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Mr. DOOLEY
IN PEACE AND IN WAR
[Illustration]
Boston
Small, Maynard & Company
1899
Copyright, 1898, by the Chicago Journal
Copyright, 1898, by Small, Maynard & Company
First Edition (10,000 copies) November, 1898
Second Edition (10,000 copies) December, 1898
Third Edition (10,000 copies) January, 1899
Press of George H. Ellis, Boston, U.S.A.
TO W.H. TURNER
PREFACE.
Archey Road stretches back for many miles from the heart of an ugly city
to the cabbage gardens that gave the maker of the seal his opportunity
to call the city "urbs in horto." Somewhere between the two--that is to
say, forninst th' gas-house and beyant Healey's slough and not far from
the polis station--lives Martin Dooley, doctor of philosophy.
There was a time when Archey Road was purely Irish. But the Huns, turned
back from the Adriatic and the stock-yards and overrunning Archey Road,
have nearly exhausted the original population,--not driven them out as
they drove out less vigorous races, with thick clubs and short spears,
but edged them out with the more biting weapons of modern
civilization,--overworked and under-eaten them into more languid
surroundings remote from the tanks of the gas-house and the blast
furnaces of the rolling-mill.
But Mr. Dooley remains, and enough remain with him to save the Archey
Road. In this community you can hear all the various accents of Ireland,
from the awkward brogue of the "far-downer" to the mild and aisy
Elizabethan English of the southern Irishman, and all the exquisite
variations to be heard between Armagh and Bantry Bay, with the
difference that would naturally arise from substituting cinders and
sulphuretted hydrogen for soft misty air and peat smoke. Here also you
can see the wakes and christenings, the marriages and funerals, and the
other fetes of the ol' counthry somewhat modified and darkened by
American usage. The Banshee has been heard many times in Archey Road. On
the eve of All Saints' Day it is well known that here alone the pookies
play thricks in cabbage gardens. In 1893 it was reported that Malachi
Dempsey was called "by the other people," and disappeared west of the
tracks, and never came back.
A simple people! "Simple, says ye!" remarked Mr. Dooley. "Simple like
th' air or th' deep sea. Not complicated like a watch that stops whin
th' shoot iv clothes ye got it with wears out. Whin Father Butler
wr-rote a book he niver finished, he said simplicity was not wearin' all
ye had on ye'er shirt-front, like a tin-horn gambler with his di'mon'
stud. An' 'tis so."
The barbarians around them are moderately but firmly governed,
encouraged to passionate votings for the ruling race, but restrained
from the immoral pursuit of office.
The most generous, thoughtful, honest, and chaste people in the world
are these friends of Mr. Dooley,--knowing and innocent; moral, but
giving no heed at all to patented political moralities.
Among them lives and prospers the traveller, archaeologist, historian,
social observer, saloon-keeper, economist, and philosopher, who has not
been out of the ward for twenty-five years "but twict." He reads the
newspapers with solemn care, heartily hates them, and accepts all they
print for the sake of drowning Hennessy's rising protests against his
logic. From the cool heights of life in the Archey Road, uninterrupted
by the jarring noises of crickets and cows, he observes the passing
show, and meditates thereon. His impressions are transferred to the
desensitized plate of Mr. Hennessy's mind, where they can do no harm.
"There's no betther place to see what's goin' on thin the Ar-rchey
Road," says Mr. Dooley. "Whin th' ilicthric cars is hummin' down th'
sthreet an' th' blast goin' sthrong at th' mills, th' noise is that
gr-reat ye can't think."
He is opulent in good advice, as becomes a man of his station; for he
has mastered most of the obstacles in a business career, and by leading
a prudent and temperate life has established himself so well that he
owns his own house and furniture, and is only slightly behind on his
license. It would be indelicate to give statistics as to his age. Mr.
Hennessy says he was a "grown man whin th' pikes was out in forty-eight,
an' I was hedge-high, an' I'm near fifty-five." Mr. Dooley says Mr.
Hennessy is eighty. He closes discussion on his own age with the remark,
"I'm old enough to know betther." He has served his country with
distinction. His conduct of the important office of captain of his
precinct (1873-75) was highly commended, and there was some talk of
nominating him for alderman. At the expiration of his term he was
personally thanked by the Hon. M. McGee, at one time a member of the
central committee. But the activity of public life was unsuited to a man
of Mr. Dooley's tastes; and, while he continues to view the political
situation always with interest and sometimes with alarm, he has
resolutely declined to leave the bar for the forum. His early
experience gave him wisdom in discussing public affairs. "Politics," he
says, "ain't bean bag. 'Tis a man's game; an' women, childher, an'
pro-hybitionists'd do well to keep out iv it." Again he remarks, "As
Shakespeare says, 'Ol' men f'r th' council, young men f'r th' ward.'"
An attempt has been made in this book to give permanent form to a few of
the more characteristic and important of Mr. Dooley's utterances. For
permission to reprint the articles the thanks of the editor are due to
Mr. George G. Booth, of the Chicago _Journal_, and to Mr. Dooley's
constant friend, Mr. H.H. Kohlsaat, of the Chicago _Evening Post_.
F. P. D.
CONTENTS.
MR. DOOLEY IN WAR PAGE
ON DIPLOMACY 1
ON WAR PREPARATIONS 6
ON FITZ-HUGH LEE 10
ON MULES AND OTHERS 14
ON HIS COUSIN GEORGE 20
ON SOME ARMY APPOINTMENTS 25
ON STRATEGY 30
ON GENERAL MILES'S MOONLIGHT EXCURSION 34
ON ADMIRAL DEWEY'S ACTIVITY 39
ON THE PHILIPPINES 43
ON PRAYERS FOR VICTORY 48
ON THE ANGLO-SAXON 53
ON A LETTER FROM THE FRONT 58
ON OUR CUBAN ALLIES 63
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET 68
ON A LETTER TO MR. DEPEW 73
ON THE PRESIDENT'S CAT 77
ON A SPEECH BY PRESIDENT McKINLEY 81
ON THE HERO IN POLITICS 87
MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE
ON NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS 95
ON GOLD-SEEKING 100
ON BOOKS 105
ON REFORM CANDIDATES 111
ON PATERNAL DUTY 118
ON CRIMINALS 124
ON A PLOT 130
ON THE NEW WOMAN 136
ON EXPERT TESTIMONY 141
ON THE POPULARITY OF FIREMEN 146
ON THE GAME OF FOOTBALL 152
ON THE NECESSITY OF MODESTY AMONG THE RICH 158
ON THE POWER OF LOVE 165
ON THE VICTORIAN ERA 170
ON THE CURRENCY QUESTION 175
ON POLITICAL PARADES 181
ON CHARITY 187
ON NANSEN 192
ON A POPULIST CONVENTION 197
ON A FAMILY REUNION 202
ON A FAMOUS WEDDING 208
ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND GERMANY 213
ON ORATORY IN POLITICS 218
ON CHRISTMAS GIFTS 223
ON ANARCHISTS 229
ON THE DREYFUS CASE 234
ON THE DECADENCE OF GREECE 239
ON THE INDIAN WAR 245
ON GOLF 249
ON THE FRENCH CHARACTER 255
MR. DOOLEY IN WAR
ON DIPLOMACY.
"I'll explain it to ye," said Mr. Dooley. "'Tis this way. Ye see, this
here Sagasta is a boonco steerer like Canada Bill, an' th' likes iv him.
A smart man is this Sagasta, an' wan that can put a crimp in th' ca-ards
that ye cudden't take out with a washerwoman's wringer. He's been
through manny a ha-ard game. Talk about th' County Dimocracy picnic,
where a three-ca-ard man goes in debt ivry time he hurls th' broads,
'tis nawthin' to what this here Spanish onion has been again an' beat.
F'r years an' years he's played on'y profissionals. Th' la-ads he's
tackled have more marked ca-ards in their pockets thin a preacher fr'm
Mitchigan an' more bad money thin ye cud shake out iv th' coat-tail
pockets iv a prosp'rous banker fr'm Injianny. He's been up again
Gladstun an' Bisma-arck an' ol' what-ye-call-'im, th' Eyetalian,--his
name's got away from me,--an' he's done thim all.
"Well, business is bad. No wan will play with him. No money's comin'
in. Th' circus has moved on to th' nex' town, an' left him without a
customer. Th' Jew man that loaned him th' bank-roll threatens to seize
th' ca-ards on' th' table. Whin, lo an' behold, down th' sthreet comes a
ma-an fr'm th' counthry,--a lawyer fr'm Ohio, with a gripsack in his
hand. Oh, but he's a proud man. He's been in town long enough f'r to get
out iv th' way iv th' throlley ca-ar whin th' bell rings. He's larned
not to thry an' light his see-gar at th' ilicthric light. He doesn't
offer to pay th' ilivator ma-an f'r carryin' him upstairs. He's got so
he can pass a tall buildin' without thryin' f'r to turn a back
summersault. An' he's as haughty about it as a new man on an ice-wagon.
They'se nawthin' ye can tell him. He thinks iv himsilf goin' back to
Canton with a r-red necktie on, an' settin' on a cracker box an' tellin'
th' lads whin they come in fr'm pitchin' hor-rseshoes what a hot time
he's had, an' how he's seen th' hootchy-kootchy an' th' Pammer House
barber shop, an' th' other ondacint sights iv a gr-reat city.
"An' so he comes up to where Sagasta is kind iv throwin' th' ca-ards
idly on th' top iv th' bar'l, an' Sagasta pipes him out iv th' corner iv
his eye, an' says to himsilf: 'Oh, I dinnaw,' an' thanks hiven f'r th'
law that has a sucker bor-rn ivry minyit. An' th' la-ad fr'm Canton
thinks he can pick out th' Jack, an' sometimes he can an' sometimes he
can't; but th' end iv it is th' Spanyard has him thrimmed down to his
chest protector, an' he'll be goin' back to Canton in a blanket. Ye see
it ain't his game. If it was pitchin' hor-rseshoes, 'twud be diff'rent.
He cud bate Sagasta at that. He cud do him at rasslin' or chasin' th'
greased pig, or in a wan-legged race or th' tug-iv-war. He cud make him
look foolish at liftin' a kag iv beer or hitchin' up a team. But, whin
it comes to di-plo-macy, th' Spanyard has him again th' rail, an' counts
on him till his ar-rm is sore."
"Why don't he tur-rn in an' fight?" demanded the patriotic Mr.
Hennessy.
"Lord knows," said Mr. Dooley. "Mebbe 'twill tur-rn out th' way it did
with two frinds iv mine. They was Joe Larkin an' a little r-red-headed
man be th' name iv O'Brien, an' they wint out to th' picanic at Ogden's
grove, where wanst a year Ireland's freed. They was a shell ma-an
wurrukin' near th' fence, an' Larkin says, says he: 'He's aisy. Lave me
have some money, an' we'll do him. I can see th' pea go undher th' shell
ivry time.' So O'Brien bein' a hot spoort loaned him th' money, an' he
wint at it. Ivry time Larkin cud see th' pea go undher th' shell as
plain as day. Wanst or twict th' shell man was so careless that he left
th' pea undher th' edge iv th' shell. But in five minyits all iv
O'Brien's money was in th' bad ma-an's pockits, an' he was lookin'
around f'r more foolish pathrites. It took O'Brien some time f'r to
decide what to do. Thin says he, ''Twas my money this fool blowed in.'
An' he made a dash f'r th' shell ma'an; an' he not on'y got what he'd
lost, but all th' r-rest iv th' capital besides. Ye see, that was his
game. That was where he come in. An' he took th' money an' carrid it
over to a cor-rner iv th' gr-rounds where a la-ad had wan iv thim
matcheens where ye pay tin cints f'r th' privilege iv seein' how har-rd
ye can hit with a sledge-hammer, an' there he stayed till th' polis come
ar-round to dhrive people off th' gr-rounds."
ON WAR PREPARATIONS
"Well," Mr. Hennessy asked, "how goes th' war?"
"Splendid, thank ye," said Mr. Dooley. "Fine, fine. It makes me hear-rt
throb with pride that I'm a citizen iv th' Sixth Wa-ard."
"Has th' ar-rmy started f'r Cuba yet?"
"Wan ar-rmy, says ye? Twinty! Las' Choosdah an advance ar-rmy iv wan
hundherd an' twinty thousand men landed fr'm th' Gussie, with tin
thousand cannons hurlin' projick-tyles weighin' eight hundherd pounds
sivinteen miles. Winsdah night a second ar-rmy iv injineers, miners,
plumbers, an' lawn tinnis experts, numberin' in all four hundherd an'
eighty thousand men, ar-rmed with death-dealin' canned goods, was
hurried to Havana to storm th' city.
"Thursdah mornin' three thousand full rigimints iv r-rough r-riders swum
their hor-rses acrost to Matoonzas, an' afther a spirited battle
captured th' Rainy Christiny golf links, two up an' hell to play, an'
will hold thim again all comers. Th' same afthernoon th' reg'lar
cavalry, con-sistin' iv four hundherd an' eight thousan' well-mounted
men, was loaded aboord th' tug Lucy J., and departed on their earned iv
death amidst th' cheers iv eight millyon sojers left behind at
Chickamaha. These cav'lry'll co-operate with Commodore Schlow; an' whin
he desthroys th' Spanish fleet, as he does ivry Sundah an' holy day
except in Lent, an' finds out where they ar-re an' desthroys thim,
afther batterin' down th' forts where they ar-re con-cealed so that he
can't see thim, but thinks they ar-re on their way f'r to fight Cousin
George Dooley, th' cav'lry will make a dash back to Tampa, where Gin'ral
Miles is preparin' to desthroy th' Spanish at wan blow,--an' he's th'
boy to blow.
"The gin'ral arrived th' other day, fully prepared f'r th' bloody wurruk
iv war. He had his intire fam'ly with him. He r-rode recklessly into
camp, mounted on a superb specyal ca-ar. As himsilf an' Uncle Mike
Miles, an' Cousin Hennery Miles, an' Master Miles, aged eight years,
dismounted fr'm th' specyal train, they were received with wild cheers
be eight millyon iv th' bravest sojers that iver give up their lives f'r
their counthry. Th' press cinchorship is so pow'rful that no news is
allowed to go out; but I have it fr'm th' specyal corryspondint iv
Mesilf, Clancy th' Butcher, Mike Casey, an' th' City Direchtry that
Gin'ral Miles instantly repaired himsilf to th' hotel, where he made his
plans f'r cr-rushin' th' Spanyards at wan blow. He will equip th' ar-rmy
with blow-guns at wanst. His uniforms ar-re comin' down in specyal steel
protected bullyon trains fr'm th' mint, where they've been kept f'r a
year. He has ordhered out th' gold resarve f'r to equip his staff,
numberin' eight thousan' men, manny iv whom ar-re clubmen; an', as soon
as he can have his pitchers took, he will cr-rush th' Spanish with wan
blow. Th' purpose iv th' gin'ral is to permit no delay. Decisive action
is demanded be th' people. An', whin th' hot air masheens has been sint
to th' front, Gin'ral Miles will strike wan blow that'll be th' damdest
blow since th' year iv th' big wind in Ireland.
"Iv coorse, they'se dissinsions in th' cabinet; but they don't amount to
nawthin'. Th' Sicrety iv War is in favor iv sawin' th' Spanish ar-rmy
into two-be-four joists. Th' Sicrety iv th' Three-asury has a scheme f'r
roonin' thim be lindin' thim money. Th' Sicrety iv th' Navy wants to sue
thim befure th' Mattsachusetts Supreme Coort. I've heerd that th'
Prisident is arrangin' a knee dhrill, with th' idee iv prayin' th'
villyans to th' divvil. But these diff'rences don't count. We're all wan
people, an' we look to Gin'ral Miles to desthroy th' Spanish with wan
blow. Whin it comes, trees will be lifted out be th' roots. Morro
Castle'll cave in, an' th' air'll be full iv Spanish whiskers. A long
blow, a sthrong blow, an' a blow all together."
"We're a gr-reat people," said Mr. Hennessy, earnestly.
"We ar-re," said Mr. Dooley. "We ar-re that. An' th' best iv it is, we
know we ar-re."
ON FITZ-HUGH LEE.
"Iv coorse, he's Irish," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' Fitz-Hughs an' th'
McHughs an' th' McKeoughs is not far apart. I have a cousin be th' name
iv McKeough, an' like as not th' gin'ral is a relation iv mine."
"If I was you, I'd write him an' see," said Mr. Hennessy. "He's a
gr-reat ma-an."
"He is so," said Mr. Dooley. "He is that. Wan iv th' gr-reatest. An' why
shudden't he be with thim two names? They'se pothry in both iv thim.
Fitz-Hugh Lee! Did ye iver see a pitcher iv him? A fat ma-an, with a
head like a football an' a neck big enough to pump blood into his brain
an' keep it fr'm starvin'. White-haired an' r-red-faced. Th' kind iv
ma-an that can get mad in ivry vein in his body. Whin he's hot, I bet ye
his face looks like a fire in a furniture facthry. Whin a ma-an goes
pale with r-rage, look out f'r a knife in th' back. But, whin he flames
up so that th' perspi-ration sizzles on his brow, look out f'r hand an'
feet an' head an' coupling pins an' rapid-firin' guns. Fitz can be ca'm
whin they'se annything to be ca'm about, but he can't wait. If he was a
waiter, he'd be wurrukin' at th' thrade. Look at th' jaw iv him! It's
like a paving block.
"Does Fitz believe in di-plomacy? Not him. He sets there in his office
in Havana, smokin' a good see-gar, an' a boy comes in an' tells him
they've jugged an American citizen. He jams his hat down on his eyes,
an' r-rushes over to where Gin'ral Blanco has his office. 'Look here,'
says he, 'ye pizenous riptile,' he says, 'if ye don't lave me
counthryman out iv th' bull-pen in fifteen minyits be th' watch,' he
says, 'I'll take ye be th' hair iv th' head an' pull ye fr'm th' corner
iv Halsted Sthreet to th' r-red bridge,' he says. 'Lave us debate this,'
says Blanco. 'I'll debate nawthin', says Fitz. 'Hurry up, or I'll give
ye a slap,' he says. 'R-run over an' wake up th' loot at th' station,
an' let thim Americans out, or,' he says, 'we'll go to the flure,' he
says.
"That's Fitz. He's ca'm, an' he waits part iv th' time. That's whin he's
asleep. But, as soon as his eyes opins, his face begins to flare up like
wan iv thim r-round stoves in a woodman's shanty whin rosiny wood is
thrun in. An' fr'm that time on till he's r-ready to tur-rn in an' sleep
peaceful an' quite,--not like a lamb full iv vigetable food, but like a
line that's wur-rked ha-ard an' et meat,--he niver stops rampin' an'
ragin'. Ye don't hear iv Fitz lookin' worn with th' sthruggle. Ye don't
r-read iv him missin' anny meals. No one fears that Fitz will break down
undher th' suspinse. That ain't in th' breed. He's another kind iv a
man. He hasn't got th' time to be tired an' worrid. He needs food, an'
he has it; an' he needs sleep, an' he takes it; an' he needs fightin',
an' he gets it. That's Fitz. They ain't such a lot iv diff'rence between
th' bravest man in the wurruld an' th' cow'rdliest. Not such a lot. It
ain't a question iv morality, Hinnissy. I've knowed men that wint to
church ivry Sundah an' holyday reg'lar, an' give to th' poor an' loved
their neighbors, an' they wudden't defind their wives against a
murdherer. An' I've knowed th' worst villyuns on earth that'd die in
their thracks to save a stranger's child fr'm injury. 'Tis a question iv
how th' blood is pumped. Whin a man shows th' sthrain, whin he gets thin
an' pale an' worrid in th' time f'r fightin', he's mighty near a cow'rd.
But, whin his face flames an' his neck swells an' his eyes look like a
couple iv ilicthric lamps again a cyclone sky, he'd lead a forlorn hope
acrost th' battlemints iv hell."
ON MULES AND OTHERS
"I see," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first gr-reat land battle iv th' war has
been fought."
"Where was that?" demanded Mr. Hennessy, in great excitement. "Lord save
us, but where was that?"
"Th' Alger gyards," said Mr. Dooley, "bruk fr'm th' corral where they
had thim tied up, atin' thistles, an' med a desp'rate charge on th' camp
at Tampa. They dayscinded like a whur-rl-wind, dhrivin' th' astonished
throops before thim, an' thin charged back again, completin' their
earned iv desthruction. At th' las' account th' brave sojers was
climbin' threes an' tillygraft poles, an' a rig'mint iv mules was
kickin' th' pink silk linin' out iv th' officers' quarthers. Th' gallant
mules was led be a most courageous jackass, an' 'tis undhersthud that me
frind Mack will appint him a brigadier-gin-ral jus' as soon as he can
find out who his father is. 'Tis too bad he'll have no childher to
perpituate th' fame iv him. He wint through th' camp at th' head iv his
throops iv mules without castin' a shoe. He's th' biggest jackass in
Tampa to-day, not exciptin' th' cinsor; an' I doubt if they'se a bigger
wan in Wash'n'ton, though I cud name a few that cud thry a race with
him. Annyhow, they'll know how to reward him. They know a jackass whin
they see wan, an' they see a good manny in that peaceful city.
"Th' charge iv Tampa'll go into histhry as th' first land action iv th'
war. An', be th' way, Hinnissy, if this here sociable is f'r to go on at
th' prisint rate, I'm sthrong to ar-rm th' wild ar-rmy mules an' the
unbridled jackasses iv th' pe-rary an' give thim a chanst to set Cuba
free. Up to this time th' on'y hero kilt on th' Spanish side was a
jackass that poked an ear above th' batthries at Matoonzas f'r to hear
what was goin' on. 'Behold,' says Sampson, 'th' insolince iv th' foe,'
he says. 'For-rm in line iv battle, an' hur-rl death an' desthruction at
yon Castilyan gin'ral.' 'Wait,' says an officer. 'It may be wan iv our
own men. It looks like th' Sicrety iv'--'Hush!' says th' commander. 'It
can't be an American jackass, or he'd speak,' he says. 'Fire on him.'
Shot afther shot fell round th' inthrepid ass; but he remained firm till
th' dinnymite boat Vesoovyus fired three hundherd an' forty thousand
pounds iv gum cotton at him, an' the poor crather was smothered to
death. Now, says I, give these Tampa mules a chanst, an' we'll have no
need iv wastin' ammun-ni-tion. Properly led, they'd go fr'm wan end iv
Cuba to th' other, kickin' th' excelsior out iv ivry stuffed Spanish
gin'ral fr'm Bahoohoo Hoondoo to Sandago de Cuba. They'd be no loss iv
life. Th' sojers who haven't gone away cud come home an' get cured iv
th' measles an' th' whoopin'-cough an' th' cholera infantum befure th'
public schools opens in th' fall, an' ivrything wud be peaceful an'
quiet an' prosp'rous. Th' officers in th' field at prisint is well
qualified f'r command iv th' new ar-rmy; an', if they'd put blinders on
th' mules, they wudden't be scared back be wan iv thim Spanish fleets
that a jackass sees whin he's been up all night, secretly stuffing
himsilf with silo. They'd give wan hew-haw, an' follow their leaders
through th' hear-rt iv th' inimy's counthry. But give thim th' wurrud to
git ap, an' they'd ate their thistles undher th' guns iv some ol' Morro
Castle befure night.
"Ye don't see th' diff'rence, says ye. They ain't anny i' th' leaders.
As efficient a lot iv mules as iver exposed their ears. Th' throuble is
with th' rank an' file. They're men. What's needed to carry on this war
as it goes to-day is an ar-rmy iv jacks an' mules. Whin ye say to a man,
'Git ap, whoa, gee, back up, get alang!' he don't know what ye'er
dhrivin' at or to. But a mule hears th' ordhers with a melancholy smile,
dhroops his ears, an' follows his war-rm, moist breath. Th' ordhers fr'm
Washin'ton is perfectly comprehinsible to a jackass, but they don't mane
annything to a poor, foolish man. No human bein', Hinnissy, can
undherstand what the divvie use it was to sink a ship that cost two
hundherd thousan' dollars an' was worth at laste eighty dollars in
Sandago Harbor, if we have to keep fourteen ships outside to prevint
five Spanish ships fr'm sailin'. Th' poor, tired human mind don't
tumble, Hinnissy, to th' raison f'r landin' four hundherd marines at
Guanotommy to clear th' forests, whin Havana is livin' free on hot
tamales an' ice-cream. Th' mind iv a Demostheens or a Tim Hogan would be
crippled thryin' to figure out why throops ar-re sint out fr'm Tampa an'
thin ordhered back through a speakin' chube, while wan iv th' new
briga-deer-gin'rals has his hands manicured an' says good-by to his
nurse. But it ought to be as plain to th' mule that hears it as it is to
th' jackasses that gets it up. What we need, Hinnissy, is a perfect
undherstandin' between th' ar-rmy an' th' administhration. We need what
Hogan calls th' esphrite th' corpse, an' we'll on'y have it whin th'
mules begins to move."
"I shud think," said Mr. Hennessy, "now that th' jackasses has begun to
be onaisy"--
"We ought to be afraid th' cabinet an' th' Boord iv Sthrateejy 'll be
stampeded?" Mr. Dooley interrupted. "Niver fear. They're too near th'
fodder."
ON HIS COUSIN GEORGE.
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, in tones of chastened joy: "Dewey didn't do a
thing to thim. I hope th' poor la-ad ain't cooped up there in
Minneapolis."
"Niver fear," said Mr. Dooley, calmly. "Cousin George is all r-right."
"Cousin George?" Mr. Hennessy exclaimed.
"Sure," said Mr. Dooley. "Dewey or Dooley, 'tis all th' same. We dhrop a
letter here an' there, except th' haitches,--we niver dhrop thim,--but
we're th' same breed iv fightin' men. Georgy has th' thraits iv th'
fam'ly. Me uncle Mike, that was a handy man, was tol' wanst he'd be sint
to hell f'r his manny sins, an' he desarved it; f'r, lavin' out th' wan
sin iv runnin' away fr'm annywan, he was booked f'r ivrything from
murdher to missin' mass. 'Well,' he says, 'anny place I can get into,'
he says, 'I can get out iv,' he says. 'Ye bet on that,' he says.
"So it is with Cousin George. He knew th' way in, an' it's th' same way
out. He didn't go in be th' fam'ly inthrance, sneakin' along with th'
can undher his coat. He left Ding Dong, or whativer 'tis ye call it, an'
says he, 'Thank Gawd,' he says, 'I'm where no man can give me his idees
iv how to r-run a quiltin' party, an' call it war,' he says. An' so he
sint a man down in a divin' shute, an' cut th' cables, so's Mack
cudden't chat with him. Thin he prances up to th' Spanish forts, an'
hands thim a few oranges. Tosses thim out like a man throwin' handbills
f'r a circus. 'Take that,' he says, 'an' raymimber th' Maine,' he says.
An' he goes into th' harbor, where Admiral What-th'-'ell is, an', says
he, 'Surrinder,' he says. 'Niver,' says th' Dago. 'Well,' says Cousin
George, 'I'll just have to push ye ar-round,' he says. An' he tosses a
few slugs at th' Spanyards. Th' Spanish admiral shoots at him with a bow
an' arrow, an' goes over an' writes a cable. 'This mornin' we was
attackted,' he says. 'An' he says, 'we fought the inimy with great
courage,' he says. 'Our victhry is complete,' he says. 'We have lost
ivrything we had,' he says. 'Th' threachrous foe,' he says, 'afther
destroyin' us, sought refuge behind a mud-scow,' he says; 'but nawthin'
daunted us. What boats we cudden't r-run ashore we surrindered,' he
says. 'I cannot write no more,' he says, 'as me coat-tails are afire,'
he says; 'an' I am bravely but rapidly leapin' fr'm wan vessel to
another, followed be me valiant crew with a fire-engine,' he says. 'If I
can save me coat-tails,' he says, 'they'll be no kick comin', he says.
'Long live Spain, long live mesilf.'
"Well, sir, in twinty-eight minyits be th' clock Dewey he had all th'
Spanish boats sunk, an' that there harbor lookin' like a Spanish stew.
Thin he r-run down th' bay, an' handed a few war-rm wans into th' town.
He set it on fire, an' thin wint ashore to war-rm his poor hands an'
feet. It chills th' blood not to have annything to do f'r an hour or
more."
"Thin why don't he write something?" Mr. Hennessy demanded.
"Write?" echoed Mr. Dooley. "Write? Why shud he write? D'ye think Cousin
George ain't got nawthin' to do but to set down with a fountain pen, an'
write: 'Dear Mack,--At 8 o'clock I begun a peaceful blockade iv this
town. Ye can see th' pieces ivrywhere. I hope ye're injyin' th' same
gr-reat blessin'. So no more at prisint. Fr'm ye'ers thruly, George
Dooley.' He ain't that kind. 'Tis a nice day, an' he's there smokin' a
good tin-cint see-gar, an' throwin' dice f'r th' dhrinks. He don't care
whether we know what he's done or not. I'll bet ye, whin we come to find
out about him, we'll hear he's ilicted himself king iv th' F'lip-ine
Islands. Dooley th' Wanst. He'll be settin' up there undher a pa'm-three
with naygurs fannin' him an' a dhrop iv licker in th' hollow iv his
ar-rm, an' hootchy-kootchy girls dancin' befure him, an' ivry tin or
twinty minyits some wan bringin' a prisoner in. 'Who's this?' says King
Dooley. 'A Spanish gin'ral,' says th' copper. 'Give him a typewriter
an' set him to wurruk,' says th' king. 'On with th' dance,' he says. An'
afther awhile, whin he gits tired iv th' game, he'll write home an' say
he's got the islands; an' he'll tur-rn thim over to th' gover'mint an'
go back to his ship, an' Mark Hanna'll organize th' F'lip-ine Islands
Jute an' Cider Comp'ny, an' th' rivolutchinists'll wish they hadn't.
That's what'll happen. Mark me wurrud."
ON SOME ARMY APPOINTMENTS.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I didn't vote f'r Mack, but I'm with him
now. I had me doubts whether he was th' gr-reatest military janius iv
th' cinchry, but they'se no question about it. We go into this war, if
we iver do go into it, with th' most fash'n-able ar-rmy that iver
creased its pants. 'Twill be a daily hint fr'm Paris to th' crool foe.
"Other gin'rals iv th' r-rough-house kind, like Napoleon Bonypart, th'
impror iv th' Frinch, Gin'ral Ulis S. Grant, an' Cousin George Dooley,
hired coarse, rude men that wudden't know th' diff'rence between goluf
an' crokay, an' had their pants tucked in their boots an' chewed tobacco
be th' pound. Thank Hivin, McKinley knows betther thin to sind th' likes
iv thim abroad to shock our frinds be dumpin' their coffee into
thimsilves fr'm a saucer.
"Th' dure bell rings, an' a futman in liv'ry says: 'I'm Master Willie
Dooselbery's man, an' he's come to be examined f'r th' army,' says he.
'Admit him,' says McKinley; an' Master Willie enters, accompanied be his
val-lay, his mah an' pah an' th' comity iv th' goluf club. 'Willie,'
says th' Prisident, 'ye ar-re enthrin' upon a gloryous car-eer, an' 'tis
nic'ssry that ye shud be thurly examined, so that ye can teach th'
glories iv civilization to th' tyr-ranies iv Europe that is supported be
ye'er pah an' mah,' he says. ''Twud be a tur-r'ble thing,' he says, 'if
some day they shud meet a Spanish gin'ral in Mahdrid, an' have him say
to thim, "I seen ye'er son Willie durin' th' war wearin' a stovepipe hat
an' tan shoes." Let us begin th' examination,' he says. 'Ar-re ye a good
goluf player?' 'I am,' says Willie. 'Thin I appint ye a liftnant. What
we need in th' ar-rmy is good goluf players,' he says. 'In our former
war,' he says, 'we had th' misfortune to have men in command that didn't
know th' diff'rence between a goluf stick an' a beecycle; an' what was
th' raysult? We foozled our approach at Bull R-run,' he says. 'Ar-re ye
a mimber iv anny clubs?' he says. 'Four,' says Willie. 'Thin I make ye a
major,' he says. 'Where d'ye get ye'er pants?' he says. 'Fr'm England,'
says Willie. 'Gloryous,' says McKinley. 'I make ye a colonel,' he says.
'Let me thry ye in tactics,' he says. 'Suppose ye was confronted be a
Spanish ar-rmy in th' afthernoon, how wud ye dhress?' he says. 'I'd wear
a stovepipe hat, a long coat, a white vest, an' lavender pants,' says
Willie. 'An' if th' attack was be night?' he says. 'I'd put on me dhress
shoot, an' go out to meet thim,' says Willie. 'A thuro sojer,' says
McKinley. 'Suppose th' sociable lasted all night?' he says. 'I'd sound
th' rethreat at daybreak, an' have me brave boys change back,' he says,
'to suitable appar'l,' he says. 'Masterly,' says McKinley. 'I will sind
ye'er name in as a brigadier-gin'ral,' he says. 'Thank Gawd, th'
r-rich,' he says, 'is brave an' pathriotic,' he says. 'Ye will jine th'
other boys fr'm th' club at Tampa,' he says. 'Ye shud be careful iv
ye'er equipment,' he says. 'I have almost ivrything r-ready,' says
Willie. 'Me man attinded to thim details,' he says. 'But I fear I can't
go to th' fr-ront immejetly,' he says. 'Me pink silk pijammas hasn't
arrived,' he says. 'Well,' says Mack,' 'wait f'r thim,' he says. 'I'm
anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war,' he says, 'which has cost me manny
a sleepy night,' he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer
onprepared to battle,' he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas,' he says. 'Thin
on to war,' he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er
manners,"' he says.
"'They'se a man out here,' says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see
ye,' he says. 'He's a r-rough-lookin' charackter that was in th' Soo
war,' he says. 'His name is Gin'ral Fiteum,' he says. 'Throw th' stiff
out,' says Mack. 'I seen him in Pinnsylvania Avnoo yisterdah, r-ridin'
in a sthreet ca-ar,' he says. 'Ah, Willie, me boy,' he says, ''tis
little ye know what throuble I have fr'm these vulgar sojers with pants
that bags at th' knees. Give me a goold-tipped cigareet, an' tell me
whether shirt waists is much worn in New York this year.'
"Yis, Hinnissy, we'll put th' tastiest ar-rmy in th' field that iver
come out iv a millinery shop. 'Right dhress!' will be an ordher that'll
mean somethin'. Th' ar-rmy'll be followed be specyal correspondints fr'm
Butthrick's Pattherns an' Harper's Bazar; an', if our brave boys don't
gore an' pleat th' inimy, 'twill be because th' inimy'll be r-rude
enough to shoot in anny kind iv clothes they find on th' chair whin they
wake up."
ON STRATEGY.
"A sthrateejan," said Mr. Dooley, in response to Mr. Hennessy's request
for information, "is a champeen checker-player. Whin th' war broke out,
me frind Mack wint to me frind Hanna, an' says he, 'What,' he says,
'what can we do to cr-rush th' haughty power iv Spain,' he says, 'a'n
br-ring this hateful war to a early conclusion?" he says. 'Mobilize th'
checker-players,' says Hanna. An' fr'm all cor-rners iv th' counthry
they've gone to Washin'ton, where they're called th' Sthrateejy Board.
"Day an' night they set in a room with a checker-board on th' end iv a
flour bar'l, an' study problems iv th' navy. At night Mack dhrops in.
'Well, boys,' says he, 'how goes th' battle?' he says. 'Gloryous,' says
th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Two more moves, an' we'll be in th' king row.'
'Ah,' says Mack, 'this is too good to be thrue,' he says. 'In but a few
brief minyits th' dhrinks'll be on Spain,' he says. 'Have ye anny plans
f'r Sampson's fleet?' he says. 'Where is it?' says th' Sthrateejy
Board. 'I dinnaw,' says Mack. 'Good,' says th' Sthrateejy Board.
'Where's th' Spanish fleet?' says they. 'Bombardin' Boston, at Cadiz, in
San June de Matzoon, sighted near th' gas-house be our special
correspondint, copyright, 1898, be Mike O'Toole.' 'A sthrong position,'
says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Undoubtedly, th' fleet is headed south to
attack and seize Armour's glue facthory. Ordher Sampson to sail north as
fast as he can, an' lay in a supply iv ice. Th' summer's comin' on.
Insthruct Schley to put on all steam, an' thin put it off again, an'
call us up be telephone. R-rush eighty-three millyon throops an' four
mules to Tampa, to Mobile, to Chickenmaha, to Coney Island, to Ireland,
to th' divvle, an' r-rush thim back again. Don't r-rush thim. Ordher
Sampson to pick up th' cable at Lincoln Par-rk, an' run into th' bar-rn.
Is th' balloon corpse r-ready? It is? Thin don't sind it up. Sind it up.
Have th' Mulligan Gyards co-op'rate with Gomez, an' tell him to cut
away his whiskers. They've got tangled in th' riggin'. We need
yellow-fever throops. Have ye anny yellow fever in th' house? Give it to
twinty thousand three hundherd men, an' sind thim afther Gov'nor Tanner.
Teddy Rosenfelt's r-rough r-riders ar-re downstairs, havin' their
uniforms pressed. Ordher thim to th' goluf links at wanst. They must be
no indecision. Where's Richard Harding Davis? On th' bridge iv the New
York? Tur-rn th' bridge. Seize Gin'ral Miles' uniform. We must
strengthen th' gold resarve. Where's th' Gussie? Runnin' off to Cuba
with wan hundherd men an' ar-rms, iv coorse. Oh, war is a dhreadful
thing. It's ye'er move, Claude,' says th' Sthrateejy Board.
"An' so it goes on; an' day by day we r-read th' tur-rble story iv our
brave sthrateejans sacrificin' their time on th' altar iv their
counthry, as Hogan says. Little we thought, whin we wint into this war,
iv th' horrors it wud bring. Little we thought iv th' mothers at home
weepin' f'r their brave boys down at Washin'ton hur-rtin their poor
eyes over a checker-board. Little we thought iv these devoted men, as
Hogan says, with achin' heads, plannin' to sind three hundherd thousand
millyon men an' a carload iv beans to their fate at Tampa, Fla. But some
wan must be sacrificed, as Hogan says. An' these poor fellows in
Washin'ton with their r-red eyes an' their tired backs will be an
example to future ginerations, as Hogan says, iv how an American sojer
can face his jooty whin he has to, an' how he can't whin he hasn't to."
"Dewey ain't a sthrateejan?" inquired Mr. Hennessy.
"No," said Mr. Dooley. "Cousin George is a good man, an' I'm very fond
iv him,--more be raison iv his doin' that May-o bosthoon Pat Mountjoy,
but he has low tastes. We niver cud make a sthrateejan iv him. They'se a
kind iv a vulgar fightin' sthrain in him that makes him want to go out
an' slug some wan wanst a month. I'm glad he ain't in Washin'ton. Th'
chances ar-re he'd go to th' Sthrateejy Board and pull its hair."
ON GENERAL MILES'S MOONLIGHT EXCURSION.
"Dear, oh, dear," said Mr. Dooley, "I'd give five dollars--an' I'd kill
a man f'r three--if I was out iv this Sixth Wa-ard to-night, an' down
with Gin'ral Miles' gran' picnic an' moonlight excursion in Porther
Ricky. 'Tis no comfort in bein' a cow'rd whin ye think iv thim br-rave
la-ads facin' death be suffication in bokays an' dyin' iv waltzin' with
th' pretty girls iv Porther Ricky.
"I dinnaw whether Gin'ral Miles picked out th' job or whether 'twas
picked out f'r him. But, annyhow, whin he got to Sandago de Cubia an'
looked ar-round him, he says to his frind Gin'ral Shafter, 'Gin'ral,'
says he, 'ye have done well so far,' he says. ''Tis not f'r me to take
th' lorls fr'm th' steamin' brow iv a thrue hero,' he says. 'I lave ye
here,' he says, 'f'r to complete th' victhry ye have so nobly begun,' he
says. 'F'r you,' he says, 'th' wallop in th' eye fr'm th' newspaper
rayporther, th' r-round robbing, an' th' sunsthroke,' he says, 'f'r me
th' hardship iv th' battlefield, th' late dinner, th' theayter party,
an' th' sickenin' polky,' he says. 'Gather,' he says, 'th' fruits iv
ye'er bravery,' he says. 'Return,' he says, 'to ye'er native land, an'
receive anny gratichood th' Sicrety iv War can spare fr'm his own
fam'ly,' he says. 'F'r me,' he says, 'there is no way but f'r to tur-rn
me back upon this festive scene,' he says, 'an' go where jooty calls
me,' he says. 'Ordherly,' he says, 'put a bottle on th' ice, an' see
that me goold pants that I wear with th' pale blue vest with th' di'mon
buttons is irned out,' he says. An' with a haggard face he walked aboord
th' excursion steamer, an' wint away.
"I'd hate to tell ye iv th'thriles iv th' expedition, Hinnissy. Whin th'
picnic got as far as Punch, on th' southern coast iv Porther Ricky,
Gin'ral Miles gazes out, an' says he, 'This looks like a good place to
hang th' hammicks, an' have lunch,' says he. 'Forward, brave men,' says
he, 'where ye see me di'mon's sparkle,' says he. 'Forward, an' plant th'
crokay ar-rches iv our beloved counthry,' he says. An' in they wint,
like inthrepid warryors that they ar-re. On th' beach they was met be a
diligation fr'm th' town of Punch, con-sistin' iv th' mayor, th' common
council, th' polis an' fire departments, th' Gr-rand Ar-rmy iv th'
Raypublic, an' prominent citizens in carredges. Gin'ral Miles, makin' a
hasty tielet, advanced onflinchingly to meet thim. 'Gintlemen,' says he,
'what can I do f'r ye?' he says. 'We come,' says th' chairman iv th'
comity, 'f'r to offer ye,' he says, 'th' r-run iv th' town,' he says.
'We have held out,' he says, 'as long as we cud,' he says. 'But,' he
says, 'they'se a limit to human endurance,' he says. 'We can withstand
ye no longer,' he says. 'We surrinder. Take us prisoners, an' rayceive
us into ye'er gloryous an' well-fed raypublic,' he says. 'Br-rave men,'
says Gin'ral Miles, 'I congratulate ye,' he says, 'on th' heeroism iv
yer definse,' he says. 'Ye stuck manfully to yer colors, whativer they
ar-re,' he says. 'I on'y wondher that ye waited f'r me to come befure
surrindhrin,' he says. 'I welcome ye into th' Union,' he says. 'I don't
know how th' Union'll feel about it, but that's no business iv mine,' he
says. 'Ye will get ye'er wur-rkin-cards fr'm th' walkin' diligate,' he
says; 'an' ye'll be entitled,' he says, 'to pay ye'er share iv th' taxes
an' to live awhile an' die whin ye get r-ready,' he says, 'jus' th' same
as if ye was bor-rn at home,' he says. 'I don't know th' names iv ye;
but I'll call ye all Casey, f'r short,' he says. 'Put ye'er bokays in
th' hammick,' he says, 'an' return to Punch,' he says; 'an' freeze
somethin' f'r me,' he says, 'f'r me thrawt is parched with th' labors iv
th' day,' he says. Th' r-rest iv th' avenin' was spint in dancin,'
music, an' boat-r-ridin'; an' an inj'yable time was had.
"Th' nex' day th' army moved on Punch; an' Gin'ral Miles marched into
th' ill-fated city, preceded be flower-girls sthrewin' r-roses an'
geranyums befure him. In th' afthernoon they was a lawn tinnis party,
an' at night the gin'ral attinded a banket at th' Gran' Palace Hotel.
At midnight he was serenaded be th' Raymimber th' Maine Banjo an'
Mandolin Club. Th' entire popylace attinded, with pork chops in their
buttonholes to show their pathreetism. Th' nex' day, afther breakfastin'
with Mayor Casey, he set out on his weary march over th' r-rough,
flower-strewn paths f'r San Joon. He has been in gr-reat purl fr'm a
witherin' fire iv bokays, an' he has met an' overpowered some iv th'
mos' savage orators in Porther Ricky; but, whin I las' heerd iv him, he
had pitched his tents an' ice-cream freezers near the inimy's wall, an'
was grajully silencin' thim with proclamations."
"They'll kill him with kindness if he don't look out," said Mr.
Hennessy.
"I dinnaw about that," said Mr. Dooley; "but I know this, that there's
th' makin' iv gr-reat statesmen in Porther Ricky. A proud people that
can switch as quick as thim la-ads have nawthin' to larn in th' way iv
what Hogan calls th' signs iv gover'mint, even fr'm th' Supreme Court."
ON ADMIRAL DEWEY'S ACTIVITY.
"If they don't catch up with him pretty soon," said Mr. Dooley, "he'll
fight his way ar-round th' wurruld, an' come out through Barsaloona or
Cades."
"Who's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Me Cousin George, no less," said Mr. Dooley. "I suppose ye think th'
war is over an' peace has rayturned jus' because Tiddy Rosenfelt is back
home again an' th' sojers ar-re hungry in New York 'stead iv in Sandago.
That's where ye'er wrong, Hinnissy. That's where ye'er wrong, me bucko.
Th' war is not over till Cousin George stops fightin'. Th' Spanyards
have had enough, but among thrue fightin' men it don't make anny
diff'rence what th' feelin's iv th' la-ad undherneath may be. 'Tis whin
th' man on top has had his fill iv fightin' that th' throuble's over,
an' be the look iv things Cousin George has jus' begun to take tay.
"Whin me frind Mack con-cluded 'twas time f'r us to stop fightin' an'
begin skinning each other in what Hogan calls th' marts iv thrade, ye
thought that ended it. So did Mack. He says, says he, 'Let us have
peace,' he says. An' Mark Hanna came out iv' th' cellar, where he's been
since Cousin George presinted his compliments to th' Ph'lippines an' wud
they prefer to be kilt or dhrownded, an' pro-posals was made to bond th'
Cubian pathrites, an' all th' deuces in th' deck begun to look like face
car-rds again, whin suddently there comes a message fr'm Cousin George.
'In pursooance iv ordhers that niver come,' he says, 'to-day th'
squadhron undher my command knocked th' divvle out iv th' fortifications
iv th' Ph'lippines, bombarded the city, an' locked up th' insurgent
gin'ral. The gov'nor got away be swimmin' aboord a Dutch ship, an' th'
Dutchman took him to Ding Dong. I'll attind to th' Dutchman some
afthernoon whin I have nawthin'else to do. I'm settin' in the palace
with me feet on th' pianny. Write soon. I won't get it. So no more at
prisint, fr'm ye'er ol' frind an' well-wisher, George Dooley.'
"How ar-re they goin' to stop him? How ar-re they goin' to stop him?
There's Mack on th' shore bawlin' ordhers. 'Come back,' he says. 'Come
back, I command ye,' he says. 'George, come back,' he says. 'Th' war is
over,' he says. 'We're at peace with th' wurruld,' he says. 'George,' he
says, 'George, be a good fellow,' he says. 'Lave up on thim,' he says.
'Hivins an' earth, he's batin' that poor Spanyard with a pavin' block.
George, George, ye break me hear-rt,' he says.
"But George Dooley, he gives th' wink to his frinds, an' says he,
'What's that man yellin' on th' shore about?' he says. 'Louder,' he
says. 'I can't hear ye,' he says. 'Sing it,' he says. 'Write it to me on
a postal ca-ard at Mahdrid,' he says. 'Don't stop me now,' he says.
'This is me, busy day,' he says; an' away he goes with a piece iv lead
pipe in wan hand an' a couplin' pin in th' other.
"What'll we do with him? We can't catch up with him. He's goin' too
fast. Mack's a week behind him ivry time he stops annywhere. He has
sthrung a throlley acrost th' islands, an' he's climbin' mountains with
his fleet. Th' on'y thing I see, Hinnissy, that Mack can do is to go
east an' meet him comin' r-round. If he hurries, he'll sthrike him
somewhere in Rooshia or Boohlgahria, an' say to him: 'George, th' war's
over. Won't ye come home with me?' I think he'll listen to reason."
"I think a man ought to stop fightin' whin th' war is ended," said Mr.
Hennessy.
"I dinnaw about that," said Mr. Dooley. "He started without askin' our
lave, an' I don't see what we've got to do with th' way he finishes.
'Tis a tur-rble thing to be a man iv high sperrits, an' not to know whin
th' other fellow's licked."
ON THE PHILIPPINES.
"I know what I'd do if I was Mack," said Mr. Hennessy. "I'd hist a flag
over th' Ph'lippeens, an' I'd take in th' whole lot iv thim."
"An' yet," said Mr. Dooley, "tis not more thin two months since ye
larned whether they were islands or canned goods. Ye'er back yard is so
small that ye'er cow can't turn r-round without buttin' th' woodshed off
th' premises, an' ye wudden't go out to th' stock yards without takin'
out a policy on yer life. Suppose ye was standin' at th' corner iv State
Sthreet an' Archey R-road, wud ye know what car to take to get to th'
Ph'lippeens? If yer son Packy was to ask ye where th' Ph'lippeens is,
cud ye give him anny good idea whether they was in Rooshia or jus' west
iv th' thracks?"
"Mebbe I cudden't," said Mr. Hennessy, haughtily, "but I'm f'r takin'
thim in, annyhow."
"So might I be," said Mr. Dooley, "if I cud on'y get me mind on it. Wan
iv the worst things about this here war is th' way it's makin' puzzles
f'r our poor, tired heads. Whin I wint into it, I thought all I'd have
to do was to set up here behind th' bar with a good tin-cint see-gar in
me teeth, an' toss dinnymite bombs into th' hated city iv Havana. But
look at me now. Th' war is still goin' on; an' ivry night, whin I'm
countin' up the cash, I'm askin' mesilf will I annex Cubia or lave it to
the Cubians? Will I take Porther Ricky or put it by? An' what shud I do
with the Ph'lippeens? Oh, what shud I do with thim? I can't annex thim
because I don't know where they ar-re. I can't let go iv thim because
some wan else'll take thim if I do. They are eight thousan' iv thim
islands, with a popylation iv wan hundherd millyon naked savages; an' me
bedroom's crowded now with me an' th' bed. How can I take thim in, an'
how on earth am I goin' to cover th' nakedness iv thim savages with me
wan shoot iv clothes? An' yet 'twud break me heart to think iv givin'
people I niver see or heerd tell iv back to other people I don't know.
An', if I don't take thim, Schwartzmeister down th' sthreet, that has
half me thrade already, will grab thim sure.