. Thin he turned, an' says he: 'Be th' way, how did that there
foul an' outhrajous affray in Carson City come out?' 'Fitz,' says I, 'in th'
fourteenth.' 'Ye don't say,' he says, dancin' around. 'Good,' he says. 'I told
Father Doyle this mornin' at breakfuss that if that red-headed man iver got
wan punch at th' other lad, I'd bet a new cassock—Oh, dear!' he says, 'what
am I sayin'?' 'Ye're sayin',' says I, 'what nine-tenths iv th' people, laymen an'
clargy, are sayin',' I says. 'Well,' he says, 'I guess ye're right.' he says. 'Afther
all,' he says, 'an' undher all, we're mere brutes; an' it on'y takes two lads
more brutal than th' rest f'r to expose th' sthreak in th' best iv us. Foorce
rules th' wurruld, an' th' churches is empty whin th' blood begins to flow.' he
says. 'It's too bad, too bad.' he says. 'Tell me, was Corbett much hurted?' he
says."
like her. Th' throuble with th' race we're bringin' up is that th' fair sect, as
Shakespeare calls thim, lacks inthrest in their jooty to their husbands. It's th'
business iv men to fight, an' th' business iv their wives f'r to make thim
fight. Ye may talk iv th' immyrality iv nailin' a man on th' jaw, but 'tis in this
way on'y that th' wurruld increases in happiness an' th' race in strenth. Did
ye see annywan th' other day that wasn't askin' to know how th' fight come
out? They might say that they re-garded th' exhibition as brutal an'
disgustin', but divvle a wan iv thim but was waitin' around th' corner f'r th'
rayturns, an' prayin' f'r wan or th' other iv th' big lads. Father Kelly
mentioned th' scrap in his sermon last Sundah. He said it was a disgraceful
an' corruptin' affair, an' he was ashamed to see th' young men iv th' parish
takin' such an inthrest in it in Lent. But late Winsdah afthernoon he came
bust-lin' down th' sthreet. 'Nice day,' he says. It was poorin' rain. 'Fine,' says
I. 'They was no parade to-day,' he says. 'No,' says I. 'Too bad,' says he; an'
he started to go. Thin he turned, an' says he: 'Be th' way, how did that there
foul an' outhrajous affray in Carson City come out?' 'Fitz,' says I, 'in th'
fourteenth.' 'Ye don't say,' he says, dancin' around. 'Good,' he says. 'I told
Father Doyle this mornin' at breakfuss that if that red-headed man iver got
wan punch at th' other lad, I'd bet a new cassock—Oh, dear!' he says, 'what
am I sayin'?' 'Ye're sayin',' says I, 'what nine-tenths iv th' people, laymen an'
clargy, are sayin',' I says. 'Well,' he says, 'I guess ye're right.' he says. 'Afther
all,' he says, 'an' undher all, we're mere brutes; an' it on'y takes two lads
more brutal than th' rest f'r to expose th' sthreak in th' best iv us. Foorce
rules th' wurruld, an' th' churches is empty whin th' blood begins to flow.' he
says. 'It's too bad, too bad.' he says. 'Tell me, was Corbett much hurted?' he
says."
Page 95
ON THE VICTORIAN ERA.
"Ar-re ye goin' to cillybrate th' queen's jubilee?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"What's that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, with a violent start.
"To-day," said Mr. Dooley, "her gracious Majesty Victorya, Queen iv Great
Britain an' that part iv Ireland north iv Sligo, has reigned f'r sixty long and
tiresome years."
"I don't care if she has snowed f'r sixty years," said Mr. Hennessy. "I'll not
cillybrate it. She may be a good woman f'r all I know, but dam her
pollytics."
"Ye needn't be pro-fane about it," said Mr. Dooley. "I on'y ast ye a civil
question. F'r mesilf, I have no feelin' on th' subject. I am not with th' queen
an' I'm not again her. At th' same time I corjally agree with me frind Captain
Finerty, who's put his newspaper in mournin' f'r th' ivint. I won't march in
th' parade, an' I won't put anny dinnymite undher thim that does. I don't say
th' marchers an' dinnymiters ar-re not both r-right. 'Tis purely a question iv
taste, an', as the ixicutive says whin both candydates are mimbers iv th'
camp, 'Pathrites will use their own discreetion.'
"Th' good woman niver done me no har-rm; an', beyond throwin' a rock or
two into an orangey's procission an' subscribin' to tin dollars' worth iv
Fenian bonds, I've threated her like a lady. Anny gredge I iver had again her
I burrid long ago. We're both well on in years, an' 'tis no use carrying har-rd
feelin's to th' grave. About th' time th' lord chamberlain wint over to tell her
she was queen, an' she came out in her nitey to hear th' good news, I was
announced into this wurruld iv sin an' sorrow. So ye see we've reigned
about th' same lenth iv time, an' I ought to be cillybratin' me di'mon' jubilee.
I wud, too, if I had anny di'mon's. Do ye r-run down to Aldherman O'Brien's
an' borrow twinty or thirty f'r me.
"Great happenin's have me an' Queen Victorya seen in these sixty years.
Durin' our binificent prisince on earth th' nations have grown r-rich an'
"Ar-re ye goin' to cillybrate th' queen's jubilee?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"What's that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, with a violent start.
"To-day," said Mr. Dooley, "her gracious Majesty Victorya, Queen iv Great
Britain an' that part iv Ireland north iv Sligo, has reigned f'r sixty long and
tiresome years."
"I don't care if she has snowed f'r sixty years," said Mr. Hennessy. "I'll not
cillybrate it. She may be a good woman f'r all I know, but dam her
pollytics."
"Ye needn't be pro-fane about it," said Mr. Dooley. "I on'y ast ye a civil
question. F'r mesilf, I have no feelin' on th' subject. I am not with th' queen
an' I'm not again her. At th' same time I corjally agree with me frind Captain
Finerty, who's put his newspaper in mournin' f'r th' ivint. I won't march in
th' parade, an' I won't put anny dinnymite undher thim that does. I don't say
th' marchers an' dinnymiters ar-re not both r-right. 'Tis purely a question iv
taste, an', as the ixicutive says whin both candydates are mimbers iv th'
camp, 'Pathrites will use their own discreetion.'
"Th' good woman niver done me no har-rm; an', beyond throwin' a rock or
two into an orangey's procission an' subscribin' to tin dollars' worth iv
Fenian bonds, I've threated her like a lady. Anny gredge I iver had again her
I burrid long ago. We're both well on in years, an' 'tis no use carrying har-rd
feelin's to th' grave. About th' time th' lord chamberlain wint over to tell her
she was queen, an' she came out in her nitey to hear th' good news, I was
announced into this wurruld iv sin an' sorrow. So ye see we've reigned
about th' same lenth iv time, an' I ought to be cillybratin' me di'mon' jubilee.
I wud, too, if I had anny di'mon's. Do ye r-run down to Aldherman O'Brien's
an' borrow twinty or thirty f'r me.
"Great happenin's have me an' Queen Victorya seen in these sixty years.
Durin' our binificent prisince on earth th' nations have grown r-rich an'
Page 96
prosperous. Great Britain has ixtinded her domain until th' sun niver sets on
it. No more do th' original owners iv th' sile, they bein' kept movin' be th'
polis. While she was lookin' on in England, I was lookin' on in this
counthry. I have seen America spread out fr'm th' Atlantic to th' Pacific,
with a branch office iv the Standard Ile Comp'ny in ivry hamlet. I've seen
th' shackles dropped fr'm th' slave, so's he cud be lynched in Ohio. I've seen
this gr-reat city desthroyed be fire fr'm De Koven Sthreet to th' Lake View
pumpin' station, and thin rise felix-like fr'm its ashes, all but th' West Side,
which was not burned. I've seen Jim Mace beat Mike McCool, an' Tom
Allen beat Jim Mace, an' somebody beat Tom Allen, an' Jawn Sullivan beat
him, an' Corbett beat Sullivan, an' Fitz beat Corbett; an', if I live to
cillybrate me goold-watch-an'-chain jubilee, I may see some wan put it all
over Fitz.
"Oh, what things I've seen in me day an' Victorya's! Think iv that gran'
procission iv lithry men,—Tinnyson an' Longfellow an' Bill Nye an' Ella
Wheeler Wilcox an' Tim Scanlan an'—an' I can't name thim all: they're too
manny. An' th' brave gin'rals,—Von Molkey an' Bismarck an' U.S. Grant an'
gallant Phil Shurdan an' Coxey. Think iv thim durin' me reign. An' th'
invintions,—th' steam-injine an' th' printin'-press an' th' cotton-gin an' the
gin sour an' th' bicycle an' th' flyin'-machine an' th' nickel-in-th'-slot
machine an' th' Croker machine an' th' sody fountain an'—crownin' wurruk
iv our civilization—th' cash raygisther. What gr-reat advances has science
made in my time an' Victorya's! f'r, whin we entered public life, it took three
men to watch th' bar-keep, while to-day ye can tell within eight dollars an
hour what he's took in.
"Glory be, whin I look back fr'm this day iv gin'ral rejoicin' in me
rhinestone jubilee, an' see what changes has taken place an' how manny
people have died an' how much betther off th' wurruld is, I'm proud iv
mesilf. War an' pest'lence an' famine have occurred in me time, but I count
thim light compared with th' binifits that have fallen to th' race since I come
on th' earth."
"What ar-re ye talkin' about?" cried Mr. Hennessy, in deep disgust. "All this
time ye've been standin' behind this bar ladlin' out disturbance to th' Sixth
Wa-ard, an' ye haven't been as far east as Mitchigan Avnoo in twinty years.
What have ye had to do with all these things?"
it. No more do th' original owners iv th' sile, they bein' kept movin' be th'
polis. While she was lookin' on in England, I was lookin' on in this
counthry. I have seen America spread out fr'm th' Atlantic to th' Pacific,
with a branch office iv the Standard Ile Comp'ny in ivry hamlet. I've seen
th' shackles dropped fr'm th' slave, so's he cud be lynched in Ohio. I've seen
this gr-reat city desthroyed be fire fr'm De Koven Sthreet to th' Lake View
pumpin' station, and thin rise felix-like fr'm its ashes, all but th' West Side,
which was not burned. I've seen Jim Mace beat Mike McCool, an' Tom
Allen beat Jim Mace, an' somebody beat Tom Allen, an' Jawn Sullivan beat
him, an' Corbett beat Sullivan, an' Fitz beat Corbett; an', if I live to
cillybrate me goold-watch-an'-chain jubilee, I may see some wan put it all
over Fitz.
"Oh, what things I've seen in me day an' Victorya's! Think iv that gran'
procission iv lithry men,—Tinnyson an' Longfellow an' Bill Nye an' Ella
Wheeler Wilcox an' Tim Scanlan an'—an' I can't name thim all: they're too
manny. An' th' brave gin'rals,—Von Molkey an' Bismarck an' U.S. Grant an'
gallant Phil Shurdan an' Coxey. Think iv thim durin' me reign. An' th'
invintions,—th' steam-injine an' th' printin'-press an' th' cotton-gin an' the
gin sour an' th' bicycle an' th' flyin'-machine an' th' nickel-in-th'-slot
machine an' th' Croker machine an' th' sody fountain an'—crownin' wurruk
iv our civilization—th' cash raygisther. What gr-reat advances has science
made in my time an' Victorya's! f'r, whin we entered public life, it took three
men to watch th' bar-keep, while to-day ye can tell within eight dollars an
hour what he's took in.
"Glory be, whin I look back fr'm this day iv gin'ral rejoicin' in me
rhinestone jubilee, an' see what changes has taken place an' how manny
people have died an' how much betther off th' wurruld is, I'm proud iv
mesilf. War an' pest'lence an' famine have occurred in me time, but I count
thim light compared with th' binifits that have fallen to th' race since I come
on th' earth."
"What ar-re ye talkin' about?" cried Mr. Hennessy, in deep disgust. "All this
time ye've been standin' behind this bar ladlin' out disturbance to th' Sixth
Wa-ard, an' ye haven't been as far east as Mitchigan Avnoo in twinty years.
What have ye had to do with all these things?"
Page 97
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I had as much to do with thim as th' queen."
Page 98
ON THE CURRENCY QUESTION.
"There's some tough knots in this here currency question," said Mr.
McKenna. "A lot of things I don't quite catch."
"Cough thim up," said Mr. Dooley. "I'm a reg'lar caddychism iv coinage.
Who made ye? Gawd made me. Why did he make ye? F'r to know Him,
love Him, an' sarve Him all me days. That's th' way iv th' caddychism I
learned whin I was a la-ad behind a hedge; but now 'tis: Who made ye?
Ladenburg, Thalman an' Comp'ny made me. Why did they make ye? F'r to
know thim, love thim, an' sarve thim all me days. O-ho!"
"That's all r-right," said Mr. Thomas Larkin, the Kerry horseshoer, who was
leaning over the cigar-case, reading what Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Blaine, Mr.
Edward Atkinson, and Mr. Andrew D. White had to say in a small
pamphlet. "That's all r-right, Martin. But ye're talkin' like a Populist an' an
anarchist an' a big bullhead gen'rally. Ye bring up two or three Jew men, an'
think f'r to scare us with thim. But look here. Supposin' a man comes into
my place an' lays down on th' anvil a silver dollar, an' I give it a wallop with
me hammer"—
"Thin," said Mr. Dooley, "ye're knockin' th' gover'mint."
"How am I?" said Mr. Larkin. "Niver mind now: I take this here silver
dollar, an' I fetch it wan with me hammer. What happens?"
"Th' man that give ye th' dollar hands ye wan in th' nose," said Mr. Dooley.
"Not at all, not at—all," said Mr. Larkin. "I take this here mutilated an'
disfigured an' bum dollar down to th' three-asury, an' I hand it in; an'
Carlisle says, 'What kind iv an ol' piece iv mud is this ye're flingin' at me?'
he says. 'Take it away: it's nawthin' to me.'"
"True for you, Larkin," said Mr. McKenna. "You're on the right track.
Carlisle couldn't take it after you'd smashed it."
"There's some tough knots in this here currency question," said Mr.
McKenna. "A lot of things I don't quite catch."
"Cough thim up," said Mr. Dooley. "I'm a reg'lar caddychism iv coinage.
Who made ye? Gawd made me. Why did he make ye? F'r to know Him,
love Him, an' sarve Him all me days. That's th' way iv th' caddychism I
learned whin I was a la-ad behind a hedge; but now 'tis: Who made ye?
Ladenburg, Thalman an' Comp'ny made me. Why did they make ye? F'r to
know thim, love thim, an' sarve thim all me days. O-ho!"
"That's all r-right," said Mr. Thomas Larkin, the Kerry horseshoer, who was
leaning over the cigar-case, reading what Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Blaine, Mr.
Edward Atkinson, and Mr. Andrew D. White had to say in a small
pamphlet. "That's all r-right, Martin. But ye're talkin' like a Populist an' an
anarchist an' a big bullhead gen'rally. Ye bring up two or three Jew men, an'
think f'r to scare us with thim. But look here. Supposin' a man comes into
my place an' lays down on th' anvil a silver dollar, an' I give it a wallop with
me hammer"—
"Thin," said Mr. Dooley, "ye're knockin' th' gover'mint."
"How am I?" said Mr. Larkin. "Niver mind now: I take this here silver
dollar, an' I fetch it wan with me hammer. What happens?"
"Th' man that give ye th' dollar hands ye wan in th' nose," said Mr. Dooley.
"Not at all, not at—all," said Mr. Larkin. "I take this here mutilated an'
disfigured an' bum dollar down to th' three-asury, an' I hand it in; an'
Carlisle says, 'What kind iv an ol' piece iv mud is this ye're flingin' at me?'
he says. 'Take it away: it's nawthin' to me.'"
"True for you, Larkin," said Mr. McKenna. "You're on the right track.
Carlisle couldn't take it after you'd smashed it."
Page 99
"But," said Mr. Dooley, "look here: if ye had th' free an' unlimited coinage
iv silver at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, ye cud take this here mass iv silver
down to Carlisle, an' say, 'Here, Jawn, give me a dollar'; an' he'd have to
give it to ye."
"A dollar of what?" said Mr. McKenna.
"A dollar iv what?" repeated Mr. Dooley. "A dollar iv what? Man alive,
don't ye know what a dollar is? Carlisle'd hand him out a plunk, a case, a
buck. He'd say, 'Here, Larkin, ye're a dam fool to be malthreatin' th' currincy
iv yer adophted counthry, but I have to give ye a dollar because ye're a good
fellow an' a frind iv Dooley's.'"
"He wouldn't say anything of the kind," said Mr. McKenna. "He'd give
Larkin fifty cents."
"I'd push his face in if he did," said Mr. Larkin, warmly. "I'm as good a ma-
an as he is anny day. I'll have no man rob me."
"But he wouldn't rob you," said Mr. McKenna. "Think of the purchasing
power: you've got to always figure that out. A dollar you'd get then would
be worth only half as much as it's worth now. It'd be a dollar like they run
through the ringer down in Mexico."
"How can wan dollar be worth on'y half as much as another dollar, if they're
both dollars an' th' man that made thim is at la-arge?" answered Mr. Dooley.
"Here's a dollar, an' here's a dollar. Wan akels th' other. Now you take this
here dollar, an' come into my place. 'Give me a brandy an' sody,' ye say.
Thin what do I say?"
"You say you're just out of brandy and soda."
"So I do, so I do. Thin you ask f'r a little liquor with beer f'r a chaser. An' I
give it to ye. Ye lay down wan iv these here quartz dollars. I return eighty-
five cints. Larkin comes in later, ordhers th' same thing, an' I give him th'
same threatment. I play no fav-rites. Entertainmint f'r man an' beast."
"But, if we had free silver, you'd charge thirty cents for the drink," said Mr.
McKenna.
iv silver at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, ye cud take this here mass iv silver
down to Carlisle, an' say, 'Here, Jawn, give me a dollar'; an' he'd have to
give it to ye."
"A dollar of what?" said Mr. McKenna.
"A dollar iv what?" repeated Mr. Dooley. "A dollar iv what? Man alive,
don't ye know what a dollar is? Carlisle'd hand him out a plunk, a case, a
buck. He'd say, 'Here, Larkin, ye're a dam fool to be malthreatin' th' currincy
iv yer adophted counthry, but I have to give ye a dollar because ye're a good
fellow an' a frind iv Dooley's.'"
"He wouldn't say anything of the kind," said Mr. McKenna. "He'd give
Larkin fifty cents."
"I'd push his face in if he did," said Mr. Larkin, warmly. "I'm as good a ma-
an as he is anny day. I'll have no man rob me."
"But he wouldn't rob you," said Mr. McKenna. "Think of the purchasing
power: you've got to always figure that out. A dollar you'd get then would
be worth only half as much as it's worth now. It'd be a dollar like they run
through the ringer down in Mexico."
"How can wan dollar be worth on'y half as much as another dollar, if they're
both dollars an' th' man that made thim is at la-arge?" answered Mr. Dooley.
"Here's a dollar, an' here's a dollar. Wan akels th' other. Now you take this
here dollar, an' come into my place. 'Give me a brandy an' sody,' ye say.
Thin what do I say?"
"You say you're just out of brandy and soda."
"So I do, so I do. Thin you ask f'r a little liquor with beer f'r a chaser. An' I
give it to ye. Ye lay down wan iv these here quartz dollars. I return eighty-
five cints. Larkin comes in later, ordhers th' same thing, an' I give him th'
same threatment. I play no fav-rites. Entertainmint f'r man an' beast."
"But, if we had free silver, you'd charge thirty cents for the drink," said Mr.
McKenna.
Page 100
"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley, hotly. "I niver overcharged a man in my life,
except durin' a campaign."
"No one accuses you of overcharging," explained Mr. McKenna.
"Everybody would charge the same. It'd be the regular price."
"If it was," said Mr. Dooley, "they'd be a rivolution. But I don't believe it,
Jawn. Let me tell ye wan thing. Whisky is th' standard iv value. It niver
fluctuates; an' that's funny, too, seein' that so much iv it goes down. It was
th' same price—fifteen cints a slug, two f'r a quarther—durin' the war; an' it
was th' same price afther the war. The day befure th' crime iv sivinty-three it
was worth fifteen cints: it was worth th' same th' day afther. Goold and
silver fluctuates, up wan day, down another; but whisky stands firm an'
strong, unchangeable as th' skies, immovable as a rock at fifteen or two f'r a
quarther. If they want something solid as a standard iv value, something that
niver is rajjooced in price, something ye can exchange f'r food an' other
luxuries annywhere in th' civilized wurruld where man has a thirst, they'd
move th' Mint over to th' internal rivinue office, and lave it stay there."
Both Mr. Larkin and Mr. McKenna were diverted by this fancy.
"There's some good argumints on both sides iv th' quisthion," said the Kerry
man. "I heerd a man be th' name of Doyle, a helper, compare money to th'
human lungs."
"Th' lung argumint is all right," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' whole currency
question is a matther iv lungs."
except durin' a campaign."
"No one accuses you of overcharging," explained Mr. McKenna.
"Everybody would charge the same. It'd be the regular price."
"If it was," said Mr. Dooley, "they'd be a rivolution. But I don't believe it,
Jawn. Let me tell ye wan thing. Whisky is th' standard iv value. It niver
fluctuates; an' that's funny, too, seein' that so much iv it goes down. It was
th' same price—fifteen cints a slug, two f'r a quarther—durin' the war; an' it
was th' same price afther the war. The day befure th' crime iv sivinty-three it
was worth fifteen cints: it was worth th' same th' day afther. Goold and
silver fluctuates, up wan day, down another; but whisky stands firm an'
strong, unchangeable as th' skies, immovable as a rock at fifteen or two f'r a
quarther. If they want something solid as a standard iv value, something that
niver is rajjooced in price, something ye can exchange f'r food an' other
luxuries annywhere in th' civilized wurruld where man has a thirst, they'd
move th' Mint over to th' internal rivinue office, and lave it stay there."
Both Mr. Larkin and Mr. McKenna were diverted by this fancy.
"There's some good argumints on both sides iv th' quisthion," said the Kerry
man. "I heerd a man be th' name of Doyle, a helper, compare money to th'
human lungs."
"Th' lung argumint is all right," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' whole currency
question is a matther iv lungs."
Page 101
ON POLITICAL PARADES.
Mr. Hennessy, wearing a silver-painted stovepipe hat and a silver cape and
carrying a torch, came in, looking much the worse for wear. The hat was
dented, the cape was torn, and there were marks on Mr. Hennessy's face.
"Where ye been?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"Ma-archin,'" said Mr. Hennessy.
"Be th' looks iv ye, ye might have been th' line iv ma-arch f'r th' p'rade.
Who's been doin' things to ye?"
"I had a currency debate with a man be th' name iv Joyce, a towny iv mine,
in th' Audjiotoroom Hotel," said Mr. Hennessy. "Whin we got as far as th'
price iv wheat in th' year iv th' big wind, we pushed each other. Give me a
high glass iv beer. I'm as dhry as a gravel roof."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, handing over the glass, "ye're an ol' man; an', as th'
good book says, an ol' fool is th' worst yet. So I'll not thry to con-vince ye iv
th' error iv ye'er ways. But why anny citizen that has things in his head shud
dhress himself up like a sandwich-man, put a torch on his shoulder, an'
toddle over this blessid town with his poor round feet, is more than I can
come at with all me intelligence.
"I agree with ye perfectly, Hinnissy, that this here is a crisis in our histhry.
On wan hand is arrayed th' Shylocks an' th' pathrites, an' on th' other side th'
pathrites an' th' arnychists. Th' Constitution must be upheld, th' gover'mint
must be maintained, th' down-throdden farmer an' workin'man must get
their rights. But do ye think, man alive, that ye're goin' to do this be pourin'
lard ile frim ye'er torch down ye'er spine or thrippin' over sthreet-car tracks
like a dhray-horse thryin' to play circus? Is th' Constitution anny safer to-
night because ye have to have ye'er leg amputated to get ye'er boot off, or
because Joyce has made ye'er face look like th' back dure-step iv a German
resthrant?
Mr. Hennessy, wearing a silver-painted stovepipe hat and a silver cape and
carrying a torch, came in, looking much the worse for wear. The hat was
dented, the cape was torn, and there were marks on Mr. Hennessy's face.
"Where ye been?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"Ma-archin,'" said Mr. Hennessy.
"Be th' looks iv ye, ye might have been th' line iv ma-arch f'r th' p'rade.
Who's been doin' things to ye?"
"I had a currency debate with a man be th' name iv Joyce, a towny iv mine,
in th' Audjiotoroom Hotel," said Mr. Hennessy. "Whin we got as far as th'
price iv wheat in th' year iv th' big wind, we pushed each other. Give me a
high glass iv beer. I'm as dhry as a gravel roof."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, handing over the glass, "ye're an ol' man; an', as th'
good book says, an ol' fool is th' worst yet. So I'll not thry to con-vince ye iv
th' error iv ye'er ways. But why anny citizen that has things in his head shud
dhress himself up like a sandwich-man, put a torch on his shoulder, an'
toddle over this blessid town with his poor round feet, is more than I can
come at with all me intelligence.
"I agree with ye perfectly, Hinnissy, that this here is a crisis in our histhry.
On wan hand is arrayed th' Shylocks an' th' pathrites, an' on th' other side th'
pathrites an' th' arnychists. Th' Constitution must be upheld, th' gover'mint
must be maintained, th' down-throdden farmer an' workin'man must get
their rights. But do ye think, man alive, that ye're goin' to do this be pourin'
lard ile frim ye'er torch down ye'er spine or thrippin' over sthreet-car tracks
like a dhray-horse thryin' to play circus? Is th' Constitution anny safer to-
night because ye have to have ye'er leg amputated to get ye'er boot off, or
because Joyce has made ye'er face look like th' back dure-step iv a German
resthrant?
Page 102
"Jawnny Mack took me down in th' afthernoon f'r to see th' monsthrous
p'rade iv th' goold men. It was a gloryous spectacle. Th' sthreets were
crowded with goold bugs an' women an' polismin an' ambulances. Th'
procission was miles an' miles long. Labor an' capital marched side be side,
or annyhow labor was in its usual place, afther th' capitalists. It was a noble
sight f'r to see th' employer iv workin'men marchin' ahead iv his band iv
sturdy toilers that to rest thimsilves afther th' layboryous occupations iv th'
week was reelin' undher banners that dhrilled a hole in their stomachs or
carryin' two-be-four joists to show their allegance to th' naytional honor. A
man that has to shovel coke into a dhray or shove lumber out iv th' hole iv a
barge or elevate his profession be carryin' a hod iv mort to th' top iv a
laddher doesn't march with th' grace iv an antelope, be a blamed sight. To
march well, a man's feet have to be mates; an', if he has two left feet both
runnin' sideways, he ought to have interference boots to keep him fr'm
settin' fire to his knees. Whin a man walks as if he expected to lave a leg
stuck in th' sthreet behind him, he has th' gait proper f'r half-past six o'clock
th' avenin' before pay-day. But 'tis not th' prance iv an American citizen
makin' a gloryous spectacle iv himsilf."
"They were coerced," said Mr. Hennessy, gloomily.
"Don't ye believe it," replied the philosopher. "It niver requires coercion to
get a man to make a monkey iv himsilf in a prisidintial campaign. He does
it as aisily as ye dhrink ye'er liquor, an' that's too aisy. Don't ye believe thim
lads with lumber ya-ards on their necks an' bar'ls on their feet was coerced.
There wasn't wan iv thim that wudden't give his week's wages f'r a chanst to
show how many times he cud thrip over a manhole in a mile. No more
coerced than ye are whin ye r-run down town an' make an ape iv ye-ersilf. I
see ye marchin' away fr'm Finucane's with th' Willum J. O'Briens. Th' man
nex' to ye had a banner declarin' that he was no slave. 'Twas th' la-ad
Johnson. He was r-right. He is no slave, an' he won't be wan as long as
people have washin' to give to his wife. Th' man I see ye takin' a dhrink
with had a banner that said if th' mines was opened th' mills would be
opened, too. He meant be that, that if money was plenty enough f'r him to
get some without wurrukin', he'd open a gin mill. An' ye ma-arched afther
Willum J. O'Brien, didn't ye? Well, he's a good la-ad. If I didn't think so, I
wudden't say it until I got me strenth back or cud buy a gun. But did Willum
J. O'Brien march? Not Willie. He was on horseback; an', Hinnissy, if dollars
p'rade iv th' goold men. It was a gloryous spectacle. Th' sthreets were
crowded with goold bugs an' women an' polismin an' ambulances. Th'
procission was miles an' miles long. Labor an' capital marched side be side,
or annyhow labor was in its usual place, afther th' capitalists. It was a noble
sight f'r to see th' employer iv workin'men marchin' ahead iv his band iv
sturdy toilers that to rest thimsilves afther th' layboryous occupations iv th'
week was reelin' undher banners that dhrilled a hole in their stomachs or
carryin' two-be-four joists to show their allegance to th' naytional honor. A
man that has to shovel coke into a dhray or shove lumber out iv th' hole iv a
barge or elevate his profession be carryin' a hod iv mort to th' top iv a
laddher doesn't march with th' grace iv an antelope, be a blamed sight. To
march well, a man's feet have to be mates; an', if he has two left feet both
runnin' sideways, he ought to have interference boots to keep him fr'm
settin' fire to his knees. Whin a man walks as if he expected to lave a leg
stuck in th' sthreet behind him, he has th' gait proper f'r half-past six o'clock
th' avenin' before pay-day. But 'tis not th' prance iv an American citizen
makin' a gloryous spectacle iv himsilf."
"They were coerced," said Mr. Hennessy, gloomily.
"Don't ye believe it," replied the philosopher. "It niver requires coercion to
get a man to make a monkey iv himsilf in a prisidintial campaign. He does
it as aisily as ye dhrink ye'er liquor, an' that's too aisy. Don't ye believe thim
lads with lumber ya-ards on their necks an' bar'ls on their feet was coerced.
There wasn't wan iv thim that wudden't give his week's wages f'r a chanst to
show how many times he cud thrip over a manhole in a mile. No more
coerced than ye are whin ye r-run down town an' make an ape iv ye-ersilf. I
see ye marchin' away fr'm Finucane's with th' Willum J. O'Briens. Th' man
nex' to ye had a banner declarin' that he was no slave. 'Twas th' la-ad
Johnson. He was r-right. He is no slave, an' he won't be wan as long as
people have washin' to give to his wife. Th' man I see ye takin' a dhrink
with had a banner that said if th' mines was opened th' mills would be
opened, too. He meant be that, that if money was plenty enough f'r him to
get some without wurrukin', he'd open a gin mill. An' ye ma-arched afther
Willum J. O'Brien, didn't ye? Well, he's a good la-ad. If I didn't think so, I
wudden't say it until I got me strenth back or cud buy a gun. But did Willum
J. O'Brien march? Not Willie. He was on horseback; an', Hinnissy, if dollars
Page 103
was made out iv Babbit metal, an' horses was worth sixty-sivin cints a
dhrove, ye cudden't buy a crupper."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "annyhow, I proved me hathred iv capital."
"So ye did," said Mr. Dooley. "So ye did. An' capital this afthernoon showed
its hatred iv ye. Ye ought to match blisters to see which hates th' worst.
Capital is at home now with his gams in a tub iv hot wather; an' whin he
comes down to-morrah to oppriss labor an' square his protisted notes, he'll
have to go on all fours. As f'r you, Hinnissy, if 'twill aise ye anny, ye can
hang f'r a few minyits fr'm th' gas fixtures. Did th' goold Dimmycrats have a
p'rade?"
"No," said Mr. Hennessy. "But they rayviewed th' day procission fr'm th'
Pammer House. Both iv thim was on th' stand."
dhrove, ye cudden't buy a crupper."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "annyhow, I proved me hathred iv capital."
"So ye did," said Mr. Dooley. "So ye did. An' capital this afthernoon showed
its hatred iv ye. Ye ought to match blisters to see which hates th' worst.
Capital is at home now with his gams in a tub iv hot wather; an' whin he
comes down to-morrah to oppriss labor an' square his protisted notes, he'll
have to go on all fours. As f'r you, Hinnissy, if 'twill aise ye anny, ye can
hang f'r a few minyits fr'm th' gas fixtures. Did th' goold Dimmycrats have a
p'rade?"
"No," said Mr. Hennessy. "But they rayviewed th' day procission fr'm th'
Pammer House. Both iv thim was on th' stand."
Page 104
ON CHARITY.
"Br-r-r!" cried Mr. McKenna, entering stiffly and spreading his hands over
the potbellied stove. "It's cold."
"Where?" asked Mr. Dooley. "Not here."
"It's cold outside," said Mr. McKenna. "It was ten below at Shannahan's
grocery when I went by, and the wind blowing like all possessed. Lord love
us, but I pity them that's got to be out to-night."
"Save ye'er pity," said Mr. Dooley, comfortably. "It ain't cowld in here.
There's frost on th' window, 'tis thrue for ye; an' th' wheels has been singin'
th' livelong day. But what's that to us? Here I am, an' there ye are, th' stove
between us an' th' kettle hummin'. In a minyit it'll bile, an' thin I'll give ye a
taste iv what'll make a king iv ye.
"Well, tubby sure, 'tis thryin' to be dhrivin' a coal wagon or a sthreet-car; but
'tis all in a lifetime. Th' diff'rence between me an' th' man that sets up in th'
seat thumpin' his chest with his hands is no more thin th' diff'rence between
him an' th' poor divvle that walks along behind th' wagon with his shovel on
his shoulder, an' 'll thank th' saints f'r th' first chanst to put tin ton iv ha-ard
coal into a cellar f'r a quarther iv a dollar. Th' lad afoot invies th' dhriver, an'
th' dhriver invies me; an' I might invy big Cleveland if it wasn't f'r th'
hivinly smell iv this here noggin. An' who does Cleveland invy? Sure, it'd
be sacreliege f'r me to say.
"Me ol' father, who was as full iv sayin's as an almanac, used to sink his
spoon into th' stirabout, an' say, 'Well, lads, this ain't bacon an' greens an'
porther; but it'll be annything ye like if ye'll on'y think iv th' Cassidys.' Th'
Cassidys was th' poorest fam'ly in th' parish. They waked th' oldest son in
small beer, an' was little thought of. Did me father iver ask thim in to share
th' stirabout? Not him. An' he was the kindest man in th' wurruld. He had a
heart in him as big as a lump iv turf, but he'd say, 'Whin ye grow up, take no
wan's sorrows to ye'ersilf,' he says. ''Tis th' wise man that goes through life
thinkin' iv himsilf, fills his own stomach, an' takes away what he can't ate in
"Br-r-r!" cried Mr. McKenna, entering stiffly and spreading his hands over
the potbellied stove. "It's cold."
"Where?" asked Mr. Dooley. "Not here."
"It's cold outside," said Mr. McKenna. "It was ten below at Shannahan's
grocery when I went by, and the wind blowing like all possessed. Lord love
us, but I pity them that's got to be out to-night."
"Save ye'er pity," said Mr. Dooley, comfortably. "It ain't cowld in here.
There's frost on th' window, 'tis thrue for ye; an' th' wheels has been singin'
th' livelong day. But what's that to us? Here I am, an' there ye are, th' stove
between us an' th' kettle hummin'. In a minyit it'll bile, an' thin I'll give ye a
taste iv what'll make a king iv ye.
"Well, tubby sure, 'tis thryin' to be dhrivin' a coal wagon or a sthreet-car; but
'tis all in a lifetime. Th' diff'rence between me an' th' man that sets up in th'
seat thumpin' his chest with his hands is no more thin th' diff'rence between
him an' th' poor divvle that walks along behind th' wagon with his shovel on
his shoulder, an' 'll thank th' saints f'r th' first chanst to put tin ton iv ha-ard
coal into a cellar f'r a quarther iv a dollar. Th' lad afoot invies th' dhriver, an'
th' dhriver invies me; an' I might invy big Cleveland if it wasn't f'r th'
hivinly smell iv this here noggin. An' who does Cleveland invy? Sure, it'd
be sacreliege f'r me to say.
"Me ol' father, who was as full iv sayin's as an almanac, used to sink his
spoon into th' stirabout, an' say, 'Well, lads, this ain't bacon an' greens an'
porther; but it'll be annything ye like if ye'll on'y think iv th' Cassidys.' Th'
Cassidys was th' poorest fam'ly in th' parish. They waked th' oldest son in
small beer, an' was little thought of. Did me father iver ask thim in to share
th' stirabout? Not him. An' he was the kindest man in th' wurruld. He had a
heart in him as big as a lump iv turf, but he'd say, 'Whin ye grow up, take no
wan's sorrows to ye'ersilf,' he says. ''Tis th' wise man that goes through life
thinkin' iv himsilf, fills his own stomach, an' takes away what he can't ate in
Page 105
his pocket.' An' he was r-right, Jawn. We have throubles enough iv our own.
Th' wurruld goes on just th' same, an' ye can find fifty men to say th' lit'ny
f'r ye to wan that'll give ye what'll relieve a fastin' spit. Th' dead ar-re
always pop'lar. I knowed a society wanst to vote a monyment to a man an'
refuse to help his fam'ly, all in wan night. 'Tis cowld outside th' dure, ye say,
but 'tis war-rum in here; an' I'm gettin' in me ol' age to think that the
diff'rence between hivin an' hell is no broader"—
Mr. Dooley's remarks were cut short by a cry from the back room. It was
unmistakably a baby's cry. Mr. McKenna turned suddenly in amazement as
Mr. Dooley bolted.
"Well, in the name of the saints, what's all this?" he cried, following his
friend into the back room. He found the philosopher, with an expression of
the utmost sternness, sitting on the side of his bed, with a little girl of two or
three in his arms. The philosopher was singing:——
Ar-rah rock-a-bye, babby, on th' three
top:
Whin th' wind blo-ows, th' cradle ull r-
rock;
An', a-whin th' bough breaks, th'
cradle ull fa-a-a-ll,
An' a-down ull come babby, cradle,
an' all.
Then he sang:——
In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a
fair ma-aid,
In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a
fair ma-aid.
She had cheeks like th' roses, an' hair
iv th' same,
An' a mouth like ripe sthrawburries
burrid in crame.
He rocked the child to and fro, and its crying ceased while he sang:——
Th' wurruld goes on just th' same, an' ye can find fifty men to say th' lit'ny
f'r ye to wan that'll give ye what'll relieve a fastin' spit. Th' dead ar-re
always pop'lar. I knowed a society wanst to vote a monyment to a man an'
refuse to help his fam'ly, all in wan night. 'Tis cowld outside th' dure, ye say,
but 'tis war-rum in here; an' I'm gettin' in me ol' age to think that the
diff'rence between hivin an' hell is no broader"—
Mr. Dooley's remarks were cut short by a cry from the back room. It was
unmistakably a baby's cry. Mr. McKenna turned suddenly in amazement as
Mr. Dooley bolted.
"Well, in the name of the saints, what's all this?" he cried, following his
friend into the back room. He found the philosopher, with an expression of
the utmost sternness, sitting on the side of his bed, with a little girl of two or
three in his arms. The philosopher was singing:——
Ar-rah rock-a-bye, babby, on th' three
top:
Whin th' wind blo-ows, th' cradle ull r-
rock;
An', a-whin th' bough breaks, th'
cradle ull fa-a-a-ll,
An' a-down ull come babby, cradle,
an' all.
Then he sang:——
In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a
fair ma-aid,
In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a
fair ma-aid.
She had cheeks like th' roses, an' hair
iv th' same,
An' a mouth like ripe sthrawburries
burrid in crame.
He rocked the child to and fro, and its crying ceased while he sang:——
Page 106
Chip, chip, a little horse;
Chip, chip, again, sir.
How manny miles to Dublin?
Threescure an' tin, sir.
The little girl went to sleep on Mr. Dooley's white apron. He lifted her
tenderly, and carried her over to his bed. Then he tiptoed out with an
apprehensive face, and whispered: "It's Jawn Donahue's kid that wandherd
away fr'm home, an' wint to sleep on me dure-step. I sint th' Dorsey boy to
tell th' mother, but he's a long time gone. Do ye run over, Jawn, an' lave
thim know."
Chip, chip, again, sir.
How manny miles to Dublin?
Threescure an' tin, sir.
The little girl went to sleep on Mr. Dooley's white apron. He lifted her
tenderly, and carried her over to his bed. Then he tiptoed out with an
apprehensive face, and whispered: "It's Jawn Donahue's kid that wandherd
away fr'm home, an' wint to sleep on me dure-step. I sint th' Dorsey boy to
tell th' mother, but he's a long time gone. Do ye run over, Jawn, an' lave
thim know."
Page 107
ON NANSEN.
"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "that Doc Nansen has come back."
"Yes," said Mr. McKenna. "It's a wonder he wouldn't stay till winter. If I
was setting on an iceberg in latitude umpty-ump north of Evanston these
days, they couldn't pry me off it with a crowbar. Not they."
"He had to come back," explained Mr. Hennessy. "He got as far as he cud,
an' thin he was foorced be th' inclimincy iv th' weather to return to his home
in Feechoold, Norway."
"To where?" Mr. Dooley asked contemptuously.
"To Foocheeld, Norway," said Mr. Hennessy, with some misgivings.
"Ye don't know what ye're talkin' about," retorted the philosopher. "Ye
ought to go back to school an' study gee-ography. Th' place he come back to
was Oostoc, Norway, between Coopenhaagen an'—an' Rogers Park."
"Maybe ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy. "Annyhow, he come back, chased
be a polar bear. It must iv been a thrillin' experience, leppin' fr'm iceberg to
iceberg, with a polar bear grabbin' at th' seat iv his pants, an' now an' thin a
walrus swoopin' down fr'm a three an' munchin' his hat."
"What ta-alk have ye?" Mr. Dooley demanded. "A walrus don't fly, foolish
man!"
"What does he do, thin?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Go 'round on crutches?"
"A walrus," said Mr. Dooley, "is an animal something like a hor-rse, but
more like a balloon. It doesn't walk, swim, or fly. It rowls whin pur-suin' its
prey. It whirls 'round an' 'round at a speed akel to a railroad injine, meltin'
th' ice in a groove behind it. Tame walruses are used be th' Eskeemyoos, th'
old settlers iv thim parts, as lawnmowers an' to press their clothes. Th' wild
walrus is a mos' vicious animal, which feeds on snowballs through th' day,
an' thin goes out iv nights afther artic explorers, which for-rms its principal
"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "that Doc Nansen has come back."
"Yes," said Mr. McKenna. "It's a wonder he wouldn't stay till winter. If I
was setting on an iceberg in latitude umpty-ump north of Evanston these
days, they couldn't pry me off it with a crowbar. Not they."
"He had to come back," explained Mr. Hennessy. "He got as far as he cud,
an' thin he was foorced be th' inclimincy iv th' weather to return to his home
in Feechoold, Norway."
"To where?" Mr. Dooley asked contemptuously.
"To Foocheeld, Norway," said Mr. Hennessy, with some misgivings.
"Ye don't know what ye're talkin' about," retorted the philosopher. "Ye
ought to go back to school an' study gee-ography. Th' place he come back to
was Oostoc, Norway, between Coopenhaagen an'—an' Rogers Park."
"Maybe ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy. "Annyhow, he come back, chased
be a polar bear. It must iv been a thrillin' experience, leppin' fr'm iceberg to
iceberg, with a polar bear grabbin' at th' seat iv his pants, an' now an' thin a
walrus swoopin' down fr'm a three an' munchin' his hat."
"What ta-alk have ye?" Mr. Dooley demanded. "A walrus don't fly, foolish
man!"
"What does he do, thin?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Go 'round on crutches?"
"A walrus," said Mr. Dooley, "is an animal something like a hor-rse, but
more like a balloon. It doesn't walk, swim, or fly. It rowls whin pur-suin' its
prey. It whirls 'round an' 'round at a speed akel to a railroad injine, meltin'
th' ice in a groove behind it. Tame walruses are used be th' Eskeemyoos, th'
old settlers iv thim parts, as lawnmowers an' to press their clothes. Th' wild
walrus is a mos' vicious animal, which feeds on snowballs through th' day,
an' thin goes out iv nights afther artic explorers, which for-rms its principal
Page 108
diet. Theyse a gr-reat demand among walruses f'r artic explorers, Swedes
preferred; an' on account iv th' scarcity iv this food it isn't more than wanst
in twinty years that th' walrus gets a square meal. Thin he devours his
victim, clothes, collar-buttons, an' all."
"Well, well," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had no idee they was that ferocious. I
thought they were like bur-rds. Don't they lay eggs?"
"Don't they lay eggs?" Mr. Dooley replied. "Don't they lay eggs? Did ye
iver hear th' like iv that, Jawn? Why, ye gaby, ye might as well ask me does
a pianny lay eggs. Iv coorse not."
"I'd like to know what the objict of these here arctic explorations is,"
interposed Mr. McKenna, in the interests of peace.
"Th' principal objict is to get rid iv an over-supply iv foolish people," said
Mr. Dooley. "In this counthry, whin a man begins f'r to see sthrange things,
an' hitch up cockroaches, an' think he's Vanderbilt dhrivin' a four-in-hand,
we sind him to what me ol' frind Sleepy Burk calls th' brain college. But in
Norway an' Sweden they sind him to th' North Pole, an' feed him to th' polar
bears an' th' walruses. A man that scorches on a bicycle or wears a pink shirt
or is caught thryin' to fry out a stick iv dinnymite in a kitchen stove is given
a boat an' sint off to play with Flora an' Fauna in th' frozen North."
"That's what I'd like to know," said Mr. Hennessy. "Who ar-re these Flora
an' Fauna? I see be th' pa-aper that Doc Nansen stopped at Nootchinchoot
Islands, an' saw Flora an' Fauna; an' thin, comin' back on th' ice, he
encountherd thim again."
"I suppose," said Mr. Dooley, "ye think Flora an' Fauna is two little
Eskeemy girls at skip-rope an' 'London bridge is fallin' down' on th'
icebergs an' glaziers. It's a pretty idee ye have iv th' life in thim parts. Little
Flora an' little Fauna playin' stoop-tag aroun' a whale or rushin' th' can f'r
their poor tired father just home fr'm th' rollin'-mills, where he's been makin'
snowballs f'r th' export thrade, or engagin' in some other spoort iv
childhood! Go wan with ye!"
"But who are they, annyhow?"
preferred; an' on account iv th' scarcity iv this food it isn't more than wanst
in twinty years that th' walrus gets a square meal. Thin he devours his
victim, clothes, collar-buttons, an' all."
"Well, well," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had no idee they was that ferocious. I
thought they were like bur-rds. Don't they lay eggs?"
"Don't they lay eggs?" Mr. Dooley replied. "Don't they lay eggs? Did ye
iver hear th' like iv that, Jawn? Why, ye gaby, ye might as well ask me does
a pianny lay eggs. Iv coorse not."
"I'd like to know what the objict of these here arctic explorations is,"
interposed Mr. McKenna, in the interests of peace.
"Th' principal objict is to get rid iv an over-supply iv foolish people," said
Mr. Dooley. "In this counthry, whin a man begins f'r to see sthrange things,
an' hitch up cockroaches, an' think he's Vanderbilt dhrivin' a four-in-hand,
we sind him to what me ol' frind Sleepy Burk calls th' brain college. But in
Norway an' Sweden they sind him to th' North Pole, an' feed him to th' polar
bears an' th' walruses. A man that scorches on a bicycle or wears a pink shirt
or is caught thryin' to fry out a stick iv dinnymite in a kitchen stove is given
a boat an' sint off to play with Flora an' Fauna in th' frozen North."
"That's what I'd like to know," said Mr. Hennessy. "Who ar-re these Flora
an' Fauna? I see be th' pa-aper that Doc Nansen stopped at Nootchinchoot
Islands, an' saw Flora an' Fauna; an' thin, comin' back on th' ice, he
encountherd thim again."
"I suppose," said Mr. Dooley, "ye think Flora an' Fauna is two little
Eskeemy girls at skip-rope an' 'London bridge is fallin' down' on th'
icebergs an' glaziers. It's a pretty idee ye have iv th' life in thim parts. Little
Flora an' little Fauna playin' stoop-tag aroun' a whale or rushin' th' can f'r
their poor tired father just home fr'm th' rollin'-mills, where he's been makin'
snowballs f'r th' export thrade, or engagin' in some other spoort iv
childhood! Go wan with ye!"
"But who are they, annyhow?"
Page 109
"I make it a rule in me life not to discuss anny woman's charac-ter," replied
Mr. Dooley, sternly. "If Doc Nansen was off there skylarkin' with Flora an'
Fauna, it's his own business, an' I make no inquiries. A lady's a lady, be she
iver so humble; an', as Shakespeare says, cursed be th' man that'd raise an
ax to her, save in th' way iv a joke. We'll talk no scandal in this house,
Hinnissy."
But, after his friend had gone, Mr. Dooley leaned over confidentially, and
whispered to Mr. McKenna, "But who are Flora an' Fauna, Jawn?"
"I don't know," said Mr. McKenna.
"It sounds mighty suspicious, annyhow," said the philosopher. "I hope th'
doc'll be able to square it with his wife."
Mr. Dooley, sternly. "If Doc Nansen was off there skylarkin' with Flora an'
Fauna, it's his own business, an' I make no inquiries. A lady's a lady, be she
iver so humble; an', as Shakespeare says, cursed be th' man that'd raise an
ax to her, save in th' way iv a joke. We'll talk no scandal in this house,
Hinnissy."
But, after his friend had gone, Mr. Dooley leaned over confidentially, and
whispered to Mr. McKenna, "But who are Flora an' Fauna, Jawn?"
"I don't know," said Mr. McKenna.
"It sounds mighty suspicious, annyhow," said the philosopher. "I hope th'
doc'll be able to square it with his wife."
Page 110
ON A POPULIST CONVENTION.
"Keep ye'er eye on th' Pops, Jawn. They're gr-reat people an' a gr-reat pa-
arty. What is their principles? Anny ol' thing that th' other pa-arties has
rijected. Some iv thim is in favor iv coining money out iv baled hay an'
dhried apples at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, an' some is in favor iv coinin' on'y
th' apples. Thim are th' inflationists. Others want th' gover'mint to divide up
the rivinues equally among all la-ads that's too sthrong to wurruk. Th' Pops
is again th' banks an' again the supreme court an again havin' gas that can be
blowed out be th' human lungs. A sthrong section is devoted to th' principal
iv separatin' Mark Hanna fr'm his money.
"A ma-an be th' name iv Cassidy, that thravels f'r a liquor-house, was in to
see me this mornin'; an' he come fr'm Saint Looey. He said it beat all he iver
see or heerd tell of. Whin th' convintion come to ordher, th' chairman says,
'La-ads, we'll open proceedin's be havin' th' Hon'rable Rube Spike, fr'm th'
imperyal Territ'ry iv Okalahoma, cough up his famous song, "Pa-pa
Cleveland's Teeth are filled with Goold."' 'Mr. Chairman,' says a delegate
fr'm New Mexico, risin' an' wavin' his boots in th' air, 'if th' skate fr'm
Okalahoma is allowed f'r to belch anny in this here assimblage, th' diligates
fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New Mex-ico'll lave th' hall. We have,' he says,
'in our mist th' Hon'rable Lafayette Hadley, whose notes,' he says, 'falls as
sweetly on th' ear,' he says, 'as th' plunk iv hivin's rain in a bar'l,' he says. 'If
annywan has a hemorrhage iv anthems in this hall, it'll be Lafe Hadley, th'
Guthrie batsoon,' he says. 'Ye shall not,' he says, 'press down upon our
bleedin' brows,' he says, 'this cross iv thorns,' he says. 'Ye shall not crucify
th' diligates fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New Mexico on this cross iv a
Mississippi nigger an' Crow Injun fr'm Okalahoma,' he says. Thereupon,
says me frind Cassidy, th' New Mexico diligation left th' hall, pursued be th'
diligation from Okalahoma.
"Th' chairman knowed his business. 'In ordher,' he says, 'that there may be
no disordher,' he says, 'I will call upon th' imperyal States,' he says, 'an
Territ'ries,' he says, 'beginnin' with th' imperyal State iv Alabama,' he says,
'to each sind wan singer to th' platform,' he says, 'f'r to wring our hear-rts
"Keep ye'er eye on th' Pops, Jawn. They're gr-reat people an' a gr-reat pa-
arty. What is their principles? Anny ol' thing that th' other pa-arties has
rijected. Some iv thim is in favor iv coining money out iv baled hay an'
dhried apples at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, an' some is in favor iv coinin' on'y
th' apples. Thim are th' inflationists. Others want th' gover'mint to divide up
the rivinues equally among all la-ads that's too sthrong to wurruk. Th' Pops
is again th' banks an' again the supreme court an again havin' gas that can be
blowed out be th' human lungs. A sthrong section is devoted to th' principal
iv separatin' Mark Hanna fr'm his money.
"A ma-an be th' name iv Cassidy, that thravels f'r a liquor-house, was in to
see me this mornin'; an' he come fr'm Saint Looey. He said it beat all he iver
see or heerd tell of. Whin th' convintion come to ordher, th' chairman says,
'La-ads, we'll open proceedin's be havin' th' Hon'rable Rube Spike, fr'm th'
imperyal Territ'ry iv Okalahoma, cough up his famous song, "Pa-pa
Cleveland's Teeth are filled with Goold."' 'Mr. Chairman,' says a delegate
fr'm New Mexico, risin' an' wavin' his boots in th' air, 'if th' skate fr'm
Okalahoma is allowed f'r to belch anny in this here assimblage, th' diligates
fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New Mex-ico'll lave th' hall. We have,' he says,
'in our mist th' Hon'rable Lafayette Hadley, whose notes,' he says, 'falls as
sweetly on th' ear,' he says, 'as th' plunk iv hivin's rain in a bar'l,' he says. 'If
annywan has a hemorrhage iv anthems in this hall, it'll be Lafe Hadley, th'
Guthrie batsoon,' he says. 'Ye shall not,' he says, 'press down upon our
bleedin' brows,' he says, 'this cross iv thorns,' he says. 'Ye shall not crucify
th' diligates fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New Mexico on this cross iv a
Mississippi nigger an' Crow Injun fr'm Okalahoma,' he says. Thereupon,
says me frind Cassidy, th' New Mexico diligation left th' hall, pursued be th'
diligation from Okalahoma.
"Th' chairman knowed his business. 'In ordher,' he says, 'that there may be
no disordher,' he says, 'I will call upon th' imperyal States,' he says, 'an
Territ'ries,' he says, 'beginnin' with th' imperyal State iv Alabama,' he says,
'to each sind wan singer to th' platform,' he says, 'f'r to wring our hear-rts
Page 111
with melodies,' he says. 'Meantime,' says he, 'pathrites who have differences
iv opinyon on anny questions can pro-cure ex-helves be applyin' to th'
sergeant-at-arms,' he says. 'Now,' he says, 'if th' gintleman fr'm th' imperyal
State of Mizzoury'll hand me up a cheek full iv his eatin' tobacco,' he says,
'we'll listen to Willyum G. Rannycaboo, th' boy melodjun iv th' imperyal
State iv Alabama,' he says, 'who'll discourse his well-known ballad, 'Th'
Supreme Court is Full iv Standard Ile,' he says.
"Whin th' singin' had con-cluded, so me frind Cassidy says, th' chair
announced that speakin' would be in ordher, an' th' convintion rose as wan
man. Afther ordher had been enforced be th' sergeant-at-arms movin' round,
an' lammin' diligates with a hoe, a tall man was seen standin' on a chair. F'r
some moments th' chairman was onable to call his name, but he fin'lly
found a place to spill; an' in a clear voice he says, 'F'r what purpose does th'
gintleman fr'm the imperyal State iv Texas arise?' 'I arise,' says th' ma-an, 'f'r
th' purpose iv warnin' this convintion that we have a goold-bug in our mist,'
he says. Cries iv 'Throw him out!' 'Search him!' 'Hang him!' arose. 'In
wandhrin' through th' hall, I just seen a man with a coat on,' he says. Great
excitement ensood, says me frind Cassidy; an' th' thremblin' victim was
brought down th' aisle. 'What have ye to say f'r ye'ersilf?' demands th'
chairman in thundhrin' tones. 'On'y this,' says th' goold-bug. 'I wandhered in
here, lookin' f'r frinds,' he says. 'I am not a goold-bug,' he says. 'I wear me
coat,' he says, 'because I have no shirt,' he says. 'Gintlemen,' says th'
chairman, 'a mistake has been made,' he says. 'This here person, who bears
th' appearance iv a plutocrat, is all right underneath,' he says. 'He's a diligate
to th' silver convintion,' he says. 'Go in peace,' he says.
"Be this time 'twas gr-rowin' late, an' th' convintion adjourned. 'Befure ye
lave,' says th' chairman, 'I have to announce that on account iv th' chairman
of the comity havin' been imprisoned in a foldin'-bed an' th' sicrity havin'
mistook th' fire extinguisher f'r a shower bath, they'll be no meeting' iv th'
comity on rules till to-morrow night. Durin' th' interval,' he says, 'th'
convintion'll continue ketch-as-ketch can,' he says."
"Well," said Mr. McKenna, "to think of taking this here country out of the
hands of William C. Whitney and Grover Cleveland and J. Pierpont Morgan
and Ickleheimer Thalmann, and putting it in the hands of such men. What
do you think about it?"
iv opinyon on anny questions can pro-cure ex-helves be applyin' to th'
sergeant-at-arms,' he says. 'Now,' he says, 'if th' gintleman fr'm th' imperyal
State of Mizzoury'll hand me up a cheek full iv his eatin' tobacco,' he says,
'we'll listen to Willyum G. Rannycaboo, th' boy melodjun iv th' imperyal
State iv Alabama,' he says, 'who'll discourse his well-known ballad, 'Th'
Supreme Court is Full iv Standard Ile,' he says.
"Whin th' singin' had con-cluded, so me frind Cassidy says, th' chair
announced that speakin' would be in ordher, an' th' convintion rose as wan
man. Afther ordher had been enforced be th' sergeant-at-arms movin' round,
an' lammin' diligates with a hoe, a tall man was seen standin' on a chair. F'r
some moments th' chairman was onable to call his name, but he fin'lly
found a place to spill; an' in a clear voice he says, 'F'r what purpose does th'
gintleman fr'm the imperyal State iv Texas arise?' 'I arise,' says th' ma-an, 'f'r
th' purpose iv warnin' this convintion that we have a goold-bug in our mist,'
he says. Cries iv 'Throw him out!' 'Search him!' 'Hang him!' arose. 'In
wandhrin' through th' hall, I just seen a man with a coat on,' he says. Great
excitement ensood, says me frind Cassidy; an' th' thremblin' victim was
brought down th' aisle. 'What have ye to say f'r ye'ersilf?' demands th'
chairman in thundhrin' tones. 'On'y this,' says th' goold-bug. 'I wandhered in
here, lookin' f'r frinds,' he says. 'I am not a goold-bug,' he says. 'I wear me
coat,' he says, 'because I have no shirt,' he says. 'Gintlemen,' says th'
chairman, 'a mistake has been made,' he says. 'This here person, who bears
th' appearance iv a plutocrat, is all right underneath,' he says. 'He's a diligate
to th' silver convintion,' he says. 'Go in peace,' he says.
"Be this time 'twas gr-rowin' late, an' th' convintion adjourned. 'Befure ye
lave,' says th' chairman, 'I have to announce that on account iv th' chairman
of the comity havin' been imprisoned in a foldin'-bed an' th' sicrity havin'
mistook th' fire extinguisher f'r a shower bath, they'll be no meeting' iv th'
comity on rules till to-morrow night. Durin' th' interval,' he says, 'th'
convintion'll continue ketch-as-ketch can,' he says."
"Well," said Mr. McKenna, "to think of taking this here country out of the
hands of William C. Whitney and Grover Cleveland and J. Pierpont Morgan
and Ickleheimer Thalmann, and putting it in the hands of such men. What
do you think about it?"
Page 112
"I think," said Mr. Dooley, "that Cassidy lied."
Page 113
ON A FAMILY REUNION.
"Why aren't you out attending the reunion of the Dooley family?" Mr.
McKenna asked the philosopher.
"Thim's no rel-ations to me," Mr. Dooley answered. "Thim's farmer
Dooleys. No wan iv our fam'ly iver lived in th' counthry. We live in th' city,
where they burn gas an' have a polis foorce to get on to. We're no farmers,
divvle th' bit. We belong to th' industhreel classes. Thim must be th'
Fermanagh Dooleys, a poor lot, Jawn, an' always on good terms with th'
landlord, bad ciss to thim, says I. We're from Roscommon. They'se a
Dooley family in Wixford an' wan near Ballybone that belonged to th'
constabulary. I met him but wanst. 'Twas at an iviction; an', though he didn't
know me, I inthrajooced mesilf be landin' him back iv th' ear with a
bouldher th' size iv ye'er two fists together. He didn't know me aftherwards,
ayether.
"We niver had but wan reunion iv th' Dooley fam'ly, an' that was tin years
ago. Me cousin Felix's boy Aloysius,—him that aftherwards wint to New
York an' got a good job dhrivin' a carredge f'r th' captain iv a polis station,
—he was full iv pothry an' things; an' he come around wan night, an' says
he, 'D'ye know,' he says, ''twud be th' hite iv a good thing f'r th' Dooleys to
have a reunion,' he says. 'We ought to come together,' he says, 'an' show the
people iv this ward,' he says, 'how sthrong we are,' he says. 'Ye might do it
betther, me buck,' says I, 'shovellin' slag at th' mills,' I says. 'But annyhow, if
ye'er mind's set on it, go ahead,' I says, 'an' I'll attind to havin' th' polis
there,' I says, 'f'r I have a dhrag at th' station.'
"Well, he sint out letthers to all th' Roscommon Dooleys; an' on a Saturdah
night we come together in a rinted hall an' held th' reunion. 'Twas great
sport f'r a while. Some iv us hadn't spoke frindly to each other f'r twinty
years, an' we set around an' tol' stories iv Roscommon an' its green fields,
an' th' stirabout pot that was niver filled, an' th' blue sky overhead an' th'
boggy ground undherfoot. 'Which Dooley was it that hamsthrung th' cows?'
'Mike Dooley's Pat.' 'Naw such thing: 'twas Pat Dooley's Mike. I mane Pat
"Why aren't you out attending the reunion of the Dooley family?" Mr.
McKenna asked the philosopher.
"Thim's no rel-ations to me," Mr. Dooley answered. "Thim's farmer
Dooleys. No wan iv our fam'ly iver lived in th' counthry. We live in th' city,
where they burn gas an' have a polis foorce to get on to. We're no farmers,
divvle th' bit. We belong to th' industhreel classes. Thim must be th'
Fermanagh Dooleys, a poor lot, Jawn, an' always on good terms with th'
landlord, bad ciss to thim, says I. We're from Roscommon. They'se a
Dooley family in Wixford an' wan near Ballybone that belonged to th'
constabulary. I met him but wanst. 'Twas at an iviction; an', though he didn't
know me, I inthrajooced mesilf be landin' him back iv th' ear with a
bouldher th' size iv ye'er two fists together. He didn't know me aftherwards,
ayether.
"We niver had but wan reunion iv th' Dooley fam'ly, an' that was tin years
ago. Me cousin Felix's boy Aloysius,—him that aftherwards wint to New
York an' got a good job dhrivin' a carredge f'r th' captain iv a polis station,
—he was full iv pothry an' things; an' he come around wan night, an' says
he, 'D'ye know,' he says, ''twud be th' hite iv a good thing f'r th' Dooleys to
have a reunion,' he says. 'We ought to come together,' he says, 'an' show the
people iv this ward,' he says, 'how sthrong we are,' he says. 'Ye might do it
betther, me buck,' says I, 'shovellin' slag at th' mills,' I says. 'But annyhow, if
ye'er mind's set on it, go ahead,' I says, 'an' I'll attind to havin' th' polis
there,' I says, 'f'r I have a dhrag at th' station.'
"Well, he sint out letthers to all th' Roscommon Dooleys; an' on a Saturdah
night we come together in a rinted hall an' held th' reunion. 'Twas great
sport f'r a while. Some iv us hadn't spoke frindly to each other f'r twinty
years, an' we set around an' tol' stories iv Roscommon an' its green fields,
an' th' stirabout pot that was niver filled, an' th' blue sky overhead an' th'
boggy ground undherfoot. 'Which Dooley was it that hamsthrung th' cows?'
'Mike Dooley's Pat.' 'Naw such thing: 'twas Pat Dooley's Mike. I mane Pat
Page 114
Dooley's Mike's Pat.' F'r 'tis with us as with th' rest iv our people. Ye take th'
Dutchman: he has as manny names to give to his childher as they'se nails in
his boots, but an Irishman has th' pick iv on'y a few. I knowed a man be th'
name iv Clancy,—a man fr'm Kildare. He had fifteen childher; an', whin th'
las' come, he says, 'Dooley, d'ye happen to know anny saints?' 'None iv thim
thrades here,' says I. 'Why?' says I. 'They'se a new kid at th' house,' he says;
'an', be me troth, I've run out iv all th' saints I knew, an', if somewan don't
come to me assistance, I'll have to turn th' child out on th' wurruld without
th' rag iv a name to his back,' he says.
"But I was tellin' ye about th' reunion. They was lashins iv dhrink an' story-
tellin', an' Felix's boy Aloysius histed a banner he had made with 'Dooley
aboo' painted on it. But, afther th' night got along, some iv us begun to
raymimber that most iv us hadn't been frinds f'r long. Mrs. Morgan Dooley,
she that was Molly Dooley befure she married Morgan, she turns to me, an'
says she, ''Tis sthrange they let in that Hogan woman,' she says,—that
Hogan woman, Jawn, bein' th' wife iv her husband's brother. She heerd her
say it, an' she says, 'I'd have ye to undherstand that no wan iver come out iv
Roscommon that cud hold up their heads with th' Hogans,' she says. ''Tis
not f'r th' likes iv ye to slandher a fam'ly that's iv th' landed gintry iv Ireland,
an' f'r two pins I'd hit ye a poke in th' eye,' she says. If it hadn't been f'r me
bein' between thim, they'd have been trouble; f'r they was good frinds
wanst. What is it th' good book says about a woman scorned? Faith, I've
forgotten.
"Thin me uncle Mike come in, as rough a man as iver laid hands on a
polisman. Felix Dooley was makin' a speech on th' vartues iv th' fam'ly. 'Th'
Dooleys,' says he, 'can stand before all th' wurruld, an' no man can say
ought agin ayether their honor or their integrity,' says he. 'Th' man that's
throwin' that at ye,' says me uncle Mike, 'stole a saw fr'm me in th' year
sivinty-five.' Felix paid no attintion to me uncle Mike, but wint on, 'We
point proudly to th' motto, "Dooley aboo—Dooley f'river."' 'Th' saw aboo,'
says me uncle Mike. 'Th' Dooleys,' says Felix, 'stood beside Red Hugh
O'Neill; an', whin he cut aff his hand,—' 'He didn't cut it off with anny wan
else's saw,' says me uncle Mike. 'They'se an old sayin',' wint on Felix. 'An'
ol' saw,' says me uncle Mike. 'But 'twas new whin ye stole it.'
Dutchman: he has as manny names to give to his childher as they'se nails in
his boots, but an Irishman has th' pick iv on'y a few. I knowed a man be th'
name iv Clancy,—a man fr'm Kildare. He had fifteen childher; an', whin th'
las' come, he says, 'Dooley, d'ye happen to know anny saints?' 'None iv thim
thrades here,' says I. 'Why?' says I. 'They'se a new kid at th' house,' he says;
'an', be me troth, I've run out iv all th' saints I knew, an', if somewan don't
come to me assistance, I'll have to turn th' child out on th' wurruld without
th' rag iv a name to his back,' he says.
"But I was tellin' ye about th' reunion. They was lashins iv dhrink an' story-
tellin', an' Felix's boy Aloysius histed a banner he had made with 'Dooley
aboo' painted on it. But, afther th' night got along, some iv us begun to
raymimber that most iv us hadn't been frinds f'r long. Mrs. Morgan Dooley,
she that was Molly Dooley befure she married Morgan, she turns to me, an'
says she, ''Tis sthrange they let in that Hogan woman,' she says,—that
Hogan woman, Jawn, bein' th' wife iv her husband's brother. She heerd her
say it, an' she says, 'I'd have ye to undherstand that no wan iver come out iv
Roscommon that cud hold up their heads with th' Hogans,' she says. ''Tis
not f'r th' likes iv ye to slandher a fam'ly that's iv th' landed gintry iv Ireland,
an' f'r two pins I'd hit ye a poke in th' eye,' she says. If it hadn't been f'r me
bein' between thim, they'd have been trouble; f'r they was good frinds
wanst. What is it th' good book says about a woman scorned? Faith, I've
forgotten.
"Thin me uncle Mike come in, as rough a man as iver laid hands on a
polisman. Felix Dooley was makin' a speech on th' vartues iv th' fam'ly. 'Th'
Dooleys,' says he, 'can stand before all th' wurruld, an' no man can say
ought agin ayether their honor or their integrity,' says he. 'Th' man that's
throwin' that at ye,' says me uncle Mike, 'stole a saw fr'm me in th' year
sivinty-five.' Felix paid no attintion to me uncle Mike, but wint on, 'We
point proudly to th' motto, "Dooley aboo—Dooley f'river."' 'Th' saw aboo,'
says me uncle Mike. 'Th' Dooleys,' says Felix, 'stood beside Red Hugh
O'Neill; an', whin he cut aff his hand,—' 'He didn't cut it off with anny wan
else's saw,' says me uncle Mike. 'They'se an old sayin',' wint on Felix. 'An'
ol' saw,' says me uncle Mike. 'But 'twas new whin ye stole it.'
Page 115
"'Now look here,' says Aloysius, 'this thing has gone far enough. 'Tis an
outrage that this here man shud come here f'r to insult th' head iv th' fam'ly.'
'Th' head iv what fam'ly?' says Morgan Dooley, jumpin' up as hot as fire.
'I'm th' head iv th' fam'ly,' he says, 'be right iv histhry.' 'Ye're an ol' cow,'
says me uncle Mike. 'Th' back iv me hand an' th' sowl iv me fut to all iv ye,'
he says. 'I quit ye,' he says. 'Ye're all livin' here undher assumed names'; an'
he wint out, followed be Morgan Dooley with a chair in each hand.
"Well, they wasn't two Dooleys in th' hall'd speak whin th' meetin' broke up;
an' th' Lord knows, but I don't to this day, who's th' head iv th' Dooley
fam'ly. All I know is that I had wan th' nex' mornin'."
outrage that this here man shud come here f'r to insult th' head iv th' fam'ly.'
'Th' head iv what fam'ly?' says Morgan Dooley, jumpin' up as hot as fire.
'I'm th' head iv th' fam'ly,' he says, 'be right iv histhry.' 'Ye're an ol' cow,'
says me uncle Mike. 'Th' back iv me hand an' th' sowl iv me fut to all iv ye,'
he says. 'I quit ye,' he says. 'Ye're all livin' here undher assumed names'; an'
he wint out, followed be Morgan Dooley with a chair in each hand.
"Well, they wasn't two Dooleys in th' hall'd speak whin th' meetin' broke up;
an' th' Lord knows, but I don't to this day, who's th' head iv th' Dooley
fam'ly. All I know is that I had wan th' nex' mornin'."
Page 116
ON A FAMOUS WEDDING.
"Ye see, Jawn," he said "'twas this way: The Jook iv Marlburrow is a young
lad an' poor. Ye can't think of a jook bein' poor, but 'tis a fact that they'se
many a wan iv thim that's carryin' th' banner at this minyit. Hinnissy, if he
had his rights, is Jook iv Munster; an' ye know what he's got. The Jook iv
Marlburrow, whin he come out iv th' academy where they had him, he
hadn't a cint to his name. Ne'er a wan.
"They ain't manny jobs f'r a young jook. Th' thrade is limited; an' this here
la-ad wint round night an' day lookin' f'r a sign, 'Wanted, a young jook, r-
ready an' willin' to do light family jookin',' an' no sign did he see. He was in
a bad way; f'r the la-ad's father was dead, th' ol' jook. He was a fine bucko.
He had a divorce fr'm his wife, an' marrid another; an', whin he died, she
marrid somewan else an' took the roly-boly with her. This was ha-ard on th'
lad.
"But he come iv a noble race, an' wan that had reed burruds whin their
betthers had snowballs. Did ye iver read histhry, Jawn? Ye ought to. 'Tis
betther thin th' Polis Gazette, an' near as thrue. Well, Jawn, this here young
man come fr'm a gr-eat gin'ral, a fine-lookin' la-ad that had manny a mash
in his day, an' niver lost money be wan iv thim. Ye'll find all about him in
Casey's 'Histhry iv English Misrule in Ireland: Th' Story iv a Crime.' 'Tis
good readin'.
"Th' la-ad's father marrid a rich woman. So did his uncle. So ye see he was
a natural bor-rn fi-nanceer. An' he begun to luk around him f'r what th' pa-
apers calls a 'financee.'
"He didn't have far to go. I dinnaw how he done it, whether th' Ganderbilks
asked him 'r he asked th' Ganderbilks. Annyhow, 'twas arranged. 'Twas
horse an' horse between thim. Th' Ganderbilks had money, an' he was a
jook. They was wan divorce on each side. So they imported him over, what
they call assisted immygration. He didn't come undher th' head iv skilled
workman. They must've classed him as a domestic servant. Th' first thing he
done was to get himsilf arristed. A man be th' name iv Sweeney,—there are
"Ye see, Jawn," he said "'twas this way: The Jook iv Marlburrow is a young
lad an' poor. Ye can't think of a jook bein' poor, but 'tis a fact that they'se
many a wan iv thim that's carryin' th' banner at this minyit. Hinnissy, if he
had his rights, is Jook iv Munster; an' ye know what he's got. The Jook iv
Marlburrow, whin he come out iv th' academy where they had him, he
hadn't a cint to his name. Ne'er a wan.
"They ain't manny jobs f'r a young jook. Th' thrade is limited; an' this here
la-ad wint round night an' day lookin' f'r a sign, 'Wanted, a young jook, r-
ready an' willin' to do light family jookin',' an' no sign did he see. He was in
a bad way; f'r the la-ad's father was dead, th' ol' jook. He was a fine bucko.
He had a divorce fr'm his wife, an' marrid another; an', whin he died, she
marrid somewan else an' took the roly-boly with her. This was ha-ard on th'
lad.
"But he come iv a noble race, an' wan that had reed burruds whin their
betthers had snowballs. Did ye iver read histhry, Jawn? Ye ought to. 'Tis
betther thin th' Polis Gazette, an' near as thrue. Well, Jawn, this here young
man come fr'm a gr-eat gin'ral, a fine-lookin' la-ad that had manny a mash
in his day, an' niver lost money be wan iv thim. Ye'll find all about him in
Casey's 'Histhry iv English Misrule in Ireland: Th' Story iv a Crime.' 'Tis
good readin'.
"Th' la-ad's father marrid a rich woman. So did his uncle. So ye see he was
a natural bor-rn fi-nanceer. An' he begun to luk around him f'r what th' pa-
apers calls a 'financee.'
"He didn't have far to go. I dinnaw how he done it, whether th' Ganderbilks
asked him 'r he asked th' Ganderbilks. Annyhow, 'twas arranged. 'Twas
horse an' horse between thim. Th' Ganderbilks had money, an' he was a
jook. They was wan divorce on each side. So they imported him over, what
they call assisted immygration. He didn't come undher th' head iv skilled
workman. They must've classed him as a domestic servant. Th' first thing he
done was to get himsilf arristed. A man be th' name iv Sweeney,—there are
Page 117
some good Sweeneys, though it's a name I don't like on account iv wan iv
thim stealin' me fa-ather's grin'stone,—a man be th' name iv Sweeney, a
polisman, r-run him in f'r disordherly conduct. They got him out with a pull.
Thin he sint f'r lawyers an' f'r his financee's father, an' they settled down to
talk business. 'Well,' says Ganderbilk, 'how much d'ye want?' he says. 'I'll
give ye a millyon.' 'Goowan,' says th' jook, 'I cud get that much marryin'
somewan I knew.' 'Thin how much d'ye want?' says Ganderbilk. 'Well,' says
th' jook, th' castle has to be put in repair. Th' plumbin' is all gone to th'
divvle, an' they'll have to be a new catch-basin put in,' he says. 'Thin they'se
calciminin' an' paper-hangin',—well, call it tin millyons.' 'But what do I get
out iv it?' says Ganderbilk. 'Have ye a ticket to th' church to see me marrid?'
says th' jook. 'No,' says his pappa-in-law. 'Well, here's a couple,' says th'
jook. 'Bring wan iv ye'er frinds with ye.' So Ganderbilk he coughed.
"They say th' jook was that poor he had to have his coat made out iv what
was left over fr'm his pants, they do so. But he was at th' church bright an'
early; an' Ganderbilk he was there, too, standin' out on th' steps in th' cold,
combin' his whiskers—he wears a pair iv sluggers—with his fingers. Afther
awhile his daughter, the jook's financee, come along; an', seein' the jook,
says she, 'Pappa,' she says, 'inthrojooce me to ye'er frind.' 'Jook,' says
Ganderbilk, 'shake hands with me daughther. She's your's,' he says. An' so
they were marrid.
"Well, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, becoming serious, "'tis a dhroll wurruld, an'
I suppose we've got to take th' jooks an' th' Ganderbilks with the r-rest. I'm
goin' to a weddin' mesilf nex' week. Th' banns has been called between little
Dalia Hogan an' big Tom Moran. They've been engaged f'r three year, her
wurrkin' in a box facthry an' him doin' overtime at th' blast. They've money
enough to start, an' it'll not cost ol' ma-an Hogan a cint. But, whin he spoke
about it las' night, he cried as if his heart'd break."
thim stealin' me fa-ather's grin'stone,—a man be th' name iv Sweeney, a
polisman, r-run him in f'r disordherly conduct. They got him out with a pull.
Thin he sint f'r lawyers an' f'r his financee's father, an' they settled down to
talk business. 'Well,' says Ganderbilk, 'how much d'ye want?' he says. 'I'll
give ye a millyon.' 'Goowan,' says th' jook, 'I cud get that much marryin'
somewan I knew.' 'Thin how much d'ye want?' says Ganderbilk. 'Well,' says
th' jook, th' castle has to be put in repair. Th' plumbin' is all gone to th'
divvle, an' they'll have to be a new catch-basin put in,' he says. 'Thin they'se
calciminin' an' paper-hangin',—well, call it tin millyons.' 'But what do I get
out iv it?' says Ganderbilk. 'Have ye a ticket to th' church to see me marrid?'
says th' jook. 'No,' says his pappa-in-law. 'Well, here's a couple,' says th'
jook. 'Bring wan iv ye'er frinds with ye.' So Ganderbilk he coughed.
"They say th' jook was that poor he had to have his coat made out iv what
was left over fr'm his pants, they do so. But he was at th' church bright an'
early; an' Ganderbilk he was there, too, standin' out on th' steps in th' cold,
combin' his whiskers—he wears a pair iv sluggers—with his fingers. Afther
awhile his daughter, the jook's financee, come along; an', seein' the jook,
says she, 'Pappa,' she says, 'inthrojooce me to ye'er frind.' 'Jook,' says
Ganderbilk, 'shake hands with me daughther. She's your's,' he says. An' so
they were marrid.
"Well, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, becoming serious, "'tis a dhroll wurruld, an'
I suppose we've got to take th' jooks an' th' Ganderbilks with the r-rest. I'm
goin' to a weddin' mesilf nex' week. Th' banns has been called between little
Dalia Hogan an' big Tom Moran. They've been engaged f'r three year, her
wurrkin' in a box facthry an' him doin' overtime at th' blast. They've money
enough to start, an' it'll not cost ol' ma-an Hogan a cint. But, whin he spoke
about it las' night, he cried as if his heart'd break."
Page 118
ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND
GERMANY.
Mr. McKenna was aware that a gentle feud had existed between Mr. Dooley
and Mr. Schwartzmeister, the German saloon-keeper down Archey Road,
for some years. It was based upon racial differences, but had been accented
when Mr. Schwartzmeister put in a pool table. Of course there was no
outburst. When the two met on the street, Mr. Dooley saluted his neighbor
cordially, in these terms: "Good-nobben, Hair Schwartzmeister, an' vas
magst too yet, me brave bucko!" To which Mr. Schwartzmeister invariably
retorted: "Py chapers, Tooley, where you haf been all der time, py chapers?"
But this was mere etiquette. In the publicity of their own taverns they
entertained no great regard for each other. Mr. Schwartzmeister said a friend
of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley's beer, and Mr. Dooley confessed
that he would rather go to a harness-shop for whiskey than to Mr.
Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKenna was amazed to learn that
Mr. Schwartzmeister had been entertained by the philosopher, and that they
had paraded Archey Road arm-in-arm at a late hour.
"Tubby sure he was," said Mr. Dooley. "Tubby sure he was. Right where
ye're standin' at this moment, me dhrinkin' beer an' him callin' f'r hot Irish.
'Make it hot,' he says. 'Make it hot, me frind; an' we'll make it hot f'r th'
British between us,' says Schwartzmeister.
"It come about this way: Ye see Willum Joyce come in, an' says he, 'We've
got thim.' 'Sure,' says I. 'We've the comityman, haven't we?' 'Th' Dutch is
with us,' he says. 'I mane the Germans is our frinds.' 'Ye're goin' too far
there,' says I. 'Stuckart was again Reed las' spring.' 'No, no,' says Willum
Joyce, he says. 'Th' Germans is up in ar-rms again th' Sassenach,' he says.
'Mind ye,' he says, 'mind ye,' he says, ''tis our jooty to be frindly with th'
Germans,' he says. 'I'm now on me way f'r to organize a camp iv me Dutch
frinds down be th' slough,' he says. An' off he goes.
"'Twas not long afther whin I heerd a man singin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th' Green'
down th' sthreet, an' in come Schwartzmeister. 'Faugh a ballagh,' says he,
GERMANY.
Mr. McKenna was aware that a gentle feud had existed between Mr. Dooley
and Mr. Schwartzmeister, the German saloon-keeper down Archey Road,
for some years. It was based upon racial differences, but had been accented
when Mr. Schwartzmeister put in a pool table. Of course there was no
outburst. When the two met on the street, Mr. Dooley saluted his neighbor
cordially, in these terms: "Good-nobben, Hair Schwartzmeister, an' vas
magst too yet, me brave bucko!" To which Mr. Schwartzmeister invariably
retorted: "Py chapers, Tooley, where you haf been all der time, py chapers?"
But this was mere etiquette. In the publicity of their own taverns they
entertained no great regard for each other. Mr. Schwartzmeister said a friend
of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley's beer, and Mr. Dooley confessed
that he would rather go to a harness-shop for whiskey than to Mr.
Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKenna was amazed to learn that
Mr. Schwartzmeister had been entertained by the philosopher, and that they
had paraded Archey Road arm-in-arm at a late hour.
"Tubby sure he was," said Mr. Dooley. "Tubby sure he was. Right where
ye're standin' at this moment, me dhrinkin' beer an' him callin' f'r hot Irish.
'Make it hot,' he says. 'Make it hot, me frind; an' we'll make it hot f'r th'
British between us,' says Schwartzmeister.
"It come about this way: Ye see Willum Joyce come in, an' says he, 'We've
got thim.' 'Sure,' says I. 'We've the comityman, haven't we?' 'Th' Dutch is
with us,' he says. 'I mane the Germans is our frinds.' 'Ye're goin' too far
there,' says I. 'Stuckart was again Reed las' spring.' 'No, no,' says Willum
Joyce, he says. 'Th' Germans is up in ar-rms again th' Sassenach,' he says.
'Mind ye,' he says, 'mind ye,' he says, ''tis our jooty to be frindly with th'
Germans,' he says. 'I'm now on me way f'r to organize a camp iv me Dutch
frinds down be th' slough,' he says. An' off he goes.
"'Twas not long afther whin I heerd a man singin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th' Green'
down th' sthreet, an' in come Schwartzmeister. 'Faugh a ballagh,' says he,
Page 119
meanin' to be polite. 'Lieb vaterland,' says I. An' we had a dhrink together.
"'Vell,' says he (ye know th' murdhrin' way he has iv speakin'), 'here we are,'
he says, 'frinds at las'.' 'Thrue f'r ye,' says I. 'Tooley,' he says, f'r he calls me
that, 'we're wan to-night, alretty,' he says. 'We are that,' says I. 'But, glory
be, who iver thought th' Irish'd live to see th' day whin they'd be freed be th'
Dutch? Schwartz, me lieber frind,' I says, 'here's a health to th' imp'ror,
hock,' says I. 'Slanthu,' says he; an' we had wan.
"''Twud be a great combination,' says I, 'We'd carry th' wa-ard be th' biggest
majority iver heerd iv,' I says. 'We wud so,' says he. 'I'd be aldherman.'
'Afther me,' says I. ''Tis my turn first,' I says. 'I don't know about that,' says
he. 'Now,' says I, 'look here, Schwartzmeister,' I says. 'This here
arrangement between Germany an' Ireland has got to be brought down to th'
Sixth Wa-ard,' I says. 'Do ye f'rgive th' way we done ye in th' beer rites?' I
says. 'I do,' says he. 'They was befure me time.' 'Well,' says I, 'are ye sure ye
can get over th' whalin' ye got whin th' Sarsfield Fife an' Dhrum Corpse met
th' Frederick Willum Picnic Band?' I says. 'I do,' says he. 'An' ye have no
har-rd feelin' about th' way th' bridges has been give out?' 'Not a thrace,'
says he. 'Well,' says I, 'Schwartz,' I says, 'they'se wan thing more,' I says.
'We're both pathrites,' I says. 'We have a common cause,' I says. 'Ye're a
Dutchman, an' I'm iv' th' other sort,' I says. 'But we're both again th'
Sassenach,' I says. 'An' in th' inthrests iv th' freedom iv Ireland,' I says, 'I
f'rgive ye th' pool table.'
"Well, sir, Jawn, he wept like a child. 'Tooley,' he says, 'we'll march side be
side,' he says. 'Both iv us in th' front rank,' he says. 'Aldherman Tooley an'
Aldherman Schwartzmeister, to free Ireland,' he says. 'But where does
Germany come in?' he says. 'Germany!' says I, 'Germany! Well, we'll take
care iv Germany, all right. We'll let Germans into th' prim'ries,' I says. An'
there an' thin we formed th' Sarsfield-an'-Gatty camp. Gatty is a German
frind iv Schwartzmeister. We shook dice to see which name'd come first.
Ireland won. They was my dice.
"I learned Schwartzmeister th' Shan-van-Voght before we was through; an'
I've got th' German naytional chune be heart,—'Ich vice nit wauss allus bay
doitan'. What'll ye have to drink, Jawn?"
"'Vell,' says he (ye know th' murdhrin' way he has iv speakin'), 'here we are,'
he says, 'frinds at las'.' 'Thrue f'r ye,' says I. 'Tooley,' he says, f'r he calls me
that, 'we're wan to-night, alretty,' he says. 'We are that,' says I. 'But, glory
be, who iver thought th' Irish'd live to see th' day whin they'd be freed be th'
Dutch? Schwartz, me lieber frind,' I says, 'here's a health to th' imp'ror,
hock,' says I. 'Slanthu,' says he; an' we had wan.
"''Twud be a great combination,' says I, 'We'd carry th' wa-ard be th' biggest
majority iver heerd iv,' I says. 'We wud so,' says he. 'I'd be aldherman.'
'Afther me,' says I. ''Tis my turn first,' I says. 'I don't know about that,' says
he. 'Now,' says I, 'look here, Schwartzmeister,' I says. 'This here
arrangement between Germany an' Ireland has got to be brought down to th'
Sixth Wa-ard,' I says. 'Do ye f'rgive th' way we done ye in th' beer rites?' I
says. 'I do,' says he. 'They was befure me time.' 'Well,' says I, 'are ye sure ye
can get over th' whalin' ye got whin th' Sarsfield Fife an' Dhrum Corpse met
th' Frederick Willum Picnic Band?' I says. 'I do,' says he. 'An' ye have no
har-rd feelin' about th' way th' bridges has been give out?' 'Not a thrace,'
says he. 'Well,' says I, 'Schwartz,' I says, 'they'se wan thing more,' I says.
'We're both pathrites,' I says. 'We have a common cause,' I says. 'Ye're a
Dutchman, an' I'm iv' th' other sort,' I says. 'But we're both again th'
Sassenach,' I says. 'An' in th' inthrests iv th' freedom iv Ireland,' I says, 'I
f'rgive ye th' pool table.'
"Well, sir, Jawn, he wept like a child. 'Tooley,' he says, 'we'll march side be
side,' he says. 'Both iv us in th' front rank,' he says. 'Aldherman Tooley an'
Aldherman Schwartzmeister, to free Ireland,' he says. 'But where does
Germany come in?' he says. 'Germany!' says I, 'Germany! Well, we'll take
care iv Germany, all right. We'll let Germans into th' prim'ries,' I says. An'
there an' thin we formed th' Sarsfield-an'-Gatty camp. Gatty is a German
frind iv Schwartzmeister. We shook dice to see which name'd come first.
Ireland won. They was my dice.
"I learned Schwartzmeister th' Shan-van-Voght before we was through; an'
I've got th' German naytional chune be heart,—'Ich vice nit wauss allus bay
doitan'. What'll ye have to drink, Jawn?"
Page 120
And, as Mr. McKenna went out, he heard his friend muttering: "Freed be th'
Dutch! Freed be the Dutch! An' we niver give thim so much as a dillygate."
Dutch! Freed be the Dutch! An' we niver give thim so much as a dillygate."
Page 121
ON ORATORY IN POLITICS.
"I mind th' first time Willum J. O'Brien r-run f'r office, th' Raypublicans an'
th' Indypindants an' th' Socialists an' th' Prohybitionist (he's dead now, his
name was Larkin) nommynated a young man be th' name iv Dorgan that
was in th' law business in Halsted Sthreet, near Cologne, to r-run again'
him. Smith O'Brien Dorgan was his name, an' he was wan iv th' most
iloquint young la-ads that iver made a speakin' thrumpet iv his face. He cud
holler like th' impire iv a base-ball game; an', whin he delivered th'
sintimints iv his hear-rt, ye'd think he was thryin' to confide thim to a man
on top iv a high buildin'. He was prisidint iv th' lithry club at th' church; an'
Father Kelly tol' me that, th' day afther he won th' debate on th' pen an' th'
soord in favor iv th' pen, they had to hire a carpenter to mend th' windows,
they'd sagged so. They called him th' boy or-rator iv Healey's slough.
"He planned th' campaign himsilf. 'I'll not re-sort,' says he, 'to th' ordin'ry
methods,' he says. 'Th' thing to do,' he says, 'is to prisint th' issues iv th' day
to th' voters,' he says. 'I'll burn up ivry precin't in th' ward with me
iloquince,' he says. An' he bought a long black coat, an' wint out to spread
th' light.
"He talked ivrywhere. Th' people jammed Finucane's Hall, an' he tol' thim
th' time had come f'r th' masses to r-rise. 'Raymimber,' says he, 'th' idees iv
Novimb'r,' he says. 'Raymimber Demosthens an' Cicero an' Oak Park,' he
says. 'Raymimber th' thraditions iv ye'er fathers, iv Washin'ton an' Jefferson
an' Andhrew Jackson an' John L. Sullivan,' he says. 'Ye shall not, Billy
O'Brien,' he says, 'crucify th' voters iv th' Sixth Ward on th' double cross,' he
says. He spoke to a meetin' in Deerin' Sthreet in th' same wurads. He had th'
sthreet-car stopped while he coughed up ree-marks about th' Constitution,
until th' bar-rn boss sint down an' threatened to discharge Mike Dwyer that
was dhrivin' wan hundherd an' eight in thim days, though thransferred to
Wintworth Avnoo later on. He made speeches to polismin in th' squadroom
an' to good la-ads hoistin' mud out iv th' dhraw at th' red bridge. People'd be
settin' quite in th' back room playin' forty-fives whin Smith O'Brien
Dorgan'd burst in, an' addhress thim on th' issues iv th' day.
"I mind th' first time Willum J. O'Brien r-run f'r office, th' Raypublicans an'
th' Indypindants an' th' Socialists an' th' Prohybitionist (he's dead now, his
name was Larkin) nommynated a young man be th' name iv Dorgan that
was in th' law business in Halsted Sthreet, near Cologne, to r-run again'
him. Smith O'Brien Dorgan was his name, an' he was wan iv th' most
iloquint young la-ads that iver made a speakin' thrumpet iv his face. He cud
holler like th' impire iv a base-ball game; an', whin he delivered th'
sintimints iv his hear-rt, ye'd think he was thryin' to confide thim to a man
on top iv a high buildin'. He was prisidint iv th' lithry club at th' church; an'
Father Kelly tol' me that, th' day afther he won th' debate on th' pen an' th'
soord in favor iv th' pen, they had to hire a carpenter to mend th' windows,
they'd sagged so. They called him th' boy or-rator iv Healey's slough.
"He planned th' campaign himsilf. 'I'll not re-sort,' says he, 'to th' ordin'ry
methods,' he says. 'Th' thing to do,' he says, 'is to prisint th' issues iv th' day
to th' voters,' he says. 'I'll burn up ivry precin't in th' ward with me
iloquince,' he says. An' he bought a long black coat, an' wint out to spread
th' light.
"He talked ivrywhere. Th' people jammed Finucane's Hall, an' he tol' thim
th' time had come f'r th' masses to r-rise. 'Raymimber,' says he, 'th' idees iv
Novimb'r,' he says. 'Raymimber Demosthens an' Cicero an' Oak Park,' he
says. 'Raymimber th' thraditions iv ye'er fathers, iv Washin'ton an' Jefferson
an' Andhrew Jackson an' John L. Sullivan,' he says. 'Ye shall not, Billy
O'Brien,' he says, 'crucify th' voters iv th' Sixth Ward on th' double cross,' he
says. He spoke to a meetin' in Deerin' Sthreet in th' same wurads. He had th'
sthreet-car stopped while he coughed up ree-marks about th' Constitution,
until th' bar-rn boss sint down an' threatened to discharge Mike Dwyer that
was dhrivin' wan hundherd an' eight in thim days, though thransferred to
Wintworth Avnoo later on. He made speeches to polismin in th' squadroom
an' to good la-ads hoistin' mud out iv th' dhraw at th' red bridge. People'd be
settin' quite in th' back room playin' forty-fives whin Smith O'Brien
Dorgan'd burst in, an' addhress thim on th' issues iv th' day.
Page 122
"Now all this time Bill O'Brien was campaignin' in his own way. He niver
med wan speech. No wan knew whether he was f'r a tariff or again wan, or
whether he sthud be Jefferson or was knockin' him, or whether he had th'
inthrests iv th' toilin' masses at hear-rt or whether he wint to mass at all, at
all. But he got th' superintindint iv th' rollin'-mills with him; an' he put three
or four good faml'ies to wurruk in th' gas-house, where he knew th' main
guy, an' he made reg'lar calls on th' bar-rn boss iv th' sthreet-ca-ars. He wint
to th' picnics, an' hired th' orchesthry f'r th' dances, an' voted himsilf th' most
pop'lar man at th' church fair at an expinse iv at laste five hundherd dollars.
No wan that come near him wanted f'r money. He had headquarthers in ivry
saloon fr'm wan end iv th' ward to th' other. All th' pa-apers printed his
pitcher, an' sthud by him as th' frihd iv th' poor.
"Well, people liked to hear Dorgan at first, but afther a few months they got
onaisy. He had a way iv breakin' into festive gatherin's that was enough to
thry a saint. He delayed wan prize fight two hours, encouragin' th' voters
prisint to stand be their principles, while th' principles sat shiverin' in their
cor-rners until th' polis r-run him out. It got so that men'd bound into alleys
whin he come up th' sthreet. People in th' liquor business rayfused to let him
come into their places. His fam'ly et in th' coal-shed f'r fear iv his speeches
at supper. He wint on talkin', and Willum J. O'Brien wint on handin' out th'
dough that he got fr'm th' gas company an' con-ciliatin' th' masses; an', whin
iliction day come, th' judges an' clerks was all f'r O'Brien, an' Dorgan didn't
get votes enough to wad a gun. He sat up near all night in his long coat,
makin' speeches to himsilf; but tord mornin' he come over to my place
where O'Brien sat with his la-ads. 'Well,' says O'Brien, 'how does it suit ye?'
he says. 'It's sthrange,' says Dorgan. 'Not sthrange at all,' says Willum J.
O'Brien. 'Whin ye've been in politics as long as I have, ye'll know,' he says,
'that th' roly-boly is th' gr-reatest or-rator on earth,' he says. 'Th' American
nation in th' Sixth Ward is a fine people,' he says. 'They love th' eagle,' he
says, 'on th' back iv a dollar,' he says. 'Well,' says Dorgan, 'I can't
undherstand it,' he says. 'I med as manny as three thousan' speeches,' he
says. 'Well,' says Willum J. O'Brien, 'that was my majority,' he says. 'Have a
dhrink,' he says."
med wan speech. No wan knew whether he was f'r a tariff or again wan, or
whether he sthud be Jefferson or was knockin' him, or whether he had th'
inthrests iv th' toilin' masses at hear-rt or whether he wint to mass at all, at
all. But he got th' superintindint iv th' rollin'-mills with him; an' he put three
or four good faml'ies to wurruk in th' gas-house, where he knew th' main
guy, an' he made reg'lar calls on th' bar-rn boss iv th' sthreet-ca-ars. He wint
to th' picnics, an' hired th' orchesthry f'r th' dances, an' voted himsilf th' most
pop'lar man at th' church fair at an expinse iv at laste five hundherd dollars.
No wan that come near him wanted f'r money. He had headquarthers in ivry
saloon fr'm wan end iv th' ward to th' other. All th' pa-apers printed his
pitcher, an' sthud by him as th' frihd iv th' poor.
"Well, people liked to hear Dorgan at first, but afther a few months they got
onaisy. He had a way iv breakin' into festive gatherin's that was enough to
thry a saint. He delayed wan prize fight two hours, encouragin' th' voters
prisint to stand be their principles, while th' principles sat shiverin' in their
cor-rners until th' polis r-run him out. It got so that men'd bound into alleys
whin he come up th' sthreet. People in th' liquor business rayfused to let him
come into their places. His fam'ly et in th' coal-shed f'r fear iv his speeches
at supper. He wint on talkin', and Willum J. O'Brien wint on handin' out th'
dough that he got fr'm th' gas company an' con-ciliatin' th' masses; an', whin
iliction day come, th' judges an' clerks was all f'r O'Brien, an' Dorgan didn't
get votes enough to wad a gun. He sat up near all night in his long coat,
makin' speeches to himsilf; but tord mornin' he come over to my place
where O'Brien sat with his la-ads. 'Well,' says O'Brien, 'how does it suit ye?'
he says. 'It's sthrange,' says Dorgan. 'Not sthrange at all,' says Willum J.
O'Brien. 'Whin ye've been in politics as long as I have, ye'll know,' he says,
'that th' roly-boly is th' gr-reatest or-rator on earth,' he says. 'Th' American
nation in th' Sixth Ward is a fine people,' he says. 'They love th' eagle,' he
says, 'on th' back iv a dollar,' he says. 'Well,' says Dorgan, 'I can't
undherstand it,' he says. 'I med as manny as three thousan' speeches,' he
says. 'Well,' says Willum J. O'Brien, 'that was my majority,' he says. 'Have a
dhrink,' he says."
Page 123
ON CHRISTMAS GIFTS.
The approach of Christmas is heralded in Archey Road by many of the
signs that are known to the less civilized and more prosperous parts of the
city. The people look poorer, colder, and more hopeful than at other times.
The bakeries assume an old country appearance of gayety. The saloons are
well filled. Also, if you have your eyes about you, you may catch a glimpse,
now and then, through a frosted window-pane of a stunted Christmas tree,
laden slenderly with glass balls and ropes of red popcorn, the work of
painful hands after the childher are abed. Mr. Dooley knew Christmas was
coming by the calendar, the expiration of his quarterly license, and Mr.
Hennessy coming in with a doll in his pocket and a rocking-chair under his
arm.
"Prisints?" said the philosopher.
"Yis," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had to do it. I med up me mind this year that I
wudden't buy anny Chris'mas prisints or take anny. I can't afford it. Times
has been fearful ha-ard, an' a look iv pain comes over th' ol' woman's face
whin I hold out fifty cints fr'm me salary on Saturdah night. I give it out that
I didn't want annything, but they'se so much scurryin' ar-round an' hidin'
things whin I go in that I know they've got something f'r me. I cudden't
stand it no longer, so I wint down town to-night, down be Shekel an'
Whooper's place, an' bought these things. This is a fine doll f'r th' money."
"It is," said Mr. Dooley, taking the doll and examining it with the eye of an
art critic. "It closes its eyes,—yis, an', bedad, it cries if ye punch it. They're
makin' these things more like human bein's ivry year. An' does it say pap-
pah an' mam-mah, I dinnaw?"
"No," said Mr. Hennessy, "th' pap-pah an' mam-mah dolls costs too much."
"Well," continued Mr. Dooley, "we can't have ivrything we want in this
wurruld. If I had me way, I'd buy goold watches an' chains f'r ivrybody in
th' r-road, an' a few iv th' good Germans. I feel that gin'rous. But 'tis no use.
Ye can't give what ye want. Ivry little boy ixpects a pony at Chris'mas, an'
The approach of Christmas is heralded in Archey Road by many of the
signs that are known to the less civilized and more prosperous parts of the
city. The people look poorer, colder, and more hopeful than at other times.
The bakeries assume an old country appearance of gayety. The saloons are
well filled. Also, if you have your eyes about you, you may catch a glimpse,
now and then, through a frosted window-pane of a stunted Christmas tree,
laden slenderly with glass balls and ropes of red popcorn, the work of
painful hands after the childher are abed. Mr. Dooley knew Christmas was
coming by the calendar, the expiration of his quarterly license, and Mr.
Hennessy coming in with a doll in his pocket and a rocking-chair under his
arm.
"Prisints?" said the philosopher.
"Yis," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had to do it. I med up me mind this year that I
wudden't buy anny Chris'mas prisints or take anny. I can't afford it. Times
has been fearful ha-ard, an' a look iv pain comes over th' ol' woman's face
whin I hold out fifty cints fr'm me salary on Saturdah night. I give it out that
I didn't want annything, but they'se so much scurryin' ar-round an' hidin'
things whin I go in that I know they've got something f'r me. I cudden't
stand it no longer, so I wint down town to-night, down be Shekel an'
Whooper's place, an' bought these things. This is a fine doll f'r th' money."
"It is," said Mr. Dooley, taking the doll and examining it with the eye of an
art critic. "It closes its eyes,—yis, an', bedad, it cries if ye punch it. They're
makin' these things more like human bein's ivry year. An' does it say pap-
pah an' mam-mah, I dinnaw?"
"No," said Mr. Hennessy, "th' pap-pah an' mam-mah dolls costs too much."
"Well," continued Mr. Dooley, "we can't have ivrything we want in this
wurruld. If I had me way, I'd buy goold watches an' chains f'r ivrybody in
th' r-road, an' a few iv th' good Germans. I feel that gin'rous. But 'tis no use.
Ye can't give what ye want. Ivry little boy ixpects a pony at Chris'mas, an'
Page 124
ivry little girl a chain an' locket; an' ivry man thinks he's sure goin' to get th'
goold-headed cane he's longed f'r since he come over. But they all fin'lly
land on rockin'-horses an' dolls, an' suspindhers that r-run pink flowers into
their shirts an' tattoo thim in summer. An' they conceal their grief Chris'mas
mornin' an' thry to look pleasant with murdher in their hearts.
"Some wan has always give me a Chris'mas prisint, though no wan has
anny r-right to. But no wan iver give me annything I cud wear or ate or
dhrink or smoke or curl me hair with. I've had flasks iv whisky give me,—
me that have lashin's iv whisky at me elbow day an' night; an', whin I
opined thim, blue an' yellow flames come out an' some iv th' stuff r-run over
on th' flure, an' set fire to th' buildin'. I smoke th' best five-cint see-gar that
money can buy; yet, whin a good frind iv mine wants to make me a prisint
f'r Christmas, he goes to a harness shop an' buys a box iv see-gars with
excelsior fillin's an' burlap wrappers, an', if I smoked wan an' lived, I'd be
arristed f'r arson. I got a pair iv suspinders wanst fr'm a lady,—niver mind
her name,—an' I wurruked hard that day; an' th' decorations moved back
into me, an' I had to take thim out with pumice stone. I didn't lose th' taste
iv th' paint f'r weeks an' weeks.
"Wan year I wanted a watch more thin annything in th' wurruld. I talked
watches to ivry wan that I thought had designs on me. I made it a pint to ask
me frinds what time iv night it was, an' thin say, 'Dear me, I ought to get a
watch if I cud affoord it.' I used to tout people down to th' jooler's shop, an'
stand be th' window with a hungry look in th' eyes iv me, as much as to say,
'If I don't get a watch, I'll perish.' I talked watches an' thought watches an'
dhreamed watches. Father Kelly rebuked me f'r bein' late f'r mass. 'How can
I get there befure th' gospil, whin I don't know what time it is?' says I. 'Why
don't ye luk at ye'er watch?' he says. 'I haven't none,' says I. Did he give me
a watch? Faith, he did not. He sint me a box iv soap that made me smell like
a coon goin' to a ball in a State Sthreet ca-ar. I got a necktie fr'm wan man;
an', if I wore it to a meetin' iv th' Young Hebrews' Char'table Society,
they'd've thrun me out. That man wanted me to be kilt. Another la-ad sint
me a silk handkerchief that broke on me poor nose. Th' nearest I got to a
watch was a hair chain that unravelled, an' made me look as if I'd been
curryin' a Shetland pony. I niver got what I wanted, an I niver expect to. No
wan does."
goold-headed cane he's longed f'r since he come over. But they all fin'lly
land on rockin'-horses an' dolls, an' suspindhers that r-run pink flowers into
their shirts an' tattoo thim in summer. An' they conceal their grief Chris'mas
mornin' an' thry to look pleasant with murdher in their hearts.
"Some wan has always give me a Chris'mas prisint, though no wan has
anny r-right to. But no wan iver give me annything I cud wear or ate or
dhrink or smoke or curl me hair with. I've had flasks iv whisky give me,—
me that have lashin's iv whisky at me elbow day an' night; an', whin I
opined thim, blue an' yellow flames come out an' some iv th' stuff r-run over
on th' flure, an' set fire to th' buildin'. I smoke th' best five-cint see-gar that
money can buy; yet, whin a good frind iv mine wants to make me a prisint
f'r Christmas, he goes to a harness shop an' buys a box iv see-gars with
excelsior fillin's an' burlap wrappers, an', if I smoked wan an' lived, I'd be
arristed f'r arson. I got a pair iv suspinders wanst fr'm a lady,—niver mind
her name,—an' I wurruked hard that day; an' th' decorations moved back
into me, an' I had to take thim out with pumice stone. I didn't lose th' taste
iv th' paint f'r weeks an' weeks.
"Wan year I wanted a watch more thin annything in th' wurruld. I talked
watches to ivry wan that I thought had designs on me. I made it a pint to ask
me frinds what time iv night it was, an' thin say, 'Dear me, I ought to get a
watch if I cud affoord it.' I used to tout people down to th' jooler's shop, an'
stand be th' window with a hungry look in th' eyes iv me, as much as to say,
'If I don't get a watch, I'll perish.' I talked watches an' thought watches an'
dhreamed watches. Father Kelly rebuked me f'r bein' late f'r mass. 'How can
I get there befure th' gospil, whin I don't know what time it is?' says I. 'Why
don't ye luk at ye'er watch?' he says. 'I haven't none,' says I. Did he give me
a watch? Faith, he did not. He sint me a box iv soap that made me smell like
a coon goin' to a ball in a State Sthreet ca-ar. I got a necktie fr'm wan man;
an', if I wore it to a meetin' iv th' Young Hebrews' Char'table Society,
they'd've thrun me out. That man wanted me to be kilt. Another la-ad sint
me a silk handkerchief that broke on me poor nose. Th' nearest I got to a
watch was a hair chain that unravelled, an' made me look as if I'd been
curryin' a Shetland pony. I niver got what I wanted, an I niver expect to. No
wan does."
Page 125
"I'll get ye what ye want," said Mr. Hennessy, "if ye'll tell me what it is, an'
it don't cost too much."
"Will ye?" said Mr. Dooley, eagerly.
"I will," said Mr. Hennessy, "if 'tis within me means."
"Ye're jokin'," said Mr. Dooley.
"I'm not. I mane it."
"Do ye, honest?"
"I do so."
"Thin," said Mr. Dooley, "get me th' Audjitooroom. I've wanted that to play
with f'r manny years."
And Mr. Hennessy went away with the rocking-chair under his arm, the doll
in his pocket, and dumb anger in his heart.
it don't cost too much."
"Will ye?" said Mr. Dooley, eagerly.
"I will," said Mr. Hennessy, "if 'tis within me means."
"Ye're jokin'," said Mr. Dooley.
"I'm not. I mane it."
"Do ye, honest?"
"I do so."
"Thin," said Mr. Dooley, "get me th' Audjitooroom. I've wanted that to play
with f'r manny years."
And Mr. Hennessy went away with the rocking-chair under his arm, the doll
in his pocket, and dumb anger in his heart.
Page 126
ON ANARCHISTS.
"'Tis ha-ard bein' a king these days," said Mr. Dooley. "Manny's th' man on
a throne wishes his father'd brought him up a cooper, what with wages bein'
docked be parlymints an' ragin' arnychists r-runnin' wild with dinnymite
bombs undher their ar-rms an' carvin'-knives in their pockets.
"Onaisy, as Hogan says, is th' head that wears a crown. They'se other heads
that're onaisy, too; but ye don't hear iv thim. But a man gr-rows up in wan iv
thim furrin counthries, an' he's thrained f'r to be a king. Hivin may've
intinded him f'r a dooce or a jack, at th' most; but he has to follow th' same
line as his father. 'Tis like pawn-brokin' that way. Ye niver heerd iv a
pawnbroker's son doin' annything else. Wanst a king, always a king. Other
men's sons may pack away a shirt in a thrunk, an' go out into th' wurruld,
brakin' on a freight or ladin' Indyanny bankers up to a shell game. But a
man that's headed f'r a throne can't r-run away. He's got to take th' job. If he
kicks, they blindfold him an' back him in. He can't ask f'r his time at th' end
iv th' week, an' lave. He pays himsilf. He can't sthrike, because he'd have to
ordher out th' polis to subjoo himsilf. He can't go to th' boss, an' say: 'Me
hours is too long an' th' wurruk is tajious. Give me me pay-check.' He has
no boss. A man can't be indipindint onless he has a boss. 'Tis thrue. So he
takes th' place, an' th' chances ar-re he's th' biggest omadhon in th' wurruld,
an' knows no more about r-runnin' a counthry thin I know about ladin' an
orchesthry. An', if he don't do annything, he's a dummy, an', if he does do
annything, he's crazy; an' whin he dies, his foreman says: 'Sure, 'tis th'
divvle's own time I had savin' that bosthoon fr'm desthroyin' himsilf. If it
wasn't f'r me, th' poor thing'd have closed down the wurruks, an' gone to th'
far-rm long ago.' An' wan day, whin he's takin' th' air, p'raps, along comes
an Eyetalyan, an' says he, 'Ar-re ye a king?' 'That's my name,' says his
majesty. 'Betther dead,' says th' Eyetalyan; an' they'se a scramble, an'
another king goes over th' long r-road.
"I don't know much about arnychists. We had thim here—wanst. They wint
again polismen, mostly. Mebbe that's because polismen's th' nearest things
to kings they cud find. But, annyhow, I sometimes think I know why they're
"'Tis ha-ard bein' a king these days," said Mr. Dooley. "Manny's th' man on
a throne wishes his father'd brought him up a cooper, what with wages bein'
docked be parlymints an' ragin' arnychists r-runnin' wild with dinnymite
bombs undher their ar-rms an' carvin'-knives in their pockets.
"Onaisy, as Hogan says, is th' head that wears a crown. They'se other heads
that're onaisy, too; but ye don't hear iv thim. But a man gr-rows up in wan iv
thim furrin counthries, an' he's thrained f'r to be a king. Hivin may've
intinded him f'r a dooce or a jack, at th' most; but he has to follow th' same
line as his father. 'Tis like pawn-brokin' that way. Ye niver heerd iv a
pawnbroker's son doin' annything else. Wanst a king, always a king. Other
men's sons may pack away a shirt in a thrunk, an' go out into th' wurruld,
brakin' on a freight or ladin' Indyanny bankers up to a shell game. But a
man that's headed f'r a throne can't r-run away. He's got to take th' job. If he
kicks, they blindfold him an' back him in. He can't ask f'r his time at th' end
iv th' week, an' lave. He pays himsilf. He can't sthrike, because he'd have to
ordher out th' polis to subjoo himsilf. He can't go to th' boss, an' say: 'Me
hours is too long an' th' wurruk is tajious. Give me me pay-check.' He has
no boss. A man can't be indipindint onless he has a boss. 'Tis thrue. So he
takes th' place, an' th' chances ar-re he's th' biggest omadhon in th' wurruld,
an' knows no more about r-runnin' a counthry thin I know about ladin' an
orchesthry. An', if he don't do annything, he's a dummy, an', if he does do
annything, he's crazy; an' whin he dies, his foreman says: 'Sure, 'tis th'
divvle's own time I had savin' that bosthoon fr'm desthroyin' himsilf. If it
wasn't f'r me, th' poor thing'd have closed down the wurruks, an' gone to th'
far-rm long ago.' An' wan day, whin he's takin' th' air, p'raps, along comes
an Eyetalyan, an' says he, 'Ar-re ye a king?' 'That's my name,' says his
majesty. 'Betther dead,' says th' Eyetalyan; an' they'se a scramble, an'
another king goes over th' long r-road.
"I don't know much about arnychists. We had thim here—wanst. They wint
again polismen, mostly. Mebbe that's because polismen's th' nearest things
to kings they cud find. But, annyhow, I sometimes think I know why they're
Page 127
arnychists somewhere, an' why they ain't in other places. It minds me iv
what happened wanst in me cousin Terence's fam'ly. They was livin' down
near Healey's slough in wan iv thim ol' Doherty's houses,—not Doherty that
ye know, th' j'iner, a good man whin he don't dhrink. No, 'twas an ol' grouch
iv a man be th' name iv Malachi Doherty that used to keep five-day notices
in his thrunk, an' ownded his own privit justice iv th' peace. Me cousin
Terence was as dacint a man as iver shoed a hor-rse; an his wife was a good
woman, too, though I niver took much to th' Dolans. Fr'm Tipperary, they
was, an' too handy throwin' things at ye. An' he had a nice fam'ly growin'
up, an' I niver knowed people that lived together more quite an' amyable.
'Twas good f'r to see thim settin' ar-roun' th' parlor,—Terence spellin' out th'
newspaper, an' his good woman mendin' socks, an' Honoria playin' th' 'Vale
iv Avoca' on th' pianny, an' th' kids r-rowlin' on th' flure.
"But wan day it happened that that whole fam'ly begun to rasp on wan
another. Honoria'd set down at th' pianny, an' th' ol' man'd growl: 'F'r th'
love iv th' saints, close down that hurdy-gurdy, an' lave a man injye his
headache!' An' th' good woman scolded Terence, an' th' kids pulled th' leg
fr'm undher th' stove; an', whin th' big boy Mike come home fr'm Omaha,
he found none iv thim speakin' to th' others. He cud do nawthin', an' he wint
f'r Father Kelly. Father Kelly sniffed th' air whin he come in; an' says he,
'Terence, what's th' matther with ye'er catch basin?' 'I dinnaw,' growled
Terence. 'Well,' says Father Kelly, 'ye put on ye'er hat this minyit, an' go out
f'r a plumber,' he says. 'I'm not needed here,' he says. 'Ye'er sowls ar-re all r-
right,' he says; 'but ye'er systems ar-re out iv ordher,' he says. 'Fetch in a
plumber,' he says, 'whilst I goes down to Doherty, an' make him think his
lease on th' hereafther is defective,' he says."
"Ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy, who had followed the argument dimly.
"Iv coorse I'm right," said Mr. Dooley. "What they need over there in furrin'
counthries is not a priest, but a plumber. 'Tis no good prayin' again
arnychists, Hinnissy. Arnychists is sewer gas."
what happened wanst in me cousin Terence's fam'ly. They was livin' down
near Healey's slough in wan iv thim ol' Doherty's houses,—not Doherty that
ye know, th' j'iner, a good man whin he don't dhrink. No, 'twas an ol' grouch
iv a man be th' name iv Malachi Doherty that used to keep five-day notices
in his thrunk, an' ownded his own privit justice iv th' peace. Me cousin
Terence was as dacint a man as iver shoed a hor-rse; an his wife was a good
woman, too, though I niver took much to th' Dolans. Fr'm Tipperary, they
was, an' too handy throwin' things at ye. An' he had a nice fam'ly growin'
up, an' I niver knowed people that lived together more quite an' amyable.
'Twas good f'r to see thim settin' ar-roun' th' parlor,—Terence spellin' out th'
newspaper, an' his good woman mendin' socks, an' Honoria playin' th' 'Vale
iv Avoca' on th' pianny, an' th' kids r-rowlin' on th' flure.
"But wan day it happened that that whole fam'ly begun to rasp on wan
another. Honoria'd set down at th' pianny, an' th' ol' man'd growl: 'F'r th'
love iv th' saints, close down that hurdy-gurdy, an' lave a man injye his
headache!' An' th' good woman scolded Terence, an' th' kids pulled th' leg
fr'm undher th' stove; an', whin th' big boy Mike come home fr'm Omaha,
he found none iv thim speakin' to th' others. He cud do nawthin', an' he wint
f'r Father Kelly. Father Kelly sniffed th' air whin he come in; an' says he,
'Terence, what's th' matther with ye'er catch basin?' 'I dinnaw,' growled
Terence. 'Well,' says Father Kelly, 'ye put on ye'er hat this minyit, an' go out
f'r a plumber,' he says. 'I'm not needed here,' he says. 'Ye'er sowls ar-re all r-
right,' he says; 'but ye'er systems ar-re out iv ordher,' he says. 'Fetch in a
plumber,' he says, 'whilst I goes down to Doherty, an' make him think his
lease on th' hereafther is defective,' he says."
"Ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy, who had followed the argument dimly.
"Iv coorse I'm right," said Mr. Dooley. "What they need over there in furrin'
counthries is not a priest, but a plumber. 'Tis no good prayin' again
arnychists, Hinnissy. Arnychists is sewer gas."
Page 128
ON THE DREYFUS CASE.
"I see be th' pa-apers," said Mr. Dooley, "that Col. Hinnery, th' man that sint
me frind Cap. Dhry-fuss to th' cage, has moved on. I suppose they'll give th'
Cap a new thrile now."
"I hope they won't," said Mr. Hennessy. "I don't know annything about it,
but I think he's guilty. He's a Jew."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "ye'er thoughts on this subject is inthrestin', but
not conclusive, as Dorsey said to th' Pollack that thought he cud lick him.
Ye have a r-right to ye'er opinyon, an' ye'll hold it annyhow, whether ye
have a r-right to it or not. Like most iv ye'er fellow-citizens, ye start
impartial. Ye don't know annything about th' case. If ye knew annything,
ye'd not have an opinyon wan way or th' other. They'se niver been a matther
come up in my time that th' American people was so sure about as they ar-re
about th' Dhryfliss case. Th' Frinch ar-re not so sure, but they'se not a
polisman in this counthry that can't tell ye jus' where Dhry-russ was whin
th' remains iv th' poor girl was found. That's because th' thrile was secret. If
'twas an open thrile, an' ye heerd th' tistimony, an' knew th' language, an'
saw th' safe afther 'twas blown open, ye'd be puzzled, an' not care a rush
whether Dhry-fuss was naked in a cage or takin' tay with his uncle at th'
Benny Brith Club.
"I haven't made up me mind whether th' Cap done th' shootin' or not. He
was certainly in th' neighborhood whin th' fire started, an' th' polis dug up
quite a lot iv lead pipe in his back yard. But it's wan thing to sus-pect a man
iv doin' a job an' another thing to prove that he didn't. Me frind Zola thinks
he's innocint, an' he raised th' divvle at th' thrile. Whin th' judge come up on
th' bench an' opined th' coort, Zola was settin' down below with th' lawyers.
'Let us pro-ceed,' says th' impartial an' fair-minded judge, 'to th' thrile iv th'
haynious monsther Cap Dhry-fuss,' he says. Up jumps Zola, an' says he in
Frinch: 'Jackuse,' he says, which is a hell of a mane thing to say to anny
man. An' they thrun him out. 'Judge,' says th' attorney f'r th' difinse, 'an'
gintlemen iv th' jury,' he says. 'Ye're a liar,' says th' judge. 'Cap, ye're guilty,
"I see be th' pa-apers," said Mr. Dooley, "that Col. Hinnery, th' man that sint
me frind Cap. Dhry-fuss to th' cage, has moved on. I suppose they'll give th'
Cap a new thrile now."
"I hope they won't," said Mr. Hennessy. "I don't know annything about it,
but I think he's guilty. He's a Jew."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "ye'er thoughts on this subject is inthrestin', but
not conclusive, as Dorsey said to th' Pollack that thought he cud lick him.
Ye have a r-right to ye'er opinyon, an' ye'll hold it annyhow, whether ye
have a r-right to it or not. Like most iv ye'er fellow-citizens, ye start
impartial. Ye don't know annything about th' case. If ye knew annything,
ye'd not have an opinyon wan way or th' other. They'se niver been a matther
come up in my time that th' American people was so sure about as they ar-re
about th' Dhryfliss case. Th' Frinch ar-re not so sure, but they'se not a
polisman in this counthry that can't tell ye jus' where Dhry-russ was whin
th' remains iv th' poor girl was found. That's because th' thrile was secret. If
'twas an open thrile, an' ye heerd th' tistimony, an' knew th' language, an'
saw th' safe afther 'twas blown open, ye'd be puzzled, an' not care a rush
whether Dhry-fuss was naked in a cage or takin' tay with his uncle at th'
Benny Brith Club.
"I haven't made up me mind whether th' Cap done th' shootin' or not. He
was certainly in th' neighborhood whin th' fire started, an' th' polis dug up
quite a lot iv lead pipe in his back yard. But it's wan thing to sus-pect a man
iv doin' a job an' another thing to prove that he didn't. Me frind Zola thinks
he's innocint, an' he raised th' divvle at th' thrile. Whin th' judge come up on
th' bench an' opined th' coort, Zola was settin' down below with th' lawyers.
'Let us pro-ceed,' says th' impartial an' fair-minded judge, 'to th' thrile iv th'
haynious monsther Cap Dhry-fuss,' he says. Up jumps Zola, an' says he in
Frinch: 'Jackuse,' he says, which is a hell of a mane thing to say to anny
man. An' they thrun him out. 'Judge,' says th' attorney f'r th' difinse, 'an'
gintlemen iv th' jury,' he says. 'Ye're a liar,' says th' judge. 'Cap, ye're guilty,
Page 129
an' ye know it,' he says. 'Th' decision iv th' coort is that ye be put in a cage,
an' sint to th' Divvle's own island f'r th' r-rest iv ye'er life,' he says. 'Let us
pro-ceed to hearin' th' tistimony,' he says. 'Call all th' witnesses at wanst,' he
says, 'an' lave thim have it out on th' flure,' he says. Be this time Zola has
come back; an' he jumps up, an', says he, 'Jackuse,' he says. An' they thrun
him out.
"'Befure we go anny farther,' says th' lawyer f'r th' difinse, 'I wish to sarve
notice that, whin this thrile is over, I intind,' he says, 'to wait outside,' he
says, 'an' hammer th' hon'rable coort into an omelet,' he says. 'With these
few remarks I will close,' he says. 'Th' coort,' says th' judge, 'is always r-
ready to defind th' honor iv France,' he says; 'an', if th' larned counsel will
con-sint,' he says, 'to step up here f'r a minyit,' he says, 'th' coort'll put a
sthrangle hold on him that'll not do him a bit iv good,' he says. 'Ah!' he says.
'Here's me ol' frind Pat th' Clam,' he says. 'Pat, what d'ye know about this
case?' he says. 'None iv ye'er business,' says Pat. 'Answered like a man an' a
sojer,' says th' coort. 'Jackuse,' says Zola fr'm th' dureway. An' they thrun
him out. 'Call Col. Hinnery,' says th' coort. 'He ray-fuses to answer.' 'Good.
Th' case is clear. Cap forged th' will. Th' coort will now adjourn f'r dools,
an' all ladin' officers iv th' ar-rmy not in disgrace already will assimble in
jail, an' com-mit suicide,' he says. 'Jackuse,' says Zola, an' started f'r th'
woods, pursued be his fellow-editors. He's off somewhere in a three now
hollerin' 'Jackuse' at ivry wan that passes, sufferin' martyrdom f'r his
counthry an' writin' now an' thin about it all.
"That's all I know about Cap Dhry-fuss' case, an' that's all anny man knows.
Ye didn't know as much, Hinnissy, till I told ye. I don't know whether Cap
stole th' dog or not."
"What's he charged with?" Mr. Hennessy asked, in bewilderment.
"I'll niver tell ye," said Mr. Dooley. "It's too much to ask."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Hennessy, "he's guilty, ye can bet on that."
an' sint to th' Divvle's own island f'r th' r-rest iv ye'er life,' he says. 'Let us
pro-ceed to hearin' th' tistimony,' he says. 'Call all th' witnesses at wanst,' he
says, 'an' lave thim have it out on th' flure,' he says. Be this time Zola has
come back; an' he jumps up, an', says he, 'Jackuse,' he says. An' they thrun
him out.
"'Befure we go anny farther,' says th' lawyer f'r th' difinse, 'I wish to sarve
notice that, whin this thrile is over, I intind,' he says, 'to wait outside,' he
says, 'an' hammer th' hon'rable coort into an omelet,' he says. 'With these
few remarks I will close,' he says. 'Th' coort,' says th' judge, 'is always r-
ready to defind th' honor iv France,' he says; 'an', if th' larned counsel will
con-sint,' he says, 'to step up here f'r a minyit,' he says, 'th' coort'll put a
sthrangle hold on him that'll not do him a bit iv good,' he says. 'Ah!' he says.
'Here's me ol' frind Pat th' Clam,' he says. 'Pat, what d'ye know about this
case?' he says. 'None iv ye'er business,' says Pat. 'Answered like a man an' a
sojer,' says th' coort. 'Jackuse,' says Zola fr'm th' dureway. An' they thrun
him out. 'Call Col. Hinnery,' says th' coort. 'He ray-fuses to answer.' 'Good.
Th' case is clear. Cap forged th' will. Th' coort will now adjourn f'r dools,
an' all ladin' officers iv th' ar-rmy not in disgrace already will assimble in
jail, an' com-mit suicide,' he says. 'Jackuse,' says Zola, an' started f'r th'
woods, pursued be his fellow-editors. He's off somewhere in a three now
hollerin' 'Jackuse' at ivry wan that passes, sufferin' martyrdom f'r his
counthry an' writin' now an' thin about it all.
"That's all I know about Cap Dhry-fuss' case, an' that's all anny man knows.
Ye didn't know as much, Hinnissy, till I told ye. I don't know whether Cap
stole th' dog or not."
"What's he charged with?" Mr. Hennessy asked, in bewilderment.
"I'll niver tell ye," said Mr. Dooley. "It's too much to ask."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Hennessy, "he's guilty, ye can bet on that."
Page 130
ON THE DECADENCE OF GREECE.
"That young Hogan is a smart la-ad," said Mr. Dooley. "A smart la-ad an' a
good wan, too."
"None betther," said Mr. Hennessy.
"None betther in th' ward," said Mr. Dooley, which was a high appreciation.
"But there ar-re things about human nature an' histhry that ain't taught at
Saint Ignateeus'. I tell thim to Hogan's la-ad.
"He was walkin' be th' store wan day las' week, an' I ast him how th' wa-ar
wint. 'Tis sthrange, with churches two in a block, an' public schools as thick
as lamp-posts, that, whin a man stops ye on th' sthreet, he'll ayether ast ye
th' scoor iv th' base-ball game or talk iv th' Greek war with ye. I ain't seen
annything that happened since Parnell's day that's aroused so much
enthusyasm on th' Ar-rchey Road as th' Greek war. 'How goes th' war?' says
I to young Hogan, 'How goes the war between th' ac-cursed infidel an' th'
dog iv a Christian?' I says. 'It goes bad,' he says. 'Th' Greeks won a
thremenjous battle, killin' manny millions iv th' Moslem murdherers, but
was obliged to retreat thirty-two miles in a gallop.' 'Is that so?' says I. 'Sure
that seems to be their luck,' I says. 'Whin-iver they win, they lose; an', whin
they lose, they lose,' I says. 'What ails thim?' I says. 'Is th' riferee again
thim?' 'I can't make it out,' he says, while a tear sthud in his eye. 'Whin I
think iv Leonidas at th' pass iv Thermometer,' he says, 'an' So-an'-so on th'
field iv Marathon an' This-or-that th' Spartan hero,' he says, 'I cannot
undherstand f'r th' life iv me why th' Greeks shud have been dhruv fr'm
pillar to post be an ar-rmy iv slaves. Didn't Leonidas, with hardly as manny
men as there are Raypublicans in this precint, hold th' pass again a savage
horde?' he says. 'He did,' says I. 'He did.' 'An' didn't What's-his-name on th'
field iv Marathon overcome an' desthroy th' ravagin' armies iv Persia?' he
says. 'Thrue f'r ye,' says I. 'There's no doubt in th' wurruld about it,' I says.
'An' look at Alexander th' Great,' he says. 'Aleck was a turror, an' no
mistake,' says I. 'An' Miltiades,' he says. 'I on'y know what I hear iv him,'
says I. 'But fr'm all accounts he must have been consid'rable iv a fellow,'
"That young Hogan is a smart la-ad," said Mr. Dooley. "A smart la-ad an' a
good wan, too."
"None betther," said Mr. Hennessy.
"None betther in th' ward," said Mr. Dooley, which was a high appreciation.
"But there ar-re things about human nature an' histhry that ain't taught at
Saint Ignateeus'. I tell thim to Hogan's la-ad.
"He was walkin' be th' store wan day las' week, an' I ast him how th' wa-ar
wint. 'Tis sthrange, with churches two in a block, an' public schools as thick
as lamp-posts, that, whin a man stops ye on th' sthreet, he'll ayether ast ye
th' scoor iv th' base-ball game or talk iv th' Greek war with ye. I ain't seen
annything that happened since Parnell's day that's aroused so much
enthusyasm on th' Ar-rchey Road as th' Greek war. 'How goes th' war?' says
I to young Hogan, 'How goes the war between th' ac-cursed infidel an' th'
dog iv a Christian?' I says. 'It goes bad,' he says. 'Th' Greeks won a
thremenjous battle, killin' manny millions iv th' Moslem murdherers, but
was obliged to retreat thirty-two miles in a gallop.' 'Is that so?' says I. 'Sure
that seems to be their luck,' I says. 'Whin-iver they win, they lose; an', whin
they lose, they lose,' I says. 'What ails thim?' I says. 'Is th' riferee again
thim?' 'I can't make it out,' he says, while a tear sthud in his eye. 'Whin I
think iv Leonidas at th' pass iv Thermometer,' he says, 'an' So-an'-so on th'
field iv Marathon an' This-or-that th' Spartan hero,' he says, 'I cannot
undherstand f'r th' life iv me why th' Greeks shud have been dhruv fr'm
pillar to post be an ar-rmy iv slaves. Didn't Leonidas, with hardly as manny
men as there are Raypublicans in this precint, hold th' pass again a savage
horde?' he says. 'He did,' says I. 'He did.' 'An' didn't What's-his-name on th'
field iv Marathon overcome an' desthroy th' ravagin' armies iv Persia?' he
says. 'Thrue f'r ye,' says I. 'There's no doubt in th' wurruld about it,' I says.
'An' look at Alexander th' Great,' he says. 'Aleck was a turror, an' no
mistake,' says I. 'An' Miltiades,' he says. 'I on'y know what I hear iv him,'
says I. 'But fr'm all accounts he must have been consid'rable iv a fellow,'
Page 131
says I. 'An' in later days Marco Boozaris,' he says. 'He was th' man that
come in con-sumption's dreaded form,' says I, 'an' he was afraid iv no man.'
'Well, thin,' says he, 'how ar-re we to account f'r this disgrace?' he says.
"'Well,' says I, 'd'ye raymimber th' fightin' tenth precint? Ye must've heerd
ye'er father tell about it. It was famous f'r th' quality an' quantity iv th'
warfare put up in it. Ivry man in th' tenth precint cud fight his weight in
scrap-iron. Most iv thim come fr'm th' ancient Hellenic province iv May-o;
but they was a fair sprinklin' iv Greek heroes fr'm Roscommon an'
Tipperary, an' a few from th' historic spot where th' Head iv Kinsale looks
out on th' sea, an' th' sea looks up at th' Head iv Kinsale. Th' little boys cud
box befure they was out iv skirts. Far an' wide, th' tenth precint was th'
turror iv its inimies. Ye talk about Leonidas an' th' pass iv Thermometer. Ye
ought to've seen Mike Riordan an' his fam'ly defindin' th' pollin'-place whin
Eddie Burke's brigade charged it wan fine day. That hero sthud f'r four
hours in th' dureway, ar-rmed on'y with a monkey-wrinch, an' built a wall iv
invaders in frint iv him till th' judges cud dig their way out through th'
cellar, an' escape to th' polis station.
"'F'r manny years th' tenth precint was th' banner precint iv th' Sixth Wa-ard,
an' its gallant heroes repelled all attacks by land or Healey's slough. But, as
time wint by, changes come over it. Th' Hannigans an' Leonidases an'
Caseys moved out, havin' made their pile. Some iv th' grandest iv th' heroes
died, an' their fam'lies were broke up. Polish Jews an' Swedes an' Germans
an' Hollanders swarmed in, settlin' down on th' sacred sites,' I says. 'Wan
night three years ago, a band iv rovin' Bohemians fr'm th' Eighth Ward
come acrost th' river, kickin' over bar'ls an' ash-boxes, an' swooped down on
th' tenth precint. Mike Riordan, him that kept th' pollin'-place in th' good
days iv old, was th' on'y wan iv th' race iv ancient heroes on earth. He thried
to rally th' ingloryous descindants iv a proud people. F'r a while they made
a stand in Halsted Sthreet, an' shouted bad but difficult names at th' infidel
hordes, an' threw bricks that laid out their own people. But it was on'y f'r a
moment. In another they tur-rned an' r-run, lavin' Mike Riordan standin'
alone in th' mist iv th' fray. If it wasn't f'r th' intervintion iv th' powers in th'
shape iv th' loot an' a wagon-load iv polismin, th' Bohemians'd have
devastated as far as th' ruins iv th' gas-house, which is th' same as that there
Acropulist ye talk about,' says I.
come in con-sumption's dreaded form,' says I, 'an' he was afraid iv no man.'
'Well, thin,' says he, 'how ar-re we to account f'r this disgrace?' he says.
"'Well,' says I, 'd'ye raymimber th' fightin' tenth precint? Ye must've heerd
ye'er father tell about it. It was famous f'r th' quality an' quantity iv th'
warfare put up in it. Ivry man in th' tenth precint cud fight his weight in
scrap-iron. Most iv thim come fr'm th' ancient Hellenic province iv May-o;
but they was a fair sprinklin' iv Greek heroes fr'm Roscommon an'
Tipperary, an' a few from th' historic spot where th' Head iv Kinsale looks
out on th' sea, an' th' sea looks up at th' Head iv Kinsale. Th' little boys cud
box befure they was out iv skirts. Far an' wide, th' tenth precint was th'
turror iv its inimies. Ye talk about Leonidas an' th' pass iv Thermometer. Ye
ought to've seen Mike Riordan an' his fam'ly defindin' th' pollin'-place whin
Eddie Burke's brigade charged it wan fine day. That hero sthud f'r four
hours in th' dureway, ar-rmed on'y with a monkey-wrinch, an' built a wall iv
invaders in frint iv him till th' judges cud dig their way out through th'
cellar, an' escape to th' polis station.
"'F'r manny years th' tenth precint was th' banner precint iv th' Sixth Wa-ard,
an' its gallant heroes repelled all attacks by land or Healey's slough. But, as
time wint by, changes come over it. Th' Hannigans an' Leonidases an'
Caseys moved out, havin' made their pile. Some iv th' grandest iv th' heroes
died, an' their fam'lies were broke up. Polish Jews an' Swedes an' Germans
an' Hollanders swarmed in, settlin' down on th' sacred sites,' I says. 'Wan
night three years ago, a band iv rovin' Bohemians fr'm th' Eighth Ward
come acrost th' river, kickin' over bar'ls an' ash-boxes, an' swooped down on
th' tenth precint. Mike Riordan, him that kept th' pollin'-place in th' good
days iv old, was th' on'y wan iv th' race iv ancient heroes on earth. He thried
to rally th' ingloryous descindants iv a proud people. F'r a while they made
a stand in Halsted Sthreet, an' shouted bad but difficult names at th' infidel
hordes, an' threw bricks that laid out their own people. But it was on'y f'r a
moment. In another they tur-rned an' r-run, lavin' Mike Riordan standin'
alone in th' mist iv th' fray. If it wasn't f'r th' intervintion iv th' powers in th'
shape iv th' loot an' a wagon-load iv polismin, th' Bohemians'd have
devastated as far as th' ruins iv th' gas-house, which is th' same as that there
Acropulist ye talk about,' says I.
Page 132
"'No, my son,' says I. 'On account iv th' fluctuations in rint an' throuble with
th' landlord it's not safe to presoom that th' same fam'ly always lives in th'
wan house. Th' very thing happened to Greece that has happened to th' tenth
precint iv th' Sixth Ward. Th' Greeks have moved out, an' th' Swedes come
in. Ye yet may live to see th' day,' says I, 'whin what is thrue iv Athens an'
th' tenth precint will be thrue iv th' whole Sixth Wa-ard.'"
"Ye don't mean that," said Mr. Hennessy, gasping.
"I do," said Mr. Dooley, with solemnity. "'Tis histhry."
th' landlord it's not safe to presoom that th' same fam'ly always lives in th'
wan house. Th' very thing happened to Greece that has happened to th' tenth
precint iv th' Sixth Ward. Th' Greeks have moved out, an' th' Swedes come
in. Ye yet may live to see th' day,' says I, 'whin what is thrue iv Athens an'
th' tenth precint will be thrue iv th' whole Sixth Wa-ard.'"
"Ye don't mean that," said Mr. Hennessy, gasping.
"I do," said Mr. Dooley, with solemnity. "'Tis histhry."
Page 133
ON THE INDIAN WAR.
"Gin'ral Sherman was wan iv th' smartest men we iver had," said Mr.
Dooley. "He said so manny bright things. 'Twas him said, 'War is hell'; an'
that's wan iv th' finest sayin's I know annything about. 'War is hell': 'tis a
thrue wurrud an' a fine sintiment. An' Gin'ral Sherman says, 'Th' on'y good
Indyun is a dead Indyun.' An' that's a good sayin', too. So, be th' powers,
we've started in again to improve th' race; an', if we can get in Gatlin' guns
enough befure th' winter's snows, we'll tur-rn thim Chippeways into a
cimitry branch iv th' Young Men's Christyan Association. We will so.
"Ye see, Hinnissy, th' Indyun is bound f'r to give way to th' onward march iv
white civilization. You an' me, Hinnissy, is th' white civilization. I come
along, an' I find ol' Snakes-in-his-Gaiters livin' quite an' dacint in a new
frame house. Thinks I, ''Tis a shame f'r to lave this savage man in
possession iv this fine abode, an' him not able f'r to vote an' without a frind
on th' polis foorce.' So says I: 'Snakes,' I says, 'get along,' says I. 'I want
ye'er house, an' ye best move out west iv th' thracks, an' dig a hole f'r
ye'ersilf,' I says. 'Divvle th' fut I will step out iv this house,' says Snakes. 'I
built it, an' I have th' law on me side,' he says. 'F'r why should I take Mary
Ann, an' Terence, an' Honoria, an' Robert Immitt Snakes, an' all me little
Snakeses, an' rustle out west iv th' thracks,' he says, 'far fr'm th' bones iv me
ancestors,' he says, 'an beyond th' water-pipe extinsion,' he says. 'Because,'
says I, 'I am th' walkin' dilygate iv white civilization,' I says. 'I'm jus' as
civilized as you,' says Snakes. 'I wear pants,' he says, 'an' a plug hat,' he
says. 'Ye might wear tin pair,' says I, 'an' all at wanst,' I says, 'an' ye'd still be
a savage,' says I; 'an' I'd be civilized,' I says, 'if I hadn't on so much as a
bangle bracelet,' I says. 'So get out,' says I. 'So get out,' says I, 'f'r th' pianny
movers is outside, r-ready to go to wurruk,' I says.
"Well, Snakes he fires a stove lid at me; an' I go down to th' polis station,
an' says I, 'Loot,' I says, 'they'se a dhrunken Indyun not votin' up near th'
mills, an he's carryin' on outrageous, an' he won't let me hang me pitchers
on his wall,' says I. 'Vile savage,' says th' loot, 'I'll tache him to rayspict th'
rules iv civilization,' he says. An' he takes out a wagon load, an' goes afther
"Gin'ral Sherman was wan iv th' smartest men we iver had," said Mr.
Dooley. "He said so manny bright things. 'Twas him said, 'War is hell'; an'
that's wan iv th' finest sayin's I know annything about. 'War is hell': 'tis a
thrue wurrud an' a fine sintiment. An' Gin'ral Sherman says, 'Th' on'y good
Indyun is a dead Indyun.' An' that's a good sayin', too. So, be th' powers,
we've started in again to improve th' race; an', if we can get in Gatlin' guns
enough befure th' winter's snows, we'll tur-rn thim Chippeways into a
cimitry branch iv th' Young Men's Christyan Association. We will so.
"Ye see, Hinnissy, th' Indyun is bound f'r to give way to th' onward march iv
white civilization. You an' me, Hinnissy, is th' white civilization. I come
along, an' I find ol' Snakes-in-his-Gaiters livin' quite an' dacint in a new
frame house. Thinks I, ''Tis a shame f'r to lave this savage man in
possession iv this fine abode, an' him not able f'r to vote an' without a frind
on th' polis foorce.' So says I: 'Snakes,' I says, 'get along,' says I. 'I want
ye'er house, an' ye best move out west iv th' thracks, an' dig a hole f'r
ye'ersilf,' I says. 'Divvle th' fut I will step out iv this house,' says Snakes. 'I
built it, an' I have th' law on me side,' he says. 'F'r why should I take Mary
Ann, an' Terence, an' Honoria, an' Robert Immitt Snakes, an' all me little
Snakeses, an' rustle out west iv th' thracks,' he says, 'far fr'm th' bones iv me
ancestors,' he says, 'an beyond th' water-pipe extinsion,' he says. 'Because,'
says I, 'I am th' walkin' dilygate iv white civilization,' I says. 'I'm jus' as
civilized as you,' says Snakes. 'I wear pants,' he says, 'an' a plug hat,' he
says. 'Ye might wear tin pair,' says I, 'an' all at wanst,' I says, 'an' ye'd still be
a savage,' says I; 'an' I'd be civilized,' I says, 'if I hadn't on so much as a
bangle bracelet,' I says. 'So get out,' says I. 'So get out,' says I, 'f'r th' pianny
movers is outside, r-ready to go to wurruk,' I says.
"Well, Snakes he fires a stove lid at me; an' I go down to th' polis station,
an' says I, 'Loot,' I says, 'they'se a dhrunken Indyun not votin' up near th'
mills, an he's carryin' on outrageous, an' he won't let me hang me pitchers
on his wall,' says I. 'Vile savage,' says th' loot, 'I'll tache him to rayspict th'
rules iv civilization,' he says. An' he takes out a wagon load, an' goes afther
Page 134
Snakes. Well, me frind Snakes gives him battle, an', knowin' th' premises
well, he's able to put up a gr-reat fight; but afther a while they rip him away,
an' have him in th' pathrol wagon, with a man settin' on his head. An' thin
he's put undher bonds to keep the peace, an' they sind him out west iv th'
thracks; an' I move into th' house, an' tear out th' front an' start a faro bank.
Some day, whin I get tired or th' Swedes dhrive me out or Schwartzmeister
makes his lunch too sthrong f'r competition, I'll go afther Snakes again.
"Th' on'y hope f'r th Indyun is to put his house on rollers, an' keep a team
hitched to it, an', whin he sees a white man, to start f'r th' settin' sun. He's
rooned whin he has a cellar. He ought to put all th' plugged dollars that he
gets from th' agent an' be pickin' blueberries into rowlin' stock. If he knew
annything about balloons, he'd have a chanst; but we white men, Hinnissy,
has all th' balloons. But, annyhow, he's doomed, as Hogan says. Th' onward
march iv th' white civilization, with morgedges an' other modhern
improvements, is slowly but surely, as Hogan says, chasin' him out; an' th'
last iv him'll be livin' in a divin'-bell somewhere out in th' Pacific Ocean."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, the stout philanthropist, "I think so, an' thin
again I dinnaw. I don't think we threat thim r-right. If I was th' gover'mint,
I'd take what they got, but I'd say, 'Here, take this tin-dollar bill an' go out
an' dhrink ye'ersilf to death,' I'd say. They ought to have some show."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "if ye feel that way, ye ought to go an' inlist as an
Indyun."
well, he's able to put up a gr-reat fight; but afther a while they rip him away,
an' have him in th' pathrol wagon, with a man settin' on his head. An' thin
he's put undher bonds to keep the peace, an' they sind him out west iv th'
thracks; an' I move into th' house, an' tear out th' front an' start a faro bank.
Some day, whin I get tired or th' Swedes dhrive me out or Schwartzmeister
makes his lunch too sthrong f'r competition, I'll go afther Snakes again.
"Th' on'y hope f'r th Indyun is to put his house on rollers, an' keep a team
hitched to it, an', whin he sees a white man, to start f'r th' settin' sun. He's
rooned whin he has a cellar. He ought to put all th' plugged dollars that he
gets from th' agent an' be pickin' blueberries into rowlin' stock. If he knew
annything about balloons, he'd have a chanst; but we white men, Hinnissy,
has all th' balloons. But, annyhow, he's doomed, as Hogan says. Th' onward
march iv th' white civilization, with morgedges an' other modhern
improvements, is slowly but surely, as Hogan says, chasin' him out; an' th'
last iv him'll be livin' in a divin'-bell somewhere out in th' Pacific Ocean."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, the stout philanthropist, "I think so, an' thin
again I dinnaw. I don't think we threat thim r-right. If I was th' gover'mint,
I'd take what they got, but I'd say, 'Here, take this tin-dollar bill an' go out
an' dhrink ye'ersilf to death,' I'd say. They ought to have some show."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "if ye feel that way, ye ought to go an' inlist as an
Indyun."
Page 135
ON GOLF.
"An' what's this game iv goluf like, I dinnaw?" said Mr. Hennessy, lighting
his pipe with much unnecessary noise. "Ye're a good deal iv a spoort,
Jawnny: did ye iver thry it?"
"No," said Mr. McKenna. "I used to roll a hoop onct upon a time, but I'm
out of condition now."
"It ain't like base-ball," said Mr. Hennessy, "an' it ain't like shinny, an' it
ain't like lawn-teenis, an' it ain't like forty-fives, an' it ain't"—
"Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley.
"Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper that Hobart
What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it. Th' other day he made a scoor iv
wan hundherd an' sixty-eight, but whether 'twas miles or stitches I cudden't
make out fr'm th' raypoorts."
"'Tis little ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' game iv goluf is as old as th'
hills. Me father had goluf links all over his place, an', whin I was a kid,
'twas wan iv th' principal spoorts iv me life, afther I'd dug the turf f'r th'
avenin', to go out and putt"—
"Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th' English
language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no more thin las'
night."
"There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think this here
game iv goluf is a spellin' match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to be refereein' a
twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three. I tell ye I used to go out in th'
avenin' an' putt me mashie like hell-an'-all, till I was knowed fr'm wan end
iv th' county to th' other as th' champeen putter. I putted two men fr'm
Roscommon in wan day, an' they had to be took home on a dure.
"In America th' ga-ame is played more ginteel, an' is more like cigareet-
smokin', though less unhealthy f'r th' lungs. 'Tis a good game to play in a
"An' what's this game iv goluf like, I dinnaw?" said Mr. Hennessy, lighting
his pipe with much unnecessary noise. "Ye're a good deal iv a spoort,
Jawnny: did ye iver thry it?"
"No," said Mr. McKenna. "I used to roll a hoop onct upon a time, but I'm
out of condition now."
"It ain't like base-ball," said Mr. Hennessy, "an' it ain't like shinny, an' it
ain't like lawn-teenis, an' it ain't like forty-fives, an' it ain't"—
"Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley.
"Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper that Hobart
What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it. Th' other day he made a scoor iv
wan hundherd an' sixty-eight, but whether 'twas miles or stitches I cudden't
make out fr'm th' raypoorts."
"'Tis little ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' game iv goluf is as old as th'
hills. Me father had goluf links all over his place, an', whin I was a kid,
'twas wan iv th' principal spoorts iv me life, afther I'd dug the turf f'r th'
avenin', to go out and putt"—
"Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th' English
language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no more thin las'
night."
"There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think this here
game iv goluf is a spellin' match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to be refereein' a
twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three. I tell ye I used to go out in th'
avenin' an' putt me mashie like hell-an'-all, till I was knowed fr'm wan end
iv th' county to th' other as th' champeen putter. I putted two men fr'm
Roscommon in wan day, an' they had to be took home on a dure.
"In America th' ga-ame is played more ginteel, an' is more like cigareet-
smokin', though less unhealthy f'r th' lungs. 'Tis a good game to play in a
Page 136
hammick whin ye're all tired out fr'm social duties or shovellin' coke. Out-
iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. If ye bring ye'er wife f'r to see
th' game, an' she has her name in th' paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first
thing ye do is to find th' raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there. Thin ye ordher a
bottle iv brown pop, an' have ye'er second fan ye with a towel. Afther this
ye'd dhress, an' here ye've got to be dam particklar or ye'll be stuck f'r th'
dhrinks. If ye'er necktie is not on sthraight, that counts ye'er opponent wan.
If both ye an' ye'er opponent have ye'er neckties on crooked, th' first man
that sees it gets th' stakes. Thin ye ordher a carredge"—
"Order what?" demanded Mr. McKenna.
"A carredge."
"What for?"
"F'r to take ye 'round th' links. Ye have a little boy followin' ye, carryin'
ye'er clubs. Th' man that has th' smallest little boy it counts him two. If th'
little boy has th' rickets, it counts th' man in th' carredge three. The little
boys is called caddies; but Clarence Heaney that tol' me all this—he
belongs to th' Foorth Wa-ard Goluf an' McKinley Club—said what th' little
boys calls th' players'd not be fit f'r to repeat.
"Well, whin ye dhrive up to th' tea grounds"—
"Th' what?" demanded Mr. Hennessy.
"Th' tea grounds, that's like th' homeplate in base-ball or ordherin' a piece iv
chalk in a game iv spoil five. Its th' beginnin' iv ivrything. Whin ye get to th'
tea grounds, ye step out, an' have ye're hat irned be th' caddie. Thin ye'er
man that ye're goin' aginst comes up, an' he asks ye, 'Do you know Potther
Pammer?' Well, if ye don't know Potther Pammer, it's all up with ye: ye lose
two points. But ye come right back at him with an' upper cut: 'Do ye live on
th' Lake Shore dhrive?' If he doesn't, ye have him in th' nine hole. Ye
needn't play with him anny more. But, if ye do play with him, he has to spot
three balls. If he's a good man an' shifty on his feet, he'll counter be askin'
ye where ye spend th' summer. Now ye can't tell him that ye spent th'
summer with wan hook on th' free lunch an' another on th' ticker tape, an' so
ye go back three. That needn't discourage ye at all, at all. Here's yer chance
to mix up, an' ye ask him if he was iver in Scotland. If he wasn't, it counts
iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. If ye bring ye'er wife f'r to see
th' game, an' she has her name in th' paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first
thing ye do is to find th' raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there. Thin ye ordher a
bottle iv brown pop, an' have ye'er second fan ye with a towel. Afther this
ye'd dhress, an' here ye've got to be dam particklar or ye'll be stuck f'r th'
dhrinks. If ye'er necktie is not on sthraight, that counts ye'er opponent wan.
If both ye an' ye'er opponent have ye'er neckties on crooked, th' first man
that sees it gets th' stakes. Thin ye ordher a carredge"—
"Order what?" demanded Mr. McKenna.
"A carredge."
"What for?"
"F'r to take ye 'round th' links. Ye have a little boy followin' ye, carryin'
ye'er clubs. Th' man that has th' smallest little boy it counts him two. If th'
little boy has th' rickets, it counts th' man in th' carredge three. The little
boys is called caddies; but Clarence Heaney that tol' me all this—he
belongs to th' Foorth Wa-ard Goluf an' McKinley Club—said what th' little
boys calls th' players'd not be fit f'r to repeat.
"Well, whin ye dhrive up to th' tea grounds"—
"Th' what?" demanded Mr. Hennessy.
"Th' tea grounds, that's like th' homeplate in base-ball or ordherin' a piece iv
chalk in a game iv spoil five. Its th' beginnin' iv ivrything. Whin ye get to th'
tea grounds, ye step out, an' have ye're hat irned be th' caddie. Thin ye'er
man that ye're goin' aginst comes up, an' he asks ye, 'Do you know Potther
Pammer?' Well, if ye don't know Potther Pammer, it's all up with ye: ye lose
two points. But ye come right back at him with an' upper cut: 'Do ye live on
th' Lake Shore dhrive?' If he doesn't, ye have him in th' nine hole. Ye
needn't play with him anny more. But, if ye do play with him, he has to spot
three balls. If he's a good man an' shifty on his feet, he'll counter be askin'
ye where ye spend th' summer. Now ye can't tell him that ye spent th'
summer with wan hook on th' free lunch an' another on th' ticker tape, an' so
ye go back three. That needn't discourage ye at all, at all. Here's yer chance
to mix up, an' ye ask him if he was iver in Scotland. If he wasn't, it counts
Page 137
ye five. Thin ye tell him that ye had an aunt wanst that heerd th' Jook iv
Argyle talk in a phonograph; an' onless he comes back an' shoots it into ye
that he was wanst run over be th' Prince iv Wales, ye have him groggy. I
don't know whether th' Jook iv Argyle or th' Prince iv Wales counts f'r most.
They're like th' right an' left bower iv thrumps. Th' best players is called
scratch-men."
"What's that f'r?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"It's a Scotch game," said Mr. Dooley, with a wave of his hand. "I wonder
how it come out to-day. Here's th' pa-aper. Let me see. McKinley at Canton.
Still there. He niver cared to wandher fr'm his own fireside. Collar-button
men f'r th' goold standard. Statues iv Heidelback, Ickleheimer an' Company
to be erected in Washington. Another Vanderbilt weddin'. That sounds like
goluf, but it ain't. Newport society livin' in Mrs. Potther Pammer's cellar.
Green-goods men declare f'r honest money. Anson in foorth place some
more. Pianny tuners f'r McKinley. Li Hung Chang smells a rat. Abner
McKinley supports th' goold standard. Wait a minyit. Here it is: 'Goluf in
gay attire.' Let me see. H'm. 'Foozled his aproach,'—nasty thing. 'Topped th'
ball.' 'Three up an' two to play.' Ah, here's the scoor. 'Among those prisint
were Messrs. an' Mesdames"—
"Hol' on!" cried Mr. Hennessy, grabbing the paper out of his friend's hands.
"That's thim that was there."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, decisively, "that's th' goluf scoor."
Argyle talk in a phonograph; an' onless he comes back an' shoots it into ye
that he was wanst run over be th' Prince iv Wales, ye have him groggy. I
don't know whether th' Jook iv Argyle or th' Prince iv Wales counts f'r most.
They're like th' right an' left bower iv thrumps. Th' best players is called
scratch-men."
"What's that f'r?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"It's a Scotch game," said Mr. Dooley, with a wave of his hand. "I wonder
how it come out to-day. Here's th' pa-aper. Let me see. McKinley at Canton.
Still there. He niver cared to wandher fr'm his own fireside. Collar-button
men f'r th' goold standard. Statues iv Heidelback, Ickleheimer an' Company
to be erected in Washington. Another Vanderbilt weddin'. That sounds like
goluf, but it ain't. Newport society livin' in Mrs. Potther Pammer's cellar.
Green-goods men declare f'r honest money. Anson in foorth place some
more. Pianny tuners f'r McKinley. Li Hung Chang smells a rat. Abner
McKinley supports th' goold standard. Wait a minyit. Here it is: 'Goluf in
gay attire.' Let me see. H'm. 'Foozled his aproach,'—nasty thing. 'Topped th'
ball.' 'Three up an' two to play.' Ah, here's the scoor. 'Among those prisint
were Messrs. an' Mesdames"—
"Hol' on!" cried Mr. Hennessy, grabbing the paper out of his friend's hands.
"That's thim that was there."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, decisively, "that's th' goluf scoor."
Page 138
ON THE FRENCH CHARACTER.
"Th' Fr-rinch," said Mr. Dooley, "ar-re a tumulchuse people."
"Like as not," said Mr. Hennessy, "there's some of our blood in thim. A
good manny iv our people wint over wanst. They cudden't all've been kilt at
Fontenoy."
"No," said Mr. Dooley, "'tis another kind iv tumulchuse. Whin an Irishman
rages, 'tis with wan idee in his mind. He's goin' for'ard again a single inimy,
an' not stone walls or irne chains'll stop him. He may pause f'r a dhrink or to
take a shy at a polisman,—f'r a polisman's always in th' way,—but he's as
thrue as th' needle in th' camel's eye, as Hogan says, to th' objec' iv his
hathred. So he's been f'r four hundherd years, an' so he'll always be while
they'se an England on th' map. Whin England purrishes, th' Irish'll die iv
what Hogan calls ongwee, which is havin' no wan in the weary wurruld ye
don't love.
"But with th' Fr-rinch 'tis diff'rent. I say 'tis diffrent with th' Fr-rinch.
They're an onaisy an' a thrubbled people. They start out down th' street,
loaded up with obscenthe an' cigareets, pavin' blocks an' walkin' sthicks an'
shtove lids in their hands, cryin', 'A base Cap Dhry-fuss!' th' cap bein' far off
in a cage, by dad. So far, so good. 'A base Cap Dhry-fuss!' says I; 'an' the
same to all thraitors, an' manny iv thim, whether they ar-re or not.' But
along comes a man with a poor hat. 'Where did he get th' hat?' demands th'
mob. Down with th' bad tile!' they say. 'A base th' lid!' An' they desthroy th'
hat, an' th' man undher it succumbs to th' rule iv th' majority an' jines th'
mob. On they go till they come to a restaurant. 'Ha,' says they, 'th' re-sort iv
th' infamious Duclose.' 'His char-rges ar-re high,' says wan. 'I found a fish-
bone in his soup,' says another. 'He's a thraitor,' says a third. 'A base th' soup
kitchen! A base th' caafe!' says they; an' they seize th' unfortunate Duclose,
an' bate him an' upset his kettles iv broth. Manetime where's Cap Dhry-
fuss? Off in his comfortable cage, swingin' on th' perch an' atin' seed out iv
a small bottle stuck in th' wire. Be th' time th' mob has desthroyed what they
see on th' way, they've f'rgot th' Cap intirely; an' he's safe f'r another day.
"Th' Fr-rinch," said Mr. Dooley, "ar-re a tumulchuse people."
"Like as not," said Mr. Hennessy, "there's some of our blood in thim. A
good manny iv our people wint over wanst. They cudden't all've been kilt at
Fontenoy."
"No," said Mr. Dooley, "'tis another kind iv tumulchuse. Whin an Irishman
rages, 'tis with wan idee in his mind. He's goin' for'ard again a single inimy,
an' not stone walls or irne chains'll stop him. He may pause f'r a dhrink or to
take a shy at a polisman,—f'r a polisman's always in th' way,—but he's as
thrue as th' needle in th' camel's eye, as Hogan says, to th' objec' iv his
hathred. So he's been f'r four hundherd years, an' so he'll always be while
they'se an England on th' map. Whin England purrishes, th' Irish'll die iv
what Hogan calls ongwee, which is havin' no wan in the weary wurruld ye
don't love.
"But with th' Fr-rinch 'tis diff'rent. I say 'tis diffrent with th' Fr-rinch.
They're an onaisy an' a thrubbled people. They start out down th' street,
loaded up with obscenthe an' cigareets, pavin' blocks an' walkin' sthicks an'
shtove lids in their hands, cryin', 'A base Cap Dhry-fuss!' th' cap bein' far off
in a cage, by dad. So far, so good. 'A base Cap Dhry-fuss!' says I; 'an' the
same to all thraitors, an' manny iv thim, whether they ar-re or not.' But
along comes a man with a poor hat. 'Where did he get th' hat?' demands th'
mob. Down with th' bad tile!' they say. 'A base th' lid!' An' they desthroy th'
hat, an' th' man undher it succumbs to th' rule iv th' majority an' jines th'
mob. On they go till they come to a restaurant. 'Ha,' says they, 'th' re-sort iv
th' infamious Duclose.' 'His char-rges ar-re high,' says wan. 'I found a fish-
bone in his soup,' says another. 'He's a thraitor,' says a third. 'A base th' soup
kitchen! A base th' caafe!' says they; an' they seize th' unfortunate Duclose,
an' bate him an' upset his kettles iv broth. Manetime where's Cap Dhry-
fuss? Off in his comfortable cage, swingin' on th' perch an' atin' seed out iv
a small bottle stuck in th' wire. Be th' time th' mob has desthroyed what they
see on th' way, they've f'rgot th' Cap intirely; an' he's safe f'r another day.
Page 139
"'Tis unforch'nit, but 'tis thrue. Th' Fr-rinch ar-re not steady ayether in their
politics or their morals. That's where they get done be th' hated British. Th'
diff'rence in furrin' policies is the diff'rence between a second-rate safe
blower an' a first-class boonco steerer. Th' Fr-rinch buy a ton iv dinnymite,
spind five years in dhrillin' a hole through a steel dure, blow open th' safe,
lose a leg or an ar-rm, an' get away with th' li'bilities iv th' firm. Th' English
dhress up f'r a Methodist preacher, stick a piece iv lead pipe in th' tails iv
their coat in case iv emargency, an' get all th' money there is in th' line.
"In th' fr-ront dure comes th' Englishman with a coon king on ayether ar-rm
that's jus' loaned him their kingdoms on a prom'ssory note, and discovers th'
Fr-rinchman emargin' frim th' roons iv th' safe. 'What ar-re ye doin' here?'
says th' Englishman. 'Robbin' th' naygurs,' says th' Fr-rinchman, bein'
thruthful as well as polite. 'Wicked man,' says th' Englishman. 'What ar-re
ye doin' here?' says the Fr-rinchman. 'Improvin' the morals iv th'
inhabitants,' says th' Englishman. 'Is it not so, Rastus?' he says. 'It is,' says
wan iv th' kings. 'I'm a poorer but a betther man since ye came,' he says.
'Yes,' says th' Englishman, 'I pro-pose f'r to thruly rayform this onhappy
counthry,' he says. 'This benighted haythen on me exthreme left has been
injooced to cut out a good dale iv his wife's business,' he says, 'an' go
through life torminted be on'y wan spouse,' he says. 'Th' r-rest will go to
wurruk f'r me,' he says. 'All crap games bein' particular ongodly'll be undher
th' con-throl iv th' gover'mint, which,' he says, 'is me. Policy shops'll be r-
run carefully, an' I've appinted Rastus here Writer-in-Waitin' to her Majesty,'
he says.
"'Th' r-rum they dhrink in these par-rts,' he says, 'is fearful,' he says. 'What
shall we do to stop th' ac-cursed thraffic? Sell thim gin,' says I. ''Tis
shameful they shud go out with nawthin' to hide their nakedness,' he says.
'I'll fetch thim clothes; but,' he says, cas th' weather's too war-rum f'r
clothes, I'll not sell thim annything that'll last long,' he says. 'If it wasn't f'r
relligion,' he says, 'I don't know what th' 'ell th' wurruld wud come to,' he
says. 'Who's relligion?' says th' Fr-rinchman. 'My relligion,' says th'
Englishman. 'These pore, benighted savidges,' he says, ''ll not be left to yer
odjious morals an' yer hootchy-kootchy school iv thought,' he says, 'but,' he
says, 'undher th' binif'cint r-rule iv a wise an' thrue gover'mint,' he says, ''ll
be thurly prepared f'r hivin,' he says, 'whin their time comes to go,' he says,
politics or their morals. That's where they get done be th' hated British. Th'
diff'rence in furrin' policies is the diff'rence between a second-rate safe
blower an' a first-class boonco steerer. Th' Fr-rinch buy a ton iv dinnymite,
spind five years in dhrillin' a hole through a steel dure, blow open th' safe,
lose a leg or an ar-rm, an' get away with th' li'bilities iv th' firm. Th' English
dhress up f'r a Methodist preacher, stick a piece iv lead pipe in th' tails iv
their coat in case iv emargency, an' get all th' money there is in th' line.
"In th' fr-ront dure comes th' Englishman with a coon king on ayether ar-rm
that's jus' loaned him their kingdoms on a prom'ssory note, and discovers th'
Fr-rinchman emargin' frim th' roons iv th' safe. 'What ar-re ye doin' here?'
says th' Englishman. 'Robbin' th' naygurs,' says th' Fr-rinchman, bein'
thruthful as well as polite. 'Wicked man,' says th' Englishman. 'What ar-re
ye doin' here?' says the Fr-rinchman. 'Improvin' the morals iv th'
inhabitants,' says th' Englishman. 'Is it not so, Rastus?' he says. 'It is,' says
wan iv th' kings. 'I'm a poorer but a betther man since ye came,' he says.
'Yes,' says th' Englishman, 'I pro-pose f'r to thruly rayform this onhappy
counthry,' he says. 'This benighted haythen on me exthreme left has been
injooced to cut out a good dale iv his wife's business,' he says, 'an' go
through life torminted be on'y wan spouse,' he says. 'Th' r-rest will go to
wurruk f'r me,' he says. 'All crap games bein' particular ongodly'll be undher
th' con-throl iv th' gover'mint, which,' he says, 'is me. Policy shops'll be r-
run carefully, an' I've appinted Rastus here Writer-in-Waitin' to her Majesty,'
he says.
"'Th' r-rum they dhrink in these par-rts,' he says, 'is fearful,' he says. 'What
shall we do to stop th' ac-cursed thraffic? Sell thim gin,' says I. ''Tis
shameful they shud go out with nawthin' to hide their nakedness,' he says.
'I'll fetch thim clothes; but,' he says, cas th' weather's too war-rum f'r
clothes, I'll not sell thim annything that'll last long,' he says. 'If it wasn't f'r
relligion,' he says, 'I don't know what th' 'ell th' wurruld wud come to,' he
says. 'Who's relligion?' says th' Fr-rinchman. 'My relligion,' says th'
Englishman. 'These pore, benighted savidges,' he says, ''ll not be left to yer
odjious morals an' yer hootchy-kootchy school iv thought,' he says, 'but,' he
says, 'undher th' binif'cint r-rule iv a wise an' thrue gover'mint,' he says, ''ll
be thurly prepared f'r hivin,' he says, 'whin their time comes to go,' he says,
Page 140
'which I thrust will not be long,' he says. 'So I'll thank ye to be off,' he says,
'or I'll take th' thick end iv the slung-shot to ye,' he says.
"Th' Fr-rinchman is a br-rave man, an' he'd stay an' have it out on th' flure;
but some wan calls, 'A base th' Chinnyman!' an' off he goes on another
thrack. An', whin he gets to th' Chinnymen, he finds th' English've abased
thim already. An' so he dances fr'm wan par-rt th' wurruld to another like a
riochous an' happy flea, an' divvle th' bit iv progress he makes, on'y
thrubble f'r others an' a merry life f'r himsilf."
"If England wint to war with France," said Mr. Hennessy, suddenly, "I'd be
f'r France."
"So ye wud, Hinnissy. So ye wud," said Mr. Dooley. "An' I'm not sayin' that
I wudden't f'aget that I'm an Anglo-Saxon long enough to take wan crack at
th' Prince iv Wales with a coupli' pin mesilf."
'or I'll take th' thick end iv the slung-shot to ye,' he says.
"Th' Fr-rinchman is a br-rave man, an' he'd stay an' have it out on th' flure;
but some wan calls, 'A base th' Chinnyman!' an' off he goes on another
thrack. An', whin he gets to th' Chinnymen, he finds th' English've abased
thim already. An' so he dances fr'm wan par-rt th' wurruld to another like a
riochous an' happy flea, an' divvle th' bit iv progress he makes, on'y
thrubble f'r others an' a merry life f'r himsilf."
"If England wint to war with France," said Mr. Hennessy, suddenly, "I'd be
f'r France."
"So ye wud, Hinnissy. So ye wud," said Mr. Dooley. "An' I'm not sayin' that
I wudden't f'aget that I'm an Anglo-Saxon long enough to take wan crack at
th' Prince iv Wales with a coupli' pin mesilf."
Page 141
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