“It looks like war,” said Mr. Hennessy, who had been glancing at the
flaming head-lines of an evening paper over Mr. Dooley's shoulder.
“It always does,” said Mr. Dooley. “Since th' Czar iv Rooshia
inthrajooced his no-fight risolution, they'se been no chanst that they
wudden't be ructious.”
“An' what's it all about?” demanded Mr. Hennessy. “I can't make head nor
tail iv it at all, at all.”
“Well ye see 'tis this way,” said Mr. Dooley. “Ye see th' Boers is a
simple, pasthral people that goes about their business in their own way,
raisin' hell with ivrybody. They was bor-rn with an aversion to society
an' whin th' English come they lit out befure thim, not likin' their
looks. Th' English kept comin' an' the Boers kept movin' till they
cudden't move anny further without bumpin' into th' Soodanese ar-rmy an'
thin they settled down an' says they, 'This far shall we go,' says
they, bein' a rellijous people, 'an' divvle th' sthep further.' An' they
killed off th' irrelijous naygurs an' started in f'r to raise cattle.
An' at night they'd set outside iv their dorps, which, Hinnissy, is
Dutch f'r two-story brick house an' lot, an' sip their la-ager an' swap
horses an' match texts fr'm th' Bible f'r th' seegars, while th' childer
played marbles with dimons as big as th' end iv ye'er thumb.
“Well, th' English heerd they was goold be th' bucket in ivry cellar
fr'm Oopencoff to Doozledorf, which, Hinnissy, is like New York an' San
Francisco, bein' th' exthreme pints iv th' counthry, an' they come on
in gr-reat hordes, sturdy Anglo-Saxons fr'm Saxony, th' Einsteins an'
Heidlebacks an' Werners an' whin they took out goold enough so's they
needed raycreation they wanted to vote. 'An',' says Joe Chamberlain, he
says, 'Be hivins, they shall vote,' he says. 'Is it,' he says, 'possible
that at this stage iv th' world's progress' he says, 'an English
gintleman shud be denied,' he says, 'th' right to dhrop off a thrain
annywhere in th' civilized wurruld an' cast his impeeryal vote?' he
says. 'Give thim th' franchise,' he says, 'or be this an' be that!'
he says, 'f'r we have put our hand to th' plough, an' we will not turn
back,' he says.
{Illustration}
“Kruger, that's th' main guy iv th' Dutch, a fine man, Hennissy, that
looks like Casey's goat an' has manny iv th' same peculyarities, he
says, 'All r-right,' he says, 'I'll give thim th' franchise,' he says.
'Whin?' says Joe Chamberlain. 'In me will,' says Kruger. 'Whin I die,'
he says, 'an' I hope to live to be a hundherd if I keep on smokin'
befure breakfast,' he says, 'I'll bequeath to me frinds, th' English, or
such iv thim as was here befure I come, th' inalienable an' sacred right
to demand fr'm me succissor th' privilege iv ilictin' an aldherman,' he
says. 'But,' he says, 'in th' mane-time,' he says, 'we'll lave things
the way they are,' he says. 'I'm old,' he say, 'an' not good-lookin','
he says, 'an' me clothes don't fit an' they may be marks iv food on me
vest,' he says, 'but I'm not more thin half crazy an' annytime ye find
me givin' annywan a chanst to vote me into a job dhrivin' a mule an' put
in an English prisidint iv this ray-public,' he says, 'ye may conclude
that ye'er Uncle Paul needs a guarjeen!' he says.
“'Far be it fr'm me to suggist anny but peaceful measures,' says Sir
Alfred Milner, that's th' lad they have down in Africa, th' Injun agent,
'f'r th' English an' Dutch shud wurruk together like brothers f'r
th' removal iv th' naygur popylation,' he says, 'but,' he says, 'as a
brother I politely suggest to ye that if ye don't give us what we want
we'll hand ye a fraternal punch!' he says. 'F'r,' he says,' 'we have put
our hand to th' plough,' he says, 'an' we cannot turn back,' he says.
“'What Sir Alfred Milner says is thrue,' says Lord Lelborne, an' what
th' divvle he has to do about it I dinnaw. 'Th' situation is such,' he
says, 'as to be intol'rable to a silf-rayspictin' Englishman,' he says.
'What a crime,' he says, 'that th' men who ar-re takin' most iv th'
money out iv th' counthry shud not be allowed to stick in anny iv th'
votes,' he says. 'We have, as Shakespeare says, put our hand to th'
plough,' he says, 'an' we cannot turn back,' he says. 'I agree corjally
with th' noble lord on th' r-red lounge abaft me,' says Lord Salisbury.
'With the echoes of me own noble sintimints on th' peace proclamation iv
me good frind, th' Czar iv Rooshia, still ringin' in me ears,' he says,
'it wud ill become me to speak iv foorce,' he says. 'I wud on'y say
that if th' Transvaal raypublic wud rather have a Dum-dum bullet in its
tum-tum thin grant to Englishmen th' r-right to run th' govermint, thin
th' Transvaal rapublic'll have both!' he says. 'I will add,' he says,
'that we have put our hand to th' plough an' we will not turn back,' he
says.
“Well, sir, 'twas up to Kruger an' he knocked th' ashes out iv his pipe
on his vest an' says he, 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'I wud like to do me
best to accomydate ye,' he says. 'Nawthin' short iv a severe attack
iv sickness wud plaze me so much as to see long lines iv Englishmen
marchin' up to th' polls an' depositin' their ballots again' me f'r
prisidint,' he says. 'But,' he says, 'I'm an old man!' he says. 'I was
ilicted young an' I niver done annything since,' he says. 'I wudden't
know what to do without it,' he says. 'What ye propose is to make an
ex-prisidint iv me. D'ye think I cud stand that? D'ye think at my age
I wud be contint to dash fr'm wan justice coort to another pleadin' f'r
habyas-corpus writs or test me principles iv personal expansion in a Noo
Jarsey village?' he says. 'I'd rather be a dead prisidint thin a live
ex-prisidint. If I have anny pollytical ambition I'd rather be a Grant
or a Garfield thin a Cleveland or a Harrison,' he says. 'I may've read
it in th' Bible, though I think I saw it in a scand'lous book me frind
Rhodes left in his bedroom las' time he called on me, that ye shud niver
discard an ace to dhraw to a flush,' he says. 'I deplore th' language
but th' sintimint is sound,' he says. 'An' I believe ye'er intintions
to presarve peace ar-re honest, but I don't like to see ye pullin' off
ye'er coat an' here goes f'r throuble while ye have ye'er arms in th'
sleeves,' he says. 'F'r,' he says, 'ye have put ye'er hand in th' reaper
an' it cannot turn back,' he says.
“An' there they go, Hinnissy. I'm not again England in this thing,
Hinnissy, an' I'm not again th' Boers. Like Mack I'm divided on a
matther iv principle between a desire to cemint th' 'lieance an' an
affiction f'r th' Dutch vote. But if Kruger had spint his life in a rale
raypublic where they burn gas he cud've settled th' business without
losin' sleep. If I was Kruger there'd've been no war.”
“What wud ye have done?” Mr. Hennessy asked.
“I'd give thim th' votes,” said Mr. Dooley. “But,” he added
significantly, “I'd do th' countin'.”