“I tell ye, Hinnissy,” said Mr. Dooley, “Ye can't do th'
English-speakin' people. Oursilves an' th' hands acrost th' sea ar-re
rapidly teachin' th' benighted Lutheryan an' other haythin that as a
race we're onvincible an' oncatcheable. Th' Anglo-Saxon race meetin's
now going on in th' Ph'lippeens an' South Africa ought to convince
annywan that give us a fair start an' we can bate th' wurruld to a
tillygraft office.
“Th' war our cousins be Sir Thomas Lipton is prosecutin', as Hogan says,
again th' foul but accrate Boers is doin' more thin that. It's givin' us
a common war lithrachoor. I wudden't believe at first whin I r-read th'
dispatches in th' pa-apers that me frind Gin'ral Otis wasn't in South
Africa. It was on'y whin I see another chapter iv his justly cillybrated
seeryal story, intitled 'Th' Capture iv Porac' that I knew he had an
imitator in th' mother counthry. An' be hivins, I like th' English
la-ad's style almost as well as our own gr-reat artist's. Mebbe'tis,
as th' pa-apers say, that Otis has writ himsilf out. Annyhow th' las'
chapter isn't thrillin'. He says: 'To-day th' ar-rmy undher my command
fell upon th' inimy with gr-reat slaughter an' seized th' important
town of Porac which I have mintioned befure, but,' he says, 'we ar-re
fortunately now safe in Manila.' Ye see he doesn't keep up th' intherest
to th' end. Th' English pote does betther.”
“'Las' night at eight o'clock,' he says, 'we found our slendher but
inthrepid ar-rmy surrounded be wan hundhred thousan' Boers,' he says.
'We attackted thim with gr-reat fury,' he says, 'pursuin' thim up th'
almost inaccessible mountain side an' capturin' eight guns which we
didn't want so we give thim back to thim with siveral iv our own,'
he says. 'Th' Irish rig'mints,' he says, 'th' Kerry Rifles, th' Land
Leaguers' Own, an' th' Dublin Pets, commanded be th' Pop'lar Irish sojer
Gin'ral Sir Ponsonby Tompkins wint into battle singin' their well-known
naytional anthem: “Mrs. Innery Awkins is a fust-class name!” Th' Boers
retreated,' he says, 'pursued be th' Davitt Terrors who cut their way
through th' fugitives with awful slaughter,' he says. 'They have now,'
he says, 'pinethrated as far us Pretoria,' he says, 'th' officers
arrivin' in first-class carredges an' th' men in thrucks,' he says,
'an' ar-re camped in th' bettin' shed where they ar-re afforded ivry
attintion be th' vanquished inimy,' he says. 'As f'r us,' he says, 'we
decided afther th' victhry to light out f'r Ladysmith.' he says, 'Th'
inimy had similar intintions,' he says, 'but their skill has been vastly
overrated,' he says. 'We bate thim,' he says 'we bate thim be thirty
miles,' he says. That's where we're sthrong, Hinnissy. We may get licked
on th' battle field, we may be climbin' threes in th' Ph'lippeens with
arrows stickin' in us like quills, as Hogan says, into th' fretful
porcupine or we may be doin' a mile in five minyits flat down th' pike
that leads to Cape Town pursued be th' less fleet but more ignorant
Boers peltin' us with guns full iv goold an' bibles, but in th' pages iv
histhry that our childhren read we niver turned back on e'er an inimy.
We make our own gloryous pages on th' battlefield, in th' camp an' in
th' cab'net meetin'.”
“Well, 't is all r-right f'r ye to be jokin',” said Mr. Hennessy, “but
there's manny a brave fellow down there that it's no joke to.”
“Thrue f'r ye,” said Mr. Dooley, “an' that's why I wisht it cud be fixed
up so's th' men that starts th' wars could do th' fightin'. Th' throuble
is that all th' prelimin'ries is arranged be matchmakers an' all they'se
left f'r fighters is to do th' murdherin'. A man's got a good job at
home an' he wants to make it sthronger. How can he do it? Be throwin'
out some one that's got an akelly good job down th' sthreet. Now he
don't go over as I wud an' say, 'Here Schwartzmeister (or Kruger as th'
case may be) I don't like ye'er appearance, ye made a monkey iv me in
argymint befure th' neighborhood an' if ye continyue in business ye'll
hurt me thrade, so here goes to move ye into th' sthreet!' Not
that la-ad. He gets a crowd around him an' says he: 'Kruger (or
Schwartzmeister as th' case may be) is no good. To begin with he's a
Dutchman. If that ain't enough he's a cantin', hymn singin' murdhrous
wretch that wuddent lave wan iv our counthrymen ate a square meal if he
had his way. I'll give ye all two dollars a week if ye'll go over an'
desthroy him.' An' th' other la-ad, what does he do? He calls in th'
neighbors an' says he: 'Dooley is sindin' down a gang iv savages
to murdher me. Do ye lave ye'er wurruk an' ye'er families an' rally
ar-round me an' where ye see me plug hat wave do ye go in th' other
direction,' he says, 'an' slay th' brutal inimy,' he says. An' off goes
th' sojers an' they meet a lot iv la-ads that looks like thimsilves an'
makes sounds that's more or less human an' ates out iv plates an' they
swap smokin' tobacco an' sings songs together an' th' next day they're
up early jabbing holes in each other with baynits. An' whin its all
over they'se me an' Chamberlain at home victoryous an' Kruger an'
Schwartzmeister at home akelly victoryous. An' they make me prime
minister or aldherman but whin I want a man to put in me coal I don't
take wan with a wooden leg.
“I'll niver go down again to see sojers off to th' war. But ye'll see me
at th' depot with a brass band whin th' men that causes wars starts f'r
th' scene iv carnage. Whin Congress goes forth to th' sun-kissed an'
rain jooled isles iv th' Passyfic no more heartier cheer will be beard
thin th' wan or two that rises fr'm th' bosom iv Martin Dooley. Says I,
give thim th' chanst to make histhry an' lave th' young men come home
an' make car wheels. If Chamberlain likes war so much 'tis him that
ought to be down there in South Africa peltin' over th' road with ol'
Kruger chasin' him with a hoe. Th' man that likes fightin' ought to be
willin' to turn in an' spell his fellow-counthrymen himsilf. An'
I'd even go this far an' say that if Mack wants to subjoo th' dam
Ph'lippeens----”
“Ye're a thraitor,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“I know it,” said Mr. Dooley, complacently.
“Ye're an anti-expansionist.”
“If ye say that again,” cried Mr. Dooley, angrily, “I'll smash in ye'er
head.”