Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen Page 8

  "F'r Sicrety iv War, th' most like wan is some good prisident iv asthreet-car company. 'Tis exthraordinney how a man learns to managemilitary affairs be auditin' thrip sheets an' rentin' signs in asthreet-car to chewin' gum imporyums. If Gin'ral Washington iv sacredmimory 'd been under a good sthreet-car Sicrety iv War, he'd 've worea bell punch to ring up ivry time he killed a Hessian. He wud so, an'they'd 've kep' tab on him, an', if he thried to wurruk a brother-in-lawon thim, they'd give him his time.

  "F'r th' Navy Departmint ye want a Southern Congressman fr'm th'cotton belt. A man that iver see salt wather outside iv a pork bar'l'd be disqualified f'r th' place. He must live so far fr'm th' seathat he don't know a capstan bar fr'm a sheet anchor. That puts him inth' proper position to inspect armor plate f'r th' imminent Carnegie,an' insthruct admirals that's been cruisin' an' fightin' an' dhrinkin'mint juleps f'r thirty years. He must know th' difference bechune siloan' insilage, how to wean a bull calf, an' th' best way to cure aspavin. If he has that information, he is fixed f'r th' job.

  "Whin he wants a good Postmaster-gin-'ral, take ye'er ol' law partnerf'r awhile, an', be th' time he's larned to stick stamps, hist himout, an' put in a school-teacher fr'm a part iv th' counthry wherepeople communicate with each other through a conch. Th' Sicrety iv th'Interior is an important man. If possible, he ought to come fr'm Maineor Florida. At anny rate, he must be a resident iv an Atlanticseacoast town, an' niver been west iv Cohoes. If he gets th' ideethere are anny white people in Ann Arbor or Columbus, he loses hisjob.

  "Th' last place on th' list is Sicrety iv Agriculture. A good, livelybusiness man that was born in th' First Ward an' moved to th'Twinty-foorth after th' fire is best suited to this office. Thin he'llhave no prejudices against sindin' a farmer cactus seeds whin he'son'y lookin' f'r wheat, an' he will have a proper understandin' iv th'importance iv an' early Agricultural Bureau rayport to th'bucket-shops.

  "No Prisident can go far away that follows Cleveland's cabinetappintmints, although it may be hard f'r Mack, bein' new at th'business, to select th' right man f'r th' wrong place. But I'm surehe'll be advised be his frinds, an' fr'm th' lists iv candydates I'veseen he'll have no throuble in findin' timber."

  OLD AGE.

  "Skatin'," said Mr. Dooley, "was intinded f'r th' young an' gay. 'Tisnot f'r th' likes iv me, now that age has crept into me bones an'whitened th' head iv me. Divvle take th' rheumatics! An' to think ivme twinty years ago cuttin' capers like a bally dancer, whin th'Desplaines backed up an' th' pee-raires was covered with ice fr'm th'mills to Riverside. Manny's th' time I done th' thrick, Jawn, me an'th' others; but now I break me back broachin' a kag iv beer, an' th'height iv me daily exercise is to wind th' clock befure turnin' in,an' count up th' cash."

  "You haven't been trying to skate?" Mr. McKenna asked in tones ofalarm.

  "Not me," said Mr. Dooley. "Not me, but Hinnissy have. Hinnissy,th' gay young man; Hinnissy, th' high-hearted, divvle-may-caresphread-th'-light,--Hinnissy's been skatin' again. May th' Lord givethat man sinse befure he dies! An' he needs it right away. He ain'tgot long to live, if me cousin, Misther Justice Dooley, don't appointa garjeen f'r him.

  "I had no more thought whin I wint over with him that th' silly goat'd thry his pranks thin I have iv flyin' over this here bar mesilf.Hinnissy is--let me see how ol' Hinnissy is. He was a good foot tallerthin me th' St. John's night whin th' comet was in th' sky. Let mesee, let me see! Jawn Dorgan was marrid to th' widdy Casey (her thatwas Dora O'Brien) in th' spring iv fifty-two, an' Mike Callahan wintto Austhreelia in th' winter iv sixty. Hinnissy's oldest brother wastoo old to inlist in th' army. Six an' thirty is thirty-six. Twictthirty-six is sivinty-two, less eight is sixty-four, an' nine, carrywan,--let me see. Well, Hinnissy is ol' enough to know betther.

  "We wint to th' pond together, an' passed th' time iv day with ourfrinds an' watched th' boys an' girls playin' shinny an' sky-larkin'hand in hand. They come separate, Jawn; but they go home together,thim young wans. I see be his face Spoort Hinnissy was growin'excited. 'Sure,' says he, 'there's nawthin' like it,' he says.'Martin,' he says, 'I'll challenge ye to race,' he says. 'So ye will,'says I. 'So ye will,' I says. 'Will ye do it?' says he. 'Hinnissy,'says I, 'come home,' I says, 'an' don't disgrace ye'er gray hairsbefure th' whole parish,' says I. 'I'll have ye to know,' says he,'that 'tis not long since I cud cut a double eight with anny wan inBridgeport,' he says.

  "At that Tom Gallagher's young fly-be-night joined in; an' says he,'Misther Hinnissy,' he says, 'if ye'll go on,' he says, 'I'll fetch yea pair iv skates.' 'Bring thim along,' says Hinnissy. An' he put thimon. Well, Jawn, he sthud up an' made wan step, an' wan iv his feetwint that way an' wan this; an' he thrun his hands in th' air, an'come down on his back. I give him th' merry laugh. He wint clear daft,an' thried to sthruggle to his feet; an', th' more he thried, th' moreth' skates wint fr'm undher him, till he looked f'r all th' wurruldlike wan iv thim little squirrels that goes roun' on th' wheel inSchneider's burrud store.

  "Gallagher's lad picked him up an' sthud him on his feet; an' says he,politely, 'Come on,' he says, 'go roun' with me.' Mind ye, he took himout to th' middle iv th' pond, Hinnissy movin' like a bridge horse ona slippery thrack; an' th' lad shook him off, an' skated away. 'Comeback!' says Hinnissy. 'Come back!' he says. 'Tom, I'll flay ye alivewhin I catch ye on th' sthreet! Come here, like a good boy, an' helpme off. Dooley,' he roars to me, 'ain't ye goin' to do annything?' hesays. 'Ne'er a thing,' says I, 'but go home.' 'But how 'm I goin' tocross?' he says. 'Go down on ye'er knees an' crawl,' says I. 'Foolishman!' I says. An' he done it, Jawn. It took him tin minyits to getdown in sections, but he done it. An' I sthud there, an' waited f'rhim while he crawled wan block over th' ice, mutterin' prayers at ivryfut.

  "I wint home with him aftherwards; an' what d'ye think he said?'Martin,' says he, 'I've been a sinful man in me time; but I niver hadth' like iv that f'r a pinance,' he says. 'Think iv doin' th' stationsiv th' cross on th' ice,' he says. 'Hinnissy,' I says, 'they'se nocrime in th' catalogue akel to bein' old,' I says. 'Th' nearest thingto it,' I says, 'is bein' a fool,' I says; 'an' ye're both,' I says."

  THE DIVIDED SKIRT.

  "Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, "did ye iver hear th' puzzle whin a woman'snot a woman?"

  "Faith, I have," said Mr. McKenna. "When I was a kid, I knew theanswer."

  "Ye didn't know this answer," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin is a woman not awoman? 'Twas give to me las' Satthurdah night be young Callaghan, th'sthreet-car man that have all th' latest jokes that does be out. Whinis a woman not a woman? mind ye. Whin's she's on a bicycle, by dad.Yes, yes. Whin she's on a bicycle, Jawn. D'ye know Molly Donahue?"

  "I know her father," said Mr. McKenna.

  "Well, well, the dacint man sint his daughter Molly to have a convintschoolin'; an' she larned to pass th' butther in Frinch an' to paintall th' chiny dishes in th' cubb'rd, so that, whin Donahue come homewan night an' et his supper, he ate a green paint ha-arp along withhis cabbage, an' they had to sind f'r Docthor Hinnissy f'r to pump th'a-art work out iv him. So they did. But Donahue, bein' a quite man,niver minded that, but let her go on with her do-se-does an' boughther a bicycle. All th' bicycles th' poor man had himsilf whin he washer age was th' dhray he used to dhrive f'r Comiskey; but he says,'Tis all th' thing,' he says. 'Let th' poor child go her way,' he saysto his wife, he says. 'Honoria,' he says, 'she'll get over it.'

  "No wan knowed she had th' bicycle, because she wint out afther darkan' practised on it down be th' dump. But las' Friday ev'nin', lo an'behold, whin th' r-road was crowded with people fr'm th' brick-yardsan' th' gas-house an' th' mills, who shud come ridin' along be th'thracks, bumpin' an' holdin' on, but Molly Donahue? An' dhressed! Howd'ye suppose she was dhressed? In pa-ants, Jawn avick. In pa-ants. Oh,th' shame iv it! Ivry wan on th' sthreet stopped f'r to yell. LittleJulia Dorgan called out, 'Who stole Molly's dhress?' Ol' man Murphywas settin' asleep on his stoop. He heerd th' noise, an' woke up an'set his bull tarrier Lydia Pinkham on her. Malachi Dorsey,vice-prisident iv th' St. Aloysius Society,
was comin' out iv th'German's, an' see her. He put his hands to his face, an' wint back toth' house.

  "But she wint bumpin' on, Jawn, till she come up be th' house. FatherKelly was standin' out in front, an' ol' man Donahue was layin' downth' law to him about th' tariff, whin along come th' poor foolish girlwith all th' kids in Bridgeport afther her. Donahue turned white. 'Saya pather an' avy quick,' he says to the priest. Thin he called out tohis wife. 'Honoria,' he says, 'bring a bar'l,' he says. 'Molly hascome away without annything on,' he says, 'but Sarsfield's pa-ants.'Thin he turned on his daughter. 'May th' Lord forgive ye, MollyDonahue,' he says, 'this night!' he says. 'Child, where is ye'erdhress?' 'Tut, tut!' says th' good man. 'Molly,' he says, 'ye lookwell on that there bicycle,' he says. 'But 'tis th' first time I everknowed ye was bow-legged,' he says, says th' soggarth aroon.

  "Well, sir, she wint into th' house as if she'd been shot fr'm a gun,an' th' nex' mornin' I see Doheny's express wagon haulin' th' bicycleaway."

  "Didn't Father Kelly do anything about it?" asked Mr. McKenna.

  "No," replied Mr. Dooley. "There was some expicted she'd be read fr'mth' altar at high mass, but she wasn't."

  A BIT OF HISTORY.

  Mr. McKenna found Mr. Dooley standing at the end of his bargaincounter with the glasses on the tip of his nose. He was in deepcontemplation of a pile of green paper which he was thumbing over.

  "Jawn," said he, as Mr. McKenna walked over and looked on curiously,"d'ye know a good man that I cud thrust to remodel th' shop?"

  "And what's got into you?" asked Mr. McKenna.

  "Im goin' to have two large mirrors put on th' side an' wan below.Thin I'm goin' to have th' ceilin' painted green, an' a bull-yardtable put in th' back room. 'Twill be a place to par'lyze ye whin itis through with."

  "And what 'll pay for it?" asked Mr. McKenna, in blank amazement.

  "This," said Mr. Dooley, whacking the pile before him. "Here's twintythousand dollars iv th' bonds iv th' raypublic. They bear inthrest attwinty-five per cint; an' they're signed be Xavier O'Malley, PaganO'Leary (th' wicked man), an' O'Brien, th' threeasurer. Me cousin Mikeput thim up with me f'r a loan iv five. He wurruked in th'threeasurer's office; an', whin th' polis broke up th' Irishrivolution, he put on his coat an' stuck a month's bond issue in hispocket. 'They'll come in handy wan day,' he says; for he was aphilosopher, if he did take a dhrop too much. Whin he give me th'bonds, he says, says he, 'Hol' to thim,' he says, 'an' some time orother they'll make a rich man iv ye.' Jawn, I feel th' time has come.Cleveland's on th' rampage; an', if Ireland ain't a raypublic befure amonth, I'll give ye these here documents f'r what I paid on thim. Ihave me information fr'm Hinnissy, an' Hinnissy have it fr'm WillumJoyce, an' ye know how close Joyce is to Finerty. Hinnissy was in lastnight. 'Well,' says I, 'what's th' news?' I says. 'News?' says he.'They'se on'y wan thing talked about,' he says. 'We're goin' to have awar with England,' he says. 'An' th' whole Irish army has inlisted,'he says. 'Has Finerty gone in?' says I. 'He has,' he says. 'Thin,'says I, ''tis all off with th' Sassenach. We'll run thim fr'm th' faceiv th' earth,' I says. ''Tis th' prisint intintion iv mesilf to hire agood big tug an' put a hook into Ireland, an' tow it over th' bigdhrink, an' anchor it ayether in th' harbor iv New York or in th'lake.

  "D'ye know, Jawn, 'twas Cleveland that definded th' Fenians whin theywas took up f'r invadin' Canada. 'Twas so. He was not much in thimdays,--a kid iv a lawyer, like Doheny's youngest, with a lot iv hairan' a long coat an' a hungry look. Whin th' Fenians come back fr'mCanada in a boat an' landed in th' city iv Buf-falo, New York, theywas all run in; an' sare a lawyer cud they get to defind thim tillthis here Cleveland come up, an' says he: 'I'll take th' job,' hesays. 'I'll go in an' do th' best I can f'r ye.' Me uncle Mike wasalong with thim, an' he looked Cleveland over; an' says he: 'Ye'll doth' best ye can f'r us,' he says, 'will ye?' he says. 'Well,' he says,'I'll take no chances,' he says. 'Sind f'r th' desk sergeant,' hesays. 'I'm goin' to plead guilty an' turn informer,' he says. 'Tislucky f'r Cleveland me uncle died befure he r-run f'r President. He'd've had wan vote less.

  "I'll niver forget th' night me uncle Mike come back fr'm Canada. Yeknow he was wan iv th' most des'prit Fenians that iver lived; an',whin th' movement begun, he had to thread on no wan's shadow befure hewas off f'r th' battle. Ivry wan in town knew he was goin'; an' hewint away with a thrunk full iv bottles an' all th' good wishes iv th'neighborhood, more be reason iv th' fact that he was a boistherous manwhin he was th' worse f'r wear, with a bad habit iv throwin' bricksthrough his neighbors' windys. We cud see him as th' thrain moved out,walkin' up an' down th' aisle, askin' iv there was anny Englishman inth' car that 'd like to go out on th' platform an' rowl off with him.

  "Well, he got up in New York an' met a lot iv other des'prite men likehimsilf, an' they wint across th' bordher singin' songs an' carryin'on, an' all th' militia iv New York was undher ar-rms; f'r it 'd beenjust like thim to turn round an' do their fightin' in New York. 'Twaslittle me uncle Mike cared where he fought.

  "But, be hook or crook, they got to where th' other Fenians was, an'jined th' army. They come fr'm far an' near; an' they were young an'old, poor lads, some iv thim bent on sthrikin' th' blow that 'd breakth' back iv British tyranny an' some jus' crazed f'r fightin'. Theyhad big guns an' little guns an' soord canes an' pitchforks an'scythes, an' wan or two men had come over armed with baseball bats.They had more gin'rals thin ye cud find in a Raypublican West Townconvintion, an' ivry private was at laste a colonel. They made meuncle Mike a brigadier gin'ral. 'That 'll do f'r a time,' says he;'but, whin th' fun begins, I'll pull Dorney off his horse, an' be amajor gin'ral,' he says. An' he'd 've done it, too, on'y they was nofightin'.

  "They marched on, an' th' British run away fr'm thim; an', be hivins,me uncle Mike cud niver get a shot at a redcoat, though he searchedhigh an' low f'r wan. Thin a big rain-storm come, an' they was notents to protect thim; an' they set aroun', shiverin' an' swearin'. Meuncle Mike was a bit iv a politician; an' he organized a meetin' ivth' lads that had come over with him, an' sint a comity to wait on th'major gin'ral. 'Dorney,' says me uncle Mike, f'r he was chairman ivth' comity, 'Dorney,' he says, 'me an' me associated warriors wants toknow,' he says. 'What d'ye mane?' says Dorney. 'Ye brought us uphere,' says me uncle Mike, 'to fight the British,' he says. 'If yethink,' he says, 'that we come over,' he says, 'to engage in a sixdays' go-as-you-please walkin' match,' he says, 'ye'd betther go an'have ye'er head looked into,' he says. 'Have ye anny British aroundhere? Have ye e'er a Sassenach concealed about ye'er clothes?' hesays. 'We can't do annything if they won't stand f'r us,' says Dorney.'Thin,' says me uncle Mike, 'I wash me hands iv th' whole invasion,'he says. 'I'll throuble ye f'r me voucher,' he says. 'I'm goin back toa counthry where they grow men that 'll stand up an' fight back,' hesays; an' he an' his la-ads wint over to Buf-falo, an' was locked upf'r rivolution.

  "Me uncle Mike come home on th' bumpers iv a freight car, which is th'way most rivolutioners come home, excipt thim that comes home in th'baggage car in crates. 'Uncle Mike,' says I to him, 'what's war like,annyhow?' 'Well,' says he, 'in some rayspicts it is like missin' th'last car,' he says; 'an' in other rayspicts 'tis like gettin' gay infront iv a polis station,' he says. An', by dad, whin I come to thinkwhat they call wars nowadays, I believe me uncle Mike was right. 'Twasdifferent whin I was a lad. They had wars in thim days that was wars."

  THE RULING CLASS.

  "I see be th' pa-apers," said Mr. Dooley, "that arnychy's torch do belifted, an' what it means I dinnaw; but this here I know, Jawn, thatall arnychists is inimies iv governmint, an' all iv thim ought to behung f'r th' first offence an' bathed f'r th' second. Who are they,annyhow, but foreigners, an' what right have they to be holdin'torchlight procissions in this land iv th' free an' home iv th' brave?Did ye iver see an American or an Irishman an arnychist? No, an' yeniver will. Whin an Irishman thinks th' way iv thim la-ads, he goes onth' polis force an' dhraws his eighty-three-thirty-three f'r throwin'lodgin'-house bums into th' pathrol wagon. An' there ye a-are.

&
nbsp; "I niver knowed but th' wan arnychist, an' he was th' divvle an' allf'r slaughtherin' th' rich. He was a Boolgahrian man that lived downbe Cologne Sthreet, acrost th' river; but he come over to Bridgeportwhin he did have his skates on him, f'r th' liftenant over there wasagain arnychists, an' 'twas little our own Jawnny Shea cared f'r thimso long as they didn't bother him. Well, sir, this here man's name wasOwsky or something iv that sort, but I always called him Casey be wayiv a joke. He had whiskers on him like thim on a cokynut, an' I heerdhe swore an oath niver to get shaved till he killed a man that wore astove-pipe hat.

  "Be that as it may, Jawn, he was a most ferocious man. Manny's th'time I've heerd him lecture to little Matt Doolan asleep like a logbehind th' stove. What a-are we comin' to?' he'd say. 'What a-are wecomin' to?' D'ye mind, Jawn, that's th' way he always began. 'Th' poordo be gettin' richer,' says he, 'an' th' rich poorer,' says he. 'Th'governmint,' says he, 'is in th' hands iv th' monno-polists,' he says,'an' they're crushin' th' life out iv th' prolotoorios.' Aprolotoorio, Jawn, is th' same thing as a hobo. 'Look at th' WillumHaitch Vanderbilts,' says he, 'an' th' Gools an' th' Astors,' says he,'an' thin look at us,' he says, 'groun' down,' he says, 'till we criesf'r bread on th' sthreet,' he says; 'an' they give us a stone,' hesays. 'Dooley,' he says, 'fetch in a tub iv beer, an' lave th' collaroff,' he says.

  "Doolan 'd wake up with a start, an' applaud at that. He was a littletailor-man that wurruked in a panthry down town, an' I seen him weepwhin a dog was r-run over be a dhray. Thin Casey 'd call on Doolan f'rto stand his ground an' desthroy th' polis,--'th' onions iv th'monno-polists,' he called thim,--an' Doolan 'd say, 'Hear, hear,' tillI thrun thim both out.