Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War Read online

  "Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "annyhow, I proved me hathred iv capital."

  "So ye did," said Mr. Dooley. "So ye did. An' capital this afthernoonshowed its hatred iv ye. Ye ought to match blisters to see which hatesth' worst. Capital is at home now with his gams in a tub iv hot wather;an' whin he comes down to-morrah to oppriss labor an' square hisprotisted notes, he'll have to go on all fours. As f'r you, Hinnissy, if'twill aise ye anny, ye can hang f'r a few minyits fr'm th' gasfixtures. Did th' goold Dimmycrats have a p'rade?"

  "No," said Mr. Hennessy. "But they rayviewed th' day procission fr'm th'Pammer House. Both iv thim was on th' stand."

  ON CHARITY.

  "Br-r-r!" cried Mr. McKenna, entering stiffly and spreading his handsover the potbellied stove. "It's cold."

  "Where?" asked Mr. Dooley. "Not here."

  "It's cold outside," said Mr. McKenna. "It was ten below at Shannahan'sgrocery when I went by, and the wind blowing like all possessed. Lordlove us, but I pity them that's got to be out to-night."

  "Save ye'er pity," said Mr. Dooley, comfortably. "It ain't cowld inhere. There's frost on th' window, 'tis thrue for ye; an' th' wheels hasbeen singin' th' livelong day. But what's that to us? Here I am, an'there ye are, th' stove between us an' th' kettle hummin'. In a minyitit'll bile, an' thin I'll give ye a taste iv what'll make a king iv ye.

  "Well, tubby sure, 'tis thryin' to be dhrivin' a coal wagon or asthreet-car; but 'tis all in a lifetime. Th' diff'rence between me an'th' man that sets up in th' seat thumpin' his chest with his hands is nomore thin th' diff'rence between him an' th' poor divvle that walksalong behind th' wagon with his shovel on his shoulder, an' 'll thankth' saints f'r th' first chanst to put tin ton iv ha-ard coal into acellar f'r a quarther iv a dollar. Th' lad afoot invies th' dhriver, an'th' dhriver invies me; an' I might invy big Cleveland if it wasn't f'rth' hivinly smell iv this here noggin. An' who does Cleveland invy?Sure, it'd be sacreliege f'r me to say.

  "Me ol' father, who was as full iv sayin's as an almanac, used to sinkhis spoon into th' stirabout, an' say, 'Well, lads, this ain't bacon an'greens an' porther; but it'll be annything ye like if ye'll on'y thinkiv th' Cassidys.' Th' Cassidys was th' poorest fam'ly in th' parish.They waked th' oldest son in small beer, an' was little thought of. Didme father iver ask thim in to share th' stirabout? Not him. An' he wasthe kindest man in th' wurruld. He had a heart in him as big as a lumpiv turf, but he'd say, 'Whin ye grow up, take no wan's sorrows toye'ersilf,' he says. ''Tis th' wise man that goes through life thinkin'iv himsilf, fills his own stomach, an' takes away what he can't ate inhis pocket.' An' he was r-right, Jawn. We have throubles enough iv ourown. Th' wurruld goes on just th' same, an' ye can find fifty men to sayth' lit'ny f'r ye to wan that'll give ye what'll relieve a fastin' spit.Th' dead ar-re always pop'lar. I knowed a society wanst to vote amonyment to a man an' refuse to help his fam'ly, all in wan night. 'Tiscowld outside th' dure, ye say, but 'tis war-rum in here; an' I'mgettin' in me ol' age to think that the diff'rence between hivin an'hell is no broader"--

  Mr. Dooley's remarks were cut short by a cry from the back room. It wasunmistakably a baby's cry. Mr. McKenna turned suddenly in amazement asMr. Dooley bolted.

  "Well, in the name of the saints, what's all this?" he cried, followinghis friend into the back room. He found the philosopher, with anexpression of the utmost sternness, sitting on the side of his bed, witha little girl of two or three in his arms. The philosopher wassinging:----

  Ar-rah rock-a-bye, babby, on th' three top: Whin th' wind blo-ows, th' cradle ull r-rock; An', a-whin th' bough breaks, th' cradle ull fa-a-a-ll, An' a-down ull come babby, cradle, an' all.

  Then he sang:----

  In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a fair ma-aid, In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a fair ma-aid. She had cheeks like th' roses, an' hair iv th' same, An' a mouth like ripe sthrawburries burrid in crame.

  He rocked the child to and fro, and its crying ceased while he sang:----

  Chip, chip, a little horse; Chip, chip, again, sir. How manny miles to Dublin? Threescure an' tin, sir.

  The little girl went to sleep on Mr. Dooley's white apron. He lifted hertenderly, and carried her over to his bed. Then he tiptoed out with anapprehensive face, and whispered: "It's Jawn Donahue's kid that wandherdaway fr'm home, an' wint to sleep on me dure-step. I sint th' Dorsey boyto tell th' mother, but he's a long time gone. Do ye run over, Jawn, an'lave thim know."

  ON NANSEN.

  "I see," said Mr. Dooley, "that Doc Nansen has come back."

  "Yes," said Mr. McKenna. "It's a wonder he wouldn't stay till winter. IfI was setting on an iceberg in latitude umpty-ump north of Evanstonthese days, they couldn't pry me off it with a crowbar. Not they."

  "He had to come back," explained Mr. Hennessy. "He got as far as he cud,an' thin he was foorced be th' inclimincy iv th' weather to return tohis home in Feechoold, Norway."

  "To where?" Mr. Dooley asked contemptuously.

  "To Foocheeld, Norway," said Mr. Hennessy, with some misgivings.

  "Ye don't know what ye're talkin' about," retorted the philosopher. "Yeought to go back to school an' study gee-ography. Th' place he come backto was Oostoc, Norway, between Coopenhaagen an'--an' Rogers Park."

  "Maybe ye're right," said Mr. Hennessy. "Annyhow, he come back, chasedbe a polar bear. It must iv been a thrillin' experience, leppin' fr'miceberg to iceberg, with a polar bear grabbin' at th' seat iv his pants,an' now an' thin a walrus swoopin' down fr'm a three an' munchin' hishat."

  "What ta-alk have ye?" Mr. Dooley demanded. "A walrus don't fly, foolishman!"

  "What does he do, thin?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Go 'round on crutches?"

  "A walrus," said Mr. Dooley, "is an animal something like a hor-rse, butmore like a balloon. It doesn't walk, swim, or fly. It rowls whinpur-suin' its prey. It whirls 'round an' 'round at a speed akel to arailroad injine, meltin' th' ice in a groove behind it. Tame walrusesare used be th' Eskeemyoos, th' old settlers iv thim parts, aslawnmowers an' to press their clothes. Th' wild walrus is a mos' viciousanimal, which feeds on snowballs through th' day, an' thin goes out ivnights afther artic explorers, which for-rms its principal diet. Theysea gr-reat demand among walruses f'r artic explorers, Swedes preferred;an' on account iv th' scarcity iv this food it isn't more than wanst intwinty years that th' walrus gets a square meal. Thin he devours hisvictim, clothes, collar-buttons, an' all."

  "Well, well," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had no idee they was that ferocious.I thought they were like bur-rds. Don't they lay eggs?"

  "Don't they lay eggs?" Mr. Dooley replied. "Don't they lay eggs? Did yeiver hear th' like iv that, Jawn? Why, ye gaby, ye might as well ask medoes a pianny lay eggs. Iv coorse not."

  "I'd like to know what the objict of these here arctic explorations is,"interposed Mr. McKenna, in the interests of peace.

  "Th' principal objict is to get rid iv an over-supply iv foolishpeople," said Mr. Dooley. "In this counthry, whin a man begins f'r tosee sthrange things, an' hitch up cockroaches, an' think he's Vanderbiltdhrivin' a four-in-hand, we sind him to what me ol' frind Sleepy Burkcalls th' brain college. But in Norway an' Sweden they sind him to th'North Pole, an' feed him to th' polar bears an' th' walruses. A man thatscorches on a bicycle or wears a pink shirt or is caught thryin' to fryout a stick iv dinnymite in a kitchen stove is given a boat an' sint offto play with Flora an' Fauna in th' frozen North."

  "That's what I'd like to know," said Mr. Hennessy. "Who ar-re theseFlora an' Fauna? I see be th' pa-aper that Doc Nansen stopped atNootchinchoot Islands, an' saw Flora an' Fauna; an' thin, comin' back onth' ice, he encountherd thim again."

  "I suppose," said Mr. Dooley, "ye think Flora an' Fauna is two littleEskeemy girls at skip-rope an' 'London bridge is fallin' down' on th'icebergs an' glaziers. It's a pretty idee ye have iv th' life in thimparts. Little Flora an' little Fauna playin' stoop-tag aroun' a whale orrushin' th' can f'r their poor tired father just home fr'm th'rollin'-mills, where he's been makin' snow
balls f'r th' export thrade,or engagin' in some other spoort iv childhood! Go wan with ye!"

  "But who are they, annyhow?"

  "I make it a rule in me life not to discuss anny woman's charac-ter,"replied Mr. Dooley, sternly. "If Doc Nansen was off there skylarkin'with Flora an' Fauna, it's his own business, an' I make no inquiries. Alady's a lady, be she iver so humble; an', as Shakespeare says, cursedbe th' man that'd raise an ax to her, save in th' way iv a joke. We'lltalk no scandal in this house, Hinnissy."

  But, after his friend had gone, Mr. Dooley leaned over confidentially,and whispered to Mr. McKenna, "But who are Flora an' Fauna, Jawn?"

  "I don't know," said Mr. McKenna.

  "It sounds mighty suspicious, annyhow," said the philosopher. "I hopeth' doc'll be able to square it with his wife."

  ON A POPULIST CONVENTION.

  "Keep ye'er eye on th' Pops, Jawn. They're gr-reat people an' a gr-reatpa-arty. What is their principles? Anny ol' thing that th' otherpa-arties has rijected. Some iv thim is in favor iv coining money out ivbaled hay an' dhried apples at a ratio iv sixteen to wan, an' some is infavor iv coinin' on'y th' apples. Thim are th' inflationists. Otherswant th' gover'mint to divide up the rivinues equally among all la-adsthat's too sthrong to wurruk. Th' Pops is again th' banks an' again thesupreme court an again havin' gas that can be blowed out be th' humanlungs. A sthrong section is devoted to th' principal iv separatin' MarkHanna fr'm his money.

  "A ma-an be th' name iv Cassidy, that thravels f'r a liquor-house, wasin to see me this mornin'; an' he come fr'm Saint Looey. He said it beatall he iver see or heerd tell of. Whin th' convintion come to ordher,th' chairman says, 'La-ads, we'll open proceedin's be havin' th'Hon'rable Rube Spike, fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv Okalahoma, cough uphis famous song, "Pa-pa Cleveland's Teeth are filled with Goold."' 'Mr.Chairman,' says a delegate fr'm New Mexico, risin' an' wavin' his bootsin th' air, 'if th' skate fr'm Okalahoma is allowed f'r to belch anny inthis here assimblage, th' diligates fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv NewMex-ico'll lave th' hall. We have,' he says, 'in our mist th' Hon'rableLafayette Hadley, whose notes,' he says, 'falls as sweetly on th' ear,'he says, 'as th' plunk iv hivin's rain in a bar'l,' he says. 'If annywanhas a hemorrhage iv anthems in this hall, it'll be Lafe Hadley, th'Guthrie batsoon,' he says. 'Ye shall not,' he says, 'press down upon ourbleedin' brows,' he says, 'this cross iv thorns,' he says. 'Ye shall notcrucify th' diligates fr'm th' imperyal Territ'ry iv New Mexico on thiscross iv a Mississippi nigger an' Crow Injun fr'm Okalahoma,' he says.Thereupon, says me frind Cassidy, th' New Mexico diligation left th'hall, pursued be th' diligation from Okalahoma.

  "Th' chairman knowed his business. 'In ordher,' he says, 'that there maybe no disordher,' he says, 'I will call upon th' imperyal States,' hesays, 'an Territ'ries,' he says, 'beginnin' with th' imperyal State ivAlabama,' he says, 'to each sind wan singer to th' platform,' he says,'f'r to wring our hear-rts with melodies,' he says. 'Meantime,' says he,'pathrites who have differences iv opinyon on anny questions canpro-cure ex-helves be applyin' to th' sergeant-at-arms,' he says. 'Now,'he says, 'if th' gintleman fr'm th' imperyal State of Mizzoury'll handme up a cheek full iv his eatin' tobacco,' he says, 'we'll listen toWillyum G. Rannycaboo, th' boy melodjun iv th' imperyal State ivAlabama,' he says, 'who'll discourse his well-known ballad, 'Th' SupremeCourt is Full iv Standard Ile,' he says.

  "Whin th' singin' had con-cluded, so me frind Cassidy says, th' chairannounced that speakin' would be in ordher, an' th' convintion rose aswan man. Afther ordher had been enforced be th' sergeant-at-arms movin'round, an' lammin' diligates with a hoe, a tall man was seen standin' ona chair. F'r some moments th' chairman was onable to call his name, buthe fin'lly found a place to spill; an' in a clear voice he says, 'F'rwhat purpose does th' gintleman fr'm the imperyal State iv Texas arise?''I arise,' says th' ma-an, 'f'r th' purpose iv warnin' this convintionthat we have a goold-bug in our mist,' he says. Cries iv 'Throw himout!' 'Search him!' 'Hang him!' arose. 'In wandhrin' through th' hall, Ijust seen a man with a coat on,' he says. Great excitement ensood, saysme frind Cassidy; an' th' thremblin' victim was brought down th' aisle.'What have ye to say f'r ye'ersilf?' demands th' chairman in thundhrin'tones. 'On'y this,' says th' goold-bug. 'I wandhered in here, lookin'f'r frinds,' he says. 'I am not a goold-bug,' he says. 'I wear me coat,'he says, 'because I have no shirt,' he says. 'Gintlemen,' says th'chairman, 'a mistake has been made,' he says. 'This here person, whobears th' appearance iv a plutocrat, is all right underneath,' he says.'He's a diligate to th' silver convintion,' he says. 'Go in peace,' hesays.

  "Be this time 'twas gr-rowin' late, an' th' convintion adjourned.'Befure ye lave,' says th' chairman, 'I have to announce that on accountiv th' chairman of the comity havin' been imprisoned in a foldin'-bedan' th' sicrity havin' mistook th' fire extinguisher f'r a shower bath,they'll be no meeting' iv th' comity on rules till to-morrow night.Durin' th' interval,' he says, 'th' convintion'll continueketch-as-ketch can,' he says."

  "Well," said Mr. McKenna, "to think of taking this here country out ofthe hands of William C. Whitney and Grover Cleveland and J. PierpontMorgan and Ickleheimer Thalmann, and putting it in the hands of suchmen. What do you think about it?"

  "I think," said Mr. Dooley, "that Cassidy lied."

  ON A FAMILY REUNION.

  "Why aren't you out attending the reunion of the Dooley family?" Mr.McKenna asked the philosopher.

  "Thim's no rel-ations to me," Mr. Dooley answered. "Thim's farmerDooleys. No wan iv our fam'ly iver lived in th' counthry. We live in th'city, where they burn gas an' have a polis foorce to get on to. We're nofarmers, divvle th' bit. We belong to th' industhreel classes. Thim mustbe th' Fermanagh Dooleys, a poor lot, Jawn, an' always on good termswith th' landlord, bad ciss to thim, says I. We're from Roscommon.They'se a Dooley family in Wixford an' wan near Ballybone that belongedto th' constabulary. I met him but wanst. 'Twas at an iviction; an',though he didn't know me, I inthrajooced mesilf be landin' him back ivth' ear with a bouldher th' size iv ye'er two fists together. He didn'tknow me aftherwards, ayether.

  "We niver had but wan reunion iv th' Dooley fam'ly, an' that was tinyears ago. Me cousin Felix's boy Aloysius,--him that aftherwards wint toNew York an' got a good job dhrivin' a carredge f'r th' captain iv apolis station,--he was full iv pothry an' things; an' he come around wannight, an' says he, 'D'ye know,' he says, ''twud be th' hite iv a goodthing f'r th' Dooleys to have a reunion,' he says. 'We ought to cometogether,' he says, 'an' show the people iv this ward,' he says, 'howsthrong we are,' he says. 'Ye might do it betther, me buck,' says I,'shovellin' slag at th' mills,' I says. 'But annyhow, if ye'er mind'sset on it, go ahead,' I says, 'an' I'll attind to havin' th' polisthere,' I says, 'f'r I have a dhrag at th' station.'

  "Well, he sint out letthers to all th' Roscommon Dooleys; an' on aSaturdah night we come together in a rinted hall an' held th' reunion.'Twas great sport f'r a while. Some iv us hadn't spoke frindly to eachother f'r twinty years, an' we set around an' tol' stories iv Roscommonan' its green fields, an' th' stirabout pot that was niver filled, an'th' blue sky overhead an' th' boggy ground undherfoot. 'Which Dooley wasit that hamsthrung th' cows?' 'Mike Dooley's Pat.' 'Naw such thing:'twas Pat Dooley's Mike. I mane Pat Dooley's Mike's Pat.' F'r 'tis withus as with th' rest iv our people. Ye take th' Dutchman: he has as mannynames to give to his childher as they'se nails in his boots, but anIrishman has th' pick iv on'y a few. I knowed a man be th' name ivClancy,--a man fr'm Kildare. He had fifteen childher; an', whin th' las'come, he says, 'Dooley, d'ye happen to know anny saints?' 'None iv thimthrades here,' says I. 'Why?' says I. 'They'se a new kid at th' house,'he says; 'an', be me troth, I've run out iv all th' saints I knew, an',if somewan don't come to me assistance, I'll have to turn th' child outon th' wurruld without th' rag iv a name to his back,' he says.

  "But I was tellin' ye about th' reunion. They was lashins iv dhrink an'story-tellin', an' Felix's boy Aloysius histed a banner he had madewith 'Dooley aboo' painted on it. But, afther th' night got along, someiv us be
gun to raymimber that most iv us hadn't been frinds f'r long.Mrs. Morgan Dooley, she that was Molly Dooley befure she married Morgan,she turns to me, an' says she, ''Tis sthrange they let in that Hoganwoman,' she says,--that Hogan woman, Jawn, bein' th' wife iv herhusband's brother. She heerd her say it, an' she says, 'I'd have ye toundherstand that no wan iver come out iv Roscommon that cud hold uptheir heads with th' Hogans,' she says. ''Tis not f'r th' likes iv ye toslandher a fam'ly that's iv th' landed gintry iv Ireland, an' f'r twopins I'd hit ye a poke in th' eye,' she says. If it hadn't been f'r mebein' between thim, they'd have been trouble; f'r they was good frindswanst. What is it th' good book says about a woman scorned? Faith, I'veforgotten.

  "Thin me uncle Mike come in, as rough a man as iver laid hands on apolisman. Felix Dooley was makin' a speech on th' vartues iv th'fam'ly. 'Th' Dooleys,' says he, 'can stand before all th' wurruld, an'no man can say ought agin ayether their honor or their integrity,' sayshe. 'Th' man that's throwin' that at ye,' says me uncle Mike, 'stole asaw fr'm me in th' year sivinty-five.' Felix paid no attintion to meuncle Mike, but wint on, 'We point proudly to th' motto, "Dooleyaboo--Dooley f'river."' 'Th' saw aboo,' says me uncle Mike. 'Th'Dooleys,' says Felix, 'stood beside Red Hugh O'Neill; an', whin he cutaff his hand,--' 'He didn't cut it off with anny wan else's saw,' saysme uncle Mike. 'They'se an old sayin',' wint on Felix. 'An' ol' saw,'says me uncle Mike. 'But 'twas new whin ye stole it.'