“I see,” said Mr. Hennessy, “that Dewey is a candydate f'r prisidint.”
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, “I hope to hiven he won't get it. No
rilitive iv mine iver held a pollytical job barrin' mesilf. I was
precint captain, an' wan iv th' best they was in thim days, if I do
say so that shudden't. I was called Cap f'r manny years aftherward, an'
I'd've joined th' Gr-rand Army iv th' Raypublic if it hadn't been f'r me
poor feet. Manny iv me rilitives has been candydates, but they niver cud
win out again th' r-rest iv th' fam'ly. 'Tis so with Cousin George. I'm
again him. I've been a rayspictable saloon-keeper f'r forty years in
this ward, an' I'll not have th' name dhragged into pollytics.”
“Iv coorse, I don't blame Cousin George. I'm with him f'r annything
else in th' gift iv th' people, fr'm a lovin'-cup to a house an' lot. He
don't mean annything be it. Did ye iver see a sailor thryin' to ride a
horse? 'Tis a comical sight. Th' reason a sailor thries to ride a horse
is because he niver r-rode wan befure. If he knew annything about it he
wouldn't do it. So be Cousin George. Afther he'd been over here awhile
an' got so 'twas safe f'r him to go out without bein' torn to pieces f'r
soovenirs or lynched be a mob, he took a look ar-round him an' says
he to a polisman: 'What's th' governmint iv this counthry?' 'Tis
a raypublic,' says th' polisman. 'What's th' main guy called?' says
George. 'He's called prisidint,' says th' polisman. 'Is it a good job?'
says Cousin George. ''Tis betther thin thravelin' beat,' says th' bull.
'What's th' la-ad's name that's holdin' it now?' says Cousin George.
'Mack,' says th' cop. 'Irish?' says George. 'Cross,' says th' elbow.
'Where fr'm?' says George. 'Ohio,' says the peeler. 'Where's that?' says
George. 'I dinnaw,' says th' bull. An' they parted th' best iv frinds.”
“'Well,'” says George to himsilf, “'I guess I'll have to go up an' have a
look at this la-ad's place,' he says, 'an' if it looks good,' he says,
'p'raps I cud nail it,' he says. An' he goes up an' sees Mack dictatin'
his Porther Rickyan policy to a kinetoscope, an' it looks like a
nice employmint f'r a spry man, an' he goes back home an' sinds f'r a
rayporther, an' says he: 'I always believe since I got home in dealin'
frankly with th' press. I haven't seen manny papers since I've been
at sea, but whin I was a boy me father used to take the Montpelier
Paleejum. 'Twas r-run be a man be th' name iv Horse Clamback. He was
quite a man whin sober. Ye've heerd iv him, no doubt. But what I ast ye
up here f'r was to give ye a item that ye can write up in ye'er own way
an' hand to th' r-rest iv th' boys. I'm goin' to be prisidint. I like
th' looks iv the job an' nobody seems to care f'r it, an' I've got so
blame tired since I left th' ship that if I don't have somethin' to do
I'll go crazy,' he says. 'I wisht ye'd make a note iv it an' give it to
th' other papers,' he says. 'Ar-re ye a raypublican or a dimmycrat?'
says the rayporter. 'What's that?' says Cousin George. 'D'ye belong to
th' raypublican or th' dimmycrat party?' 'What ar-re they like?' says
Cousin George. 'Th' raypublicans ar-re in favor iv expansion.' 'Thin I'm
a raypublican.' 'Th' dim-mycrats ar-re in favor iv free thrade.' 'Thin
I'm a dimmycrat.' 'Th' raypublicans ar-re f'r upholdin' th' goold
standard.' 'So'm I. I'm a raypublican there.' 'An' they're opposed to an
income tax.' 'On that,' says Cousin George, 'I'm a dimmycrat. I tell
ye, put me down as a dimmycrat. Divvle th' bit I care. Just say I'm
a dimmycrat with sthrong raypublican leanings. Put it this way: I'm
a dimmycrat, be a point raypublican, dimmycrat. Anny sailor man'll
undherstand that.' 'What'll I say ye'er platform is?' 'Platform?' 'Ye
have to stand on a platform.' 'I do, do I? Well, I don't. I'll stand on
no platform, an' I'll hang on no sthrap. What d'ye think th'prisidincy
is--a throlley car? No, sir, whin ye peek in th' dure to sell ye'er
paper ye'll see ye'er Uncle George settin' down comfortable with his
legs crossed, thrippin' up annywan that thries to pass him. Go out now
an' write ye'er little item, f'r 'tis late an' all hands ar-re piped to
bed,' he says.”
“An' there ye ar-re. Well, sir, 'tis a hard year Cousin George has in
store f'r him. Th' first thing he knows he'll have to pay f'r havin' his
pitchers in th' pa-aper. Thin he'll larn iv siv'ral prevyous convictions
in Vermont. Thin he'll discover that they was no union label on th'
goods he delivered at Manila. 'Twill be pointed out be careful observers
that he was ilicted prisidint iv th' A. P. A. be th' Jesuits. Thin
somewan'll dig up that story about his not feelin' anny too well th'
mornin' iv th' fight, an' ye can imajine th' pitchers they'll print, an'
th' jokes that'll be made, an' th' songs: 'Dewey Lost His Appetite at
th' Battle iv Manila. Did McKinley Iver Lose His?' An' George'll wake
up th' mornin' afther iliction an' he'll have a sore head an' a sorer
heart, an' he'll find that th' on'y support he got was fr'm th' goold
dimmycratic party, an' th' chances ar-re he caught cold fr'm goin'
out without his shawl an' cudden't vote. He'll find that a man can be
r-right an' be prisidint, but he can't be both at th' same time. An'
he'll go down to breakfast an' issue Gin'ral Ordher Number Wan, 'To All
Superyor Officers Commandin' Admirals iv th' United States navy at home
or on foreign service: If anny man mintions an admiral f'r prisidint,
hit him in th' eye an' charge same to me.' An' thin he'll go to his
office an' prepare a plan f'r to capture Dublin, th' capital iv England,
whin th' nex' war begins. An' he'll spind th' r-rest iv his life thryin'
to live down th' time he was a candydate.”
“Well, be hivins, I think if Dewey says he's a dimmycrat an' Joyce is
with him, I'll give him a vote,” said Mr. Hennessy. “It's no sin to be a
candydate f'r prisidint.”
“No,” said Mr. Dooley. “Tis sometimes a misfortune an' sometimes a joke.
But I hope ye won't vote f'r him. He might be ilicted if ye did. I'd
like to raymimber him, an' it might be I cudden't if he got th' job. Who
was the prisidint befure Mack? Oh, tubby sure!”