“If iver I wanted to go to war,” said Mr. Dooley, “an' I niver did, th'
desire has passed fr'm me iv late. Ivry time I read iv th' desthructive
power iv modhern explosives col' chills chase each other up an' down me
spine.”
“What's this here stuff they calls lyddite?” Mr. Hennessy asked.
“Well, 'tis th' divvle's own med'cine,” said Mr. Dooley. “Compared with
lyddite joynt powdher is Mrs. Winslow's soothin' surup, an' ye cud lave
th' childher play base-ball with a can iv dinnymite. 'Tis as sthrong as
Gin'ral Crownjoy's camp th' day iv th' surrinder an' almost as sthrong
as th' pollytics iv Montana. Th' men that handles it is cased in six
inch armor an' played on be a hose iv ice wather. Th' gun that shoots
it is always blown up be th' discharge. Whin this deadly missile flies
through th' air, th' threes ar-re withered an' th' little bur-rds falls
dead fr'm th' sky, fishes is kilt in th' rivers, an' th' tillyphone
wires won't wurruk. Th' keen eyed British gunners an' corryspondints
watches it in its hellish course an' tur-rn their faces as it falls into
th' Boer trench. An' oh! th' sickly green fumes it gives off, jus' like
pizen f'r potato bugs! There is a thremenjous explosion. Th' earth is
thrown up f'r miles. Horses, men an' gun carredges ar-re landed in th'
British camp whole. Th' sun is obscured be Boer whiskers turned green.
Th' heart iv th' corryspondint is made sick be th' sight, an' be th'
thought iv th' fearful carnage wrought be this dhread desthroyer in th'
ranks iv th' brave but misguided Dutchmen. Th' nex' day deserters fr'm
th' Boer ranks reports that they have fled fr'm th' camp, needin' a
dhrink an' onable to stand th' scenes iv horror. They announce that th'
whole Boer ar-rmy is as green as wall paper, an' th' Irish brigade has
sthruck because ye can't tell their flag fr'm th' flag iv th' r-rest iv
th' Dutch. Th' Fr-rinch gin'ral in command iv th' Swedish corps lost
his complexion an' has been sint to th' hospital, an' Mrs. Gin'ral
Crownjoy's washin' that was hangin' on th' line whin th' bombardmint
comminced is a total wreck which no amount iv bluin' will save. Th'
deserters also report that manny iv th' Boers ar-re outspannin',
trekkin', loogerin', kopjein' an' veldtin' home to be dyed, f'r'tis not
known whether lyddite is a fast color or will come out in th' wash.”
“In spite iv their heavy losses th' Boers kept up a fierce fire. They
had no lyddite, but with their other divvlish modhern explosives they
wrought thremenjous damage. F'r some hours shells burst with turr'ble
precision in th' British camp. Wan man who was good at figures counted
as manny as forty-two thousan' eight hundhred an' sivin burstin' within
a radyus iv wan fut. Ye can imagine th' hor-rible carnage. Colonel C. G.
F. K. L. M. N. O. P. Hetherington-Casey-Higgins lost his eye-glass
tin times, th' las' time almost swallowin' it, while ye'er faithful
corryspondint was rindered deaf be th' explosions. Another Irish
rig'mint has disappearded, th' Twelve Thousandth an' Eighth, Dublin
Fusiliers. Brave fellows, 'tis suspicted they mistook th' explosion of
lyddite f'r a Pathrick's Day procession an' wint acrost to take a look
at it.”
“Murdher, but 'tis dhreadful to r-read about. We have to change all our
conciptions iv warfare. Wanst th' field was r-red, now 'tis a br-right
lyddite green. Wanst a man wint out an' died f'r his counthry, now they
sind him out an' lyddite dyes him. What do I mane? 'Tis a joke I made.
I'll not explane it to ye. Ye wudden't undherstand it. 'Tis f'r th'
eddycated classes.”
“How they're iver goin' to get men to fight afther this I cudden't tell
ye. 'Twas bad enough in th' ol' days whin all that happened to a sojer
was bein' pinithrated be a large r-round gob iv solder or stuck up on
th' end iv a baynit be a careless inimy. But now-a-days, they have th'
bullet that whin it enthers ye tur-rns ar-round like th' screw iv a
propeller, an' another wan that ye might say goes in be a key-hole an'
comes out through a window, an' another that has a time fuse in it
an' it doesn't come out at all but stays in ye, an' mebbe twinty years
afther, whin ye've f'rgot all about it an' ar-re settin' at home with
ye'er fam'ly, bang! away it goes an' ye with it, carryin' off half iv
th' roof. Thin they have guns as long as fr'm here to th' rollin' mills
that fires shells as big as a thrunk. Th' shells are loaded like a
docthor's bag an' have all kinds iv things in thim that won't do a bit
iv good to man or beast. If a sojer has a weak back there's something
in th' shell that removes a weak back; if his head throubles him, he can
lose it; if th' odher iv vilets is distasteful to him th' shell smothers
him in vilet powdher. They have guns that anny boy or girl who knows th'
typewriter can wurruk, an' they have other guns on th' music box plan,
that ye wind up an' go away an' lave, an' they annoy anny wan that comes
along. They have guns that bounces up out iv a hole in th' groun', fires
a millyon shells a minyit an' dhrops back f'r another load. They have
guns that fire dinnymite an' guns that fire th' hateful, sickly green
lyddite that makes th' inimy look like fiat money, an' guns that fire
canned beef f'r th' inimy an' distimper powdher for th' inimy's horses.
An' they have some guns that shoot straight.”
“Well, thin,” Mr. Hennessy grumbled, “it's a wondher to me that with all
thim things they ain't more people kilt. Sure, Gin'ral Grant lost more
men in wan day thin th' British have lost in four months, an' all he had
to keep tab on was ol' fashioned bullets an' big, bouncin' iron balls.”
“Thrue,” said Mr. Dooley. “I don't know th' reason, but it mus' be that
th' betther gun a man has th' more he thrusts th' gun an' th' less he
thrusts himsilf. He stays away an' shoots. He says to himsilf, he says:
'They'se nawthin' f'r me to do,' he says, 'but load up me little lyddite
cannon with th' green goods,' he says, 'an' set here at the organ,'
he says, 'pull out th' stops an' paint th' town iv Pretoria green,' he
says. 'But,' he says, 'on sicond thought, suppose th' inimy shud hand it
back to me,' he says. 'Twud be oncomfortable,' he says. 'So,' he says,
'I'll jus' move me music back a mile,' he says, 'an' peg away, an' th'
longest gun takes th' persimmons,' he says. 'Tis this way: If ye an' I
fall out an' take rifles to each other, 'tis tin to wan nayether iv us
gets clost enough to hit. If we take pistols th' odds is rayjooced. If
we take swords I may get a hack at ye, but if we take a half-nelson lock
'tis even money I have ye'er back broke befure th' polis comes.”
“I can see in me mind th' day whin explosives'll be so explosive an'
guns'll shoot so far that on'y th' folks that stay at home'll be kilt,
an' life insurance agents'll be advisin' people to go into th' ar-rmy. I
can so. 'Tis thrue what Hogan says about it.”
“What's that?” Mr. Hennessy asked.
“Th' nation,” said Mr. Dooley, “that fights with a couplin' pin extinds
its bordhers at th' cost iv th' nation that fights with a clothes pole.”
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, “tis a fine rayciption th' Boer dillygates
is havin' in this counthry.”
“They'll be out here nex' week,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“They will that,” Mr. Dooley replied, “an' we'll show thim that
our inthrest in small raypublics fightin' f'r their liberty ain't
disappeared since we become an impeeryal nation. No, sir. We have as
much inthrest as iver, but we have more inthrests elsewhere.”
“Oom Paul, he says to th' la-ads: 'Go,' he says, 'to me good an' great
frind, Mack th' Wanst, an' lay th' case befure him,' he says. 'Tell
him,' he says, 'that th' situation is just th' same as it was durin'
Wash'nton's time,' he says, 'on'y Wash'nton won, an' we're rapidly
losin' kopjes till we soon won't have wan to sthrike a match on,' he
says. An' off goes th' good men. Whin they started the Boers was doin'
pretty well, Hinnissy. They were fightin' Englishmen, an' that's a lawn
tinnis to a rale fightin' man. But afther awhile the murdherin' English
gover'mint put in a few recreent but gallant la-ads fr'm th' ol'
dart--we ought to be proud iv thim, curse thim--Pat O'Roberts, an' Mike
McKitchener, an' Terrence O'Fr-rinch--an' they give th' view--halloo
an' wint through th' Dutch like a party comin' home fr'm a fifteenth
iv August picnic might go through a singerbund. So be th' time th'
dillygates got to Europe it was: 'James, if thim br-rave but misguided
Dutch appears, squirt th' garden hose on thim. I'll see th' British
embassadure this afthernoon.' Ye see, Hinnissy, 'twas ol' Kruger's play
to keep on winnin' battles till th' dillygates had their say. Th'
amount iv sympathy that goes out f'r a sthrugglin' people is reg'lated,
Hinnissy, be th' amount iv sthrugglin' th' people can do. Th' wurruld,
me la-ad, is with th' undher dog on'y as long as he has a good hold an'
a chanst to tur-rn over.”
“Well, sir, whin th' dillygates see they cudden't do business in Europe,
says they to thimsilves: 'We'll pike acrost th' ragin' sea,' they says,
'an in th' home iv Wash'nton, Lincoln, an' Willum J. Bryan, ye bet we'll
have a hearin',' an' they got wan. Ivrybody's listenin' to thim. But no
wan replies. If they'd come here three months ago, befure Crownjoy was
suffocated out iv his hole in th' groun', they'd be smokin' their pipes
in rockin' chairs on th' veranda iv th' white house an' passin' th'
bucket between thim an' Mack. But 'tis diff'rent now. 'Tis diff'rent
now. Says Willum J. Bryan: 'I can't see thim mesilf, f'r it may not be
long befure I'll have to dale with these inthricate problems, I hope
an' pray, but Congressman Squirtwather, do ye disguise ye'ersilf as a
private citizen an' go down to th' hotel an' tell these la-ads that
I'm with thim quietly if public opinyon justifies it an' Mack takes
th' other side. Tell thim I frequently say to mesilf that they're all
r-right, but I wudden't want it to go further. Perhaps they cud be
injooced to speak at a dimmycratic meetin' unbeknown to me,' he says.
“Sicrety Hay meets thim in a coal cellar, wearin' a mask. 'Gintlemen,'
says he, 'I can assure ye th' prisidint an' mesilf feels mos' deeply f'r
ye. I needn't tell ye about mesilf,' he says. 'Haven't I sint me own son
into ye'er accursed but liberty-lovin' counthry,' he says. 'As f'r Mack,
I assure ye he's hear-rtbroken over th' tur-rn affairs have taken,' he
says. 'Early in th' war he wrote to Lord Salisberry, sayin' he hoped
'twud not be continyued to iliction day, an' Salisberry give him a gruff
response. Tur-rned him down, though both ar-re Anglo-Saxons,' he says.
'Las' night his sobs fairly shook th' white house as he thought iv ye
an' ye'er sthruggle. He wants to tell ye how much he thinks iv ye, an'
he'll meet ye in th' carredge house if ye'll shave off ye'er whiskers
an' go as clam-peddlers. Ye'll reco'nize him in a green livery. He'll
wear a pink carnation in his buttonhole. Give th' names iv Dorsey an'
Flannagan, an' if th' English ambassadure goes by get down on ye'er
ban's an' knees an' don't make a sign till he's out iv sight,' he says.
'Th' stout party in blue near by'll be Mark Hanna. He may be able to
arrange a raypublican meetin' f'r ye to addhress,' he says. 'The gr-reat
hear-rt iv th' raypublican party throbs f'r ye. So does Mack's,' he
says. 'So does mine,' he says.”
“Well, th' dillygates met Mack an' they had a pleasant chat. 'Will ye,'
says they, 'inthervene an' whistle off th' dogs iv war?' they says.
'Whisper,' says Mack, th' tears flowin' down his cheeks. 'Iver since
this war started me eyes have been fixed on th' gallant or otherwise,
nation or depindancy, fightin' its brave battle f'r freedom or rebellin'
again' th' sov'reign power, as the case may be,' he says. 'Unofficially,
my sympathy has gone out to ye, an' bur-rnin' wurruds iv unofficial
cheer has been communicated unofficially be me to me official fam'ly,
not, mind ye, as an official iv this magnificent an' liberty-lovin'
raypublic, but as a private citizen,' he says. 'I feel, as a private
citizen, that so long,' he says, 'as the br-right star iv liberty shines
resplindent over our common counthries, with th' example iv Washin'ton
in ye'er eyes, an' th' iliction comin' on, that ye must go forward an'
conker or die,' he says. 'An',' he says, 'Willum McKinley is not th' man
to put annything in ye'er way,' he says. 'Go back to me gr-reat an' good
frind an' tell him that th' hear-rt iv th' raypublican party throbs
f'r him,' he says. 'An' Sicrety Hay's,' he says, 'an' mine,' he says,
'unofficially,' he says. 'Me official hear-rt,' he says, 'is not
permitted be th' constitootion to throb durin' wurrukin' hours,' he
says.
“An' so it goes. Ivrywhere th' dillygates tur-rns they see th' sign:
'This is me busy day.' An' whin they get back home they can tell
th' people they found th' United States exudin' sympathy at ivry
pore--'marked private.'”
“Don't ye think th' United States is enthusyastic f'r th' Boers?” asked
the innocent Hennessy.
“It was,” said Mr. Dooley. “But in th' las' few weeks it's had so manny
things to think iv. Th' enthusyasm iv this counthry, Hinnissy, always
makes me think iv a bonfire on an ice-floe. It burns bright so long as
ye feed it, an' it looks good, but it don't take hold, somehow, on th'
ice.”