ragin' flood an' he'll say: 'All right, I'll take a look at it.' Ye talk
about th' majesty iv th' ocean but what about th' majesty iv this here
little sixty-eight be eighteen inches bump iv self-reliance that treats
it like th' dirt undher his feet? It's a wondher to me that th' ocean
don't get tired iv growlin' an' roarin' at th' race iv men. They don't
pay anny heed to it's hollering. Whin it behaves itsilf they praise it
as though it was a good dog. 'How lovely our ocean looks undher our
moon.' Whin it rises in its wrath they show their contimpt f'r it be
bein' sea-sick into it. But no matther how it behaves they niver quit
usin' its face f'r a right iv way. They'll niver subjoo it but it niver
bates thim. There niver was a time in th' history iv little man's
sthruggle with th' vasty deep that he didn't deserve a decision on
points."
"Well, it's all very well, but f'r me th' dhry land," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Will ye iver cross th' ocean again?"
"Not," said Mr. Dooley, "till they asphalt it an' run th' boats on
throlleys."
WORK
"Ye haven't sthruck yet, have ye?" said Mr. Dooley.
"Not yet," said Mr. Hennessy. "But th' dillygate was up at th' mills
to-day an' we may be called out anny minyit now."
"Will ye go?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"Ye bet I will," said Mr. Hennessy. "Ye just bet I will. I stand firm be
union principles an' besides it's hot as blazes up there these days. I
wudden't mind havin' a few weeks off."
"Ye'll do right to quit," said Mr. Dooley. "I have no sympathy with
sthrikers. I have no sympathy with thim anny more thin I have with
people goin' off to a picnic. A sthrike is a wurrukin' man's vacation.
If I had to be wan iv thim horny-handed sons iv toil, th' men that have
made our counthry what it is an' creates th' wealth iv th' wurruld--if
I had to be wan iv thim pillars iv th' constitution, which thank Gawd I
haven't, 'tis sthrikin' I'd be all th' time durin' th' heated term. I'd
begin sthrikin' whin th' flowers begin to bloom in th' parks, an' I'd
stay on sthrike till 'twas too cold to sit out on th' bleachers at th'
baseball park. Ye bet I wud.
"I've noticed that nearly all sthrikes occur in th' summer time.
Sthrikes come in th' summer time an' lockouts in th' winter. In th'
summer whin th' soft breezes blows through shop an' facthry, fannin' th'
cheeks iv th' artisan an' settin' fire to his whiskers, whin th' main
guy is off at th' seashore bein' pinched f'r exceedin' th' speed limit,
whin 'tis comfortable to sleep out at nights an' th' Sox have started a
batting sthreak, th' son iv Marthy, as me frind Roodyard Kipling calls
him, begins to think iv th' rights iv labor.
"Th' more he looks out iv th' window, th' more he thinks about his
rights, an' wan warm day he heaves a couplin' pin at th' boss an'
saunters away. Sthrikes are a great evil f'r th' wurrukin' man, but so
are picnics an' he acts th' same at both. There's th' same not gettin'
up till ye want to, th' same meetin' ye'er frinds f'r th' first time in
their good clothes an' th' same thumpin' sthrangers over th' head with a
brick. Afther awhile th' main guy comes home fr'm th' seaside, raises
wages twinty per cent, fires th' boss an' takes in th' walkin' dillygate
as a specyal partner.
"But in winter, what Hogan calls another flower iv our industhreel
system blooms. In th' winter it's warmer in th' foundhry thin in th'
home. There is no hearth as ample in anny man's home as th' hearth th'
Steel Comp'ny does its cookin' by. It is pleasant to see th' citizen
afther th' rigors iv a night at home hurryin' to th' mills to toast his
numbed limbs in th' warm glow iv th' Bessemer furnace. About this time
th' main guy takes a look at the thermometer an' chases th' specyal
partner out iv th' office with th' annual report iv th' Civic
Featheration. He thin summons his hardy assocyates about him an' says
he: 'Boys, I will no longer stand f'r th' tyranny iv th' unions.
Conditions has changed since last summer. It's grown much colder. I do
not care f'r the money at stake, but there is a great principle
involved. I cannot consint to have me business run be outsiders at a
cost iv near thirty thousand dollars a year,' says he. An' there's a
lockout.
"'Tis a matther iv th' seasons. So if ye sthrike ye'll not get me
sympathy. I resarve that f'r me infeeryors. I'll keep me sympathy f'r
th' poor fellow that has nobody to lure him away fr'm his toil an' that
has to sweat through August with no chanst iv gettin' a day in th' open
onless th' milishy are ordhered out an' thin whin he goes back to wurruk
th' chances are somebody's got his job while th' sthrikin' wurrukin' man
returns with his pockets full iv cigars an' is hugged at th' dure be the
main guy. If I was rejooced to wurrukin' f'r me livin', if I was a son
iv Marthy I'd be a bricklayer. They always sthrike durin' th' buildin'
season. They time it just right. They niver quit wurruk. They thry not
to meet it. It is what Hogan calls a pecolyar fact that bricklayers
always time their vacations f'r th' peeryod whin there is wurruk to be
done.
"No, sir, don't ask me to weep over th' downthrodden wurrukin' man whin
he's out on sthrike. Ye take these here tillygraft op'rators that have
laid off wurruk f'r th' summer. Do they look as though they were
sufferin'? Ye bet they don't. Th' tired tillygraft op'rator come home
last week with a smile on his face. 'I have good news f'r ye, mother,'
says he. 'Ye haven't sthruck?' says she, hope sthrugglin' with fear in
her face. 'Ye've guessed it,' says he. 'We weren't exactly ordhered out.
Th' signal f'r a sthrike was to be a series iv sharp whistles fr'm the
walkin' dillygate, but, whin that didn't come an' we were tired iv
waitin' th' report iv th' baseball game come over th' wires an' we
mistook that f'r a signal. Ye must get the childher ready f'r a day in
th' counthry. We can't tell how soon this sthruggle again th' greed iv
capital will be declared off an' we must make th' most iv it while it
lasts,' says he.
"I know a tillygraft op'rator, wan iv thim knights iv th' key that has a
fine job in a counthry deepo. All he has to do is to be up in time to
flag number eight at six o'clock an' wait till number thirty-two goes
through at midnight, keep thrains fr'm bumpin' into each other, turn
switches, put up th' simaphore, clean th' lamps an' hand out time tables
an' sell tickets. F'r these dissypations he dhraws down all th' way fr'm
fifteen to twinty dollars a week. An' he wants to sthrike. An' th'
pa-apers say if he does he'll tie up our impeeryal railroad systems.
Think iv that. I never had much iv an opinyon iv him. All he iver done
f'r me was to misspell me name. He's a little thin man that cudden't
lift an eighth iv beer with both hands, but he's that important if he
leaps his job we'll all have to walk.
"I've often thought I'd like to have th' walkin' dillygate iv th' Liquor
Dealers' Binivolent Assocyation come around an' ordher me to lay down
me lemon squeezer an' bung starter an' walk out. But nawthin' iv th'
kind iver happens an' if it did happen no wan wud care a sthraw. Th'
whole wurruld shuddhers at th' thought that me frind Ike Simpson, the
tillygraft op'rator, may take a day off: but me or Pierpont Morgan might
quit f'r a year an' no wan wud care. Supposin' Rockyfellar an' Pierpont
Morgan an' Jim Hill shud form a union, an' shud demand a raise iv a
millyon dollars a year, reduction iv wurrukin' time fr'm two to wan hour
ivry week, th' closed shop, two apprentices f'r each bank an' no wan
allowed to make money onless he cud show a union card? Whin th' sthrike
comity waited on us we'd hoist our feet on th' kitchen table, light a
seegar, polish our bone collar button with th' sleeve iv our flannel
shirt an' till thim to go to Bannagher.
"We'd say: 'Ye'er demands are onraisonable an' we will not submit. F'r
years we have run th' shop almost at a loss. There are plenty iv men to
take ye'er places. They may not be as efficient at first but they'll
soon larn. Ye'er demands are refused an' ye can bang th' dure afther
ye.' A fine chanct a millyonaire wud have thryin' to persuade ye be
peaceful means fr'm takin' his job. Think iv him on th' dead line
thryin' to coax ye not to go in but to stand by him as he would sit on
ye if you were in th' same position. Wud ye or wud ye not lave ye'er
coat in his hands as ye plunged in th' bank? They'd have to resort to
vilence. Th' stock exchange wud go out in sympathy. Th' milishy wud be
called out an' afther awhile th' financeers wud come back with their
hats in their hands an' find their old places took be other men.
"No, sir, a sthrike iv financeers wudden't worry anny wan. 'Tis a
sthrange thing whin we come to think iv it that th' less money a man
gets f'r his wurruk, th' more nicissry it is to th' wurruld that he shud
go on wurrukin'. Ye'er boss can go to Paris on a combination wedding an'
divoorce thrip an' no wan bothers his head about him. But if ye shud go
to Paris--excuse me f'r laughin' mesilf black in th' face--th'
industhrees iv the counthry pines away.
"An' th' higher up a man regards his wurruk, th' less it amounts to. We
cud manage to scrape along without electhrical injineers but we'd have a
divvle iv a time without scavengers. Ye look down on th' fellow that
dhrives th' dump cart, but if it wasn't f'r him ye'd niver be able to
pursoo ye'er honorable mechanical profissyon iv pushin' th' barrow. Whin
Andhrew Carnagie quit, ye wint on wurrukin'; if ye quit wurruk, he'll
have to come back. P'raps that's th' reason th' wurrukin' man don't get
more iv thim little pictures iv a buffalo in his pay envelope iv a
Saturdah night. If he got more money he wud do less wurruk. He has to be
kept in thrainin'.
"Th' way to make a man useful to th' wurruld is to give him a little
money an' a lot iv wurruk. An' 'tis th' on'y way to make him happy, too.
I don't mean coarse, mateeryal happiness like private yachts an'
autymobills an' rich food an' other corrodin' pleasures. I mean
something entirely diffr'ent. I don't know what I mean but I see in th'
pa-apers th' other day that th' on'y road to happiness was hard wurruk.
'Tis a good theery. Some day I'm goin' to hire a hall an' preach it in
Newport. I wudden't mintion it in Ar-rchy Road where wurruk abounds. I
don't want to be run in f'r incitin' a riot.
"This pa-aper says th' farmer niver sthrikes. He hasn't got th' time to.
He's too happy. A farmer is continted with his ten-acre lot. There's
nawthin' to take his mind off his wurruk. He sleeps at night with his
nose against th' shingled roof iv his little frame home an' dhreams iv
cinch bugs. While th' stars are still alight he walks in his sleep to
wake th' cow that left th' call f'r four o'clock. Thin it's ho! f'r
feedin' th' pigs an' mendin' th' reaper. Th' sun arises as usual in th'
east an' bein' a keen student iv nature, he picks a cabbage leaf to put
in his hat. Breakfast follows, a gay meal beginnin' at nine an' endin'
at nine-three. Thin it's off f'r th' fields where all day he sets on a
bicycle seat an' reaps the bearded grain an' th' Hessian fly, with
nawthin' but his own thoughts an' a couple iv horses to commune with.
An' so he goes an' he's happy th' livelong day if ye don't get in
ear-shot iv him. In winter he is employed keepin' th' cattle fr'm
sufferin' his own fate an' writin' testymonyals iv dyspepsia cures. 'Tis
sthrange I niver heerd a farmer whistle except on Sunday.
"No, sir, ye can't tell me that a good deal iv wurruk is good f'r anny
man. A little wurruk is not bad, a little wurruk f'r th' stomach's sake
an' to make ye sleep sound, a kind of nightcap, d'ye mind. But a gr-reat
deal iv wurruk, especially in th' summer time, will hurt anny man that
indulges in it. So, though I don't sympathize with sthrikers, I
congratulate thim. Sthrike, says I, while the iron is hot an' ye'er most
needed to pound it into a horseshoe. An' especially wud I advise
ivrybody to sthrike whin th' weather is hot."
DRUGS
"What ails ye?" asked Mr. Dooley of Mr. Hennessy, who looked dejected.
"I'm a sick man," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Since th' picnic?"
"Now that I come to think iv it, it did begin th' day afther th'
picnic," said Mr. Hennessy. "I've been to see Dock O'Leary. He give me
this an' these here pills an' some powdhers besides. An' d'ye know,
though I haven't taken anny iv thim yet, I feel betther already."
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "'tis a grand thing to be a doctor. A man
that's a doctor don't have to buy anny funny papers to enjye life. Th'
likes iv ye goes to a picnic an' has a pleasant, peaceful day in th'
counthry dancin' breakdowns an' kickin' a football in th' sun an' ivry
fifteen minyits or so washin' down a couple of dill-pickles with a
bottle of white pop. Th' next day ye get what's comin' to ye in th'
right place an' bein' a sthrong, hearty man that cudden't be kilt be
annything less thin a safe fallin' on ye fr'm a twenty-story building ye
know ye ar-re goin' to die. Th' good woman advises a mustard plasther
but ye scorn th' suggestion. What good wud a mustard plasther be again
this fatal epidemic that is ragin' inside iv ye? Besides a mustard
plasther wud hurt. So th' good woman, frivilous crather that she is,
goes back to her wurruk singin' a light chune. She knows she's goin' to
have to put up with ye f'r some time to come. A mustard plasther,
Hinnissy, is th' rale test iv whether a pain is goin' to kill ye or not.
If the plasther is onbearable ye can bet th' pain undherneath it is not.
"But ye know ye are goin' to die an' ye're not sure whether ye'll send
f'r Father Kelly or th' doctor. Ye finally decide to save up Father
Kelly f'r th' last an' ye sind f'r th' Dock. Havin' rescued ye fr'm th'
jaws iv death two or three times befure whin ye had a sick headache th'
Dock takes his time about comin', but just as ye are beginnin' to throw
ye'er boots at th' clock an' show other signs iv what he calls rigem
mortar, he rides up in his fine horse an' buggy. He gets out slowly, one
foot at a time, hitches his horse an' ties a nose bag on his head. Thin
he chats f'r two hundherd years with th' polisman on th' beat. He tells
him a good story an' they laugh harshly.
"Whin th' polisman goes his way th' Dock meets th' good woman at th'
dure an' they exchange a few wurruds about th' weather, th' bad
condition iv th' sthreets, th' health iv Mary Ann since she had th'
croup an' ye'ersilf. Ye catch th' wurruds, 'Grape Pie,' 'Canned Salmon,'
'Cast-iron digestion.' Still he doesn't come up. He tells a few stories
to th' childher. He weighs th' youngest in his hands an' says: 'That's a
fine boy ye have, Mrs. Hinnissy. I make no doubt he'll grow up to be a
polisman.' He examines th' phottygraft album an' asks if that isn't
so-an'-so. An' all this time ye lay writhin' in mortal agony an' sayin'
to ye'ersilf: 'Inhuman monsther, to lave me perish here while he chats
with a callous woman that I haven't said annything but What? to f'r
twinty years.'
"Ye begin to think there's a conspiracy against ye to get ye'er money
befure he saunters into th' room an' says in a gay tone: 'Well, what
d'ye mane be tyin' up wan iv th' gr-reat industhrees iv our nation be
stayin' away fr'm wurruk f'r a day?' 'Dock,' says ye in a feeble voice,
'I have a tur'ble pain in me abdumdum. It reaches fr'm here to here,'
makin' a rough sketch iv th' burned disthrict undher th' blanket. 'I
felt it comin' on last night but I didn't say annything f'r fear iv
alarmin' me wife, so I simply groaned,' says ye.
"While ye ar-re describin' ye'er pangs, he walks around th' room lookin'
at th' pictures. Afther ye've got through he comes over an says: 'Lave
me look at ye'er tongue. 'Hum,' he says, holdin' ye'er wrist an' bowin'
through th' window to a frind iv his on a sthreet car. 'Does that
hurt?' he says, stabbin' ye with his thumbs in th' suburbs iv th' pain.
'Ye know it does,' says ye with a groan. 'Don't do that again. Ye
scratched me.' He hurls ye'er wrist back at ye an' stands at th' window
lookin' out at th' firemen acrost th' sthreet playin' dominoes. He says
nawthin' to ye an' ye feel like th' prisoner while th' foreman iv th'
jury is fumblin' in his inside pocket f'r th' verdict. Ye can stand it
no longer. 'Dock,' says he, 'is it annything fatal? I'm not fit to die
but tell me th' worst an' I will thry to bear it. 'Well,' says he, 'ye
have a slight interioritis iv th' semi-colon. But this purscription
ought to fix ye up all right. Ye'd betther take it over to th' dhrug
sthore an' have it filled ye'ersilf. In th' manetime I'd advise ye to be
careful iv ye'er dite. I wudden't ate annything with glass or a large
percintage iv plasther iv Paris in it.' An' he goes away to write his
bill.
"I wondher why ye can always read a doctor's bill an' ye niver can read
his purscription. F'r all ye know, it may be a short note to th'
dhruggist askin' him to hit ye on th' head with a pestle. An' it's a
good thing ye can't read it. If ye cud, ye'd say: 'I'll not cash this in
at no dhrug store. I'll go over to Dooley's an' get th' rale thing.' So,
afther thryin' to decipher this here corner iv a dhress patthern, ye
climb into ye'er clothes f'r what may be ye'er last walk up Ar-rchy
Road. As ye go along ye begin to think that maybe th' Dock knows ye have
th' Asiatic cholery an' was onl'y thryin' to jolly ye with his manner iv
dealin' with ye. As ye get near th' dhrug store ye feel sure iv it, an'
'tis with th' air iv a man without hope that ye hand th' paper to a
young pharmycist who is mixin' a two-cent stamp f'r a lady customer. He
hands it over to a scientist who is compoundin' an ice-cream soda f'r a
child, with th' remark: 'O'Leary's writin' is gettin' worse an' worse. I
can't make this out at all.' 'Oh,' says th' chemist, layin' down his
spoon, 'that's his old cure f'r th' bellyache. Ye'll find a bucket iv
it in th' back room next to th' coal scuttle.'
"It's a gr-reat medicine he give ye. It will do ye good no matther what
ye do with it. I wud first thry poorin' some iv it in me hair. If that
don't help ye see how far ye can throw th' bottle into th' river. Ye
feel betther already. Ye ought to write to th' medical journals about
th' case. It is a remarkable cure. 'M---- H---- was stricken with
excruciating tortures in th' gastric regions followin' an unusually
severe outing in th' counthry. F'r a time it looked as though it might
be niciss'ry to saw out th' infected area, but as this wud lave an ugly
space between legs an' chin, it was determined to apply Jam. Gin.
VIII. Th' remedy acted instantly. Afther carryin' th' bottle uncorked
f'r five minyits in his inside pocket th' patient showed signs iv
recovery an' is now again in his accustomed health.'
"Yes, sir, if I was a doctor I'd be ayether laughin' or cryin' all th'
time. I'd be laughin' over th' cases that I was called into whin I
wasn't needed an' cryin' over th' cases where I cud do no good. An'
that wud be most iv me cases.
"Dock O'Leary comes in here often an' talks medicine to me. 'Ye'ers is a
very thrying pro-fissyon,' says I. 'It is,' says he. 'I'm tired out,'
says he. 'Have ye had a good manny desprit cases to-day?' says I. 'It
isn't that,' says he, 'but I'm not a very muscular man,' he says, 'an'
some iv th' windows in these old frame houses are hard to open,' he
says. Th' Dock don't believe much in dhrugs. He says that if he wasn't
afraid iv losin' his practice he wudn't give annybody annything but
quinine an' he isn't sure about that. He says th' more he practises
medicine th' more he becomes a janitor with a knowledge iv cookin'. He
says if people wud on'y call him in befure they got sick, he'd abolish
ivry disease in th' ward except old age an' pollyticks. He says he's
lookin' forward to th' day whin th' tillyphone will ring an' he'll hear
a voice sayin': 'Hurry up over to Hinnissy's. He niver felt so well in
his life.' 'All right, I'll be over as soon as I can hitch up th'
horse. Take him away fr'm th' supper table at wanst, give him a pipeful
iv tobacco an' walk him three times around th' block.'
"But whin a man's sick, he's sick an' nawthin' will cure him or
annything will. In th' old days befure ye an' I were born, th' doctor
was th' barber too. He'd shave ye, cut ye'er hair, dye ye'er mustache,
give ye a dhry shampoo an' cure ye iv appindicitis while ye were havin'
ye'er shoes shined be th' naygur. Ivry gineration iv doctors has had
their favrite remedies. Wanst people were cured iv fatal maladies be
applications iv blind puppies, hair fr'm the skulls iv dead men an'
solutions iv bat's wings, just as now they're cured be dhrinkin' a
tayspoonful iv a very ordhinary article iv booze that's had some kind iv
a pizenous weed dissolved in it.
"Dhrugs, says Dock O'Leary, are a little iv a pizen that a little more
iv wud kill ye. He says that if ye look up anny poplar dhrug in th'
ditchnry ye'll see that it is 'A very powerful pizen of great use in
medicine.' I took calomel at his hands f'r manny years till he told me
that it was about the same thing they put into Rough on Rats. Thin I
stopped. If I've got to die, I want to die on th' premises.
"But, as he tells me, ye can't stop people from takin' dhrugs an' ye
might as well give thim something that will look important enough to be
inthrojuced to their important an' fatal cold in th' head. If ye don't,
they'll leap f'r the patent medicines. Mind ye, I haven't got annything
to say again patent medicines. If a man wud rather take thim thin dhrink
at a bar or go down to Hop Lung's f'r a long dhraw, he's within his
rights. Manny a man have I known who was a victim iv th' tortures iv a
cigareet cough who is now livin' comfortable an' happy as an opeem fiend
be takin' Doctor Wheezo's Consumption Cure. I knew a fellow wanst who
suffered fr'm spring fever to that extent that he niver did a day's
wurruk. To-day, afther dhrinkin' a bottle of Gazooma, he will go home
not on'y with th' strenth but th' desire to beat his wife. There is a
dhrug store on ivry corner an' they're goin' to dhrive out th' saloons
onless th' govermint will let us honest merchants put a little cocaine
or chloral in our cough-drops an' advertise that it will cure spinal
minigitis. An' it will, too, f'r awhile."
"Don't ye iver take dhrugs?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Niver whin I'm well," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I'm sick, I'm so sick I'd
take annything."
A BROKEN FRIENDSHIP
"Hogan was in here just now," said Mr. Dooley, "an' he tells me he was
talkin' with th' Alderman an' they both agreed we're sure to have war
with th' Japs inside iv two years. They can see it comin'. Befure very
long thim little brown hands acrost th' sea will hand us a crack in th'
eye an' thin ye'll see throuble."
"What's it all about?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Divvle a thing can I make out iv it," said Mr. Dooley. "Hogan says
we've got to fight f'r th' supreemacy iv th' Passyfic. Much fightin' I'd
do f'r an ocean, but havin' taken th' Philippeens, which ar-re a blamed
nuisance, an th' Sandwich Islands, that're about as vallyable as a toy
balloon to a horse-shoer, we've got to grab a lot iv th' surroundin'
dampness to protect thim. That's wan reason why we're sure to have war.
Another reason is that th' Japs want to sind their little
forty-five-year-old childher to be iddycated in th' San Francisco public
schools. A third reason why it looks like war to Hogan an' th' Alderman
is that they'd been dhrinkin' together.
"Wud ye iver have thought 'twas possible that anny wan in this counthry
cud even talk iv war with thim delightful, cunning little Oryentals?
Why, 'tis less thin two years since Hogan was comin' home fr'm th'
bankit iv th' Union iv Usurers with his arms around th' top iv a Jap's
head while th' Jap clutched Hogan affectionately about th' waist an'
they sung 'Gawd Save th' Mickydoo.' D'ye raymimber how we hollered with
joy whin a Rooshyan Admiral put his foot through th' bottom iv a
man-iv-war an' sunk it. An' how we cheered in th' theaytre to see th'
cute little sojers iv th' Mickydoo mowin' down th' brutal Rooshyan
moojiks with masheen guns. An' fin'lly, whin th' Japs had gone a
thousand miles into Rooshyan territory an' were about busted an' ayether
had to stop fightin' or not have car fare home, our worthy Prisident, ye
know who I mean, jumped to th' front an' cried: 'Boys, stop it. It's
gone far enough to satisfy th' both iv ye.' An th' angel iv peace
brooded over th' earth an' crowed lustily.
"Day after day th' pa-apers come out an' declared, in th' column next to
th' half-page ad iv th' Koppenheimer bargain sale, that th' defeat iv
Rooshya was a judgment iv th' Lord on th' Czar. If ye saw a Jap
annywhere, ye asked him to take a dhrink.