Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen Read online

  "I thought me frind Casey 'd be taken up f'r histin' a polisman f'rsure, though, to be fair with him, I niver knowed him to do but wanarnychist thing, and that was to make faces at Willum Joyce because helived in a two-story an' bay-window brick house. Doolan said that wasgoin' too far, because Willum Joyce usually had th' price. Wan dayCasey disappeared, an' I heerd he was married. He niver showed up f'ra year; an', whin he come in, I hardly knowed him. His whiskers hadbeen filed an' his hair cut, an' he was dhressed up to kill. He wintinto th' back room, an' Doolan was asleep there. He woke him, an' madea speech to him that was full iv slaughther and bloodshed. Pretty soonin come a little woman, with a shawl over her head,--a little Germanlady. Says she, 'Where's me hoosband?' in a German brogue ye cud cutwith an ax. 'I don't know ye'er husband, ma'am,' says I. 'What's hisname?' She told me, an' I seen she was Casey's wife; 'He's in there,'I says. 'In back,' I says, 'talking to Doolan, th' prolotoorio.' Iwint back with her, an' there was Casey whalin' away. 'Ar-re ye men orar-re ye slaves?' he says to Doolan. 'Julius,' says his wife, 'vat yedoin' there, ye blackgaard,' she says. 'Comin' ze, or be hivens I'llbreak ye'er jaw,' she says. Well, sir, he turned white, an' come overas meek as a lamb. She grabbed him be th' arm an' led him off, an''twas th' last I seen iv him.

  "Afther a while Doolan woke up, an' says he, 'Where's me frind?''Gone,' says I. 'His wife came in, an' hooked him off.' 'Well,' saysDoolan, ''tis on'y another victhry iv the rulin' classes,' he says."

  THE OPTIMIST.

  "Aho," said Mr. Dooley, drawing a long, deep breath. "Ah-ho, glory beto th' saints!"

  He was sitting out in front of his liquor shop with Mr. McKenna, theirchairs tilted against the door-posts. If it had been hot elsewhere,what had it been in Archey Road? The street-car horses reeled in thedust from the tracks. The drivers, leaning over the dash-boards,flogged the brutes with the viciousness of weakness. The piles of cokein the gas-house yards sent up waves of heat like smoke. Even thelittle girls playing on the sidewalks were flaming pink in color. Butthe night saw Archey Road out in all gayety, its flannel shirt open atthe breast to the cooling blast and the cries of its children fillingthe air. It also saw Mr. Dooley luxuriating like a polar bear, andbowing cordially to all who passed.

  "Glory be to th' saints," he said, "but it's been a thryin' five days.I've been mean enough to commit murdher without th' strength even tokill a fly. I expect to have a fight on me hands; f'r I've insultedhalf th' road, an' th' on'y thing that saved me was that no wan wassthrong enough to come over th' bar. 'I cud lick ye f'r that, if itwas not so hot,' said Dorsey, whin I told him I'd change no bill f'rhim. 'Ye cud not,' says I, 'if 'twas cooler,' I says. It's cool enoughf'r him now. Look, Jawn dear, an' see if there's an ice-pick undher mechair.

  "It 'd be more thin th' patience iv Job 'd stand to go through suchweather, an' be fit f'r society. They's on'y wan man in all th'wurruld cud do it, an' that man's little Tim Clancy. He wurruks out inth' mills, tin hours a day, runnin' a wheelbarrow loaded withcindhers. He lives down beyant. Wan side iv his house is up again abrewery, an' th' other touches elbows with Twinty-Percint Murphy'sflats. A few years back they found out that he didn't own on'y th'front half iv th' lot, an' he can set on his back stoop an' put hisfeet over th' fince now. He can, faith. Whin he's indures, he breathesup th' chimbley; an' he has a wife an' eight kids. He dhraws wantwinty-five a day--whin he wurruks.

  "He come in here th' other night to talk over matthers; an' I wasstewin' in me shirt, an' sayin' cross things to all th' wurruld fr'mth' tail iv me eye. ''Tis hot,' says I. ''Tis war-rum,' he says. ''Tisdam hot,' says I. 'Well,' he says, ''tis good weather f'r th' crops,'he says. 'Things grows in this weather. I mind wanst,' he says, 'wehad days just like these, an' we raised forty bushels iv oats to anacre,' he says. 'Whin Neville, th' landlord, come with wagons to takeit off, he was that surprised ye cud iv knocked him down with asthraw. 'Tis great growin' weather,' he says. An', Jawn, by dad,barrin' where th' brewery horse spilt oats on th' durestep an' th'patches iv grass on th' dump, sare a growin' thing but childher hasthat little man seen in twinty years.

  "'Twas hotter whin I seen him nex', an' I said so. ''Tis war-rum,' hesays, laughin'. 'By dad, I think th' ice 'll break up in th' riverbefure mornin',' he says. 'But look how cold it was last winter,' hesays. 'Th' crops need weather like this,' he says. I'd like to havehit him with a chair. Sundah night I wint over to see him. He wassittin' out in front, with a babby on each knee. 'Good avnin',' saysI. 'Good avnin',' he says. 'This is th' divvle's own weather,' I says.'I'm suffocatin'.' ''Tis quite a thaw,' he says. 'How's all th'folks?' says I. 'All well, thank ye kindly,' he says. 'save an' exceptth' wife an' little Eleen,' he says. 'They're not so well,' he says.'But what can ye expect? They've had th' best iv health all th' year.''It must be har-rd wurrukin' at th' mills this weather,' I says. ''Tiswar-rum,' he says; 'but ye can't look f'r snow-storms this time iv th'year,' he says. 'Thin,' says he, 'me mind's taken aff th' heat be mewurruk,' he says. 'Dorsey that had th' big cinder-pile--the wan nearth' fence--was sun-struck Fridah, an' I've been promoted to his job.'Tis a most res-sponsible place,' he says; 'an' a man, to fill itrightly an' properly, has no time to think f'r th' crops,' he says.An' I wint away, lavin' him singin' 'On th' Three-tops' to th' kids onhis knees.

  "Well, he comes down th' road tonight afther th' wind had turned, withhis old hat on th' back iv his head, whistlin' 'Th' Rambler fr'mClare' and I stopped to talk with him. 'Glory be,' says I, ''tispleasant to breathe th' cool air,' says I. 'Ah,' he says, ''tis a ralegood avnin',' he says. 'D'ye know,' he says, 'I haven't slept muchthese nights, f'r wan reason 'r another. But,' he says, 'I'm afraidthis here change won't be good f'r th' crops,' he says. 'If we'd hadwan or two more war-rum days an' thin a sprinkle iv rain,' he says,'how they would grow, how they would grow!'"

  Mr. Dooley sat up in his chair, and looked over at Mr. McKenna.

  "Jawn," he said, "d'ye know that, whin I think iv th' thoughts that'sbeen in my head f'r a week, I don't dare to look Tim Clancy in th'face."

  PROSPERITY.

  "Th' defeat iv Humanity be Prosperity was wan iv th' raysults iv th'iliction," said Mr. Dooley.

  "What are you talking about?" asked Mr. McKenna, gruffly.

  "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I thought it was McKinley an' Hobart thatwon out, but I see now that it's McKinley an' Prosperity. If Bryan hadbeen elected, Humanity would have had a front seat an' a tab. Th'sufferin's iv all th' wurruld would have ended; an' Jawn H. Humanitywould be in th' White House, throwin' his feet over th' furniture an'receivin' th' attintions iv diplomats an' pleeniapotentiaries. It wasdecided otherwise be th' fates, as th' Good Book says. Prosperity isth' bucko now. Barrin' a sthrike at th' stock-yards an' a hold-up herean' there, Prosperity has come leapin' in as if it had jumped fr'm aspringboard. Th' mills are opened, th' factories are goin' to go, th'railroads are watherin' stocks, long processions iv workin'men aremarchin' fr'm th' pay-car to their peaceful saloons, their wives aretakin' in washin' again, th' price iv wheat is goin' up an' down,creditors are beginnin' to sue debtors; an' thus all th' wurruld ismerry with th' on'y rational enjoyments iv life.

  "An' th' stock exchange has opened. That's wan iv th' strongest signsiv prosperity. I min' wanst whin me frind Mike McDonald wascontrollin' th' city, an' conductin' an exchange down be ClarkSthreet. Th' game had been goin' hard again th' house. They hadn'tbeen a split f'r five deals. Whin ivrybody was on th' queen to win,with th' sivin spot coppered, th' queen won, th' sivin spot lost. Wanlad amused himsilf be callin' th' turn twinty-wan times in succession,an' th' check rack was down to a margin iv eleven whites an'fifty-three cints in change. Mike looked around th' crowd, an' turneddown th' box. 'Gintlemen,' says he, 'th' game is closed. Businessconditions are such,' he says, 'that I will not be able to cash inye'er checks,' he says. 'Please go out softly, so's not to disturbth' gintlemen at th' roulette wheel,' he says, 'an' come back aftherth' iliction, whin confidence is restored an' prosperity returns toth' channels iv thrade an' industhry,' he says. 'Th' exchange 'll beo
pened promptly; an' th' usual rule iv chips f'r money an' money f'rchips, fifty on cases an' sivinty-five f'r doubles, a hard-boiled eggan' a dhrink f'r losers, will prevail,' he says. 'Return with th' gladtidings iv renewed commerce, an' thank th' Lord I haven't took ye'erclothes.' His was th' first stock exchange we had.

  "Yes, Prosperity has come hollerin' an screamin'. To read th' papers,it seems to be a kind iv a vagrancy law. No wan can loaf anny more.Th' end iv vacation has gone f'r manny a happy lad that has spint sixmonths ridin' through th' counthry, dodgin' wurruk, or loafin' underhis own vine or hat-three. Prosperity grabs ivry man be th' neck, an'sets him shovellin' slag or coke or runnin' up an' down a ladder witha hod iv mortar. It won't let th' wurruld rest. If Humanity 'd beenvictoryous, no wan 'd iver have to do a lick again to th' end iv hisdays. But Prosperity's a horse iv another color. It goes round like apolisman givin' th' hot fut to happy people that are snoozin' in th'sun. 'Get up,' says Prosperity. 'Get up, an' hustle over to th'rollin' mills: there's a man over there wants ye to carry a ton ivcoal on ye'er back.' 'But I don't want to wurruk,' says th' lad. 'I'mvery comfortable th' way I am.' 'It makes no difference,' saysProsperity. 'Ye've got to do ye'er lick. Wurruk, f'r th' night iscomin'. Get out, an' hustle. Wurruk, or ye can't be unhappy; an', ifth' wurruld isn't unhappy, they'se no such a thing as Prosperity.'

  "That's wan thing I can't understand," Mr. Dooley went on. "Th'newspapers is run be a lot iv gazabos that thinks wurruk is th'ambition iv mankind. Most iv th' people I know 'd be happiest layin'on a lounge with a can near by, or stretchin' thimsilves f'r anothernap at eight in th' mornin'. But th' papers make it out that there 'dbe no sunshine in th' land without you an' me, Hinnissy, was up beforedaybreak pullin' a sthreet-car or poundin' sand with a shovel. I seena line, 'Prosperity effects on th' Pinnsylvania Railroad'; an' I readon to find that th' road intinded to make th' men in their shopswurruk tin hours instead iv eight, an' it says 'there's no reasons whythey should not wurruk Sundahs iv they choose.' If they choose! An'what chance has a man got that wants to make th' wurruld brighter an'happier be rollin' car-wheels but to miss mass an' be at th' shops?"

  "We must all work," said Mr. McKenna, sententiously.

  "Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "or be wurruked."

  THE GREAT HOT SPELL.

  It was sultry everywhere, but particularly in Archey Road; for insummer Archey Road is a tunnel for the south-west wind, whichrefreshes itself at the rolling-mill blasts, and spills its wrath uponthe just and the unjust alike. Wherefore Mr. Dooley and Mr. McKennawere both steaming, as they sat at either side of the door of Mr.Dooley's place, with their chairs tilted back against the posts.

  "Hot," said Mr. McKenna.

  "Warrum," said Mr. Dooley.

  "I think this is the hottest September that ever was," said Mr.McKenna.

  "So ye say," said Mr. Dooley. "An' that's because ye're a young man, akid. If ye was my age, ye'd know betther. How d'ye do, Mrs. Murphy? Goin, an' fill it ye'ersilf. Ye'll find th' funnel undher th' see-garcase.--Ye'd know betther thin that. Th' Siptimber iv th' year eighteensixty-eight was so much hotter thin this that, if ye wint fr'm wan toth' other, ye'd take noomoney iv th' lungs,--ye wud so. 'Twas aremarkable summer, takin' it all in all. On th' Foorth iv July theywas a fut iv ice in Haley's slough, an' I was near flooded out be th'wather pipe bustin'. A man be th' name iv Maloney froze his handsettin' off a Roman candle near Main Sthreet, an'--Tin cints, please,ma'am. Thank ye kindly. How's th' good man?--As I said, it was aremarkable summer. It rained all August, an' th' boys wint about onrafts; an' a sthreet-car got lost fr'm th' road, an' I dhrove into th'canal, an' all on boord--'Avnin', Mike. Ah-ha, 'twas a great fight.An' Buck got his eye, did he? A good man.

  "Well, Jawn, along come Siptimber. It begun fairly warrum, wanhundherd or so in th' shade; but no wan minded that. Thin it gothotter an' hotter, an' people begun to complain a little. They wassthrong in thim days,--not like th' joods they raise now,--an' alittle heat more or less didn't kill thim. But afther a while it wasmore thin most iv thim wanted. The sthreet-car thracks got so softthey spread all over th' sthreet, an' th' river run dhry. Aftherboilin' f'r five days like a--How are ye, Dempsey? Ye don't tell me?Now th' likes iv him runnin' f'r aldherman! I'd as lave vote f'r th'tillygraph pole. Well, be good to ye'ersilf. Folks all well? Thanksbe.--They shut off th' furnaces out at th' mills, an' melted th' ironbe puttin' it out in th' sun. Th' puddlers wurruked in iron cases, an'was kept alive be men playin' a hose on thim fr'm th' packin' houserefrigerator. Wan iv thim poked his head out to light his pipe, an' hewas--Well, well, Timothy, ye are quite a sthranger. Ah, dear oh me,that's too ba-ad, too ba-ad. I'll tell ye what ye do. Ye rub th' handin half iv a potato, an' say tin pather an' avy's over it ivry day f'rtin days. 'Tis a sure cure. I had wan wanst. Th' kids are thrivin', Idinnaw? That's good. Betther to hear thim yellin' in th' sthreet thinth' sound iv th' docthor's gig at th' dure.

  "Well, Jawn, things wint fr'm bad to worse. All th' beer in th' housewas mulled; an' Mrs. Dinny Hogan--her that was Odelia O'Brien--burnedher face atin' ice-crame down be th' Italyan man's place, on HalsthedSthreet. 'Twas no sthrange sight to see an ice-wagon goin' along th'sthreet on fire--McCarthy! McCarthy! come over here! Sure, ye'regettin' proud, passin' by ye'er ol' frinds. How's thricks in th'Ninth? D'ye think he will? Well, I've heerd that, too; but they was aman in here to-day that says the Boohemians is out f'r him with axes.Good-night. Don't forget th' number.

  "They was a man be th' name iv Daheny, Jawn, a cousin iv th' wan yeknow, that started to walk up th' r-road fr'm th' bridge. Befure hegot to Halsthed Sthreet, his shoes was on fire. He turned in an alarm;but th' fire departmint was all down on Mitchigan Avnoo, puttin' outth' lake, an'"--"Putting out what?" demanded Mr. McKenna.

  "Puttin' out th' lake," replied Mr. Dooley, stolidly. "They was noinsurance--A good avnin' to ye, Mrs. Doyle. Ye're goin' over, thin? Iwas there las' night, an' a finer wake I niver see. They do nawthin'be halves. How was himsilf? As natural as life? Yes, ma'am, rayqueemhigh mass, be carredges to Calv'ry.

  "On th' twinty-fifth iv Siptimber a change come. It was very sudden;an', steppin' out iv th' ice-box where I slept in th' mornin', I got achill. I wint for me flannels, an' stopped to look at th'thermomether. It was four hundherd an' sixty-five."

  "How much?" asked Mr. McKenna.

  "Four hundherd an' sixty-five."

  "Fahrenheit?"

  "No, it belonged to Dorsey. Ah! well, well, an' here's Cassidy. Comein, frind, an' have a shell iv beer. I've been tellin' Jawnny aboutth' big thaw iv eighteen sixty-eight. Feel th' wind, man alive. 'Tisturnin' cool, an' we'll sleep to-night."

  KEEPING LENT.

  Mr. McKenna had observed Mr. Dooley in the act of spinning a long,thin spoon in a compound which reeked pleasantly and smelt of thehumming water of commerce; and he laughed and mocked at thephilosopher.

  "Ah-ha," he said, "that's th' way you keep Lent, is it? Two weeks fromAsh Wednesday, and you tanking up."

  Mr. Dooley went on deliberately to finish the experiment, leisurelydusting the surface with nutmeg and tasting the product before settingdown the glass daintily. Then he folded his apron, and lay back inample luxury while he began: "Jawn, th' holy season iv Lent was sentto us f'r to teach us th' weakness iv th' human flesh. Man proposes,an' th' Lord disposes, as Hinnissy says.

  "I mind as well as though it was yesterday th' struggle iv me fatherf'r to keep Lent. He began to talk it a month befure th' time. 'On AshWinsdah,' he'd say, 'I'll go in f'r a rale season iv fast an'abstinince,' he'd say. An' sure enough, whin Ash Winsdah come round atmidnight, he'd take a long dhraw at his pipe an' knock th' ashes outslowly again his heel, an' thin put th' dhudeen up behind th' clock.'There,' says he, 'there ye stay till Easter morn,' he says. AshWinsdah he talked iv nawthin but th' pipe. ''Tis exthraordinney howeasy it is f'r to lave off,' he says. 'All ye need is will power,' hesays. 'I dinnaw that I'll iver put a pipe in me mouth again. 'Tis abad habit, smokin' is,' he says; 'an' it costs money. A man's bettheroff without it. I find I dig
twict as well,' he says; 'an', as f'rcuttin' turf, they'se not me like in th' parish since I left off th'pipe,' he says.

  "Well, th' nex' day an' th' nex' day he talked th' same way; butFridah he was sour, an' looked up at th' clock where th' pipe was.Saturdah me mother, thinkin' to be plazin to him, says: 'Terrence,'she says, 'ye're iver so much betther without th' tobacco,' she says.'I'm glad to find you don't need it. Ye'll save money,' she says. 'Bequite, woman,' says he. 'Dear, oh dear,' he says, 'I'd like a pull atth' clay,' he says. 'Whin Easter comes, plaze Gawd, I'll smoke mesilfblack an' blue in th' face,' he says.

  "That was th' beginnin' iv th' downfall. Choosdah he was settin' infront iv th' fire with a pipe in his mouth. 'Why, Terrence,' says memother, 'ye're smokin' again.' 'I'm not,' says he: ''tis a dhrysmoke,' he says; ''tisn't lighted,' he says. Wan week afther th'swear-off he came fr'm th' field with th' pipe in his face, an' himpuffin' away like a chimney. 'Terrence,' says me mother, 'it isn'tEaster morn.' 'Ah-ho,' says he, 'I know it,' he says; 'but,' he says,'what th' divvle do I care?' he says. 'I wanted f'r to find outwhether it had th' masthery over me; an',' he says, 'I've proved thatit hasn't,' he says. 'But what's th' good iv swearin' off, if ye don'tbreak it?' he says. 'An' annyhow,' he says, 'I glory in me shame.'

  "Now, Jawn," Mr. Dooley went on, "I've got what Hogan calls a theery,an' it's this: that what's thrue iv wan man's thrue iv all men. I'm mefather's son a'most to th' hour an' day. Put me in th' CountyRoscommon forty year ago, an' I'd done what he'd done. Put him on th'Ar-rchey Road, an' he'd be deliverin' ye a lecture on th' sin ivthinkin' ye're able to overcome th' pride iv th' flesh, as FatherKelly says. Two weeks ago I looked with contimpt on Hinnissy f'r an'because he'd not even promise to fast an' obstain fr'm croquet durin'Lent. To-night you see me mixin' me toddy without th' shadow ivremorse about me. I'm proud iv it. An' why not? I was histin' in mefirst wan whin th' soggarth come down fr'm a sick call, an' looked inat me. 'In Lent?' he says, half-laughin' out in thim quare eyes ivhis. 'Yes,' said I. 'Well,' he says, 'I'm not authorized to say thisbe th' propaganda,' he says, 'an' 'tis no part iv th' directions f'rLent,' he says; 'but,' he says, 'I'll tell ye this, Martin,' he says,'that they'se more ways than wan iv keepin' th' season,' he says.'I've knowed thim that starved th' stomach to feast th' evil temper,'he says. 'They'se a little priest down be th' Ninth Ward that niverwas known to keep a fast day; but Lent or Christmas tide, day in an'day out, he goes to th' hospital where they put th' people that hasth' small-pox. Starvation don't always mean salvation. If it did,' hesays, 'they'd have to insure th' pavemint in wan place, an' they'dbe money to burn in another. Not,' he says, 'that I want ye toundherstand that I look kindly on th' sin iv'--