“Well, sir, I guess I'm not up on etiket,” said Mr. Dooley.
“How's that?” demanded Mr. Hennessy.
“I've been readin' about Willum Waldorf Asthor,” replied Mr. Dooley, “an' th' throuble he had with a la-ad that bummed his way into his party. Ye see, Hinnissy, Willum Waldorf Asthor give a party at his large an' commodjious house in London. That's where he lives—in London—though he r-runs a hotel in New York, where ye can see half th' state iv Ioway near anny night, they tell me. Well, he give this party on a gran' scale, an' bought gr-reat slathers iv food an' dhrink, an' invited th' neighbors an' the neighbors' childher. But wan man he wudden't have. He's goin' over th' list iv th' people that's to come, an' he says to his sicrety: 'Scratch that boy. Him an' me bump as we pass by.' He didn't want this fellow, ye see, Hinnissy. I don't know why. They was dissatisfaction between thim; annyhow, he says: 'Scratch him,' an' he was out iv it.”
“Well, wan night, th' fellow was settin' down f'r a bite to eat with Lady O——, an' Lady S——, an' Lady G——, an' Lady Y——, an' other ladies that had lost their names, an' says wan iv thim, 'Cap,' she says, 'ar-re ye goin' to Asthor's doin's tonight?' she says. 'Not that I know iv,' says th' Cap. 'He hasn't sint me anny wurrud that I'm wanted,' he says. 'What differ does it make,' says th' lady. 'Write an invitation f'r ye'rsilf on ye'er cuff an' come along with us,' says she. 'I'll do it,' says the Cap, an' he sint f'r an automobile an' goes along.
“Well, ivrything was all r-right f'r awhile, an' th' Cap was assaultin' a knuckle iv ham an' a shell iv beer, whin Willum Waldorf Asthor comes up an' taps him on th' shoulder an' says: 'Duck.' 'What name?' says th' Cap. 'Asthor,' says Willum. 'Oh,' says th' Cap, 'ye're th' American gazabo that owns this hut,' he says. 'I am,' says Willum. 'I can't go,' says th' Cap. 'Ye didn't ask me here an' ye can't sind me away,' he says. 'Gossoon, another shell iv malt, an' dhraw it more slow,' he says. 'I am an English gintleman an' I know me rights,' he says. 'Dure or window,' says Willum. 'Take ye'er choice,' he says. 'If ye insist,' says th' Cap, 'I'll take th' dure,' he says, 'but ye don't know th' customs iv civilization,' he says; an' th' hired man just grazed him on th' dure sthep.
“Well, Willum Waldorf Asthor was that mad, he wint down to his pa-aper office, an' says he, 'I want to put in an item,' he says, an' he put it in. 'It is wished,' he says, 'to be apprihinded,' he says, 'be those desirous not to have been misinformed,' he says, 'concarnin' th' recent appearance iv Cap Sir Mills at me party,' he says, 'that 'twas not be me that said Cap Sir Mills come to be on th' site,' he says, 'but rather,' he says, 'through a desire on th' part iv Cap Sir Mills to butt into a party to which his invitation was lost about three hours befure 'twas written,' he says.”
“Well, now, ye'd think that was all right, wudden't ye? Ye'd say Asthor acted mild whin he didn't take down his goold ice pick from th' wall an' bate th' Cap over th' head. Th' Cap, though a ganial soul, had no business there. 'Twas Willum Waldorf Asthor that paid f'r the ice cream an' rented th' chiny. But that's where ye'd be wrong, an' that's where I was wrong. Whin th' Prince iv Wales heerd iv it he was furyous. 'What,' he says, 'is an English gintleman goin' to be pegged out iv dures be a mere American be descent?' he says. 'A man,' he says, 'that hasn't an entail to his name,' he says. 'An American's home in London is an Englishman's castle,' he says. 'As th' late Earl iv Pitt said, th' furniture may go out iv it, th' constable may enther, th' mortgage may fall on th' rooned roof, but a thrue Englishman'll niver leave,' he says, 'while they'se food an' dhrink,' he says. 'Willum Waldorf Asthor has busted th' laws iv hospitality, an' made a monkey iv a lile subjick iv th' queen,' he says. 'Hinceforth,' he says, 'he's ast to no picnics iv th' Buckingham Palace Chowder Club,' he says. An' th' nex' day Willum Waldorf Asthor met him at th' races where he was puttin' down a bit iv money an' spoke to him, an' th' Prince iv Wales gave him wan in th' eye. He must've had something in his hand, f'r the pa-aper said he cut him. P'raps 'twas his scipter. An' now no wan'll speak to Willum Waldorf Asthor, an' he's not goin' to be a jook at all, an' he may have to come back here an' be nachurlized over again like a Bohamian. He's all broke up about it. He's gone to Germany to take a bath.”
“Lord, help us,” said Mr. Hennessy, “can't he get wan nearer home?”
“It seems not,” said Mr. Dooley. “Mebbe the Prince iv Wales has had th' wather cut off. He has a big pull with th' people in th' city hall.”
“Why should anny man want to kill a king?” said Mr. Dooley. “That's what I'd like to know. Little gredge have I again' anny monarch in th' deck. Live an' let live's me motto. Th' more ye have in this wurruld th' less ye have. Make in wan place, lose in another's th' rule, me boy. Little joy, little sorrow. Takin' it all an' all I'd rather be where I am thin on a throne, an' be th' look iv things I'll have me wish. 'Tis no aisy job bein' a king barrin' th' fact that ye don't have to marry th' woman iv ye'er choice but th' woman iv somebody else's. 'Tis like takin' a conthract an' havin' th' union furnish th' foreman an' th' mateeryal. Thin if th' wurruk ain't good a wild-eyed man fr'm Paterson, Noo Jarsey, laves his monkey an' his hand organ an' takes a shot at ye. Thank th' Lord I'm not so big that anny man can get comfort fr'm pumpin' a Winchester at me fr'm th' top iv a house.”
“But if I was king ne'er an organ grinder'd get near enough me to take me life with a Hotchkiss gun. I'd be so far away fr'm the multitood, Hinnissy, that they cud on'y distinguish me rile features with a spy-glass. I'd have polismen at ivry tur-rn, an' I'd have me subjicks retire to th' cellar whin I took me walk. Divvle a bit wud you catch me splattherin' mesilf with morthar an' stickin' newspapers in a hole in a corner shtone to show future gin'rations th' progress iv crime in this cinchry. They'd lay their own corner-shtone f'r all iv me. I'd communicate with th' pop'lace be means iv ginral ordhers, an' I'd make it a thing worth tellin' about to see th' face iv th' gr-reat an' good King Dooley.”
“Kings is makin' thimsilves too common. Nowadays an arnychist dhrops into a lunch-room at th' railroad depot an' sees a man settin' on a stool atin' a quarther section iv a gooseb'ry pie an' dhrinkin' a glass iv buttermilk. 'D'ye know who that is?' says th' lunch-counter lady. 'I do not,' says th' arnychist, 'but be th' look iv him he ain't much.' 'That's th' king,' says th' lady. 'Th' king, is it,' says th' arnychist. 'Thin here's f'r wan king less,' he says, an' 'tis all over. A king ought to be a king or he oughtn't. He don't need to be a good mixer. If he wants to hang on he must keep out iv range. 'Tis th' kings an' queens that thrusts so much in th' lilety iv their people that they live in summer resort hotels an' go out walkin' with a dog that's hurted. Th' on'y person that ought to be able to get near enough a rale king to kill him is a jook, or th' likes iv that. Th' idee iv a man from Noo Jarsey havin' th' chanst!”
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“What on earth's to be done about thim arnychists?” Mr. Hennessy asked. “What ails thim annyhow? What do they want?”
“Th' Lord on'y knows,” said Mr. Dooley.
“They don't want annything, that's what they want. They want peace on earth an' th' way they propose to get it is be murdhrin' ivry man that don't agree with thim. They think we all shud do as they please. They're down on th' polis foorce an' in favor iv th' pop'lace, an' whin they've kilt a king they call on th' polis to save thim fr'm th' mob. An' between you an' me, Hinnissy, ivry arnychist I've knowed, an' I've met manny in me time, an' quite, law-abidin' citizens they was, too, had th' makin' iv a thradeejan in him. If they was no newspapers they'd be few arnychists. They want to get their pitchers in th' pa-apers an' they can't do it be wheelin' bananas through th' sthreets or milkin' a cow, so they go out an' kill a king. I used to know a man be th' name iv Schmitt that was a cobbler be profession an' lived next dure but wan to me. He was th' dacintist man ye iver see. He kep' a canary bur-rd, an' his devotion to his wife was th' scandal iv th' neighborhood. But bless my soul, how he hated kings. He cudden't abide Cassidy afther he heerd he was a dayscinded fr'm th' kings iv Connock, though Cassidy was what ye call a prolotoorio or a talkin' workin'man. An' th' wan king he hated above all others was th' king iv Scholizwig-Holstein, which was th' barbarous counthry he come fr'm. He cud talk fairly dacint about other kings, but this wan—Ludwig was his name an' I seen his pitcher in th' pa-apers wanst—wud throw him into a fit. He blamed ivrything that happened to Ludwig. If they was a sthrike he charged it to Ludwig. If Schwartzmeister didn't pay him f'r half-solin' a pair iv Congress gaiters he used to wear in thim days, he tied a sthring arround his finger f'r to remind him that he had to kill Ludwig. 'What have ye again' th' king?' says I. 'He is an opprissor iv th' poor,' he says. 'So ar-re ye,' I says, 'or ye'd mend boots free.' 'He's explodin' th' prolotoorio,' he says. 'Sure,' says I, 'th' prolotoorio can explode thimsilves pretty well,' says I. 'He oughtn't to be allowed to live in luxury while others starve,' he says. 'An' wud ye be killin' a man f'r holdin' a nice job?' says I. 'What good wud it do ye?' says I. 'I'd be th' emancipator iv th' people,' says he. 'Ye'd have th' wurred on th' coffin lid,' says I. 'Why,' says he, 'think iv me, Schmitt, Owgoost Schmitt, stalkin' forth to avinge th' woes iv th' poor,' he says. 'Loodwig, th' cursed, goes by. I jumps fr'm behind a three an' society is freed fr'm th' monsther,' he says. 'Think iv th' glory iv it,' he says. 'Owgoost Schmitt, emancipator,' he says. 'I'll prove to Mary Ann that I'm a man,' he says. Mary Ann was his wife. Her maiden name was Riley. She heard him say it. 'Gus,' says she, 'if iver I hear iv ye shootin' e'er a king I'll lave ye,' she says.”
“Well, sir, I thought he was jokin', but be hivins, wan day he disappeared, an' lo an' behold, two weeks afther I picks up a pa-aper an' r-reads that me brave Schmitt was took up be th' polis f'r thryin' to cop a monarch fr'm behind a three. I sint him a copy iv a pa-aper with his pitcher in it, but I don't know if iver he got it. He's over there now an' his wife is takin' in washin'.”
“It's vanity that makes arnychists, Hinnissy—vanity an' th' habits kings has nowadays iv bein' as common as life insurance agents.”
“I don't like kings,” said Mr. Hennessy, “but I like arnychists less. They ought to be kilt off as fast as they're caught.”
“They'll be that,” said Mr. Dooley. “But killin' thim is like wringin' th' neck iv a mickrobe.”
“Hinnissy, if iver we have war with what me frind Carl Schurz'd call th' Mother County, it'll not come fr'm anny Vinnyzwalan question. Ye can't get me excited over th' throbbin' debate on th' location iv th' Orynocoo River or whether th' miners that go to Alaska f'r goold ar're buried be th' Canajeen or th' American authorities. Ye bet ye can't. But some day we'll be beat in a yacht r-race or done up at futball an' thin what Hogan call th' dogs iv war'll break out iv th' kennel an' divastate th' wurruld.”
“Well,” said Mr. Hennessy, complacently, “if we wait f'r that we might as well disband our navy.”
“I dinnaw about that,” said Mr. Dooley, “I dinnaw abut that; afther ye left to investigate th' ir'n foundhries an' other pitcheresque roons iv this misguided counthry, I wint out to give a few raw rahs f'r me fellow colleejens, who was attimptin' to dimonsthrate their supeeryority over th' effete scholars iv England at what I see be th' pa-apers is called th' Olympian games. Ye get to th' Olympian games be suffocation in a tunnel. Whin ye come to, ye pay four shillin's or a dollar in our degraded currency, an' stand in th' sun an' look at th' Prince iv Wales. Th' Prince iv Wales looks at ye, too, but he don't see ye.”
“Me frind, th' American ambassadure was there, an' manny iv th' seats iv larnin' in th' gran' stand was occupied be th' flower iv our seminaries iv meditation or thought conservatories. I r-read it in th' pa-apers. At th' time I come in they was recitin' a pome fr'm th' Greek, to a thoughtful-lookin' young profissor wearin' th' star-spangled banner f'r a necktie an' smokin' a cigareet. 'Now, boys,' says th' profissor, 'all together.' 'Rickety, co-ex, co-ex, hullabaloo, bozoo, bozoo, Harvard,' says th' lads. I was that proud iv me belovid counthry that I wanted to take off me hat there an' thin an' give th' colledge yell iv th' Ar-rchey road reform school. But I was resthrained be a frind iv mine that I met comin' over. He was fr'm Matsachoosetts, an' says he: 'Don't make a disturbance,' he says. 'We've got to create a fav'rable impression here,' he says, 'Th' English,' he says, 'niver shows enthusyasm,' he says. 'Tis regarded as unpolite,' he says. 'If ye yell,' he says, 'they'll think we want to win,' he says, 'an' we didn't come over here to win,' he says. 'Let us show thim,' he says, 'that we're gintlemen, be it iver so painful,' he says. An' I resthrained mesilf be puttin' me fist in me mouth.”
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“They was an Englishman standin' behind me, Hinnissy, an' he was a model iv behaviour f'r all Americans intindin' to take up their homes in Cubia. Ye cudden't get this la-ad war-rmed up if ye built a fire undher him. He had an eye-glass pinned to his face an' he niver even smiled whin a young gintleman fr'm Harvard threw a sledge hammer wan mile, two inches. A fine la-ad, that Harvard man, but if throwin' th' hammer's spoort, thin th' rowlin' mills is th' athletic cintre iv our belovid counthry. Whin an Englishman jumped further thin another la-ad, me frind th' Ice-box, says he: 'H'yah, h'yah!' So whin an American la-ad lept up in th' air as though he'd been caught be th' anchor iv a baloon, I says: 'H'yah, h'yah!' too. Whin a sign iv th' effete aristocracy iv England done up sivral free-bor-rn Americans fr'm Boston in a fut r-race, me frind the Farthest North, he grabs his wan glass eye an' says he: 'Well r-run, Cambridge!' he says; 'Well r-run,' he says. An' 'Well r-run, whativer colledge ye're fr'm,' says I, whin wan iv our la-ads jumped over a fence ahead iv some eager but consarvative English scholars.”
“Well, like a good game, it come three an' three. Three times had victhry perched upon our banner an' thrice—I see it in th' pa-aper—had th' flag iv th' mother counthry proclaimed that Englishmen can r-run. It was thryin' on me narves an' I wanted to yell whin th' tie was r-run off but th' man fr'm Matsachoosetts says: 'Contain ye'ersilf,' he says. 'Don't allow ye'er frinzied American spirit to get away with ye'er manners,' he says. 'Obsarve.' he says, 'th' ca'm with which our brother Anglo-Saxon views th' scene,' he says. 'Ah!' he says, 'they're off an' be th' jumpin' George Wash'nton, I bet ye that fellow fr'm West Newton'll make that red-headed, long-legged, bread-ballasted Englishman look like thirty cints. 'Hurroo,' he says. 'Go on, Harvard,' he says. 'Go on,' he says. 'Rah, rah, rah,' he says. 'Ate him up, chew him up,' he says. 'Harvard!' he says.”
“I looked ar-round at th' ca'm dispassyonate Englishman. He dhropped his eye-glass so he cud see th' race an' he had his cane in th' air. 'Well r-run,' he says. 'Well r-run, Cambridge,' he says. 'Pull him down,' he says. 'Run over him,' he says. 'Thrip him up,' he says. 'They can't r-run,' he says, 'except whin they're Ph'lipinos behind thim,' he says. 'Well r-run,' he says, an' he welted th' man fr'm Matsachoosetts with his cane. 'Be careful what ye're doin' there,' says th' Anglo-Saxon. 'If it wasn't f'r th' 'liance I'd punch ye'er head off,' he says. 'An',' says th' ca'm Englishman, 'if it wasn't f'r our common hurtage,' he says, 'I'd make ye jump over th' gran' stand,' he says. 'Th' English always cud beat us r-runnin',' says the sage iv Matsachoosetts. 'Th' Americans start first an' finishes last,' says th' Englishman. An' I had to pull thim apart.”
“Whether it is that our American colleejans spinds too much iv their lung power in provin' their devotion to what Hogan calls their Almy Matthers or not, I dinnaw, but annyhow, we had to dhrag th' riprisintative iv our branch iv th' Anglo-Saxon an' Boheemyan civilization in th' three-mile race fr'm undher two thousand iv our cousins or brothers-in-law that was ca'mly an' soberly, but hurridly an' noisily chargin' acrost th' thrack to cheer their own man.”
“Me frind fr'm Matsachoosets was blue as we winded our way to th' sthrangulation railway an' started back f'r home. 'I'm sorry,' he says, 'to lose me timper,' he says, 'but,' he says, 'afther all th' pretinded affection iv these people f'r us,' he says, 'an' afther all we've done f'r thim in Alaska an'—an' ivrywhere,' he says, 'an' thim sellin' us coal whin they might've sold it to th' Spanyards if th' Spanyards'd had th' money,' he says, 'to see th' conduct iv that coarse an' brutal Englishman—' 'Th' wan that won th' r-race?' says I. 'Yes,' he says. 'No, I mean th' wan that lammed me with his cane,' he says. 'If it hadn't been,' he says, 'that we're united,' he says, 'be a common pathrimony,' he says, 'I'd've had his life,' he says. 'Ye wud so,' says I, 'an' ye're r-right,' I says. 'If all th' la-ads enthered into th' r-races with th' same spirit ye show now,' I says, 'th' English flag'd be dhroopin' fr'm th' staff, an' Cyrus Bodley iv Wadham, Mass., 'd be paintin' th' stars an' sthripes on th' Nelson monnymint,' I says. 'Whin we hated th' English,' I says, 'an' a yacht r-race was li'ble to end in a war message fr'm the prisidint, we used to bate thim,' I says. 'Now,' says I, 'whin we're afraid to injure their feelin's,' I says, 'an' whin we 'pologise befure we punch, they bate us,' I says. 'They're used to 'pologisin' with wan hand an' punchin' with th' other,' I says. 'Th' on'y way is th' way iv me cousin Mike,' I says. 'He was a gr-reat rassler an' whin he had a full Nelson on th' foolish man that wint again him, he used to say, 'Dear me, am I breakin' ye'er neck, I hope so.'”
“But th' Matsachoosetts man didn't see it that way. An' some time, I tell ye, Hinnissy, an' Englishman'll put th' shot wan fut further than wan iv our men th' Lord save us fr'm th' disgrace!—an' th' next day we'll invade Canada.”
“We ought to do it, annyhow,” said Mr. Hennessy stoutly.
“We wud,” said Mr. Dooley, “if we were sure we cud lave it aftherwards.”
“I don't think,” said Mr. Dooley, “that me frind Willum Jennings Bryan is as good an orator as he was four years ago.”
“He's th' grandest talker that's lived since Dan'l O'Connell,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“Ye've heerd thim all an' ye know,” said Mr. Dooley. “But I tell ye he's gone back. D'ye mind th' time we wint down to th' Coleesyum an' he come out in a black alapaca coat an' pushed into th' air th' finest wurruds ye iver heerd spoke in all ye'er bor-rn days? 'Twas a balloon ascinsion an' th' las' days iv Pompey an' a blast on th' canal all in wan. I had to hold on to me chair to keep fr'm goin' up in th' air, an' I mind that if it hadn't been f'r a crack on th' head ye got fr'm a dillygate fr'm Westconsin ye'd 've been in th' hair iv Gin'ral Bragg. Dear me, will ye iver f'rget it, th' way he pumped it into th' pluthocrats? 'I tell ye here an' now,' he says, 'they'se as good business men in th' quite counthry graveyards iv Kansas as ye can find in the palathial lunch-counthers iv Wall street,' he says. 'Whin I see th' face iv that man who looks like a two-dollar pitcher iv Napolyeon at Saint Heleena,' he says, 'I say to mesilf, ye shall not—ye shall not'—what th' divvle is it ye shall not do, Hinnissy?”
“Ye shall not crucify mankind upon a crown iv thorns,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“Right ye ar-re, I forgot,” Mr. Dooley went on. “Well, thim were his own wurruds. He was young an' he wanted something an' he spoke up. He'd been a rayporther on a newspaper an' he'd rather be prisidint thin write anny longer f'r th' pa-aper, an' he made th' whole iv th' piece out iv his own head.
“But nowadays he has tin wurruds f'r Thomas Jefferson an' th' rest iv th' sage crop to wan f'r himsilf. 'Fellow-dimmycrats,' he says, 'befure goin' anny farther, an' maybe farin' worse, I reluctantly accipt th' nommynation f'r prisidint that I have caused ye to offer me,' he says, 'an' good luck to me,' he says. 'Seein' th' counthry in th' condition it is,' he says, 'I cannot rayfuse,' he says. 'I will now lave a subject that must be disagreeable to manny iv ye an' speak a few wurruds fr'm th' fathers iv th' party, iv whom there ar-re manny,' he says, 'though no shame to th' party, f'r all iv that,' he says. 'Thomas Jefferson, th' sage iv Monticello, says: “Ye can't make a silk purse out iv a sow's ear,” a remark that will at wanst recall th' sayin' iv Binjamin Franklin, th' sage iv Camden, that “th' fartherest way ar-round is th' shortest way acrost.” Nawthin' cud be thruer thin that onliss it is th' ipygram iv Andhrew Jackson, th' sage iv Syr-acuse, that “a bur-rd in th' hand is worth two in th' bush.” What gran' wurruds thim ar-re, an' how they must torture th' prisint leaders iv th' raypublican party. Sam'l Adams, th' sage iv Salem, says: “Laugh an' the wurruld laughs with ye,” while Pathrick Hinnery, th' sage iv Jarsey City, puts it that “ye shud always bet aces befure th' dhraw.” Turnin' farther back into histhry we find that Brian Boru, th' sage iv Munsther, said: “Cead mille failthé,” an' Joolyus Caesar, th' sage iv Waukeesha, says, “Whin ye're in Rome, do th' Romans.” Nebuchedneezar—there's a name f'r ye—th' sage iv I-dinnaw-where, says: “Ye can't ate ye'er hay an' have it.” Solomon, th' sage iv Sageville, said, “Whin a man's marrid his throubles begins,” an' Adam, th' sage iv Eden, put it that “A snake in th' grass is worth two in th' boots.” Ye'll see be this, me good an' thrue frinds, that th' voices fr'm th' tombs is united in wan gran' chorus f'r th' ticket ye have nommynated. I will say no more, but on a future occasion, whin I've been down in southern Injyanny, I'll tell ye what th' sages an' fathers iv th' party in th' Ancient an' Hon'rable Association iv Mound-Builders had to say about th' prisint crisis.'”
“'Tisn't Bryan alone, Mack's th' same way. They're both ancesther worshippers, like th' Chinese, Hinnissy. An' what I'd like to know is what Thomas Jefferson knew about th' throubles iv ye an' me? Divvle a wurrud have I to say again' Thomas. He was a good man in his day, though I don't know that his battin' av'rage 'd be high again' th' pitchin' iv these times. I have a gr-reat rayspict f'r the sages an' I believe in namin' sthreets an' public schools afther thim. But suppose Thomas Jefferson was to come back here now an' say to himsilf: 'They'se a good dimmycrat up in Ar-rchy road an' I think I'll dhrop in on him an' talk over th' issues iv th' day.' Well, maybe he cud r-ride his old gray mare up an' not be kilt be the throlley cars, an' maybe th' la-ads'd think he was crazy an' not murdher him f'r his clothes. An' maybe they wudden't. But annyhow, suppose he got here, an' afther he'd fumbled ar-round at th' latch—f'r they had sthrings on th' dure in thim days—I let him in. Well, whin I've injooced him to take a bowl iv red liquor—f'r in his time th' dhrink was white—an' explained how th' seltzer comes out an' th' cash raygisther wurruks, an' wather is dhrawn fr'm th' fassit, an' gas is lighted fr'm th' burner, an' got him so he wud not bump his head again' th' ceilin' ivry time th' beer pump threw a fit—afther that we'd talk iv the pollytical situation.”
“'How does it go?' says Thomas. 'Well,' says I, 'it looks as though Ioway was sure raypublican,' says I. 'Ioway?' says he. 'What's that?' says he. 'Ioway,' says I, 'is a state,' says I. 'I niver heerd iv it,' says he. 'Faith ye did not,' says I. 'But it's a state just th' same, an' full iv corn an' people,' I says. 'An' why is it raypublican?' says he. 'Because,' says I, 'th' people out there is f'r holdin' th' Ph'lippeens,' says I. 'What th' divvle ar-re th' Ph'lippeens?' says he. 'Is it a festival,' says he, 'or a dhrink?' he says. 'Faith, 'tis small wondher ye don't know,' says I, 'f'r 'tis mesilf was weak on it a year ago,' I says. 'Th' Ph'lippeens is an issue,' says I, 'an' islands,' says I, 'an' a public nuisance,' I says. 'But,' I says, 'befure we go anny further on this subject,' I says, 'd'ye know where Minnysota is, or Westconsin, or Utah, or Californya, or Texas, or Neebrasky?' says I. 'I do not,' says he. 'D'ye know that since ye'er death there has growed up on th' shore iv Lake Mitchigan a city that wud make Rome look like a whistlin' station—a city that has a popylation iv eight million people till th' census rayport comes out?' I says. 'I niver heerd iv it,' he says. 'D'ye know that I can cross th' ocean in six days, an' won't; that if annything doesn't happen in Chiny I can larn about it in twinty-four hours if I care to know; that if ye was in Wash'nton I cud call ye up be tillyphone an ye'er wire'd be busy?' I says. 'I do not,' says Thomas Jefferson. 'Thin,' says I, 'don't presume to advise me,' I says, 'that knows these things an' manny more,' I says. 'An' whin ye go back where ye come fr'm an' set down with th' rest iv th' sages to wondher whether a man cud possibly go fr'm Richmond to Boston in a week, tell thim,' I says, 'that in their day they r-run a corner grocery an' to-day,' says I, 'we're op'ratin' a sixteen-story department store an' puttin' in ivrything fr'm an electhric lightin' plant to a set iv false teeth,' I says. An' I hist him on his horse an' ask a polisman to show him th' way home.”
“Be hivins, Hinnissy, I want me advice up-to-date, an' whin Mack an' Willum Jennings tells me what George Wash'nton an' Thomas Jefferson said, I says to thim: 'Gintlemen, they larned their thrade befure th' days iv open plumbin',' I says. 'Tell us what is wanted ye'ersilf or call in a journeyman who's wurrukin' card is dated this cinchry,' I says. 'An' I'm r-right too, Hinnissy.'”
“Well,” said Mr. Hennessy, slowly, “those ol' la-ads was level-headed.”
“Thrue f'r ye,” said Mr. Dooley. “But undher th' new iliction laws ye can't vote th' cimitries.”
“What's goin' to happen to th' naygur?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “he'll ayther have to go to th' north an' be a subjick race, or stay in th' south an' be an objick lesson. 'Tis a har-rd time he'll have, annyhow. I'm not sure that I'd not as lave be gently lynched in Mississippi as baten to death in New York. If I was a black man, I'd choose th' cotton belt in prifrince to th' belt on th' neck fr'm th' polisman's club. I wud so.”
“I'm not so much throubled about th' naygur whin he lives among his opprissors as I am whin he falls into th' hands iv his liberators. Whin he's in th' south he can make up his mind to be lynched soon or late an' give his attintion to his other pleasures iv composin' rag-time music on a banjo, an' wurrukin' f'r th' man that used to own him an' now on'y owes him his wages. But 'tis th' divvle's own hardship f'r a coon to step out iv th' rooms iv th' S'ciety f'r th' Brotherhood iv Ma-an where he's been r-readin' a pome on th' 'Future of th' Moke' an' be pursooed be a mob iv abolitionists till he's dhriven to seek polis protection, which, Hinnissy, is th' polite name f'r fracture iv th' skull.
“I was f'r sthrikin' off th' shackles iv th' slave, me la-ad. 'Twas thrue I didn't vote f'r it, bein' that I heerd Stephen A. Douglas say 'twas onconstitootional, an' in thim days I wud go to th' flure with anny man f'r th' constitootion. I'm still with it, but not sthrong. It's movin' too fast f'r me. But no matther. Annyhow I was f'r makin' th' black man free, an' though I shtud be th' south as a spoortin' proposition I was kind iv glad in me heart whin Gin'ral Ulyss S. Grant bate Gin'ral Lee an' th' rest iv th' Union officers captured Jeff Davis. I says to mesilf, 'Now,' I says, 'th' coon'll have a chanst f'r his life,' says I, 'an' in due time we may injye him,' I says.
“An' sure enough it looked good f'r awhile, an' th' time come whin th' occas'nal dollar bill that wint acrost this bar on pay night wasn't good money onless it had th' name iv th' naygur on it. In thim days they was a young la-ad—a frind iv wan iv th' Donohue boys—that wint to th' public school up beyant, an' he was as bright a la-ad as ye'd want to see in a day's walk. Th' larnin' iv him wud sind Father Kelly back to his grammar. He cud spell to make a hare iv th' hedge schoolmasther, he was as quick at figures as th' iddycated pig they showed in th' tint las' week in Haley's vacant lot, and in joggerphy, asthronomy, algybbera, jommethry, chimisthry, physiojnomy, bassoophly an' fractions, I was often har-rd put mesilf to puzzle him. I heerd him gradyooate an' his composition was so fine very few cud make out what he meant.
“I met him on th' sthreet wan day afther he got out iv school. 'What ar-re ye goin' to do f'r ye'ersilf, Snowball,' says I—his name was Andhrew Jackson George Wash'n'ton Americus Caslateras Beresford Vanilla Hicks, but I called him 'Snowball,' him bein' as black as coal, d'ye see—I says to him: 'What ar-re ye goin' to do f'r ye'ersilf?' I says. 'I'm goin' to enther th' profission iv law,' he says, 'where be me acooman an' industhry I hope,' he says, 'f'r to rise to be a judge,' he says, 'a congrissman,' he says, 'a sinator,' he says, 'an' p'rhaps,' he says, 'a prisidint iv th' United States,' he says. 'Theyse nawthin to prevint,' he says. 'Divvle a thing,' says I. 'Whin we made ye free,' says I, 'we opened up all these opporchunities to ye,' says I. 'Go on,' says I, 'an' enjye th' wealth an' position conferred on ye be th' constitootion,' I says. 'On'y,' I says, 'don't be too free,' I says. 'Th' freedom iv th' likes iv ye is a good thing an' a little iv it goes a long way,' I says, 'an' if I ever hear iv ye bein' prisidint iv th' United States,' I says, 'I'll take me whitewashing' away fr'm ye'er father, ye excelsior hair, poached-egg eyed, projiny iv tar,' I says, f'r me Anglo-Saxon feelin' was sthrong in thim days.
“Well, I used to hear iv him afther that defindin' coons in th' polis coort, an' now an' thin bein' mintioned among th' scatthrin' in raypublican county con-vintions, an' thin he dhropped out iv sight. 'Twas years befure I see him again. Wan day I was walkin' up th' levee smokin' a good tin cint seegar whin a coon wearin' a suit iv clothes that looked like a stained glass window in th' house iv a Dutch brewer an' a pop bottle in th' fr-ront iv his shirt, steps up to me an' he says: 'How dy'e do, Mistah Dooley,' says he. 'Don't ye know me—Mistah Hicks?' he says. 'Snowball,' says I. 'Step inside this dureway,' says I, 'less Clancy, th' polisman on th' corner, takes me f'r an octoroon,' I says. 'What ar-re ye do-in'?' says I. 'How did ye enjye th' prisidincy?' says I. He laughed an' told me th' story iv his life. He wint to practisin' law an' found his on'y clients was coons, an' they had no assets but their vote at th' prim'ry. Besides a warrant f'r a moke was the same as a letther iv inthroduction to th' warden iv th' pinitinchry. Th' on'y thing left f'r th' lawyer to do was to move f'r a new thrile an' afther he'd got two or three he thought ol' things was th' best an' ye do well to lave bad enough alone. He got so sick iv chicken he cudden't live on his fees an' he quit th' law an' wint into journalism. He r-run 'Th' Colored Supplimint,' but it was a failure, th' taste iv th' public lanin' more to quadhroon publications, an' no man that owned a resthrant or theaytre or dhrygoods store'd put in an adver-tisemint f'r fear th' subscribers'd see it an' come ar-round. Thin he attimpted to go into pollytics, an' th' best he cud get was carryin' a bucket iv wather f'r a Lincoln Club. He thried to larn a thrade an' found th' on'y place a naygur can larn a thrade is in prison an' he can't wurruk at that without committin' burglary. He started to take up subscriptions f'r a sthrugglin' church an' found th' profission was overcrowded. 'Fin'ly,' says he, ''twas up to me to be a porther in a saloon or go into th' on'y business,' he says, 'in which me race has a chanst,' he says. 'What's that?' says I. 'Craps,' says he. 'I've opened a palachal imporyium,' he says, 'where,' he says, ''twud please me very much,' he says, 'me ol' abolitionist frind,' he says, 'if ye'd dhrop in some day,' he says, 'an' I'll roll th' sweet, white bones f'r ye,' he says. ''Tis th' hope iv me people,' he says. 'We have an even chanst at ivry other pursoot,' he says, 'but 'tis on'y in craps we have a shade th' best iv it,' he says.”
“So there ye ar-re, Hinnissy. An' what's it goin' to come to, says ye? Faith, I don't know an' th' naygurs don't know, an' be hivins, I think if th' lady that wrote th' piece we used to see at th' Halsted Sthreet Opry House come back to earth, she wudden't know. I used to be all broke up about Uncle Tom, but cud I give him a job tindin' bar in this here liquor store? I freed th' slave, Hinnissy, but, faith, I think' twas like tur-rnin' him out iv a panthry into a cellar.”
“Well, they got to take their chances,” said Mr. Hennessy. “Ye can't do annything more f'r thim than make thim free.”
“Ye can't,” said Mr. Dooley; “on'y whin ye tell thim they're free they know we're on'y sthringin' thim.”
“I've niver been much iv a hand f'r th' theaytre,” said Mr. Dooley. “Whin I was a young man an' Crosby's Opry house was r-runnin' I used to go down wanst in a while an' see Jawn Dillon throwin' things around f'r th' amusemint iv th' popylace an' whin Shakespere was played I often had a seat in th' gal'ry, not because I liked th' actin', d'ye mind, but because I'd heerd me frind Hogan speak iv Shakespere. He was a good man, that Shakespere, but his pieces is full iv th' ol' gags that I heerd whin I was a boy. Th' throuble with me about goin' to plays is that no matther where I set I cud see some hired man in his shirt sleeves argyin' with wan iv his frinds about a dog fight while Romeo was makin' th' kind iv love ye wuddent want ye'er daughter to hear to Juliet in th' little bur-rd cage they calls a balcony. It must've been because I wanst knowed a man be th' name iv Gallagher that was a scene painter that I cud niver get mesilf to th' pint iv concedin' that th' mountains that other people agreed was manny miles in th' distance was in no danger iv bein' rubbed off th' map be th' coat-tails iv wan iv th' principal char-ackters. An' I always had me watch out to time th' moon whin' twas shoved acrost th' sky an' th' record breakin' iv day in th' robbers' cave where th' robbers don't dare f'r to shtep on the rock f'r fear they'll stave it in. If day iver broke on th' level th' way it does on th' stage 'twud tear th' bastin' threads out iv what Hogan calls th' firmymint. Hogan says I haven't got th' dhramatic delusion an' he must be r-right f'r ye can't make me believe that twinty years has elapsed whin I know that I've on'y had time to pass th' time iv day with th' bartinder nex' dure.
“Plays is upside down, Hinnissy, an' inside out. They begin with a full statement iv what's goin' to happen an' how it's goin' to come out an' thin ye're asked to forget what ye heerd an' be surprised be th' outcome. I always feel like goin' to th' office an' gettin' me money or me lithograph pass back afther th' first act.
“Th' way to write a play is f'r to take a book an' write it over hindend foremost. They're puttin' all books on th' stage nowadays. Fox's 'Book iv Martyrs' has been done into a three-act farce-comedy an'll be projooced be Delia Fox, th' author, nex' summer. Webster's 'Onabridge Ditchnry' will be brought out as a society dhrama with eight hundherd thousan' char-ackters. Th' 'Constitution iv th' United States' (a farce) be Willum McKinley is r-runnin' to packed houses with th' cillybrated thradeejan Aggynaldoo as th' villain. In th' sixteenth scene iv th' last act they'se a naygur lynchin'. James H. Wilson, th' author iv 'Silo an' Ensilage, a story f'r boys,' is dhramatizin' his cillybrated wurruk an' will follow it with a dhramatic version iv 'Sugar Beet Culture,' a farm play. 'Th' Familiar Lies iv Li Hung Chang' is expicted to do well in th' provinces an' Hostetter's Almanac has all dates filled, I undherstand th' bible'll be r-ready f'r th' stage undher th'direction iv Einstein an' Opperman befure th' first iv th' year. Some changes has been niciss'ry f'r to adapt it to stage purposes, I see be th' pa-apers. Th' authors has become convinced that Adam an' Eve must be carrid through th' whole play, so they have considerably lessened th' time between th' creation an' th' flood an' have made Adam an English nobleman with a shady past an' th' Divvle a Fr-rinch count in love with Eve. They're rescued be Noah, th' faithful boatman who has a comic naygur son.”
“I see be th' pa-aper th' stage is goin' to th' dogs what with it's Sappho's an' th' like iv that,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“Well, it isn't what it used to be,” said Mr. Dooley, “in th' days whin 'twas th' purpose iv th' hero to save th' honest girl from the clutches iv th' villin in time to go out with him an' have a shell iv beer at th' Dutchman's downstairs. In th' plays nowadays th' hero is more iv a villain thin th' villain himsilf. He's th' sort iv a man that we used to heave pavin' shtones at whin he come out iv th' stage dure iv th' Halsted Sthreet Opry House. To be a hero ye've first got to be an Englishman, an' as if that wasn't bad enough ye've got to have committed as many crimes as th' late H. H. Holmes. If he'd been born in England he'd be a hero. Ye marry a woman who swears an' dhrinks an' bets on th' races an' ye quarrel with her. Th' r-rest iv th' play is made up iv hard cracks be all th' char-ack-ters at each others' morals. This is called repartee be th' learned, an' Hogan. Repartee is where I say: 'Ye stole a horse' an' ye say: 'But think iv ye'er wife!' In Ar-rchy r-road 'tis called disordherly conduct. They'se another play on where a man r-runs off with a woman that's no betther thin she ought to be. He bates her an' she marries a burglar. Another wan is about a lady that ates dinner with a German. He bites her an' she hits him with a cabbage. Thin they'se a play about an English gintleman iv th' old school who thries to make a girl write a letter f'r him an' if she don't he'll tell on her. He doesn't tell an' so he's rewarded with th' love iv th' heroine, an honest English girl out f'r th' money.”
“Nobody's marrid in th' modhern play, Hinnissy, an' that's a good thing, too, f'r annywan that got marrid wud have th' worst iv it. In th' ol' times th' la-ads that announces what's goin' to happen in the first act, always promised ye a happy marredge in th' end an' as ivrybody's lookin' f'r a happy marredge, that held the aujeence. Now ye know that th' hero with th' wretched past is goin' to elope with th' dhrunken lady an' th' play is goin' to end with th' couples prettily divorced in th' centher iv th' stage. 'Tis called real life an' mebbe that's what it is, but f'r me I don't want to see real life on th' stage. I can see that anny day. What I want is f'r th' spotless gintleman to saw th' la-ad with th' cigareet into two-be-fours an' marry th' lady that doesn't dhrink much while th' aujeence is puttin' on their coats.”
“Why don't they play Shakespere any more?” Mr. Hennessy asked.
“I undherstand,” said Mr. Dooley, “that they're goin' to dhramatize Shakespere whin th' dhramatizer gets through with th' 'Report iv th' Cinsus Department f'r 1899-1900.'”
“I wisht th' campaign was over,” said Mr. Dooley.
“I wisht it'd begin,” said Mr. Hennessy. “I niver knew annything so dead. They ain't been so much as a black eye give or took in th' ward an' its less thin two months to th' big day.”
“'Twill liven up,” said Mr. Dooley, “I begin to see signs iv th' good times comin' again. 'Twas on'y th' other day me frind Tiddy Rosenfelt opened th' battle mildly be insinuatin' that all dimmycrats was liars, horse thieves an' arnychists. 'Tis thrue he apologized f'r that be explainin' that he didn't mean all dimmycrats but on'y those that wudden't vote f'r Mack but I think he'll take th' copper off befure manny weeks. A ladin' dimmycratic rayformer has suggested that Mack though a good man f'r an idjiot is surrounded be th' vilest scoundhrels iver seen in public life since th' days iv Joolyus Caesar. Th' Sicrety iv th' Threeasury has declared, that Mr. Bryan in sayin' that silver is not convartible be th' terms iv th' Slatthry bankin' law iv 1870, an' th' sicond clause iv th' threaty iv Gansville, has committed th' onpard'nable pollytical sin iv so consthructin' th' facts as to open up th' possibility iv wan not knowin' th' thrue position iv affairs, misundhersthandin' intirely. If he had him outside he'd call him a liar. Th' raypublicans have proved that Willum Jennings Bryan is a thraitor be th' letther written be Dr. Lem Stoggins, th' cillybrated antithought agytator iv Spooten Duyvil to Aggynaldoo in which he calls upon him to do nawthin' till he hears fr'm th' doc. Th' letther was sint through th' postal authorities an' as they have established no post-office in Aggynaldoo's hat they cudden't deliver it an' they opened it. Upon r-readin' th' letther Horace Plog iv White Horse, Minnesota, has wrote to Willum Jennings Bryan declarin' that if he (Plog) iver went to th' Ph'lippeens, which he wud've done but f'r th' way th' oats was sproutin' in th' stack, an' had been hit with a bullet he'd ixpict th' Coroner to hold Bryan to th' gran' jury. This was followed be th' publication iv a letther fr'm Oscar L. Swub iv East Persepalis, Ohio, declarin' that his sister heerd a cousin iv th' man that wash'd buggies in a livery stable in Canton say Mack's hired man tol' him Mack'd be hanged befure he'd withdraw th' ar-rmy fr'm Cuba.”
“Oh, I guess th' campaign is doin' as well as cud be ixpicted. I see be th' raypublican pa-apers that Andhrew Carnegie has come out f'r Bryan an' has conthributed wan half iv his income or five hundhred millyon dollars to th' campaign fund. In th' dimmycratic pa-apers I r-read that Chairman Jim Jones has inthercipted a letther fr'm the Prince iv Wales to Mack congratulatin' him on his appintmint as gintleman-in-waitin' to th' queen. A dillygation iv Mormons has started fr'm dimmycratic headquarthers to thank Mack f'r his manly stand in favor iv poly-gamy an' th' raypublican comity has undher con-sideration a letther fr'm long term criminals advisin' their colleagues at large to vote f'r Willum Jennings Bryan, th' frind iv crime.”
“In a few short weeks, Hinnissy, 'twill not be safe f'r ayether iv the candydates to come out on th' fr-ront porch till th' waitin' dillygations has been searched be a polisman. 'Tis th' divvle's own time th' la-ads that r-runs f'r th' prisidincy has since that ol' boy Burchard broke loose again' James G. Blaine. Sinitor Jones calls wan iv his thrusty hinchman to his side, an' says he: 'Mike, put on a pig-tail, an' a blue shirt an' take a dillygation iv Chinnymen out to Canton an' congratulate Mack on th' murdher iv mission'ries in China. An',' he says, 'ye might stop off at Cincinnati on th' way over an' arrange f'r a McKinley an' Rosenfelt club to ilict th' British Consul its prisidint an' attack th' office iv th' German newspaper,' he says. Mark Hanna rings f'r his sicrety an', says he: 'Have ye got off th' letther fr'm George Fred Willums advisin' Aggynaldoo to pizen th' wells?' 'Yes sir.' 'An' th' secret communication fr'm Bryan found on an arnychist at Pattherson askin' him to blow up th' White House?' 'It's in th' hands iv th' tyepwriter.' 'Thin call up an employmint agency an' have a dillygation iv Jesuites dhrop in at Lincoln, with a message fr'm th' pope proposin' to bur-rn all Protestant churches th' night befure iliction.'”
“I tell ye, Hinnissy, th' candydate is kept mov-in'. Whin he sees a dilly-gation pikin' up th' lawn he must be r-ready. He makes a flyin' leap f'r th' chairman, seizes him by th' throat an' says: 'I thank ye f'r th' kind sintimints ye have conveyed. I am, indeed, as ye have remarked, th' riprisintative iv th' party iv manhood, honor, courage, liberality an' American thraditions. Take that back to Jimmy Jones an' tell him to put it in his pipe an' smoke it.' With which he bounds into th' house an' locks the dure while th' baffled conspirators goes down to a costumer an' changes their disguise. If th' future prisidint hadn't been quick on th' dhraw he'd been committed to a policy iv sthranglin' all the girl babies at birth.”
“No, 'tis no aisy job bein' a candydate, an' 'twud be no easy job if th' game iv photygraphs was th' on'y wan th' candydates had to play. Willum Jennings Bryan is photygraphed smilin' back at his smilin' corn fields, in a pair iv blue overalls with a scythe in his hand borrid fr'm th' company that's playin' 'Th' Ol' Homestead,' at th' Lincoln Gran' Opry House. Th' nex' day Mack is seen mendin' a rustic chair with a monkey wrinch, Bryan has a pitcher took in th' act iv puttin' on a shirt marked with th' union label, an' they'se another photygraph iv Mack carryin' a scuttle iv coal up th' cellar stairs. An' did ye iver notice how much th' candydates looks alike, an' how much both iv thim looks like Lydia Pinkham? Thim wondherful boardhin'-house smiles that our gifted leaders wears, did ye iver see annythin' so entrancin'? Whin th' las' photygrapher has packed his ar-ms homeward I can see th' gr-reat men retirin' to their rooms an' lettin' their faces down f'r a few minyits befure puttin' thim up again in curl-pa-apers f'r th' nex' day display. Glory be, what a relief 'twill be f'r wan iv thim to raysume permanently th' savage or fam'ly breakfast face th' mornin' afther iliction! What a raylief 'twill be to no f'r sure that th' man at th' dure bell is on'y th' gas collector an' isn't loaded with a speech iv thanks in behalf iv th' Spanish Gover'mint! What a relief to snarl at wife an' frinds wanst more, to smoke a seegar with th' thrust magnate that owns th' cider facthry near th' station, to take ye'er nap in th' afthernoon undisthurbed be th' chirp iv th' snap-shot! 'Tis th' day afther iliction I'd like f'r to be a candydate, Hinnissy, no matther how it wint.”
“An' what's become iv th' vice-prisidintial candydates?” Mr. Hennessy asked.
“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “Th' las' I heerd iv Adly, I didn't hear annythin', an' th' las' I heerd iv Tiddy he'd made application to th' naytional comity f'r th' use iv Mack as a soundin' board.”