rayfuse food. That’s goin’ to be th’ unsixpicted blow iv anny war that th’ parishes iv Europe wages again’ us. They will decline to eat. They will turn back our wheat an’ pork an’ short rib sides. They’ll starve us out. If left to their own resoorces, Europe cud outstarve America in a month.”
“I’m not afraid iv thim,” said Mr. Hennessy. “Whin I was a young man, I cud take a runnin’ jump acrost Germany or France, an’ as f’r England we’d hardly thrip over it in th’ dark.”
“Perhaps ye’re right,” said Mr. Dooley. “But if all thim gr-reat powers, as they say thimsilves, was f’r to attack us, d’ye know what I’d do? I’ll tell ye. I’d blockade Armour an’ Comp’ny an’ th’ wheat ilivators iv Minnysoty. F’r, Hinnissy, I tell ye, th’ hand that rocks th’ scales in th’ grocery store, is th’ hand that rules th’ wurruld.”
The Philippine Peace
“‘Tis sthrange we don’t hear much talk about th’ Ph’lippeens,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“Ye ought to go to Boston,” said Mr. Dooley. “They talk about it there in their sleep. Th’ raison it’s not discussed annywhere else is that ivrything is perfectly quiet there. We don’t talk about Ohio or Ioway or anny iv our other possissions because they’se nawthin’ doin’ in thim parts. Th’ people ar-re goin’ ahead, garnerin’ th’ products iv th’ sile, sindin’ their childher to school, worshipin’ on Sundah in th’ churches an’ thankin’ Hiven f’r th’ blessin’s iv free govermint an’ th’ pro-tiction iv th’ flag above thim.
“So it is in th’ Phi’lippeens. I know, f’r me frind Gov’nor Taft says so, an’ they’se a man that undherstands con-tintmint whin he sees it. Ye can’t thrust th’ fellows that comes back fr’m th’ jools iv th’ Passyfic an’ tells ye that things ar-re no betther thin they shud be undher th’ shade iv th’ cocoanut palm be th’ blue wathers iv th’ still lagoon. They mus’ be satisfied with our rule. A man that isn’t satisfied whin he’s had enough is a glutton. They’re satisfied an’ happy an’ slowly but surely they’re acquirin’ that love f’r th’ govermint that floats over thim that will make thim good citizens without a vote or a right to thrile be jury. I know it. Guv’nor Taft says so.
“Says he: ‘Th’ Ph’lippeens as ye have been tol’ be me young but speechful frind, Sinitor Bivridge, who was down there f’r tin minyits wanst an’ spoke very highly an’ at some lenth on th’ beauties iv th’ scenery, th’ Ph’lippeens is wan or more iv th’ beautiful jools in th’ diadem iv our fair nation. Formerly our fair nation didn’t care f’r jools, but done up her hair with side combs, but she’s been abroad some since an’ she come back with beautiful reddish goolden hair that a tiara looks well in an’ that is betther f’r havin’ a tiara. She is not as young as she was. Th’ simple home-lovin’ maiden that our fathers knew has disappeared an’ in her place we find a Columbya, gintlemen, with machurer charms, a knowledge iv Euro-peen customs an’ not averse to a cigareet. So we have pinned in her fair hair a diadem that sets off her beauty to advantage an’ holds on th’ front iv th’ hair, an’ th’ mos’ lovely pearl in this ornymint is thim sunny little isles iv th’ Passyfic. They are almost too sunny f’r me. I had to come away.
“‘To shift me language suddintly fr’m th’ joolry counther an’ th’ boodore, I will say that nawthin’ that has been said even be th’ gifted an’ scholarly sinitor, who so worthily fills part iv th’ place wanst crowded be Hendricks an’ McDonald, does justice to th’ richness iv thim islands. They raise unknown quantities iv produce, none iv which forchnitly can come into this counthry. All th’ riches iv Cathay, all th’ wealth iv Ind, as Hogan says, wud look like a second morgedge on an Apache wickeyup compared with th’ untold an’ almost unmintionable products iv that gloryous domain. Me business kept me in Manila or I wud tell ye what they are. Besides some iv our lile subjects is gettin’ to be good shots an’ I didn’t go down there f’r that purpose.
“‘I turn to th’ climate. It is simply hivenly. No other wurrud describes it. A white man who goes there seldom rayturns unless th’ bereaved fam’ly insists. It is jus’ right. In winter enough rain, in summer plinty iv heat. Gin’rally speakin’ whin that thropical sky starts rainin’ it doesn’t stop till it’s impty, so th’ counthry is not subjected to th’ sudden changes that afflict more northerly climes. Whin it rains it rains; whin it shines it shines. Th’ wather frequently remains in th’ air afther th’ sun has been shinin’ a month or more, th’ earth bein’ a little overcrowded with juice an’ this gives th’ atmosphere a certain cosiness that is indescribable. A light green mould grows on th’ clothes an’ is very becomin’. I met a man on th’ boat comin’ back who said ’twas th’ finest winter climate in th’ wurruld. He was be profission a rubber in a Turkish bath. As f’r th’ summers they are delicious. Th’ sun doesn’t sit aloft above th’ jools iv th’ Passyfic. It comes down an’ mingles with th’ people. Ye have heard it said th’ isles was kissed be th’ sun. Perhaps bitten wud be a betther wurrud. But th’ timprachoor is frequently modified be an eruption iv th’ neighborin’ volcanoes an’ th’ inthraduction iv American stoves. At night a coolin’ breeze fr’m th’ crather iv a volcano makes sleep possible in a hammock swung in th’ ice-box. It is also very pleasant to be able to cuk wan’s dinner within wan.
“‘Passin’ to th’ pollytical situation, I will say it is good. Not perhaps as good as ye’ers or mine, but good. Ivry wanst in a while whin I think iv it, an iliction is held. Unforchnitly it usually happens that those ilicted have not yet surrindhered. In th’ Ph’lippeens th’ office seeks th’ man, but as he is also pursooed be th’ sojery, it is not always aisy to catch him an’ fit it on him. Th’ counthry may he divided into two parts, pollytically, –where th’ insurrection continues an’ where it will soon be. Th’ brave but I fear not altogether cheery army conthrols th’ insurrected parts be martiyal law, but th’ civil authorities are supreme in their own house. Th’ diff’rence between civil law an’ martiyal law in th’ Ph’lippeens is what kind iv coat th’ judge wears. Th’ raysult is much th’ same. Th’ two branches wurruks in perfect harmony. We bag thim in th’ city an’ they round thim up in th’ counthry.
“‘It is not always nicessry to kill a Filipino American right away. Me desire is to idjacate thim slowly in th’ ways an’ customs iv th’ counthry. We ar-re givin’ hundherds iv these pore benighted haythen th’ well-known, ol’-fashioned American wather cure. Iv coorse, ye know how ’tis done. A Filipino, we’ll say, niver heerd iv th’ histhry iv this counthry. He is met be wan iv our sturdy boys in black an’ blue iv th’ Macabebee scouts who asts him to cheer f’r Abraham Lincoln. He rayfuses. He is thin placed upon th’ grass an’ given a dhrink, a baynit bein’ fixed in his mouth so he cannot rejict th’ hospitality. Undher th’ inflooence iv th’ hose that cheers but does not inebriate, he soon warrums or perhaps I might say swells up to a ralization iv th’ granjoor iv his adoptive counthry. One gallon makes him give three groans f’r th’ constitchoochion. At four gallons, he will ask to be wrapped in th’ flag. At th’ dew pint he sings Yankee Doodle. Occasionally we run acrost a stubborn an’ rebellyous man who wud sthrain at me idee iv human rights an’ swallow th’ Passyfic Ocean, but I mus’ say mos’ iv these little fellows is less hollow in their pretintions. Nachrally we have had to take a good manny customs fr’m th’ Spanyard, but we have improved on thim. I was talkin’ with a Spanish gintleman th’ other day who had been away f’r a long time an’ he said he wudden’t know th’ counthry. Even th’ faces iv th’ people on th’ sthreets had changed. They seemed glad to see him. Among th’ mos’ useful Spanish customs is reconcenthration. Our reconcenthration camps is among th’ mos’ thickly popylated in th’ wurruld. But still we have to rely mainly on American methods. They are always used fin’lly in th’ makin’ iv a good citizen, th’ garotte sildom.
“‘I have not considhered it advisable to inthrajooce anny fads like thrile be jury iv ye’er peers into me administhration. Plain sthraight-forward dealin’s is me motto. A Filipino at his best has on’y larned half th’ jooty iv mankind. He can be thried but he can’t thry his fellow man. It takes him too long. But in time I hope to have thim thrained to a pint where they can be good men an’ thrue at th’ inquest.
“‘I hope I have tol’ ye enough to show ye that th’ stories iv disordher is greatly exaggerated. Th’ counthry is pro-gressin’ splindidly, th’ ocean still laps th’ shore, th’ mountains are there as they were in Bivridge’s day, quite happy apparently; th’ flag floats free an’ well guarded over th’ govermint offices, an’ th’ cherry people go an’ come on their errands–go out alone an’ come back with th’ throops. Ivrywhere happiness, contint, love iv th’ shtep-mother counthry, excipt in places where there ar-re people. Gintlemen, I thank ye.’
“An’ there ye ar-re, Hinnissy. I hope this here lucid story will quite th’ waggin’ tongues iv scandal an’ that people will let th’ Ph’lippeens stew in their own happiness.”
“But sure they ought do something f’r thim,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“They will,” said Mr. Dooley. ” They’ll give thim a measure iv freedom.”
“But whin?”
“Whin they’ll sthand still long enough to be measured,” said Mr. Dooley.
Soldier and Policeman
“Th’ life iv a sojer though gloryous is hard,” said Mr. Dooley. “Here’s me frind, Gin’ral Fustian, wan iv th’ gallantest men that has come out iv Kansas since Stormy Jordan’s day, has been called down f’r on’y suggistin’ that Sinitor Hoar an’ th’ rest iv thim be hanged be th’ heels. I’m with th’ gallant gin’ral mesilf. I’m not sure but he’d like to hang me, though as ye know, me opinyions on th’ Ph’lippeens is varyous an’ I don’t give a dam ayether way. If he runs me to earth I on’y ast him as a fellow pathrite that he won’t give me th’ wather cure. Th’ very thought iv it makes me flesh creep.
“But th’ prisidint called him down. Afther th’ publication iv th’ fifteenth speech whin ivry colledge pro-fissor in this broad an’ fair land was undher sintince iv death fr’m th’ gin’ral, th’ prisidint wrote to him sayin’: ‘Dear Fred: Me attintion has been called to ye’er pathriotic utthrances in favor iv fryin’ Edward Atkinson on his own cuk shtove. I am informed be me advisers that it can’t be done. It won’t fry beans. So I am compilled be th’ reg’lations iv war to give ye a good slap. How ar-re ye, ol’ commerade-in-arms? Ye ought to ‘ve seen me on th’ top iv San Joon hill. Oh, that was th’ day! Iver, me dear Fred, reprovingly but lovingly, T. Rosenfelt, late colonel First United States Volunteers Calv’ry, betther known as th’ Rough Riders, an’ ex-officio prisidint iv th’ United States.’ That was wan f’r Fred. I wisht th’ same cud be handed to Gin’ral Miles. Ivry time he opins his mouth, if ’tis on’y to say ’tis a fine day–which I must say is seldom–all they do to him is to break his back.
“‘Tis a hard life, a sojer’s, but a gloryous wan. I wisht me father had enthered me f’r a martial career instead iv tachin’ me be precipt an’ example to be quick on me feet. In these days whin a man gets to be a gin’ral because he’s been a long time a doctor or because he’s supprissed a naygur rite, ’tis me that wud go boundin’ up to th’ top iv th’ laddher.
“‘Janooary wan, Private Dooley distinguished himsilf at th’ Battle iv Ogoowan in th’ island iv Samar be rushin’ out in a perfect hell iv putty-balls, rice, arrers, an’ harsh cries, an’ seizin’ th’ gin’ral iv th’ Tamalese an’ batin’ him over th’ head with his own bean-blower.
“‘Janooary twinty: Colonel Dooley iv th’ hunderth an’ eighth Macabebee scouts yisterdah administhered th’ best an’ muddyest part iv th’ Gingong river to Gin’ral Alfico Bim in th’ prisince iv a large an’ smilin’ audjeence. Th’ ribil had rayfused to communicate his plans to th’ gallant colonel, but afther he had had sufficient irrigation his conversation was more extinded. So was th’ gin’ral.
“‘Feb’ry eighth: Gin’ral Dooley, th’ hayro iv th’ Ph’lippeens who is at home with a large spleen which he got into him in our beautiful island possissions made a speech before th’ Locoed club las’ night. He said we shud niver give up th’ Ph’lippeens which had been wathered be some iv th best blood in our land–he might say all. He didn’t know much about th’ constichoochion, but fr’m what he heerd about it fr’m a man in his rig’mint who cud spell, it wasn’t intinded f’r use out iv coort. He thought no wan shud be ilicted to congress undher th’ rank iv major. There was much talk iv pro-gress in lithrachoor an’ science which he was in favor iv hangin’. All th’ army needed was rope enough an’ all wud be well. Th’ Supreme Coort was all right but if ye wanted justice hot out iv th’ oven, ye shud see it administhered be three or four laughin’ sub-alturns on th’ stumps iv threes, jus’ afther lunch.
“‘March eighth: Prisidint Dooley, chafin’ at th’ delay in th’ Sinit requirin’ all civilyans to submit their opinyons on th’ tariff to th’ neighborin’ raycruitin’ sergeant wanst a week, wint over to th’ capitol this mornin’ with a file iv sojers an’ arristed th’ anti-administhration foorces who are now locked up in th’ barn back iv th’ White House. Th’ prisidint was severely lacerated be Sinitor Tillman durin’ th’ encounther.’
“Yes, sir, I’d like to be a sojer. I want to be a military man. An’ yet I niver wanted to be a polisman. ‘Tis sthrange, too, f’r if ye think it over they ain’t th’ lot iv diff’rence between th’ mos’ ordhinry, flat-footed elbow that iver pulled wan leg afther another to mornin’ roll-call an’ th’ gr-reatest gin’ral that iver wint through a war behind a band on horse. They both belong to th’ race iv round-headed men. Whin ye lenthen th’ head iv a man or dog, ye rayjooce his courage. That’s thrue iv all but th’ bull-tarryer an’ th’ Turk. Both iv thim fight like th’ divvle. Th’ jooties is much th’ same but th’ polisman’s is harder. Th’ polisman has to fight night an’ day but th’ sojer on’y wanst a month. A man’s got to be five foot nine to get on th’ foorce. He can be five foot eight an’ get into th’ army through West Pint, or three foot two an’ get in through th’ War Department. Didn’t Mike Gilligan take more chances whin he wint up to th’ patch where Red Starkey was holdin’ th’ fort with a Krupp gun an’ took him be th’ hand an’ pivoted with him out iv a window, thin me frind Fearless Freddy win he assumed false whiskers, pretinded to be a naygur an’ stole little Aggynaldoo out iv his flat? Ye wudden’t expict a pathrolman to be promoted to be sergeant f’r kidnapin’ an organ-grinder, wud ye? An’ Gilligan didn’t ask f’r lave iv absence an’ go down town to th’ Union Lague Club an’ tell th’ assembled mannyfactherers iv axle-grease what ought to be done with th’ wather taxes. No, sir! What happened to Gilligan was at roll-call th’ nex’ mornin’ th’ Loot says: ‘Officer Gilligan, in capturin’ Starkey, ye reflicted gr-reat credit on this precinct an’ ye’er own bringin’ up. But I want ye to know, officer, that this important arrist is no excuse f’r ye goin’ out an’ loadin’ ye’ersilf to th’ joo-pint with Hannigan’s paint. Th’ nex’ time ye miss pullin’ ye’er box, I’ll have ye up befure th’ thrile boord. Put that in ye’er pipe an’ smoke it, Mike Gilligan.’ An’ Gilligan blushed.
“No, sir, between th’ two, th’ polisman’s life’s th’ hard wan. He can’t rethreat f’r reinfoorcemints or surrindher with all th’ honors iv war. If he surrindhers, he’s kilt an’ if he rethreats, his buttons comes off. He gets no soord fr’m Congress whin he brings in Starkey be th’ burnin’ hair iv his head. If he’s promoted to sergeant, he’s sure to be bounced be th’ first rayform administhration. He takes his ordhers, carries his stick iv timber up hill an’ down dale undher th’ gleamin’ stars, has nawthin’ to say but ‘Move on there, now,’ an’ if his foot slips another round-headed man pushes him into a cell an’ a impartyal jury iv men that’s had throuble with th’ polis befure convicts him heartily.
“Now, suppose Gilligan’s father whin he was young had looked him over an’ said: ‘Agathy, Michael’s head is per-fictly round. It’s like a baseball. ‘Tis so pecoolyar. An’ he has a fightin’ face. ‘Tis no good thryin’ to tache him a thrade. Let’s make a sojer iv him.’ An’ he wint into th’ army. If he’d done there what he’s done in th’ patch, ’tis Gin’ral Gilligan he’d be be this time–Gin’ral Gilligan stormin’ th’ heights iv San Joon Hill; Gin’ral Mike Gilligan suspindin’ th’ haveas corpus in th’ Ph’lippeens an’ th’ anti-impeeryalists at home; Gin’ral Mike Gilligan capturin’ Aggynaldoo, an’ he’d do it with bare hands an’ without th’ aid iv a mustache; Gin’ral Mike Gilligan abolishin’ th’ third reader; Gin’ral Mike Gilligan discoorsin’ to th’ public on ‘Books I have niver read: Series wan, th’ Histhry iv th’ United States.’ If his foot slips an’ he grows a little cross with a pris’ner iv war on th’ way to th’ station an’ dhrops his soord or his club on th’ top iv him, is he up befure th’ judge an’ thried be a jury iv his peers? Officer Mike, yes; Gin’ral Mike, no. Gin’ral Mike has no peers. He raceives a letther notifyin’ him that he has broken a human skull divine an’ th’ reg’lations iv th’ army an’ must be thried. ‘Who will me brave frind have go through with this here austere but hail-fellow inquiry?’ ‘Oh, annywan will do. Anny iv th’ gallant lift’nants iv me brigade will do,’ says Gin’ral Mike. So th’ Gin’ral is put on thrile an’ a frind iv his addhresses th’ coort. ‘Gintlemen,’ says he, ‘th’ question befure th’ coort is not so much did our gallant leader hammer th’ coon as whether our flag wanst stuck up where we have wathered so many precious citizens shall iver come down. (Th’ coort: ‘No, no!’) That’s th’ pint. What do th’ people at home who know nawthin’ about this here war, excipt what we tell thim, what do they mane be subjectin’ this here hayro, gray an’ bent with infirmities but pretty spry at that, to this ignominy? He has fought f’r thim an’ what have they done f’r him? In more thin wan year he has on’y risen fr’m th’ rank iv captain to brigadier gin’ral an’ his pay is less thin twinty times what it was. (Here th’ coort weeps.) I ast ye, I ast ye, ye fine little boys, is it meet an’ proper, nay, is it meat an’ dhrink f’r us, to punish him?’
“An’ th’ coort puts th’ vardict iv acquittal in th’ shape iv th’ pop’lar song ‘F’r he’s a jolly good fellow’ an’ adds a ricommindation that Harvard colledge is gettin’ too gay annyhow.
“That’s th’ diff’rence between sojer an’ polisman. Why is it that th’ fair sect wudden’t be seen talkin’ to a polisman, but if ye say ‘Sojer’ to thim, they’re all out iv th’ window but th’ feet? I want to know.”
“I can’t tell,” said Mr. Hennessy. “I heerd a frind iv Willum J. Bryan say we was in danger iv havin’ thim run th’ counthry like they do in–in Germany, d’ye mind.”
“Niver fear,” said Mr. Dooley. “There’s too manny Gilligans not in th’ ar-rmy f’r that.”
King Edward’s Coronation
“Now that th’ king iv Great Britain an’ Ireland, but Ireland don’t know it, an’ th’ Dominyons beyond th’ sea, f’r awhile, has been cawrnated,” said Mr. Dooley, “we can raysume where we left off.”
“So it has been done at last, has it?” said Mr. Hennessy.
“Yes,” said Mr. Dooley, “in th’ prisince iv th’ mos’ illusthrees iv his subjects, except me frind Whitelaw Reid, he was cawrnated las’ Saturdah. ‘Tis too bad it was put off. ‘Twas got up, d’ye mind, f’r th’ thrue an’ staunch subjects on this side iv th’ wather. Th’ king didn’t need it. He’s been king all th’ time. A lot iv us knew it. All he had to do anny time was to take his caubeen fr’m th’ rack, but his subjects fr’m beyond th’ sea wanted to see a cawrnation, an’ they cudden’t convaniently have wan here where th’ counthry is still run be univarsal suffering an’ there are a good manny shootin’ gall’ries, an’ annyhow he thought he’d like to keep on good terms with th’ Captains iv Industhry f’r fear they might get mad an’ put his furniture out into th’ channel an’ use th’ island f’r storin’ ex-prisidints. So he got up th’ cawrnation. An’ afther all, most iv thim didn’t see it. They had to come home here where they were born an’ lave th’ land where they expict to die an’ will, too, if they an’ us have luck.
“But ’twas a gorgyous spicticle annyhow, Hinnissy. F’r weeks an’ weeks some iv th’ finest minds in Europe has been debatin’ whether th’ king shud stand on th’ Earl iv Whinkie or th’ markess iv Ballyhoo durin’ th’ ceremony. It was decided that th’ honor shud go to th’ noble earl, but that it was th’ privilege iv th’ noble markess that his majesty shud put his feet on his back whin he set down. Th’ king ain’t supposed to do annything f’r himsilf but go up an’ be cawrnated. At ivry turn they must be a jook or somebody akelly as good to pull his tie sthraight, hand him his gloves, an’ haul his coat down whin it gets up over th’ collar. An’ ivrybody cudden’t do it, mind ye. It had to be done be th’ right party, whose folks had done it f’r other kings. I’ve been readin’ about it an’ I’ve come to th’ con-clusion, Hinnissy, that th’ Scotch nobility is mos’ly dayscinded fr’m tailors.
“Annyhow, these here mighty questions was all decided accoordin’ to th’ rules iv th’ game, whin wan day I read in th’ pa-aper: ‘Th’ king dines with Wall sthreet magnates. Jools missin’ fr’m th’ crown.’ Ye see, th’ hat had not been out f’r a long time an’ whin they come to get it fr’m th’ box, ’twas found that manny iv th’ vallyable gems in th’ band was missin’. I don’t know whether ’tis thrue or not, but ’tis said that th’ ancesthors iv th’ prisint king, bein’ hard up, was used to pick a jool out iv th’ hat iv a Saturdah night an’ go down to Mose at th’ corner an’ get something on it. An’ whin times was slack an’ th’ ponies backward, they cudden’t get th’ jools out, so they cut a piece fr’m th’ window an’ pasted it in. It looked f’r awhile as though th’ king wud have to be cawrnated be a glazier. They cudden’t find th’ tickets high or low. It wudden’t do to cawrnate him in a glass hat, an’ there was gr-reat thribylations, but Pierpont Morgan come along at th’ right moment an’ give thim a handful iv his unimportant jools an’ th’ hat was properly decorated. Fr’m that time on we saw that if we were to get th’ worth iv our money, we’d have to do th’ job oursilves, an’ ivrybody turned in to help our depindant cousins. Andhrew Carnaygie lint Wistminsther Abbey which was superbly dicorated with tapestries lint be J. Pierpont Morgan; Yerkes lint thim th’ sthreets; Frohman th’ theatres; th’ American syndicate give thim th’ use iv th’ river, an’ a hundherd thousand lile American hearts an’ lungs lint thim a pathriotic howl that made th’ king jump ivry time he heerd it.
“An’ th’ American duchesses! Were they there? Look in th’ pa-apers. I sometimes wondher whin I read th’ palajeems iv our liberties whether an English nobleman iver marries at home. Is it a law that prevints thim fr’m marryin’ thim fresh-faced, clear-eyed daughters iv ol’ Albion or is it fear? Annyhow, th’ American duchesses is about all there is to it in London. They were at th’ cawrnation, ye bet. They were th’ cawrnation. They bore th’ thrain iv th’ queen. No wan can lift a thrain betther or higher thin a free-born American lady. At th’ side iv her majesty walked th’ beautiful Duchess iv Binkie-whistle, born Lucy hicks iv Dobbs Ferry. Th’ Duchess’ father an’ mother come over las’ week with their respictive fam’lies, an’ it is undhershtud that wan iv th’ happiest ivints iv th’ whole glad cawrnation season was th’ determination iv Ma Hicks to devote her alimony intire to rebuildin’ th’ ancesthral mansion iv th’ jook. Pa Hicks, not to be outdone, announced that he wud add th’ rent derived fr’m th’ ancesthral mansion iv th’ duchess, which is now used as a livery stable.
“An’ so th’ gr-reat ivint come off. I won’t describe it to ye. It’s been done betther thin I cud do it be a fearless press. Ye know ye’ersilf how th’ pro-cission winded its way through th’ sthreets; how Wistminsther Abbey was crowded with peers an’ peeresses, an’ what a mighty shout wint up fr’m Willum Waldorf Astor whin he come in an’ sat on his hat near th’ dure. It was all right. First come th’ prelates backin’ to’rd th’ althar. Thin all th’ jooks bowin’ low. Thin th’ queen, attinded be a bevy iv American duchesses. Thin th’ king lookin’ ivry inch a king–sixty-four be sixty-two in all. Thin th’ Rile Shoes, th’ Rile Socks, th’ Rile Collar an’ Cuffs, an’ th’ Rile Hat borne be th’ hereditary Sockbearers, Shoesters, Collariferios, an’ th’ High an’ Magnificint Lid-Lord (in chains). Suddenly all is silent. A hush falls on th’ assimblage, broken on’y be a low, sad cry. Willum Waldorf Astor has fainted.
“An’ so, says th’ pa-aper, in th’ prisince iv th’ mighty dead an’ th’ mighty near dead, among th’ surroundings that recalled th’ days iv shivaree an’ in an atmosphere full iv aristocratic assocyations, on account iv th’ vintilation bein’ poor, Albert Edward Ernest Pathrick Arthur, king, definder iv th’ faith, put on his hat. Th’ organ pealed off a solemn peal, th’ cannons boomed, th’ duchesses et hard-biled eggs out iv a paper bag, an’ a pale man in silk tights wept over th’ tomb iv Major Andhre. It was Joseph Chote. That night all Great Britain rejoiced, fr’m wan end iv Ireland to th’ other th’ lile popylace showed their joy an’ th’ sky was lit up be hundherds iv burnin’ barns an’ a salute iv forty-four guns was fired in th’ County Kerry at a landlord’s agent comin’ home fr’m a ball.
“I hope he’ll make a good king. I ain’t so much down on kings as I used to be, Hinnissy. I ain’t down on thim anny more because I don’t invy thim, an’ ye can’t be down on anny man ye don’t invy. ‘Tis a hard job an’ a thankless wan. A king nowadays is no more thin a hitchin’ post f’r wan pollytician afther another. He ain’t allowed to move himsilf, but anny crazy pollytician that ties up to him is apt to pull him out be th’ roots. He niver has anny childhood. He’s like th’ breaker-boys in th’ mines; he’s put to wurruk larnin’ his thrade as soon as he can walk. Whin it comes time f’r him to marry, th’ prime ministher takes him out wan day an’ says: ‘There’s th’ on’y woman in th’ wurruld f’r ye.’ ‘But I niver see her befure,’ says th’ unforchnit king. ‘Ye’ll see less iv her afther nex’ week,’ says th’ prime ministher. ‘Ye’re goin’ to marry her,’ he says. An’ he backs him up to th’ bench where th’ young lady sets an’ inthrajooces thim an’ they’re marrid. Think iv havin’ th’ boord iv aidhermen silict a wife f’r ye an’ ye’ll know how th’ king feels whin a warrant is sarved again’ him to hook up with his cousin Agoosta Ann, a German lady who freckles aisily an’ croshays neckties f’r a lift’nant in th’ army. All his life long a king is bossed about like a hired girl in a boardin’ house, an’ he can’t aven die without havin’ a lot iv people runnin’ in ivry tin minyits to ask has he done it yet so they can be on th’ mark to holler ‘God save th’ king’ out iv th’ front window th’ moment th’ flag falls. No, sir; I don’t want to be a king an’ whiniver I see a good fellow takin’ th’ job, I feel sorry f’r him. I know what he is up again’.”
“I believe ye’re no betther thin th’ rest iv thim thraitors,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“I’m diff’rent,” said Mr. Dooley, calmly. “They helped him in an’ I’d do annything in me power, now that he is king, to help him out.”
One Advantage of Poverty
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, “ye ought to be glad ye’re not sick an’ illusthrees at th’ same time.”
“How’s that?” Mr. Hennessy demanded.
“Well, ye see,” said Mr. Dooley, “suppose annything happens to ye now; a fellow counthryman dhrops a hammer on ye th’ day afther th’ picnic or ye’er di-gestion listens to a walkin’ dillygate fr’m th’ Union iv Microbes an’ goes out on sthrike. Th’ polisman on th’ corner has th’ usual suspicions among gintlemen an’ hits ye over th’ head an’ calls th’ wagon an’ sinds ye home. Th’ good woman wrings her hands an’ calls Hiven to witness that if ye have a toothache ye wake th’ neighborhood, an’ slaps a mustard plasther on ye. If she comes back later an’ finds ye haven’t put th’ sheet between ye an’ th’ plasther an’ gone to sleep, she knows ’tis seeryous an’ sinds f’r th’ doctor. We continyoo to have doctors in what th’ pa-apers calls th’ outlyin’ wards. They live above th’ dhrug-store an’ practice midicine on us. Th’ physicians an’ surgeons are all down town editin’ th’ pa-apers. Well, dock comes to ye afther awhile in a buggy. On th’ way up he sets a broken leg, removes an arm, does a little something f’r th’ city directhry, takes a dhrink, talks pollyticks with th’ unhappy parent an’ fin’lly lands at ye’er dure with th’ burglar’s tools. Afther he’s closed that dure th’ secrets iv th’ inner man is known on’y to him. No wan hears or wants to hear annything about it. Th’ nex’ time we see ye, ye come out lookin’ pale an’ emacyated an’ much younger an’ betther lookin’ thin annywan iver raymimbers seein’ ye, an’ afther awhile ye obsarve that whin ye start to tell how manny stitches it took an’ what ye see whin ye smelled th’ dizzy sponge, ye’er frinds begin to sprint away. An’ ye go back reluctantly to wurruk. Ye niver hear annywan say: ‘Hinnissy is great comp’ny whin he begins to talk about his sickness.’ I’ve seen men turn fr’m a poor, helpless, enthusyastic invalid to listen to a man talkin’ about th’ Nicaragoon canal.
“But with th’ great ’tis far diff’rent. I’ve often thanked th’ Lord that I didn’t continyoo in pollytics whin I was cap’n iv me precinct, f’r with th’ eyes iv all th’ wurruld focussed, as Hogan says, on me, I cud niver injye th’ pleasure iv a moment’s sickness without people in far-off Boolgahrya knowin’ whether me liver was on sthraight. Sickness is wan iv th’ privileges iv th’ poor man that he shares with no wan. Whin it comes kindly to him, th’ four walls iv his room closes in on him like a tent, folks goes by on th’ other side iv th’ sthreet, th’ rollin’ mill disappears, an’ with th’ mornin’ comes no honest day’s tile. He lies there in blessid idleness an’ no matther what’s th’ matther with him, he don’t suffer half as much pain as he would in pursoot iv two dollars a day. I knowed a man wanst who used to take his vacations that way. Whin others wint off f’r to hunt what Hogan calls th’ finny monsthers iv th’ deep, he become seeryously ill an’ took to bed. It made him very sthrong.
“But suppose I hadn’t resigned fr’m cap’n iv me precinct whin I was defeated. If annything had happened to me, ye’d pick up th’ pa-apers an’ see: ‘Seeryous news about th’ Cap’n iv th’ twinty-sicond precinct iv th’ sixth ward. He has brain fever. He has not. He got in a fight with a Swede an’ had his ribs stove in. He fell out iv th’ window iv a joolry store he was burglarizin’ an’ broke th’ left junction iv th’ sizjymoid cartilage. Th’ throuble with th’ Cap’n is he dhrinks too much. A man iv his age who has been a soak all his life always succumbs to anny throuble like hyperthroopily iv th’ cranium. Docthor Muggers, dean iv th’ Post Gradyate Vethrinary school iv Osteopathy says he had a similar case las’ year in Mr. Hinnery Haitch Clohessy, wan iv th’ best known citizens iv this city. Like th’ Cap, Mr. Clohessy was a high liver, a heavy dhrinker, a gambler an’ a flirt. Th’ cases are almost identical. Owin’ to th’ code iv pro-fissional eethics Dr. Muggers cud not tell th’ bereaved fam’ly what ailed Misther Clohessy, but it was undoubtedly his Past Life.’
“Thin come th’ doctors. Not wan doctor, Hinnissy, to give ye a whiff out iv a towel an’ make ye sleep f’r an hour an’ wake up an’ say ‘I fooled ye. Whin do ye begin?’ No, but all iv thim. They escort th’ prisoner up th’ sthreet in a chariot, an’ th’ little newsboys runs alongside sellin’ exthry papers. ‘Our night edition will print th’ inside facts about Cap Dooley’s condition, an’ th’ Cap himsilf with a cinematograph iv th’ jolly proceedin’s be Dock Laparatonny.’ What happens to th’ criminal at first is th’ same as if he was a dacint, wurrukin’ man. But whin that is done, an’ ’tis gettin’ so aisy they tell me they’se not much diff’rence between a good clam-salesman an’ a first-class surgeon, th’ lithry wurruk begins. Ye think ’tis all over whin ye say: ‘Dock, put ye’er hand undher th’ pillow an’ take what’s there.’ But not so. Th’ assembled docks adjourn to a large hall an’ prepare th’ story iv ‘Cap Dooley; a Stormy Career. Be wan who knows.’
“‘Upon seein’ th’ Cap, we at once diagnosed th’ case as peritclipalitickipantilitisitis, or chicken bone in th’ throat. Dr. Pincers operated, Dr. Smothers administhered th’ annysthetic, Dr. Hygeen opened th’ window, Dr. Anodyne turned on th’ gas, Dr. Aluompaine turned th’ pitchers to th’ wall, Dr. Rambo looked out th’ window, Docthors Peroxide, Gycal, Cephalgern, Antipyreen an’ Coltar took a walk in th’ park, an’ Doctor Saliclate figured up th’ bill. As we have said we diagnosed th’ case as above. We can’t raymimber th’ name. It depinds on how th’ syllables came out iv th’ hat. We were wrong, although what we see whin we got in more thin made up f’r th’ error. We made a long incision fr’m th’ chin down an’ another acrost an’ not findin’ what we expicted, but manny things that ought to be kept fr’m th’ fam’ly, we put th’ Cap back an’ wint on. Th’ op’ration was a complete success. Th’ wretch is restin an’ swearin’ easily. We have given him a light meal iv pickles an’ antiseptic oats, an’ surgical science havin’ done its duty, mus’ lave th’ rest to Nature, which was not in th’ consultation, bein’ considhered be some iv us, slightly irregular. (Signed) Look at our names: ‘Pincers, Anodyne, Peroxide, Smothers, Coltar, Antipyreen, Cepalgeen, Alicompane, Gycal, Hygeen, Rambo, Saliclate.’
“But that’s nawthin’. If ye think they’se annything ye wud like to keep up ye’er sleeve, look f’r it in th’ pa-apers. ‘Th’ followin’ facts is stated on th’ authority iv wan iv th’ attindin’ surgeons: Cap Dooley cut up terribly undher th’ chloryform, singin’ songs, swearin’ an’ askin’ f’r Lucy. His wife’s name is Annamariar. She was in th’ adjinin’ room. It seems they have had throuble. Th’ room was poorly furnished. Th’ Cap’s clothes was much worn as was most iv him. He must have led a shockin’ life. It is doubtful if he will iver raycover f’r he is very, very old. He has been concealin’ his age f’r manny years. He is a notoryous profligate, as was well shown be th’ view we had. Th’ flash light pitcher iv th’ Cap will appeal to all who know his inner histhry.’
“An’ there ye ar-re. Think iv a man comin’ out in th’ light iv day afther all that. He can’t get on clothes enough to cover him. He may bear himsilf with a haughty manner, but he feels that ivry man he meets knows more about him thin he knows himsilf. Th’ fellow on th’ sthreet has been within th’ walls. He’s sayin’ to himsilf: ‘Ye’re a hollow sham composed akelly iv impaired organs an’ antiseptic gauze.’ To th’ end iv his life, he’ll niver be annything more thin an annytomical chart to his frinds. His privacy is over f’river, f’r what good can it do annywan, Hinnissy, to pull down th’ blinds iv his bed room if ivrybody knows exactly th’ size, shape an’ location iv his spleen?
“No, sir, if I’ve got to be sick, give me th’ ordhn’ry dacencies iv poverty. I don’t want anny man to know anny more about me thin he can larn fr’m th’ handiwork iv Marks, th’ tailor, an’ Schmitt, th’ shoemaker, an’ fr’m th’ deceitful expression iv me face. If I have a bad heart, let him know it be me eyes. On me vest is written: ‘Thus far an’ no farther.’ They’se manny a man on intimate terms with th’ King iv England to-day that don’t know anny more about me thin that I’m broadcloth on Sundah an’ serge on week days. An’ I don’t intind they shall. I hide behind th’ privileges iv me position an’ say: ‘Fellow-citizens, docks an’ journalists, I cannot inthrajooce ye to th’ Inner Man. He’s a reecloose an’ avarse to s’ciety. He’s modest an’ shy an’ objects to callers. Ye can guess what kind iv man I am but I wudden’t have ye know.’ An’ I can do that as long as I stay poor.”
“I’m glad I’m poor,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“It gives ye less to talk about but more to think about,” said Mr. Dooley.
The Fighting Word
“That man Bailey iv Texas f’r me ivry time,” said Mr. Dooley.
“What’s he been doin’?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“He done me frind Biv’ridge iv Injyanny,” said Mr. Dooley. “An’ I’m f’r him f’r leader iv th’ party. He’s wan iv th’ best two-handed orators in th’ sinit or annywhere. He has a wondherful left an’ his repartee with th’ right is said to be very stingin’. He’s inthrajooced th’ sthrangle holt be means iv which th’ debate can be suddenly cut off. He’s me ideel leader.
“I want a leader who’s got a good grip on public affairs an’ men, who can take hold iv anny question or anny raypublican an’ choke it or him till they’re black in th’ face. Bailey’s th’ boy. I followed Tillman f’r awhile, but he’s gone back. He belongs to th’ ol’ school iv parlymintaryans, th’ same that Jawn L. Sullivan belongs to. He’s clever f’r an old ‘un an’ I’d be willin’ to back him again anny raypublican in New England at catch-weights. His reply to Sinitor McLaurin was said to be wan iv th’ quickest iver heerd since th’ days iv Dan’l Webster. It laid open th’ scalp. But they tell me Tillman’s speeches is not what Hogan calls impromptchu. He rehearses thim ivry mornin’ with a punchin’-bag. Bailey is more iv a nachral debater. No holds barred with him. Hand or fut, ’tis all th’ same.
“What was it all about, says ye? Well, ye see this sinitor fr’m Injyanny, me frind Jeremiah Biv’ridge made a mos’ insultin’ remark to Misther Bailey. What did he say? I mustn’t tell ye. No, no, ’tis too horrible. Well, if ye must hear it, close th’ dure an’ pull down th’ blinds. Whisper! There! There ye have it. I blush to raypeat th’ wurruds. To think that anny man shud so demean himsilf as to imagine such a thing, lave alone say it. But he did–right out in th’ Sinit befure Hinnery Cabin Lodge. Oh, it was turr’ble. Here it is in th’ pa-apers: ‘Misther Biv’ridge said th’ st-t-m-nts iv th’ hon’rable sinitor fr’m Texas was unw-r-nted.’ Modesty where was thy blush? as Shakespere says. Now, th’ sinitors iv th’ United States is not aisily shocked. That’s not th’ way ye get into th’ Sinit. Th’ bright blush iv shame hasn’t been used there more thin twice since th’ war. Ye can say almost annything ye like to a sinitor. Ye can say he wanst stole a horse, that he’s livin’ undher an assumed name, that he was made be a thrust, that his on’y nourishment is beets, or that he belongs to New York s’ciety, an’ th’ Sinit will on’y yawn. But wanst even hint that his such-an’-such is so-an’-so (I will not repeat th’ heejous wurruds) an’ ye mus’ hurry an’ slip on th’ brass knuckles, f’r they’se a slap comin’ to ye.
“Here’s what happened: ‘Sinitor Bailey stepped quickly over Sinitors Hoar, Mason, Quay, an’ others an’ made f’r where Sinitor Biv’ridge was quitely smokin’ a cigar an’ talkin’ to himsilf. Sinitor Bailey says: “Hon’rable sir, ye must withdraw that loathsome insinooation again’ me good name,” he says. “I have not led a pure life. No man has. I don’t claim to be anny betther thin others. But no wan befure has iver said about me such things as these, an’ if ye don’t take thim back at wanst, I’ll kill ye, I’ll choke ye, I’ll give ye a poke in th’ eye,” he says. “I cannot consint,” says th’ bold sinitor fr’m Injyanny, “I cannot consint to haul back me epithet. It wud not be sinitoryal courtesy,” he says. “Thin,” says Sinitor Bailey, “here goes f’r an assault an’ batthry.” An’ with a gesture iv th’ thrue orator, he seized him be th’ throat. Th’ debate become gin’ral. Sinitor Spooner iv Wisconsin led f’r th’ raypublicans an’ Sinitor Morgan iv Alabama counthered f’r th’ dimmycrats. Sinitor Platt made a very happy retort with a chair, to which Sinitor Gorman replied with a sintintious cuspidor. Owin’ to th’ excitin’ nature iv th’ debate on’y a few iv th’ best remarks reached th’ gall’ry, wan iv thim, a piece iv hard coal, layin’ out a riprisintative iv th’ Sultan iv Zulu. At th’ hospital he declared himsilf much imprissed. Durin’ th’ proceedin’s Biv’ridge acted in th’ mos’ gintlemanly an’ even ladylike manner. His face wore a smile iv complete sang fraud or pain, an’ he niver took his cigar fr’m his mouth wanst. Indeed, it was siv’ral hours befure th’ Havana cud be exthracted be th’ surgeon who was called in. While th’ debate was in progress, a pitcher iv Thomas Jefferson was obsarved to give a slight moan an’ turn its face to th’ wall. Th’ Sinit thin took up routine business an’ th’ janitor swept up th’ hair an’ neckties. Sinitor Biv’ridge was not much hurt. Th’ tinder outside iv th’ wind-pipe was somewhat bruised, but th’ wurrukin’ inside is still intact.’
“‘Twas a pretty scene, Hinnissy, an’ wan that makes me proud iv Bailey f’r his courage in pouncin’ on his collague; iv Biv’ridge f’r th’ manly self resthraint an’ rayspict f’r th’ dignity iv th’ Sinit that par’lyzes a man’s hands whin his wind is cut off; iv our noble counthry that projooces such sturdy sons, iv th’ Sinit that brings thim together in a clinch an’ iv mesilf because I wasn’t there. I’m with Bailey. Bailey f’r prisidint! Bailey or bust or choke!
“I’m not sure that if I was in th’ same place I’d do th’ same thing. But I’m no statesman. Who am I to say that what wudden’t be manners in a bar-room is not all right in th’ Sinit? Diff’rent men has diff’rent raisons f’r fightin’. Ivry man will fight. Ye can bet on that. A brave man will fight because he is brave an’ a cow’rd because he is a cow’rd. All men will fight an’ all men will run. Some will fight befure they’ll run, but they’ll run; some men will run befure they’ll fight, but they’ll fight. They’se a pretty good fight an’ a pretty fast run in ivry man I know. Th’ debate in th’ Sinit don’t prove annything about th’ merits iv ayether pug. In some other circumstances, Biv’ridge might have hunted Bailey up a three. It happened to be Bailey’s day.
“As I get on in years, I believe less in fightin’. ‘Tis a turr’ble thing to see th’ aged an’ infirm swingin’ away at each other. ‘Tis so unscientific. I hate to think iv a man with one leg in th’ grave usin’ th’ other to thrip th’ free foot iv a fellow aged. I’m glad Bailey an’ Biv’ridge ar-re young men. What a scandal if Sinitor Cullom an’ Sinitor Morgan shud mix it up! Wan iv th’ things a man larns as he grows old is to dislike fightin’. He dislikes annything he can’t do as well as he cud. I’m that way. But I wasn’t always so. No, sir. They was a time whin I’d fight at th’ dhrop iv a hat, f’r money or marbles or pool checks, f’r th’ good name iv women or th’ revarse, f’r political principles or unprincipled politics, f’r th’ gate receipts, f’r me relligion, f’r th’ look iv th’ thing, because th’ barkeeper heard what he said, because he whispered to her, f’r th’ sacred theery that th’ buildin’s is higher in Chicago thin in New York, f’r th’ fun iv th’ thing, an’ f’r th’ Fight. That last’s th’ best iv all. A man that won’t fight f’r th’ fight itsilf is no rale fighter. I don’t know what wud make me fight nowadays. I know lots iv things that wud make me want to fight, but I’ve larned to repress me desires. Me heart is full iv song but I’ve lost me voice. In me dhreams I’m always punchin’ somebody’s head. I shall niver f’rget th’ night whin I put Jeffries out iv th’ business with wan well-directed punch an’ me in me bare feet, too. I can niver f’rget it f’r I fell out iv bed and bumped me head again’ th’ rocker iv a chair. But in me wakin’ hours, I’m a man iv vi’lent impulses an’ peaceful raysults. In a fight I’d be like a deef-mute in a debatin’ s’ciety. But as I said, Hinnissy, they was a day whin th’ lightest wurrud was an insult. Nowadays I say to mesilf: ‘Considher th’ soorce. How can such a low blaggard as that insult me? Jus’ because some dhrunken wretch chooses to apply a foul epitaph to me, am I goin’ to dignify him be knockin’ him down in th’ public sthreet an’ p’raps not, an’ gettin’ th’ head beat off me? No, sir. I will raymimber me position in th’ community. I will pass on with a smile iv bitter contempt. Maybe I’d betther run a little.’
“Th’ las’ throuble I got into I begun to think iv th’ new suit I had on an’ I knew me warryor days was over. Whin a man raymimbers his clothes or his appearance in battle, ’tis high time f’r him to retire fr’m th’ ring. Th’ ca’m, almost deathlike smile that rests upon a man’s face whin another man is cloutin’ him about is on’y th’ outward exprission iv something about two numbers up th’ chest fr’m sea sickness. That’s all I’ve got to say about fightin’. Ye can’t lay down anny rules about it.”
“Ye niver will go to th’ Sinit with thim views,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“I don’t want to,” said Mr. Dooley. “Some day th’ Sinit will be pulled.”
Home Life of Geniuses
“A woman ought to be careful who she marries,” said Mr. Dooley.
“So ought a man,” said Mr. Hennessy, with feeling.
“It don’t make so much diff’rence about him,” said Mr. Dooley. “Whin a man’s marrid, he’s a marrid man. That’s all ye can say about him. Iv coorse, he thinks marredge is goin’ to change th’ whole current iv his bein’, as Hogan says. But it doesn’t. Afther he’s been hooked up f’r a few months, he finds he was marrid befure, even if he wasn’t, which is often th’ case, d’ye mind. Th’ first bride iv his bosom was th’ Day’s Wurruk, an’ it can’t be put off. They’se no groun’s f’r dissolvin’ that marredge, Hinnissy. Ye can’t say to th’ Day’s Wurruk: ‘Here, take this bunch iv alimony an’ go on th’ stage.’ It turns up at breakfast about th’ fourth month afther th’ weddin’ an’ creates a scandal. Th’ unforchnit man thries to shoo it off but it fixes him with its eye an’ hauls him away fr’m the bacon an’ eggs, while the lady opposite weeps and wondhers what he can see in annything so old an’ homely. It says, ‘Come with me, aroon,’ an’ he goes. An’ afther that he spinds most iv his time an’ often a good deal iv his money with th’ enchantress. I tell ye what, Hinnissy, th’ Day’s Wurruk has broke up more happy homes thin comic opry. If th’ coorts wud allow it, manny a woman cud get a divorce on th’ groun’s that her husband cared more f’r his Day’s Wurruk thin he did f’r her. ‘Hinnissy varsus Hinnissy; corryspondint, th’ Day’s Wurruk.’ They’d be ividince that th’ defindant was seen ridin’ in a cab with th’ corryspondint, that he took it to a picnic, that he wint to th’ theaytre with it, that he talked about it in his sleep, an’ that, lost to all sinse iv shame, he even escoorted it home with him an’ inthrajooced it to his varchoos wife an’ innocint childher. So it don’t make much diff’rence who a man marries. If he has a job, he’s safe.
“But with a woman ’tis diff’rent. Th’ man puts down on’y part iv th’ bet. Whin he’s had enough iv th’ convarsation that in Union Park undher th’ threes med him think he was talkin’ with an intellechool joyntess, all he has to do is to put on his coat, grab up his dinner pail an’ go down to th’ shops, to be happy though marrid. But a woman, I tell ye, bets all she has. A man don’t have to marry but a woman does. Ol’ maids an’ clargymen do th’ most good in th’ wurruld an’ we love thim f’r th’ good they do. But people, especially women, don’t want to be loved that way. They want to he loved because people can’t help lovin’ thim no matther how bad they are. Th’ story books that ye give ye’er daughter Honoria all tell her ’tis just as good not to be marrid. She reads about how kind Dorothy was to Lulu’s childher an’ she knows Dorothy was th’ betther woman, but she wants to be Lulu. Her heart, an’ a cold look in th’ eye iv th’ wurruld an’ her Ma tell her to hurry up. Arly in life she looks f’r th’ man iv her choice in th’ tennis records; later she reads th’ news fr’m th’ militia encampmint; thin she studies th’ socyal raygisther; further on she makes hersilf familyar with Bradsthreets’ rayports, an’ fin’lly she watches th’ place where life presarvers are hangin’.
“Now, what kind iv a man ought a woman to marry? She oughtn’t to marry a young man because she’ll grow old quicker thin he will; she oughtn’t to marry an old man because he’ll be much older befure he’s younger; she oughtn’t to marry a poor man because he may become rich an’ lose her; she oughtn’t to marry a rich man because if he becomes poor, she can’t lose him; she oughtn’t to marry a man that knows more thin she does, because he’ll niver fail to show it, an’ she oughtn’t to marry a man that knows less because he may niver catch up. But above all things she mustn’t marry a janius. A flure-walker, perhaps; a janius niver.
“I tell ye this because I’ve been r-readin’ a book Hogan give me, about th’ divvle’s own time a janius had with his fam’ly. A cap iv industhry may have throuble in his fam’ly till there isn’t a whole piece iv chiny in th’ cupboard, an’ no wan will be the wiser f’r it but th’ hired girl an’ th’ doctor that paints th’ black eye. But ivrybody knows what happens in a janius’ house. Th’ janius always tells th’ bartinder. Besides he has other janiuses callin’ on him, an’ ’tis th’ business iv a janius to write about th’ domestic throubles iv other janiuses so posterity’ll know what a hard thing it is to be a janius. I’ve been readin’ this book iv Hogan’s an’ as I tell ye, ’tis about th’ misery a wretched woman inflicted on a pote’s life.
“‘Our hayro,’ says th’ author,’ at this peeryod conthracted an unforchnit alliance that was destined to cast a deep gloom over his career. At th’ age iv fifty, afther a life devoted to th’ pursoot iv such gayety as janiuses have always found niciss’ry to solace their avenin’s, he marrid a young an’ beautiful girl some thirty-two years his junior. This wretched crather had no appreciation iv lithrachoor or lithry men. She was frivolous an’ light-minded an’ ividintly considhered that nawthin’ was rally lithrachoor that cudden’t be thranslated into groceries. Niver shall I f’rget th’ expression iv despair on th’ face iv this godlike man as he came into Casey’s saloon wan starry July avenin’ an’ staggered into his familyar seat, holdin’ in his hand a bit iv soiled paper which he tore into fragmints an’ hurled into th’ coal scuttle. On that crumpled parchmint findin’ a sombre grave among th’ disinterred relics iv an age long past, to wit, th’ cariboniferious or coal age, was written th’ iver-mim’rable pome: “Ode to Gin.” Our frind had scribbled it hastily at th’ dinner iv th’ Betther-thin-Shakespere Club, an’ had attimpted to read it to his wife through th’ keyhole iv her bedroom dure an’ met no response fr’m th’ fillystein but a pitcher iv wather through th’ thransom. Forchnitly he had presarved a copy on his cuff an’ th’ gem was not lost to posterity. But such was th’ home life iv wan iv th’ gr-reatest iv lithry masters, a man indowed be nachure with all that shud make a woman adore him as is proved be his tindher varses: ‘To Carrie,’ ‘To Maude,’ ‘To Flossie,’ ‘To Angehel,’ ‘To Queenie,’ an’ so foorth. De Bonipoort in his cillybrated ‘Mimores,’ in which he tells ivrything unpleasant he see or heerd in his frinds’ houses, gives a sthrikin’ pitcher iv a scene that happened befure his eyes. ‘Afther a few basins iv absceenthe in th’ reev gosh,’ says he, ‘Parnassy invited us home to dinner. Sivral iv th’ bum vivonts was hard to wake up, but fin’lly we arrived at th’ handsome cellar where our gr-reat frind had installed his unworthy fam’ly. Ivrything pinted to th’ admirable taste iv th’ thrue artist. Th’ tub, th’ washboard, th’ biler singin’ on th’ fire, th’ neighbor’s washin’ dancin’ on the clothes rack, were all in keepin’ with th’ best ideels iv what a pote’s home shud be. Th’ wife, a faded but still pretty woman, welcomed us more or less, an’ with th’ assistance iv sivral bottles iv paint we had brought with us, we was soon launched on a feast iv raison an’ a flow iv soul. Unhappily befure th’ raypast was con-cluded a mis’rable scene took place. Amid cries iv approval, Parnassy read his mim’rable pome intitled: ‘I wisht I nivir got marrid.’ Afther finishin’ in a perfect roar of applause, he happened to look up an’ see his wife callously rockin’ th’ baby. With th’ impetchosity so charackteristic iv th’ man, he broke a soup plate over her head an’ burst into tears on th’ flure, where gentle sleep soon soothed th’ pangs iv a weary heart. We left as quitely as we cud, considherin’ th’ way th’ chairs was placed, an’ wanst undher th’ stars comminted on th’ ir’ny iv fate that condimned so great a man to so milancholy a distiny.
“‘This,’ says our author, ‘was th’ daily life iv th’ hayro f’r tin years. In what purgatory will that infamous woman suffer if Hiven thinks as much iv janiuses as we think iv oursilves. Forchnitly th’ pote was soon to be marcifully relieved. He left her an’ she marrid a boorjawce with whom she led a life iv coarse happiness. It is sad to relate that some years aftherward th’ great pote, havin’ called to make a short touch on th’ woman f’r whom he had sacryficed so much, was unfeelingly kicked out iv th’ boorjawce’s plumbin’ shop.’
“So, ye see, Hinnissy, why a woman oughtn’t to marry a janius. She can’t be cross or peevish or angry or jealous or frivolous or annything else a woman ought to be at times f’r fear it will get into th’ ditchn’ry iv bio-graphy, an’ she’ll go down to histhry as a termygant. A termygant, Hinnissy, is a woman who’s heerd talkin’ to her husband after they’ve been marrid a year. Hogan says all janiuses was unhappily marrid. I guess that’s thrue iv their wives, too. He says if ye hear iv a pote who got on with his fam’ly, scratch him fr’m ye’er public lib’ry list. An’ there ye ar-re.”
“Ye know a lot about marredge,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“I do,” said Mr. Dooley.
“Ye was niver marrid?”
“No,” said Mr. Dooley. “No, I say, givin’ three cheers. I know about marredge th’ way an asthronomer knows about th’ stars. I’m studyin’ it through me glass all th’ time.”
“Ye’re an asthronomer,” said Mr. Hennessy; “but,” he added, tapping himself lightly on the chest, “I’m a star.”
“Go home,” said Mr. Dooley crossly, “befure th’ mornin’ comes to put ye out.”
Reform Administration
“Why is it,” asked Mr. Hennessy, “that a rayform administhration always goes to th’ bad?”
“I’ll tell ye,” said Mr. Dooley. “I tell ye ivrything an’ I’ll tell ye this. In th’ first place ’tis a gr-reat mistake to think that annywan ra-aly wants to rayform. Ye niver heerd iv a man rayformin’ himsilf. He’ll rayform other people gladly. He likes to do it. But a healthy man’ll niver rayform while he has th’ strenth. A man doesn’t rayform till his will has been impaired so he hasn’t power to resist what th’ pa-apers calls th’ blandishments iv th’ timpter. An’ that’s thruer in politics thin annywhere else.
“But a rayformer don’t see it. A rayformer thinks he was ilicted because he was a rayformer, whin th’ thruth iv th’ matther is he was ilicted because no wan knew him. Ye can always ilict a man in this counthry on that platform. If I was runnin’ f’r office, I’d change me name, an’ have printed on me cards: ‘Give him a chanst; he can’t be worse.’ He’s ilicted because th’ people don’t know him an’ do know th’ other la-ad; because Mrs. Casey’s oldest boy was clubbed be a polisman, because we cudden’t get wather above th’ third story wan day, because th’ sthreet car didn’t stop f’r us, because th’ Flannigans bought a pianny, because we was near run over be a mail wagon, because th’ saloons are open Sundah night, because they’re not open all day, an’ because we’re tired seein’ th’ same face at th’ window whin we go down to pay th’ wather taxes. Th’ rayformer don’t know this. He thinks you an’ me, Hinnissy, has been watchin’ his spotless career f’r twinty years, that we’ve read all he had to say on th’ evils iv pop’lar sufferage befure th’ Society f’r the Bewildermint iv th’ Poor, an’ that we’re achin’ in ivry joint to have him dhrag us be th’ hair iv th’ head fr’m th’ flowin’ bowl an’ th’ short card game, make good citizens iv us an’ sind us to th’ pinitinchry. So th’ minyit he gets into th’ job he begins a furyous attimpt to convart us into what we’ve been thryin’ not to be iver since we come into th’ wurruld.
“In th’ coorse iv th’ twinty years that he spint attimptin’ to get office, he managed to poke a few warrum laws conthrollin’ th’ pleasures iv th’ poor into th’ stachoo book, because no wan cared about thim or because they made business betther f’r th’ polis, an’ whin he’s in office, he calls up th’ Cap’n iv the polis an’ says he: ‘If these laws ar-re bad laws th’ way to end thim is to enfoorce thim.’ Somebody told him that, Hinnissy. It isn’t thrue, d’ye mind. I don’t care who said it, not if ’twas Willum Shakespere. It isn’t thrue. Laws ar-re made to throuble people an’ th’ more throuble they make th’ longer they stay on th’ stachoo book. But th’ polis don’t ast anny questions. Says they: ‘They’ll be less money in th’ job but we need some recreation,’ an’ that night a big copper comes down th’ sthreet, sees me settin’ out on th’ front stoop with me countenance dhraped with a tin pail, fans me with his club an’ runs me in. Th’ woman nex’ dure is locked up f’r sthringin’ a clothes line on th’ roof, Hannigan’s boy Tim gets tin days f’r keepin’ a goat, th’ polis resarves are called out to protict th’ vested rights iv property against th’ haynyous pushcart man, th’ stations is crowded with felons charged with maintainin’ a hose conthrary to th’ stachoos made an’ provided, an’ th’ tindherline is all over town. A rayformer don’t think annything has been accomplished if they’se a vacant bedroom in th’ pinitinchry. His motto is ‘Arrest that man.’
“Whin a rayformer is ilicted he promises ye a business administhration. Some people want that but I don’t. Th’ American business man is too fly. He’s all right, d’ye mind. I don’t say annything again’ him. He is what Hogan calls th’ boolwarks iv pro-gress, an’ we cudden’t get on without him even if his scales are a little too quick on th’ dhrop. But he ought to be left to dale with his akels. ‘Tis a shame to give him a place where he can put th’ comether on millions iv people that has had no business thrainin’ beyond occasionally handin’ a piece iv debased money to a car conductor on a cold day. A reg’lar pollytician can’t give away an alley without blushin’, but a business man who is in pollytics jus’ to see that th’ civil sarvice law gets thurly enfoorced, will give Lincoln Park an’ th’ public libr’y to th’ beef thrust, charge an admission price to th’ lake front an’ make it a felony f’r annywan to buy stove polish outside iv his store, an’ have it all put down to public improvemints with a pitcher iv him in th’ corner stone.
“Fortchnitly, Hinnissy, a rayformer is seldom a business man. He thinks he is, but business men know diff’rent. They know what he is. He thinks business an’ honesty is th’ same thing. He does, indeed. He’s got thim mixed because they dhress alike. His idee is that all he has to do to make a business administhration is to have honest men ar-round him. Wrong. I’m not sayin’, mind ye, that a man can’t do good work an’ be honest at th’ same time. But whin I’m hirin’ a la-ad I find out first whether he is onto his job, an’ afther a few years I begin to suspect that he is honest, too. Manny a dishonest man can lay brick sthraight an’ manny a man that wudden’t steal ye’er spoons will break ye’er furniture. I don’t want Father Kelly to hear me, but I’d rather have a competint man who wud steal if I give him a chanst, but I won’t, do me plumbin’ thin a person that wud scorn to help himsilf but didn’t know how to wipe a joint. Ivry man ought to be honest to start with, but to give a man an office jus’ because he’s honest is like ilictin’ him to Congress because he’s a pathrite, because he don’t bate his wife or because he always wears a right boot on th’ right foot. A man ought to be honest to start with an’ afther that he ought to be crafty. A pollytician who’s on’y honest is jus’ th’ same as bein’ out in a winther storm without anny clothes on.
“Another thing about rayform administhrations is they always think th’ on’y man that ought to hold a job is a lawyer. Th’ raison is that in th’ coorse iv his thrainin’ a lawyer larns enough about ivrything to make a good front on anny subject to annybody who doesn’t know about it. So whin th’ rayform administhration comes in th’ mayor says: ‘Who’ll we make chief iv polis in place iv th’ misguided ruffyan who has held th’ job f’r twinty years?’ ‘Th’ man f’r th’ place,’ says th’ mayor’s adviser, ‘is Arthur Lightout,’ he says. ‘He’s an ixcillent lawyer, Yale, ’95, an’ is well up on polis matthers. Las’ year he read a paper on “The fine polis foorce iv London” befure th’ annyal meetin’ iv th’ S’ciety f’r Ladin’ th’ Mulligan Fam’ly to a Betther an’ Harder Life. Besides,’ he says, ‘he’s been in th’ milishy an’ th’ foorce needs a man who’ll be afraid not to shoot in case iv public disturbance.’ So Arthur takes hold iv th’ constabulary an’ in a year th’ polis can all read Emerson an’ th’ burglars begin puttin’ up laddhers an’ block an’ tackles befure eight A.M. An’ so it is on ivry side. A lawyer has charge iv the city horse-shoein’, another wan is clanin’ th’ sthreets, th’ author iv ‘Gasamagoo on torts’ is thryin’ to dispose iv th’ ashes be throwin’ thim in th’ air on a windy day, an’ th’ bright boy that took th’ silver ware f’r th’ essay on ne exeats an’ their relation to life is plannin’ a uniform that will be sarviceable an’ constitchoochinal f’r th’ brave men that wurruks on th’ city dumps. An’ wan day th’ main rayformer goes out expictin’ to rayceive th’ thanks iv th’ community an’ th’ public that has jus’ got out iv jail f’r lettin’ th’ wather run too long in th’ bath tub rises up an’ cries: ‘Back to th’ Univarsity Settlemint.’ Th’ man with th’ di’mon’ in his shirt front comes home an’ pushes th’ honest lawyers down th’ steps, an’ a dishonest horse shoer shoes th’ city’s horses well, an’ a crooked plumber does th’ city’s plumbin’ securely, an’ a rascally polisman that may not be avarse to pickin’ up a bet but will always find out whin Pathrolman Scanlan slept on his beat, takes hold iv th’ polis foorce, an’ we raysume our nachral condition iv illagal merrimint. An’ th’ rayformer spinds th’ rest iv his life tellin’ us where we are wrong. He’s good at that. On’y he don’t undherstand that people wud rather be wrong an’ comfortable thin right in jail.”
“I don’t like a rayformer,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“Or anny other raypublican,” said Mr. Dooley.
Work and Sport
“A hard time th’ rich have injyin’ life,” said Mr. Dooley.
“I’d thrade with thim,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“I wud not,” said Mr. Dooley. “‘Tis too much like hard wurruk. If I iver got hold iv a little mound iv th’ money, divvle th’ bit iv hardship wud I inflict on mesilf. I’d set on a large Turkish sofa an’ have dancin’ girls dancin’ an’ a mandolin orchesthree playin’ to me. I wudden’t move a step without bein’ carrid. I’d go to bed with th’ lark an’ get up with th’ night watchman. If annywan suggested physical exercise to me, I’d give him forty dollars to go away. I’d hire a prize fighter to do me fightin’ f’r me, a pedesthreen to do me walkin’, a jockey to do me ridin’, an’ a colledge pro-fissor to do me thinkin’. Here I’d set with a naygur fannin’ me with osterich feathers, lookin’ ca’mly out through me stained glass windies on th’ rollin’ mills, smokin’ me good five cint seegar an’ rejicin’ to know how bad ye mus’ be feelin’ ivry time ye think iv me hoorded wealth.
“But that ain’t th’ way it comes out, Hinnissy. Higgins, the millyionaire, had th’ same idee as me whin he was beginnin’ to breed money with a dollar he ownded an’ a dollar he took fr’m some wan that wasn’t there at th’ time. While he was hammerin’ hoops on a bar’l or dhrivin’ pegs into a shoe, he’d stop wanst in a while to wipe th’ sweat off his brow whin th’ boss wasn’t lookin’ an’ he’d say to himsilf: ‘If I iver get it, I’ll have a man wheel me around on a chair.’ But as his stable grows an’ he herds large dhroves down to th’ bank ivry week, he changes his mind, an’ whin he’s got enough to injye life, as they say, he finds he’s up against it. His throubles has just begun. I know in his heart Higgins’ ideel iv luxury is enough buckwheat cakes an’ a cozy corner in a Turkish bath, but he can’t injye it. He mus’ be up an’ doin’. An’ th’ on’y things annywan around him is up an’ doin’ is th’ things he used to get paid f’r doin’ whin he was a young man.
“Arly in th’ mornin’ Higgins has got to be out exercisin’ a horse to keep th’ horse in good health. Higgins has no business on a horse an’ he knows it. He was built an’ idycated f’r a cooper an’ th’ horse don’t fit him. Th’ nachral way f’r Higgins to ride a horse is to set well aft an’ hang onto th’ ears. But he’s tol’ that’s wrong an’ he’s made to set up sthraight an’ be a good fellow an’ meet th’ horse half way. An’ if th’ horse don’t run away with Higgins an’ kill him, he’s tol’ it’s not a good horse an’ he ought to sell it. An’ mind ye, he pays f’r that though he can’t help raymimberin’ th’ man nex’ dure fr’m him used to get tin dollars a week f’r th’ same job.
“Whin he was a young man, Higgins knowed a fellow that dhruv four horses f’r a brewery. They paid him well, but he hated his job. He used to come in at night an’ wish his parents had made him a cooper, an’ Higgins pitied him, knowin’ he cudden’t get out a life insurance policy an’ his wife was scared to death all th’ time. Now that Higgins has got th’ money, he’s took th’ brewery man’s job with worse horses an’ him barred fr’m dhrivin’ with more thin wan hand. An’ does he get annything f’r it? On th’ conth’ry, Hinnissy, it sets him back a large forchune. An’ he says he’s havin’ a good time an’ if th’ brewery man come along an’ felt sorry f’r him, Higgins wudden’t exactly know why.
“Higgins has to sail a yacht raymimberin’ how he despised th’ Swede sailors that used to loaf in th’ saloon near his house dunn’ th’ winter; he has to run an autymobill, which is th’ same thing as dhrivin’ a throlley car on a windy day without pay; he has to play golf, which is th’ same thing as bein’ a letther-carryer without a dacint uniform; he has to play tennis, which is another wurrud f’r batin’ a carpet; he has to race horses, which is the same thing as bein’ a bookmaker with th’ chances again’ ye; he has to go abroad, which is th’ same thing as bein’ an immigrant; he has to set up late, which is th’ same thing as bein’ a dhrug clerk; an’ he has to play cards with a man that knows how, which is th’ same thing as bein’ a sucker.
“He takes his good times hard, Hinnissy. A rich man at spoort is a kind iv non-union laborer. He don’t get wages f’r it an’ he don’t dhrive as well as a milkman, ride as well as a stable-boy, shoot as well as a polisman, or autymobill as well as th’ man that runs th’ steam-roller. It’s a tough life. They’se no rest f’r th’ rich an’ weary. We’ll be readin’ in th’ pa-apers wan iv these days: ‘Alonzo Higgins, th’ runner up in las’ year’s champeenship, showed gr-reat improvement in this year’s brick layin’ tournymint at Newport, an’ won handily with about tin square feet to spare. He was nobly assisted be Regynald Van Stinyvant, who acted as his hod carryer an’ displayed all th’ agility which won him so much applause arlier in th’ year.
“‘Th’ Pickaways carrid off all th’ honors in th’ sewer-diggin’ contest yesterdah, defatin’ th’ Spadewells be five holes to wan. Th’ shovel wurruk iv Cassidy th’ banker was spicially noticeable. Th’ colors iv th’ Pickaways was red flannel undhershirts an’ dark brown trousers.
“‘Raycreations iv rich men: Jawn W. Grates an’ J. Pierpont Morgan ar-re to have a five days’ shinglin’ contest at Narragansett Pier. George Gold is thrainin’ f’r th’ autumn plumbin’ jimkanny. Mitchigan avnoo is tore up fr’m Van Buren sthreet to th’ belt line in priparation f’r th’ contest in sthreet layin’between mimbers iv th’ Assocyation iv More-Thin-Rich Spoorts. Th’ sledge teams is completed but a few good tampers an’ wather men is needed.’
“An’ why not, Hinnissy? If ’tis fun to wurruk why not do some rale wurruk? If ’tis spoort to run an autymobill, why not run a locymotive? If dhrivin’ a horse in a cart is a game, why not dhrive a delivery wagon an’ carry things around? Sure, I s’pose th’ raison a rich man can’t undherstand why wages shud go higher is because th’ rich can’t see why annybody shud be paid f’r annything so amusin’ as wurruk. I bet ye Higgins is wondherin’ at this moment why he was paid so much f’r puttin’ rings around a bar’l.
“No, sir, what’s a rich man’s raycreation is a poor man’s wurruk. Th’ poor ar-re th’ on’y people that know how to injye wealth. Me idee iv settin’ things sthraight is to have th’ rich who wurruk because they like it, do th’ wurruk f’r th’ poor who wud rather rest. I’ll be happy th’ day I see wan iv th’ Hankerbilts pushin’ ye’er little go-cart up th’ platform while ye set in th’ shade iv a three an’ cheer him on his way. I’m sure he’d do it if ye called it a spoort an’ tol him th’ first man to th’ dump wud be entitled to do it over again against sthronger men nex’ week. Wud ye give him a tin cup that he cud put his name on? Wud ye, Hinnissy? I’m sure ye wud.”
“Why do they do it?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“I dinnaw,” said Mr. Dooley, “onless it is that th’ wan great object iv ivry man’s life is to get tired enough to sleep. Ivrything seems to be some kind iv wurruk. Wurruk is wurruk if ye’re paid to do it an’ it’s pleasure if ye pay to be allowed to do it.”
The Names of a Week
“What’s goin’ on this week in th’ papers?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Ivrything,” said Mr. Dooley. “It’s been a turbylint week. I can hardly sleep iv nights thinkin’ iv th’ doin’s iv people. Th’ campinily at Venice has fallen down. ‘Twas built in 1604 be th’ Beezantiums an’ raystored in 1402 be th’ Dogs. It fell down because th’ foundations was weak, because th’ wind blew, because th’ beautiful figure iv th’ goolden angel on top iv it was fifteen feet high. It will be rebuilt or maybe not. Th’ king iv Italy has given thirty-three billion liars to put it up again, an’ siv’ral ladin’ American archytects have offered to do th’ job, makin’ an office buildin’ iv it. Th’ campinily was wan iv th’ proudest monymints iv Italy an’ was used as a bell-tower at times, an’ at other times as a gazabo where anny American cud take a peek at th’ gran’ canal an’ compare it with th’ Erie, th’ Pannyma an’ th’ dhrainage iv the same name.
“Th’ king iv England is betther. He’s off in his yacht. So ar-re Laking, Treves, Smith, Barlow, Jones, Casey, Lister, thank Hiven! A hard life is science. Th’ Hon’rable Joseph Choate is raycoverin’ more slowly. He still sobs occas’nally in his sleep an’ has ordhered all th’ undher sicreties to have their vermyform appindixes raymoved as a token iv rayspict f’r th’ sthricken nation. Th’ Hon’rable Whitelaw Reid is havin’ a cast iv his knee breeches made, which will be exhibited in New York durin’ th’ comin’ winter.
“Me frind, J. Pierpont Morgan, has been takin’ dinner with th’ Impror Willum. It is undherstud he will presint him to th’ Methropolytan Museem iv Art. There are said to be worse things there.
“Lord Salisberry has thrun up his job. Lord Salisberry was wan iv th’ grandest an’ mos’ succissful statesmen iv modhren times. He niver did annything. He is succeeded be his nevvew, Misther Balfour, if I get th’ name right, who has done less. It is expicted that Misther Balfour will have a good time. On rayceivin’ th’ congrathylations iv his colleague, Misther Chamberlain, he bought himsilf a rayvolver an’ took out a policy on his life.
“A lady down east woke her husband up to tell him there was a burglar in th’ house. Th’ foolish woman. They’se always burglars in th’ house. That’s what burglars are f’r, an’ houses. Instead iv argyin’ th’ pint in a loud voice, coughin’ an’ givin’ th’ burglar a chance to lave with dignity, this man got up an’ was kilt. Now th’ pa-apers with th’ assistance iv th’ officers iv th’ law has discovered that th’ lady took a boat ride with a gintleman frind in th’ summer iv sixty-two, that she wanst quarreled with her husband about th’ price iv a hat, that wan iv her lower teeth is plugged, that she wears a switch an’ that she weeps whin she sees her childher. They’se a moral in this. It’s ayether don’t wake a man up out iv a sound sleep, or don’t get out iv bed till ye have to, or don’t bother a burglar whin ye see he’s busy, or kill th’ iditor. I don’t know which it is.
“Willum Jennings Bryan is readin’ me frind Grover Cleveland out iv th’ party. He’s usin’ the Commoner to read him out. That’s a sure way.
“Mary MeLane has been in town. I didn’t see her, me place not bein’ a raysort f’r th’ young an’ yearnin’, an’ especially me duckin’ all lithry ladies iv whativer sex. Mary McLane is th’ author iv a book called: ‘Whin I am older I’ll know betther.’ Ye ought to read it, Hinnissy.
“Th’ Newport season is opened with gr-reat gayety an’ th’ aim iv rayturnin’ husbands is much more sure.
“Gin’ral Bragg fr’m up in Wisconsin has been gettin’ into throuble with our haughty allies, th’ Cubians, he writin’ home to his wife that ye might as well thry to make a whistle out iv a pig’s tail as a dacint man out iv a Cubian. Gin’ral Bragg will be bounced an’ he ought to be. He don’t belong in pollytics. His place is iditor iv a losin’ newspaper.
“Gov’nor Taft has been in Rome showin’ th’ wurruld how succissful, sthraightforward, downright, outspoken, manly, frank, fourteen ounces to th’ pound American business dalings can be again’ th’ worn-out di-plomacy iv th’ papal coort. Whin last heerd fr’m this astoot an’ able man, backed up be th’ advice iv Elihoo Root iv York state, was makin’ his way tow’rd Manila on foot, an’ siv’ral mimbers iv th’ colledge iv cardinals was heerd to regret that American statesmen were so thin they cudden’t find anything to fit thim in his thrunk.
“Cholera is ragin’ in th’ Ph’lippeens vice Gin’ral Jake Smith, raymoved.
“Th’ stock market is boomin’ an’ business has become so dull elsewhere that some iv th’ best known outside operators ar-re obliged to increase th’ depth iv th’ goold coatin’ on th’ brick to nearly an inch.
“Th’ capital iv th’ nation has raymoved to Eyesther Bay, a city on th’ north shore iv Long Island, with a popylation iv three millyion clams, an’ a number iv mosquitos with pianola attachments an’ steel rams. There day be day th’ head iv th’ nation thransacts th’ nation’s business as follows: four A.M., a plunge into th’ salt, salt sea an’ a swim iv twenty miles; five A.M., horse-back ride, th’ prisidint insthructin’ his two sons, aged two and four rayspictively, to jump th’ first Methodist church without knockin’ off th’ shingles; six A.M., wrestles with a thrained grizzly bear; sivin A.M., breakfast; eight A.M., Indyan clubs; nine A.M., boxes with Sharkey; tin A.M., bates th’ tinnis champeen; iliven A.M., rayceives a band iv rough riders an’ person’lly supervises th’ sindin’ iv th’ ambylance to look afther th’ injured in th’ village; noon, dinner with Sharkey, Oscar Featherstone, th’ champeen roller-skater iv Harvard, ’98, Pro-fissor McGlue, th’ archyologist, Lord Dum de Dum, Mike Kehoe, Immanuel Kant Gumbo, th’ naygro pote, Horrible Hank, t’ bad lands scout, Sinitor Lodge, Lucy Emerson Tick, th’ writer on female sufferage, Mud-in-the-Eye, th’ chief iv th’ Ogallas, Gin’ral Powell Clayton, th’ Mexican mine expert, four rough riders with their spurs on, th’ Ambassadure iv France an’ th’ Cinquovasti fam’ly, jugglers. Th’ conversation, we larn fr’m wan iv th’ guests who’s our spoortin’ iditor, was jined in be th’ prisidint an’ dealt with art, boxin’, lithrachoor, horse-breakin’, science, shootin’, pollytics, how to kill a mountain line, di-plomacy, lobbing, pothry, th’ pivot blow, rayform, an’ th’ campaign in Cubia. Whin our rayporther was dhriven off th’ premises be wan iv th’ rough riders, th’ head iv th’ nation was tachin’ Lord Dum de Dum an’ Sicrety Hay how to do a hand-spring, an’ th’ other guests was scattered about th’ lawn, boxin’, rasslin’, swingin’ on th’ thrapeze, ridin’ th’ buckin’ bronco an’ shootin’ at th’ naygro pote f’r th’ dhrinks–in short enjyin’ an ideel day in th’ counthry.
“An’ that’s all th’ news,” said Mr. Dooley. “There ye ar-re jus’ as if ye cud read. That’s all that’s happened. Ain’t I a good newspaper? Not a dull line in me. Sind in ye’er small ads.”
“Sure, all that’s no news,” said Mr. Hennessy, discontentedly. “Hasn’t there annything happened? Hasn’t anny wan been–been kilt?”
“There ye ar-re,” said Mr. Dooley. “Be news ye mane misfortune. I suppose near ivry wan does. What’s wan man’s news is another man’s throubles. In these hot days, I’d like to see a pa-aper with nawthin’ in it but affectionate wives an’ loyal husbands an’ prosp’rous, smilin’ people an’ money in th’ bank an’ three a day. That’s what I’m lookin’ f’r in th’ hot weather.”
“Th’ newspapers have got to print what happens,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “they’ve got to print what’s diff’rent. Whiniver they begin to put headlines on happiness, contint, varchoo, an’ charity, I’ll know things is goin’ as wrong with this counthry as I think they ar-re ivry naytional campaign.”
The End of the War
“Why did th’ Boers quit fightin’?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Th’ supply iv British gin’rals give out,” said Mr. Dooley. “They were fin’lly crushed be th’ surrindher iv Gin’ral Lord Mechoon.
“Up to that time th’ British had niver gained anny important advantage. They’d surrindhered ninety or a hundherd thousan’ private sojery, thirty or forty colonels, near all th’ officers iv th’ guards, th’ Northumberland Fusileers over an’ over again, an’ Winston Churchill; they’d hurled gr-reat masses iv th’ Impeeryal Yeomanry into th’ prison camps iv th’ Boers; they’d surrindhered rifles, an’ ammunition an’ pompons an’ mules, but nary a British gin’ral among thim. Although a smaller foorce, Hinnissy, th’ Boers had th’ advantage iv knowin’ ivry foot iv th’ ground they were fightin’ on. Manny iv thim had just gone there, while th’ British had been on th’ ground f’r three years with an opporchunity to f’rget something ivry hour. Th’ crafty Dutch, marchin’ almost as well be bright moonlight as in th’ day time, proceedin’ without rest f’r hours at a time, always placin’ th’ catridge in th’ gun befure firm’, hardy, vigorous an’ accustomed to th’ veldt, had eluded all attempts to hand thim th’ roast beef iv Merry England in th’ shape iv a gin’ral.
“But whin Gin’ral, me Lord Kitchener, th’ Great Coon Conqueror, wint to South Africa, like th’ stern an’ remorseless warryor that he is, he detarmined to niver rest till he had desthroyed th’ inimy. In less thin two years, he had evolved his sthrategy. I will tell ye what it was, because ye’re inthrested in military plans. He spread his magnificent army iv gallant Britons out in a long line that sthretched clane acrost th’ counthry, wan yeoman deep. Thin, accompanied be his sub-gin’rals, he moved out in th’ followin’ ordher. I’ll dhraw it f’r ye, as I see it in th’ pa-aper. Here ye ar-re:
“The band,
“Gin’ral Lord Kitchener, K.C.B., K.N., K.L.K., G.K.R. (with medals),
“The other gin’rals,
“Pianos, Pianolas, Cottage Organs, Ping Pong Sets, Tennis Bats, Bridge Scores, Cricket Stumps, War Corryspondints,
“Th’ Avingin’ Line,
“Their horses,
“Their ammunition,
“Their Food, and
“Their Rifles.
“As th’ dhread formation moved off in th’ bright sunlight iv that fair day in March, with th’ band playin’ a quick shtep an’ th’ colors flyin’ in th’ air, it was a sight to make ivry Englishman proud iv th’ fact that he had to be an Englishman. Detarmination was written in ivry face–th’ detarmination to go on at anny risk till tea time. No flinchin’, no hisitation, ivry man with his head erect an’ th’ feelin’ in his heart that on him rested th’ security iv th’ impire if so. On, an’ iver on they marched, fr’m Spimfontein, past th’ gleamin’ spires iv Wa-aberneck, till they saw in th’ distance th’ long, low line iv purple light that marked th’ walls iv Boobenastofein. It was thin four o’clock P.M., an’ th’ column halted while th’ bugles blew th’ cheery call to tea. Eager hands unshipped th’ marmalade an’ opened th’ caddies, bread was toasted on th’ small stoves carrid be ivry officer’s valet, th’ pickets an’ scouts were dispatched f’r plum cake an’ f’rgettin’ f’r a moment th’ thriles iv th’ campaign, th’ rough warryors indulged in that repast that has done so much to make Englishmen what they are. At siven, havin’ taken all precautions, havin’ placed th’ powdher in a cool runnin’ brook an’ tethered th’ mules to th’ rifles, th’ vast army slept. It was breakfast time whin th’ God iv Slumber was dhriven off be th’ other British God iv Appetite. Such, Hinnissy, is th’ brief story iv Gin’ral Kitchener’s cillybrated dhrive, as I read it in th’ pa-apers.
“To some extint it was succissful an’ to some other extints not. Th’ bands were good. Th’ tea was fine, though some prefer Oolong. Rifles, pompons, mules, fusileers, etcethry had been lost. But not wan British gin’ral had been captured. Not wan. They were all at breakfast an’ th’ great heart iv th’ British nation was sad. Th’ great heart begun to grumble, which is a way th’ great heart iv a nation has. It ast what was th’ use iv this costly manoover–if they was as manny gin’rals left afther it as befure. While in this mood, it was ilicthryfied be a piece iv startlin’ intilligince. Th’ whisper ran round, grew to be a murmur, increased to a roar, mounted to a shriek that Mechoon was captured.
“It seemed too good to be thrue. No wan cud believe it at first. But fin’lly it was officially announced in Parlymint be that hot headed ol’ pathrite, Lord Salsberry himsilf. In a voice choked be emotion he arose an’ give three cheers. Afther which he read Gin’ral Kitchener’s dispatch: ‘I have th’ pleasure to rayport that yisterdah at nine o’clock Lord Mechoon be a superb sthrategy had himsilf surrounded be an infeeryor foorce iv Boers undher Gin’ral Delaney or some such name. Our cust’mary precaution iv dhrawin’ in th’ pickets afther nightfall an’ buryin’ our rifles, which had repeatedly failed in th’ past owin’ to th’ caution iv th’ Boers, wurruked admirably. Gin’ral Delaney was completely taken be surprise an’ befure he cud recover, Lord Mechoon had thrown himsilf around his neck an’ given him his cigreet case in token iv submission. Th’ command behaved with gr-reat gallantry. In wan case, a whole comp’ny surrindhered to wan Boer. I am sindin’ ricommindations f’r th’ Victorya cross be freight. Unforchunitly our casulties were very heavy. Mesilf an’ nearly all th’ other gin’rals escaped capture. But betther luck nex’ time. Gin’ral Dewet is about a mile fr’m here, if in Africa at all, or indeed, livin’. Gin’ral Botha is said to be in Ioway, though ye can’t believe ivrything ye see in th’ pa-apers. Wan or th’ other may be enthrapped into kidnapin’ me. In th’ manetime I am plannin’ right along. I sleep constantly in clothes becomin’ me station, an’ th’ impire may rely on me not makin’ a show iv mesilf whin I am took. Ye’ers hopefully, Kitchener.’
“Th’ Boers niver raycovered fr’m th’ tur’ble blow. Their spirits was crushed. Their hopes had fled. Th’ kindergartens had opened an’ manny iv their bravest warryors had been carried off be their mothers. Anny moment they might be surrounded an’ surrindhered to. So wan mornin’ th’ entire mighty army, th’ whole thirty-two iv them, histed th’ white flag an’ presinted their bill.”
“An’ so th’ war is over?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“On’y part iv it,” said Mr. Dooley. “Th’ part that ye see in th’ pitcher pa-apers is over, but th’ tax collector will continyoo his part iv th’ war with relentless fury. Cav’lry charges are not th’ on’y wars in a rale war.”
Newport
“About this time ivry year,” said Mr. Dooley, “I go to Newport f’r th’ summer.”
“Ye go where?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“I go to Newport,” said Mr. Dooley, calmly, “in th’ pa-apers. Newport’s always there. I may not find annything about th’ fire at th’ yards or th’ war in th’ Ph’lippeens, but if Mrs. Rasther opens a can iv salmon or pounds th’ top off an egg, it’s down in black an’ white be th’ fearless hands iv th’ iditor. ‘Tis a gr-reat joy bein’ lithry an’ knowin’ how to read. Th’ air is hot in Ar-rchey Road; ye can see it. It looks an’ feels like hot soup with people floatin’ around in it like viggytables. Th’ smoke poors fr’m th’ chimbly iv th’ rollin’ mills an’ comes right down on th’ sthreet an’ jines us. People ar-re lyin’ out iv doors with their mouths open. They’se a gr-reat dale iv cholery infantum an’ a few deleeryam thremens. If I cudden’t read I’d be hot about th’ weather an’ things. But whin th’ day is darkest an’ I don’t want to see me best cukkin’ frind, I takes me yacht at th’ top iv page eight an’ goes sailin’ off to Newport in me shirt sleeves with twelve inches iv malt in th’ hook iv me thumb, an’ there I stay till I want to come back an’ rest.
“‘Th’ autymobill season has opened in deadly earnest. Manny new machines is seen daily an’ wan iv th’ delights iv th’ summer colony is to go out iv an avenin’ an’ see th’ farmers iv th’ neighborhood pluckin’ their horses fr’m th’ top branches iv threes. Th’ younger Hankerbilt has atthracted much attintion be his acc’rate ridin’. Th’ other day he made a scoor iv eight fr’m a runnin’ start in tin minyits an’ this in spite iv th’ fact that he was obliged to come back to th’ last wan, a Swede named Olson, an’ bump him over again.
“‘Misther Graball, th’ Muskegon millionaire who got into s’ciety las’ year be dyin’ his hair green an’ givin’ a dinner at which all th’ guests rayceived a lumber mill as sooveneers, has returned suddenly fr’m th’ West an’ his house party is over.’
“‘Little Aigrette Vandycooker has a tooth, her elder sister a markess, an’ her mother a siparation.’
“‘Misther an’ Mrs. Roger Smitherson an’ frind ar-re spindin’ th’ summer at frind’s house.’
“Gin’rally we lade a life iv quite an’ iligant luxury. Wud ye like a line on me daily routine? Well, in th’ mornin’ a little spin in me fifty-horse power ‘Suffer-little-childher,’ in th’ afthernoon a whirl over th’ green wathers iv th’ bay in me goold-an’-ivory yacht, in th’ avenin’ dinner with a monkey or something akelly as good, at night a few leads out iv th’ wrong hand, some hasty wurruds an’ so to bed. Such is th’ spoortin’ life in Rhode Island, th’ home iv Roger Williams an’ others not so much. It grows tiresome afther awhile. I confess to ye, Algernon Hinnissy, that befure th’ monkey was inthrajooced, I was sufferin’ fr’m what Hogan calls onwee, which is th’ same thing as ingrowin’ money. I had got tired iv puttin’ new storeys on me cottage an’ ridin’ up in th’ ilivator fr’m th’ settin’ room on th’ eighth flure to th’ dinin’ room on th’ twinty-ninth, I didn’t care about ayether thrap-shootin’ or autymobillin’, I felt like givin’ a cawrnation dinner to th’ poor iv th’ village an’ feedin’ thim me polo ponies, I didn’t care whether th’ champagne bar’ls was kept iced, whether th’ yacht was as long as th’ wan ownded be th’ Ginger Snap king nex’ dure, whether I had three or tin millyon dollars in me pants pocket in th’ mornin’ or whether th’ Poles in th’ coal mine was sthrikin’ f’r wan dollar an’ forty-siven or wan dollar an’ forty-eight cints a day. I was tired iv ivrything. Life had me be th’ throat, th’ black dog was on me back. I felt like suicide or wurruk. Thin come th’ bright idee iv me young frind an’ th’ monkey saved me. He give me something to live f’r. Perhaps we too may be monkeys some day an’ be amusin’. We don’t talk half as loud or look half as foolish or get dhrunk half as quick, but give us a chanst. We’re a young people an’ th’ monkeys is an old, old race. They’ve been Newportin’ f’r cinchries. Sure that ol’ la-ad who said man was descinded fr’m monkeys knew what he was talkin’ about. Descinded, but how far?
“Now, don’t go gettin’ cross about th’ rich, Hinnissy. Put up that dinnymite. Don’t excite ye’ersilf about us folks in Newport. It’s always been th’ same way, Father Kelly tells me. Says he: ‘If a man is wise, he gets rich an’ if he gets rich, he gets foolish, or his wife does. That’s what keeps th’ money movin’ around. What comes in at th’ ticker goes out at th’ wine agent. F’river an’ iver people have been growin’ rich, goin’ down to some kind iv a Newport, makin’ monkeys iv thimsilves an’ goin’ back to th’ jungle. ‘Tis a steady pro-cission. Aisy come, lazy go. In ivry little hamlet in this broad land, there’s some man with a broad jaw an’ th’ encouragement iv a good woman, makin’ ready to shove some other man off his steam yacht. At this very minyit whin I speak, me frind Jawn Grates has his eye on Hankerbilk’s house. He wud swing a hammock in th’ woodshed this year, but nex’ he may have his feet up on th’ bannister iv th’ front stoop. Whin a captain iv industhry stops dhrinkin’ at th’ bar, he’s near his finish. If he ain’t caught in his own person, th’ constable will get to his fam’ly. Ye read about th’ union iv two gr-reat fortunes. A dollar meets another dollar, they are conganial, have sim’lar tastes, an’ manny mutual frinds. They are marrid an’ bring up a fam’ly iv pennies, dimes, thirty-cintses an’ countherfeits. An’ afther awhile, th’ fam’ly passes out iv circylation. That’s th’ histhry iv it,’ says Father Kelly. ‘An’,’ says he,’ I’m glad there is a Newport,’ he says. ‘It’s th’ exhaust pipe,’ he says. ‘Without it we might blow up,’ he says. ‘It’s th’ hole in th’ top iv th’ kettle,’ he says. ‘I wish it was bigger,’ he says.”
“Oh, well,” said Mr. Hennessy, “we are as th’ Lord made us.”
“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “lave us be fair. Lave us take some iv th’ blame oursilves.”
Arctic Exploration
“This here business iv Artic exploration’s th’ gran’ pursoot,” said Mr. Dooley. “A gran’, comfortable, fightin’, quarrelin’ business.”
“What’s it all about?” asked Mr. Hennessy. “Why shud annywan want to go to th’ North Pole? Ain’t it cold enough here?”
“I niver cud quite make it out,” said Mr. Dooley. “I’ve heerd tell that years ago, befure th’ fire or th’ war, some wan had an idee in his foolish head that they was a gran’ sea up there with blue wather dimplin’ in th’ moonlight an’ cocynut threes growin’ on th’ shore an’ if a man cud on’y get in with his boat, he cud sail around th’ wurruld an’ fetch up in Chiny. That idee blew up an’ thin some wan said ‘twud be a fine thing f’r science if a white man cud get to th’ North Pole. What he’d do if he got there no wan has anny thought. Accordin’ to what I hear, th’ North Pole ain’t like a tillygraft pole, a barber pole, a fishin’ pole, a clothes pole, a poll-tax, a Maypole, a Russhyan Pole, or annything that ye can see, smell or ate. Whin ye get to it, it is no diff’rent fr’m bein’ annywhere on th’ ice. Th’ on’y way ye know ye’re there is be consultin’ a pocket arithmetic, a watch an’ a compass. Don’t get it into ye’er head that if me frind Baldwin or Peary iver wint north iv Milwaukee an’ come acrost th’ North Pole they’d carve their names on it or hist a flag over it or bring it home with thim on a thruck an’ set it up on th’ lake front. Th’ north pole is a gigantic column iv cold air, some says hot, an’ an enthusyastic explorer that wasn’t lookin’ where he wint might pass right through it without knowin’.
“In th’ arly days whin an explorer wint off to find th’ Pole, he bought himsilf a sheepskin coat, a couple iv dogs, a pair iv skates, an’ a bottle iv pickled onions an’ set out bravely, an’ th’ people watched th’ fam’ly to see what other form th’ lunacy wud take. Afther awhile he ayether come back or he didn’t. Sometimes th’ Esqueemo lady didn’t care to lave her pleasant home in th’ land iv perpetchool blubber an’ in that case th’ hardy mariner remained in th’ frozen north. I niver cud see th’ advantages iv life in th’ Artic regions. ‘Tis thrue th’ nights is six months long an’ sleep is wan iv th’ spoorts that age hasn’t deprived me iv. It mus’ be a gr-reat counthry f’r burglars. But f’r a plain wurrukin’ man it’s very thryin’. Think iv a six months’ wurrukin’ day. Ye get ye’er breakfast at sun-up in March an’ ye don’t set down to dinner till th’ first iv June. Thin comes a long afthernoon an’ I tell ye whin th’ whistle blows at six o’clock October, it’s a welcome sound it sinds to ye’er ears. Ye go home an’ all th’ childher has growed up an’ th’ news in th’ mornin’ pa-per is six months’ old. Ye lie around readin’ an’ playin’ cards f’r a month or two an’ thin ye yawn an’ set th’ alarm clock f’r March an’ says: ‘Mah, it’s th’ fifteenth iv Novimber an’ time th’ childher was abed,’ an’ go to sleep. About Christmas th’ good woman wakes ye up to look f’r th’ burglar an’ afther ye’ve paddled around in th’ ice floe f’r a week, ye climb back into bed grumblin’ an’ go to sleep again. Afther awhile ye snore an’ th’ wife iv ye’er bosom punches ye. ‘What time is it?’ says ye. ‘It’s a quarther past th’ fifteenth iv Janooary,’ says she, ‘an’ that siren iv ye’ers has been goin’ since New Year’s day.’ At March ye ar-re aroused be th’ alarm clock an’ ye go out to feed th’ seals an’ I tell ye, ye need a shave. It mus’ be a quare sinsation to wake up in th’ mornin’ an’ find that th’ kid ye tucked into bed th’ night befure has grown side-whiskers in his sleep an’ his feet has pushed out th’ foot iv th’ cradle. Not f’r my money, Hinnissy. Th’ Artic regions f’r thim that likes thim but give me a land where ye don’t tell th’ time iv day be th’ almynac.
“But other people is diff’rent. Th’ boldest Artic explorer is a man that’s made his money out iv sellin’ base-burnin’ stoves an’ has chillblains in July. Such a man is niver continted till he’s started somebody off f’r th’ northest north. An’ he has no throuble to find a man. Nex’ to bein’ invited on a private yacht to sail in th’ Middyteranyan, th’ nicest thing a millyonaire can do f’r ye is to make an Artic explorer iv ye. Th’ prelim’naries is great spoort. F’r two years ye go round th’ counthry letchrin’ on ‘What I will see in th’ Artic regions whin I get there if at all.’ Fin’lly ye set off with th’ fleet, consistin’ iv a ship f’r ye’ersilf, three f’r th’ provisions, two f’r th’ clothes an’ wan f’r th’ diaries. They’se also a convoy. Th’ business iv th’ convoy is to dhrop in at Thromsoe in Norway an’ ast f’r news iv ye. Thromsoe is wan iv th’ farthest north places that anny explorer has been. But it well repays a visit, bein’ a thrivin’, bustlin’ Swede city with a good club. Afther th’ long sthruggle with th’ pitiliss ice machine it is very pleasant to dhrop in on this hospital community an’ come back that night be thrain. Well, as I was sayin’, wan explorer starts off in a fur suit an’ has th’ time iv his life an’ th’ other explorer stays at home an’ suffers th’ crool hardships an’ bitther disapp’intments iv life in Brooklyn. Lashed to his rockin’ chair, he shivers ivry time th’ wind blows an’ he thinks iv his hardy partner facin’ th’ purls iv that far-off region iv ice an’ snow an’ funny little Esqueemo women in union garments iv fur. ‘He’s in Greenland now; he’s battlin’ with th’ deadly ice floe; now he’s rasslin’ with a Polar bear; he’s up; he’s away; he’s reached th’ Pole; he’s pullin’ it up be th’ roots; bravo Baldy!’ An’ so he goes till his hands is all chapped fr’m thinkin’ iv th’ cold an’ his leg is lame fr’m th’ encounther with a Polar bear an’ his rockin’ chair is in danger iv bein’ dashed to pieces again’ th’ threacherous pianny. An’ wan day a message comes fr’m th’ other explorer: ‘Rio Janeiro. We have rayturned, baffled but not defeated. Th’ pickled walnuts give out befure we reached th’ West Indies. As far as we’ve gone we’ve had excellent raysults. Th’ cap’n, th’ mate, th’ cook, th’ stewart an’ eighty per cint iv th’ crew is in ir’ns an’ as soon as I’ve got this tillygram off I’m goin’ in to punch th’ surgeon. I congratylate ye. Ye’er name will stand high among th’ binnyfactors iv science. We have demonsthrated beyond fear iv conthrydiction that th’ gulf sthream is jus’ where it was an’ that volcanoes ain’t what they are cracked up to be. Our motto is: “Niver give up th’ ship. It’s too comfortable.” Who’s ye’er banker here?’ Whin th’ millyionaire dies iv exposure, a victim to science, th’ mariner rayturns an’ letchers on th’ subject: ‘Quarrels I have had in th’ frozen north.’ Talk about th’ terrors, iv Artic exploration, Hinnissy! There’s where ye get thim. Did ye iver go to an Artic exploration letcher? I did wanst. They was wan down at th’ brothers’ school las’ winther. I’ve been lame iver since.
“None iv it in mine, if ye plaze. It’s too hot wurrik in thim clothes. An’ aven if ye get up near th’ pole, what’s it good f’r? Th’ climate is disagreeable, an’ th’ s’ciety is monotonous. Ivrybody dhresses alike. Th’ wan tailor makes th’ clothes f’r pah, mah, Lucille an’ th’ Polar bear out iv th’ same patthern. If ye go to coort a girl, ye don’t know befure she speaks whether ’tis hersilf or her Uncle Mike. I heerd iv an Artic explorer wanst that held hands with a Swede sicond mate f’r over an hour befure he ralized his mistake.
“No, sir, no Artic explorations f’r me, ayether pers’nally or be check. But if I did go into it, I know who I’d sind. I’d not fool around with people who begin to cough within sight iv th’ car barns. I’d utilize th’ folks in th’ neighborhood. I’d pathronize home industhries. Th’ Pole f’r th’ polars, says I. They mus’ be hundherds iv la-ads up in that part iv th’ wurruld that’d be willin’ to earn an honest dollar be discoverin’ th’ pole. With thim ‘twud be like ye goin’ down to explore th’ stock yards. I bet manny iv thim knows th’ pole as well as I know Haley’s slough. Ye’d prob’ly find they’ve hung their washin’ on it f’r years an’ manny iv th’ kids has shinned up it.”
“Who’d ye sind?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Esqueemos,” said Mr. Dooley.
Machinery
Mr. Dooley was reading from a paper.
“‘We live,’ he says, ‘in an age iv wondhers. Niver befure in th’ histhry iv th’ wurruld has such progress been made.’
“Thrue wurruds an’ often spoken. Even in me time things has changed. Whin I was a la-ad Long Jawn Wintworth cud lean his elbows on th’ highest buildin’ in this town. It took two months to come here fr’m Pittsburg on a limited raft an’ a stage coach that run fr’m La Salle to Mrs. Murphy’s hotel. They wasn’t anny tillygraft that I can raymimber an’ th’ sthreet car was pulled be a mule an’ dhruv be an engineer be th’ name iv Mulligan. We thought we was a pro-grissive people. Ye bet we did. But look at us today. I go be Casey’s house tonight an’ there it is a fine storey-an’-a-half frame house with Casey settin’ on th’ dure shtep dhrinkin’ out iv a pail. I go be Casey’s house to-morrah an’ it’s a hole in th’ groun’. I rayturn to Casey’s house on Thursdah an’ it’s a fifty-eight storey buildin’ with a morgedge onto it an’ they’re thinkin’ iv takin’ it down an’ replacin’ it with a modhren sthructure. Th’ shoes that Corrigan th’ cobbler wanst wurruked on f’r a week, hammerin’ away like a woodpecker, is now tossed out be th’ dozens fr’m th’ mouth iv a masheen. A cow goes lowin’ softly in to Armours an’ comes out glue, beef, gelatine, fertylizer, celooloid, joolry, sofy cushions, hair restorer, washin’ sody, soap, lithrachoor an’ hed springs so quick that while aft she’s still cow, for’ard she may be annything fr’m huttons to Pannyma hats. I can go fr’m Chicago to New York in twinty hours, but I don’t have to, thank th’ Lord. Thirty years ago we thought ’twas marvelous to be able to tillygraft a man in Saint Joe an’ get an answer that night. Now, be wireless tillygraft ye can get an answer befure ye sind th’ tillygram if they ain’t careful. Me friend Macroni has done that. Be manes iv his wondher iv science a man on a ship in mid-ocean can sind a tillygram to a man on shore, if he has a confid’rate on board. That’s all he needs. Be mechanical science an’ thrust in th’ op’rator annywan can set on th’ shore iv Noofoundland an’ chat with a frind in th’ County Kerry.
“Yes, sir, mechanical science has made gr-reat sthrides. Whin I was a young man we used to think Hor’ce Greeley was th’ gr-reatest livin’ American. He was a gran’ man, a gran’ man with feathers beneath his chin an’ specs on his nose like th’ windows in a diver’s hemlet. His pollyticks an’ mine cudden’t live in th’ same neighborhood but he was a gran’ man all th’ same. We used to take th’ Cleveland Plain Daler in thim days f’r raycreation an’ th’ New York Thrybune f’r exercise. ‘Twas considhered a test iv a good natured dimmycrat if he cud read an article in th’ Thrybune without havin’ to do th’ stations iv th’ cross aftherward f’r what he said. I almost did wanst but they was a line at th’ end about a frind iv mine be th’ name iv Andhrew Jackson an’ I wint out an’ broke up a Methodist prayer meetin’. He was th’ boy that cud put it to ye so that if ye voted th’ dimmycrat tickit it was jus’ th’ same as demandin’ a place in purgytory. Th’ farmers wud plant annything fr’m a ruty baga to a congressman on his advice. He niver had money enough to buy a hat but he cud go to th’ sicrety iv th’ threasury an’ tell him who’s pitcher to put on th’ useful valentines we thrade f’r groceries.
“But if Hor’ce Greeley was alive today where’d he be? Settin’ on three inches iv th’ edge iv a chair in th’ outside office iv me frind Pierpont Morgan waitin’ f’r his turn. In th’ line is th’ Imp’ror iv Germany, th’ new cook, th’ prisidint iv a railroad, th’ cap’n iv th’ yacht, Rimbrandt th’ painther, Jawn W. Grates, an’ Hor’ce. Afther awhile th’ boy at th’ dure says: ‘Ye’re next, ol’ party. Shtep lively f’r th’ boss has had a Weehawken Peerooginy sawed off on him this mornin’ an’ he mustn’t he kep’ waitin’.’ An’ th’ iditor goes in. ‘Who ar-re ye?’ says th’ gr-reat man, givin’ him wan iv thim piercin’ looks that whin a man gets it he has to be sewed up at wanst. ‘I’m ye’er iditor,’ says Hor’ce. ‘What’s ye’er spishilty?’ ‘Tahriff an’ th’ improvemint iv th’ wurruld,’ says Hor’ce. ‘See Perkins,’ says Pierpont, an’ th’ intherview is over. Now what’s made th’ change? Mechanical Science, Hinnissy. Some wan made a masheen that puts steel billets within th’ reach iv all. Hince Charlie Schwab.
“What’s it done f’r th’ wurruld? says ye. It’s done ivrything. It’s give us fast ships an’ an autymatic hist f’r th’ hod, an’ small flats an’ a taste iv solder in th’ peaches. If annybody says th’ wurruld ain’t betther off thin it was, tell him that a masheen has been invinted that makes honey out iv pethrolyum. If he asts ye why they ain’t anny Shakesperes today, say: ‘No, but we no longer make sausages he hand.’
“‘Tis pro-gress. We live in a cinchry iv pro-gress an’ I thank th’ Lord I’ve seen most iv it. Man an’ boy I’ve lived pretty near through this wondherful age. If I was proud I cud say I seen more thin Julyus Caesar iver see or cared to. An’ here I am, I’ll not say how old, still pushin’ th’ malt acrost th’ counther at me thirsty counthrymen. All around me is th’ refinemints iv mechanical janius. Instead iv broachin’ th’ beer kag with a club an’ dhrawin’ th’ beer through a fassit as me Puritan forefathers done, I have that wondher iv invintive science th’ beer pump. I cheat mesilf with a cash raygisther. I cut off th’ end iv me good cigar with an injanyous device an’ pull th’ cork out iv a bottle with a conthrivance that wud’ve made that frind that Hogan boasts about, that ol’ boy Archy Meeds, think they was witchcraft in th’ house. Science has been a gr-reat blessin’ to me. But amidst all these granjoors here am I th’ same ol’ antiquated combination iv bellows an’ pump I always was. Not so good. Time has worn me out. Th’ years like little boys with jackknives has carved their names in me top. Ivry day I have to write off something f’r deprecyation. ‘Tis about time f’r whoiver owns me to wurruk me off on a thrust. Mechanical science has done ivrything f’r me but help me. I suppose I ought to feel supeeryor to me father. He niver see a high buildin’ but he didn’t want to. He cudden’t come here in five days but he was a wise man an’ if he cud’ve come in three he’d have stayed in th’ County Roscommon.
“Th’ pa-apers tells me that midical science has kept pace with th’ hop-skip-an’-a-jump iv mechanical inginooty. Th’ doctors has found th’ mickrobe iv ivrything fr’m lumbago to love an’ fr’m jandice to jealousy, but if a brick bounces on me head I’m crated up th’ same as iv yore an’ put away. Rockyfellar can make a pianny out iv a bar’l iv crude ile, but no wan has been able to make a blade iv hair grow on Rockyfellar. They was a doctor over in France that discovered a kind iv a thing that if ’twas pumped into ye wud make ye live till people got so tired iv seein’ ye around they cud scream. He died th’ nex’ year iv premachure ol’ age. They was another doctor cud insure whether th’ flex’ wan wud be a boy or a girl. All ye had to do was to decide wud it be Arthur or Ethel an’ lave him know. He left a fam’ly iv unmarredgeable daughters.
“I sometimes wondher whether pro-gress is anny more thin a kind iv a shift. It’s like a merry-go-round. We get up on a speckled wooden horse an’ th’ mechanical pianny plays a chune an’ away we go, hollerin’. We think we’re thravellin’ like th’ divvle but th’ man that doesn’t care about merry-go-rounds knows that we will come back where we were. We get out dizzy an’ sick an’ lay on th’ grass an’ gasp: ‘Where am I? Is this th’ meelin-yum?’ An’ he says: ‘No, ’tis Ar-rchey Road.’ Father Kelly says th’ Agyptians done things we cudden’t do an’ th’ Romans put up sky-scrapers an’ aven th’ Chinks had tillyphones an’ phony-grafts.
“I’ve been up to th’ top iv th’ very highest buildin’ in town, Hinnissy, an’ I wasn’t anny nearer Hivin thin if I was in th’ sthreet. Th’ stars was as far away as iver. An’ down beneath is a lot iv us runnin’ an’ lapin’ an’ jumpin’ about, pushin’ each other over, haulin’ little sthrips iv ir’n to pile up in little buildin’s that ar-re called sky-scrapers but not be th’ sky; wurrukin’ night an’ day to make a masheen that’ll carry us fr’m wan jack-rabbit colony to another an’ yellin’, ‘Pro-gress! ‘Pro-gress, oho! I can see th’ stars winkin’ at each other an’ sayin’: ‘Ain’t they funny! Don’t they think they’re playin’ hell!’
“No, sir, masheens ain’t done much f’r man. I can’t get up anny kind iv fam’ly inthrest f’r a steam dredge or a hydhraulic hist. I want to see sky-scrapin’ men. But I won’t. We’re about th’ same hight as we always was, th’ same hight an’ build, composed iv th’ same inflammable an’ perishyable mateeryal, an exthra hazardous risk, unimproved an’ li’ble to collapse. We do make pro-gress but it’s th’ same kind Julyus Caesar made an’ ivry wan has made befure or since an’ in this age iv masheenery we’re still burrid be hand.”
“What d’ye think iv th’ man down in Pinnsylvanya who says th’ Lord an’ him is partners in a coal mine?” asked Mr. Hennessy, who wanted to change the subject.
“Has he divided th’ profits?” asked Mr. Dooley.