Chapter III: Part 3

“Th' best a congressman can get is foorth-class postmasther an' a look in at th' White House on visitin' day. But Hadji, th' pop'lar an' iloquent sultan iv Sulu an' Bazeen iv th' Ohio iv th' Passyfic, owns his own palace an' disthributes his own jobs. No man can hold th' office iv bow-sthringer iv our impeeryal domain without a certy-ficate fr'm Hadji. From th' highest office in th' land to th' lowest, fr'm th' chief pizener to th' throne, to th' humblest ixicutioner that puts a lady in a bag an' dumps her into th' lake in th' Nine Millionth Assimbly district they look to Hadji Mohammed f'r their places. He is th' High Guy, th' Main Thing. He's ivrybody. When he quits wurrk th' governmint is over f'r th' day. An' does annywan thry to interfere with Hadji? Does annywan say 'Hadji, ye'll have to abandon two or three hundherd iv ye 'er firesides. Ye ar-re livin' jus' inside th' left field fince iv our domain an' 'tis a rule iv th' game that we've taken ye into that no wan shall have more thin wan wife at a time that annywan knows iv. In' behalf iv th' comity iv th' Society f'r th' Supprission iv Poly-gamy, I request ye to discard Nora an' Eileen an' Mary Ann an' Sue an' Bimbi an' th' r-rest iv th' bunch, an' cleave on'y to Lucille. I judge be her looks that she's th' first Missus Haitch.'

“No, sir. If he did he'd reach th' ship that runs between our outlying wards without a hair to his head. Instead iv reproachin' Hadji with his domestic habits, wan iv th' envoys that ar-re imployed in carryin' messages fr'm th' prisidint to his fellow-citizens, proceeds to th' pretty little American village iv Sulu, where he finds Hadji settin' up on a high chair surrounded be wives. 'Tis a domestic scene that'd make Brigham Young think he was a bachelor. Hadji is smokin' a good seegar an' occasionally histin' a dhrink iv cider, an' wan iv th' ladies is playin' a guitar, an' another is singin' 'I want ye my Sulu,' an' another is makin' a tidy, an' three or four hundred more ar-re sewin' patches on th' pants iv th' Hadji kids. An' th' ambassadure he says: 'Mos' rile an' luminous citizen, here is a copy iv th' Annual Thanksgivin' pro-clamation,' he says. 'Tis addhressed to all th' hearty husbandmen iv our belovid counthry, manin' you among others,' he says. 'An' here,' he says, 'is th' revised constitution,' he says. 'Th' original wan,' he says, 'was intinded f'r ol' stick-in-th'-muds that wudden't know th' difference between a harem an' a hoe,' he says. 'This wan,' he says, 'is more suited f'r th' prisint gay an' expansive times,' he says. 'It permits a man to cleave to as manny wives,' he says, 'as his race, color, an' prevyous condition iv servitude will permit,' he says. 'Thank ye kindly,' says Hadji, 'I'll threasure these here papers as a vallyable meminto fr'm that far distant home iv mine which I have niver see,' he says. 'I'd inthrojooce ye to Mrs. Hadji wan by wan,' he says, 'but 'twud be betther,' he says, 'f'r to stand up here an' be prisinted to her as a whole,' he says, 'f'r,' he says, ''tis growing late an' I want ye to come up to th' house,' he says, 'an' pick a mission'ry with me,' he says. 'A Baptist,' he says, 'raised on th' farm,' he says. An' Hadji holds his job an' looks for'rard to th' day whin we'll have female suffrage an' he can cast th' solid vote iv Sulu for himsilf f'r prisident.”

“Thin,” said Mr. Hennessy, “ye'er frind Roberts ought to move to what-d'ye-call-th' place.”

“That's what I'm thinkin',” said Mr. Dooley. “But 'tis too bad f'r him he was bor-rn at home.”

PUBLIC FICKLENESS

Mr. Dooley put his paper aside and pushed his spectacles up on his forehead. “Well,” he said, “I suppose, afther all, we're th' mos' lively nation in th' wurruld. It doesn't seem many months ago since ye, Hinnissy, was down at th' depot cheerin' th' departin' heroes----”

“I niver was,” said Mr. Hennessey. “I stayed at home.”

“Since ye was down cheerin' th' departin' heroes,” Mr. Dooley continued, “an' thryin' to collect what they owed ye. Th' papers was full iv news iv th' war. Private Jawn Thomas Bozoom iv Woonsocket, a mimber iv th' gallant an' devoted Wan Hundhred an' Eighth Rhode Island, accidentally slipped on a orange peel while attimptin' to lave th' recruitin' office an' sustained manny con-tu-sions. He rayfused to be taken home an' insisted on jinin' his rig'mint at th' rayciption in th' fair groun's. Gallant Private Bozoom! That's th' stuff that American heroes ar-re made iv. Ye find thim at th' forge an' at th' plough, an' dhrivin' sthreet cars, an' ridin' in th' same. The favored few has th' chanst to face th' bullets iv th'inimy. 'Tis f'r these unknown pathrites to prove that a man can sarve his counthry at home as well as abroad. Private Bozoom will not be f'rgot be his fellow-counthrymen. A rayciption has been arranged f'r him at th' Woonsocket op'ry-house, an' 'tis said if he will accipt it, th' vote iv th' State iv Rhode Island'll be cast f'r him f'r prisidint. 'Tis at such times as this that we reflict that th' wurruld has wurruk f'r men to do, an' mere politicians mus' retire to th' rear.”

“That was a few months ago. Where's Bozoom now? If iver ye go to Woonsocket, Hinnissy, which Gawd f'rbid, ye'll find him behind th' counther iv th' grocery store ladlin' out rutabaga turnips into a brown paper cornucopy an' glad to be alive. An' 'tis tin to wan, an' more thin that, that th' town humorist has named him th' orange-peel hero, an' he'll go to his grave with that name. Th' war is over an' th' state iv war exists. If ye saw a man fall fr'm th' top iv a tin-story buildin' 'twud startle ye, wanst. If it happened again, 'twud surprise ye. But if ye saw a man fall ivry fifteen minyits ye'd go home afther awhile f'r supper an' ye wuddent even mintion it to ye'er wife.”

“I don't know how manny heroes they ar-re in th' Philippeens. Down there a man is ayether a sojer or a casualty. Bein' a casualty is no good. I cud say about a man: 'He was a hero in th' war with Spain,' but how can I say: 'Shake hands with Bill Grady, wan iv th' ladin' casualties iv our late war?' 'Twud be no more thin to say he was wan iv th' gallant men that voted f'r prisidint in 1896.'”

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“No, Hinnissy, people wants novelties in war. Th' war fashions iv 1898 is out iv style. They ar-re too full in th' waist an' too long in th' skirt. Th' style has changed. There ar-re fifty thousand backward men in th' fair isles iv th' Passyfic fightin' to free th' Philippeen fr'm himsilf an' becomin' a casualty in th' operation, but no one is charterin' ar-rmy hospital ships f'r thim.”

“No one is convartin' anny steam yachts f'r thim. No wan is sindin' eighty tons iv plum puddin' to complete th' wurruk iv destruction. They ar-re in a war that'd make th' British throops in Africa think they were drillin' f'r a prize banner. But'tis an onfashionable war.' 'Tis an ol' war made over fr'm garments formerly worn be heroes. Whin a man is out in th' counthry with wan newspaper an' has read th' authentic dispatches fr'm Ladysmith an' Harrismith an' Willumaldensmith an' Mysteriousbillysmith an' the meetin' iv th' czar iv Rooshia with th' Impror Willum an' th' fire in th' packin' house an' th' report iv th' canal thrustees an' th' fightin' news an' th' want ads, an' afther he has r-read thim over twinty times he looks at his watch an' says he, 'Holy smoke, 'tis two hours to thrain time an' I suppose I'll have to r-read th' news fr'm th' Philippeens.' War, be hivins, is so common that I believe if we was to take on a fight with all th' wurruld not more thin half th' popylation iv New England'd die iv hear-rt disease befure they got into th' cellars.”

“Th' new style iv war is made in London an' all our set is simply stuck on it. Th' casualties in th' Philippeens can walk home, but is it possible that many thrue an' well-dhressed American can stand to see th' signs iv th' ancient British aristocracy taken care iv be their own gover'mint? 'What,' says Lady what's-her-name (her that was th' daughter iv wan iv our bravest an' best racontoors). 'What.' she says, 'will anny American woman residin' in London see men shot down,' she says, 'that has but recently played polo in our very sight,' she says, 'an' be brought home in mere thransports,' she says. 'Ladies,' she says, 'lave us equip a hospital ship,' she says. 'I thrust,' she says, 'that all iv us has been long enough fr'm home to f'rget our despicable domestic struggles,' she says, 'an' think on'y iv humanity,' she says. An' whin she opens up th' shop f'r subscriptions ye'd think fr'm th' crowd that 'twas th' first night iv th' horse show. I don't know what Lem Stiggins iv Kansas, marked down in th' roll, Private in th' Twintieth Kansas, Severely, I don't know what Private Severely thinks iv it. An' I wuddent like to know till afther Thanks-givin'.”

“Don't be blatherin',” said Mr. Hennessy. “Sure ye can't ixpict people to be inthrested f'river in a first performance.”

“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “but whin th' audjeence gives th' comp'ny an encore it ought at laste to pretind that it's not lavin' f'r th' other show.”

KENTUCKY POLITICS

“If th' Presidint doesn't step in an' interfere,” said Mr. Hennessy, “they'll be bloodshed in Kentucky.”

“What business is it iv Mack's?” Mr. Dooley protested. “Th' war's in this counthry, man alive! If 'twas in Boolgahria or Chiny or on th' head waters iv th' Bozoon river in th' sooltynate iv--iv--I dinnaw what--thin'twud be th' jooty iv our gover'mint f'r to resolve that th' inthrests iv humanity an' civilization an' th' advancement iv th' human kind required that we shud step in an' put a head on wan or both iv th' parties. But they'se no reason now, me boy, f'r us to do annything, f'r these are our own people, an' 'tis wan iv their rights, undher th' martial law that's th' foundation iv our institutions, to bate each other to death whiniver an' whereiver they plaze. 'Twud be all r-right f'r the Impror Willum to come in an' take a hand, but Gawd help him if he did, or th' Prsidint iv th' Fr-rinch or th' Impror iv Chiny. 'Twud be all r-right f'r thim. An' though we might meet thim at th' dure an' hand thim wan f'r their impydince, we'd be in th' wrong. Twud be a good job f'r Aggynaldoo, too, if he cud find himsilf an' had th' time It must be clear to him be what news he hears whin th' other pigrim father, Sinitor Hoar, calls on him in th' three where he makes his home, that what Kentucky needs now is wan an' on'y wan stable govermint an' a little public peace. He might restore peace at home an' abroad be cuttin' in, but th' poor la-ad has other things to think iv. I'd like to see him. It must be near a year since he had a shave or a hair cut, barrin' ridges made be bullets as he cleared th' fences.”

“It looks to me as though th' raypublican is wr-rong,” said Mr. Hennessy, with the judicial manner of a man without prejudices.

“Iv coorse he's wrong,” said Mr. Dooley. “He starts wrong. An' th' dimmycrats ar-re r-right. They're always r-right. Tis their position. Th' dimmycrats ar-re right an' the raypublicans has th' jobs. It all come up because our vinerated party, Hinnissy, ain't quick at th' count. Man an' boy I've taken an intherest in politics all me life, an' I find th' on'y way to win an iliction is to begin f'r to count th' minyit ye've completed th' preliminaries iv closin' th' polls an' killin' th' other judges an' clerks.

“Th' dimmycrats counted, but th' count come too late. Be th' time th' apparent an' hidjous majority iv th' raypublicans was rayjooced to nawthin' an' a good liberal, substantial, legal an' riotous dimmycratic majority put in its place be ordher iv th' coorts, th' commonwealth iv Kentucky an' Jack Chinn, th' raypublican has been so long in th'job an' has become so wedded to it that ye cuddent shake him out with a can iv joynt powdher. It seems to him that there niver was a time whin he wasn't gov'nor.”

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“Th' dimmycrats get together an' call on that learned an' incorruptible joodishary that's done so much to ilivate the party into high office, an' whin th' dure iv th' saloon is locked they say 'Bill,' they say, 'we're bein' robbed iv our suffrage,' says they. 'Th' hated enimy has stolen th' ballot an' thrampled on th' r-rights iv th' citizens,' says they, 'in the southern part iv th' state faster thin we cud undo their hellish wurruk in our own counties,' they says. 'They now hol' th' jobs,' they say, 'an' if they stay in they'se no more chanst iv iver ilictin' a dimmycrat again thin there wud be iv ilictin' a raypublican if we got in,' they say. 'Do ye mix us up a replevy writ an' we'll go over an' haul th' chair fr'm undher thim,' they say.”

“So th' judge passes out a replevy writ be vartue iv th' thrust that's been reposed in him be th' comity and gives it to Colonel Jack Chinn, wan iv th' leaders iv th' Kentucky bar, f'r to serve. An' Colonel Jack Chinn ar-rms himsilf as becomes a riprisintative iv a gr-reat coort goin' to sarve a sacred writ iv replevy on th' usurper to th' loftiest or wan iv th' loftiest jobs that th' people iv a gloryous state can donate to a citizen. He sthraps on three gatlin' guns, four revolvers, two swords, a rifle, a shot gun, a baseball bat, a hand grenade (to be used on'y in case iv thirst), a pair iv handcuffs, brass knuckles, a sandbag, a piece of lead pipe in a stockin', a rabbit's foot f'r luck, a stove lid an' a can iv dinnymite, an' with siveral iv his cillybrated knives behind his ears, in his hair, between his teeth, an' gleamin' fr'm his pockets, he sallies forth on his sacred mission, an' gives th' writ to a clerk to sarve, an' stays in town himsilf, where he successfully resists all charges iv th' bartinder. Th' clerk goes up to th' state house, where th' gov'nor is ixicutin' th' high thrust reposed in him be himsilf, behind breastworks an' guarded be some iv th' most desp'rate an' pathriotic ruffyans in th' state. 'What have ye there?' says his ixcillincy, with his hand on th' sthring iv a dinnymite gun. 'A writ fr'm th' coort bouncin' ye fr'm ye'er high office,' says th' clerk. 'As a law abidin' citizen,' says his ixcillincy, 'an' an official enthrusted be th' people iv this glad state with th' exicution iv th' statutes I bow to th' law,' he says. 'But,' he says, 'I'll be hanged if I'll bow to th' decree iv anny low browed pussillanimous dimmycratic coort,' he says, 'Sojers,' he says, 'seize this disturber iv th' peace an' stick him in th' cellar. Jawn,' he says, 'ar-rm ye'ersilf an' proceed to th' raypublican timple iv justice in Hogan's saloon an' have th' stanch an' upright Judge Blood prepare some good honest writs iv th' party iv Lincoln an' Grant,' he says. 'In th' manetime, as th' constitootion has lost its sights an' the cylinder don't revolve,' he says, 'I suspind it an' proclaim martial law,' he says. 'I want a law,' he says, 'that mesilf an' all other good citizens can rayspict,' he says. 'I want wan,' he says, 'that's been made undher me own personal supervision,' he says. 'Hand-made, copper distilled, wan hun-dherd an' tin proof martial law ought to be good enough for anny Kentuckyan,' he says. So th' next ye hear th' sojers ar-re chasin' th' coorts out iv th' state, th' legislature is meetin' in Duluth, Pinsacola, an' Bangor, Maine, an' a comity iv citizens consistin' iv some iv the best gun fighters iv th' state ar-re meetin' to decide how th' conthroversay can be decided without loss iv blood or jobs. While they're in session th' gov'nor is in contimpt iv coort, the coorts ar-re in contimpt iv th' gov'nor, an' if annybody but Tiddy Rosenfclt has anny other feelin' f'r ayether iv thim I haven't heerd him speak.”

“They ought to fire out the raypublican,” said Mr. Hennessy. “Sure 'tis comin' to a nice state iv affairs whin th' likes iv him can defy the coorts.”

“Thrue f'r ye,” said Mr. Dooley. “But I don't like th' looks iv it fr'm our side iv th' house. Whiniver a dimmycrat has to go to coort to win an iliction I get suspicious. They'se something wr-rong in Kentucky, Hinnissy. We were too slow. Th' inimy got th' first cheat.”

YOUNG ORATORY

“They'se wan thing that this counthry ought to be thankful f'r,” said Mr. Dooley, laying down his paper, “an' that is that we still have a lot iv young an' growin' orators f'r to lead us on.”

“Who's been oratin' now?” Mr. Hennessy asked.

“Me young frind Sinitor Beveridge, th' child orator iv Fall Creek. This engagin' an' hopeful la-ad first made an impression with his eloquince at th' age iv wan whin he addhressed a meetin' iv th' Tippecanoe club on th' issues iv th' day. At th' age iv eight he was illicted to th' United States Sinit, rayjoocin' th' average age iv that body to ninety-three years. In th' sinit, bein' a modest child, he rayfused to speak f'r five minyits, but was fin'lly injooced f'r to make a few thousan' remarks on wan iv th' subjects now much discussed by orators whin th' dures ar-re closed an' th' fire escapes broken.”

“His subject was th' Ph'lippeens, an' he said he'd just come fr'm there. 'I have cruised,' he says, 'f 'r two thousan' miles through th' Ar-rchey Pelago--that's a funny name--ivry minyit a surprise an' delight to those that see me,' he says. 'I see corn growin' on banana threes; I see th' gloryous heights iv Ding Dong that ar-re irradyatin'. civilization like quills upon th' fretful porcypine,' he says. 'I see rice, coffee, rolls, cocoanuts, choice seegars, oats, hay, hard and soft coal, an' Gen'ral Otis--an' there's a man that I rayspict,' he says. 'I see flowers bloomin' that was superyor to anny conservatory in Poolasky county,' he says. 'I see th' low and vicious inhabitants iv th' counthry soon, I thrust, to be me fellow-citizens, an' as I set there an' watched th' sea rollin' up its uncounted millyons iv feet iv blue wather, an' th' stars sparklin' like lamp-posts we pass in th' night, as I see th' mountains raisin' their snow-capped heads f'r to salute th' sun, while their feet extinded almost to th' place where I shtud; whin I see all th' glories iv that almost, I may say, thropical clime, an' thought what a good place this wud be f'r to ship base-burnin' parlor stoves, an' men's shirtings to th' accursed natives iv neighborin' Chiny, I says to mesilf, 'This is no mere man's wurruk. A Higher Power even than Mack, much as I rayspict him, is in this here job. We cannot pause, we cannot hesitate, we cannot delay, we cannot even stop! We must, in other wurruds, go on with a holy purpose in our hearts, th' flag over our heads an' th' inspired wurruds iv A. Jeremiah Beveridge in our ears,' he says. An' he set down.”

“Well, sir, 'twas a gr-reat speech. 'Twas a speech ye cud waltz to. Even younger men thin Sinitor Beveridge had niver made grander orations. Th' throuble is th' sinit is too common f'r such magnificent sintimints; its too common and its too old. Th' young la-ad comes fr'm home, where's he's paralyzed th' Lithry Society an' th' Debatin' Club, an' he loads himsilf up with a speech an' he says to himsilf: 'Whin I begin peggin' ar-round a few iv these vilets I'll make Ol' Hoar look like confederate money,' an' th' pa-apers tell that th' Infant Demostheens iv Barry's Junction is about f'r to revive th oratorical thraditions iv th' sinit an' th' fire department comes up f'r a week, an' wets down th' capitol buildin'. Th' speech comes off, they ain't a dhry eye in th' House, an' th' pa-apers say: 'Where's ye'er Dan'l Webster an' ye'er Champ Clark, now?' An' th' young man goes away an' has his pitchers took on a kinetoscope. He has a nice time while it lasts, Hinnissy, but it don't las' long. It don't las' long. Th' la-ad has th' wind, but it's endurance that counts.”

“Th' wise ol' boys with their long whiskers discusses him over th' sivin-up game, an' says wan iv thim: 'What ye think iv th' kid's speech?' ''Twas a good speech,' says th' other. 'It carries me back to me own boyhood days. I made a speech just like that durin' th' Mexican War. Oh, thim days, thim days! I lead th' ace, Mike.' An' afther awhile th' Boy Demostheens larns that while he's polishin' off his ipigrams, an' ol' guy, that spinds all his time sleepin' on a bench, is polishin' him off. Th' man that sinds seeds to his constitooents lasts longer thin th' wan that sinds thim flowers iv iloquence, an' though th' hand iv Gawd may be in th' Ph'lippeen question, it hasn't interfered up to date in th' sergeant-at-arms question. An' whin th' young man sees this he says, 'sky,' whin he means 'sky' an' not 'th' jooled canopy iv hiven,' an' he says, 'Ph'lippeens,' an' not 'th' gloryous isles iv th' Passyfic,' an' bein' onto th' character iv his fellow-sinitors, he mintions nobody higher in their prisence thin th' steward iv th' capitol. An' he niver makes a speech but whin he wants to smoke, an' thin he moves that th' sinit go into executive session. Thin he's a rale sinitor. I've seen it manny's th' time--th' boy orator goin' into th' sinit, an' comin' out a deef mute. I've seen a man that made speeches that was set to music an' played be a silver cornet band in Ioway that hadn't been in Congress f'r a month befure he wudden't speak above a whisper or more thin an inch fr'm ye'er ear.”

“Do ye think Hiven sint us to th' Ph'lippeens?” Mr. Hennessy asked.

“I don't know,” said Mr. Dooley, “th' divvle take thim.”

PUBLIC GRATITUDE

“This man Dewey--,” began Mr. Dooley.

“I thought he was ye'er cousin George,” Mr. Hennessy interrupted.

“I thought he was,” said Mr. Dooley, “but on lookin' closer at his features an' r-readin' what th' pa-apers says about him, I am convinced that I was wrong. Oh, he may be a sicond cousin iv me Aunt Judy. I'll not say he ain't. There was a poor lot, all iv them. But I have no close rilitives in this counthry. 'Tis a way I have of savin' a little money. I'm like th' good an' gr-rateful American people. Th' further ye stay away fr'm thim th' more they like ye. Sicond-cousin-iv-me Aunt-Judy-George made a mistake comin' home, or if he did come home he ought've invistigated his welcome and see that it wasn't mined. A man cud stand up all day an' lave Packy Mountjoy whale away at him, but th' affiction iv th' American people is always aimed thrue an' is invaryably fatal.”

“Th' la-ad Dougherty was in to-day, an' he exprissed th' feelin's iv this grateful raypublic. He says, says he, 'This fellow Dewey ain't what I thought he was,' he says. 'I thought he was a good, broad, lib'ral man, an' it turns out he's a cheap skate,' he says. 'We made too much fuss over him,' he says. 'To think,' he says, 'iv him takin' th' house we give him an' tur-rnin' it over to his wife,' he says. ''Tis scand'lous,' he says. 'How much did ye con-thribute?' says I. 'I didn't give annything,' he says 'The collector didn't come around, an' I'm glad now I hung on to me coin,' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'I apprechate ye'er feelin's,' I says. 'Ye agree with th' other subscribers,' I says. 'But I've med up me mind not to lave annywan talk to me about Dewey,' I says, 'unless,' I says, 'he subscribed th' maximum amount iv th' subscription,' I says, 'thirty-eight cints,' I says. 'So I'll thank ye to tip-toe out,' I says, 'befure I give ye a correct imitation iv Dewey an' Mountjoy at th' battle of Manila,' I says. An' he wint away.”

“Th' throuble with Dewey is he was so long away he lost his undherstanding iv th' thrue feelin' iv th' American people. George r-read th' newspapers, an' he says to himself: 'Be hivins, they think well iv what I done. I guess I'll put a shirt in me thrunk an' go home, f'r 'tis hot out here, an' ivrybody'll be glad f'r to see me,' he says. An' he come along, an' New York was r-ready f'r him. Th' business in neckties had been poor that summer, an' they was necessity f'r pullin' it together, an' they give George a welcome an' invited his admirers fr'm th' counthry to come in an' buy something f'r th' little wans at home. An' he r-rode up Fifth Avnoo between smilin' rows iv hotels an' dhrug stores, an' tin-dollar boxes an' fifty-cint seats an' he says to himsilf: 'Holy smoke, if Aggynaldoo cud on'y see me now.' An' he was proud an' happy, an' he says: 'Raypublics ar-re not always ongrateful.' An' they ain't. On'y whin they give ye much gratichood ye want to freeze some iv it, or it won't keep.”

“'Tis unsafe f'r anny man alive to receive th' kind wurruds that ought to be said on'y iv th' dead. As long as George was a lithograph iv himsilf in a saloon window he was all r-right. Whin people saw he cud set in a city hall hack without flowers growin' in it an' they cud look at him without smoked glasses they begin to weaken in their devotion. 'Twud've been th' same, almost, if he'd married a Presbyteeryan an' hadn't deeded his house to his wife. 'Dewey don't look much like a hero,' says wan man. 'I shud say not,' says another. 'He looks like annybody else.' 'He ain't a hero,' says another. 'Why, annybody cud've done what he did. I got an eight-year-old boy, an' if he cudden't take a baseball club an' go in an' bate that Spanish fleet into junk in twinty minyits I'd call him Alger an' thrade him off f'r a bicycle,' he says. 'I guess that's r-right. They say he was a purty tough man befure he left Wash'n'ton.' 'Sure he was. Why, so-an'-so-an'-so-an'-so.' 'Ye don't tell me!' 'Is there annything in that story about his beatin' his poor ol' aunt an' her iliven childher out iv four dollars?' 'I guess that's straight. Ye can tell be th' looks iv him he's a mean man. I niver see a man with squintin' eyes an' white hair that wudden't rob a church!' 'He's a cow'rd, too. Why, he r-run away at th' battle iv Manila. Ivrybody knows it. I r-read what Joe What's-His-Name wrote--th' br-rave corryspondint. He says this feller was sick at his stummick an' retired befure th' Spanish fire. Why, what'd he have to fight but a lot iv ol' row-boats? A good swimmer with sharp teeth cud've bit his way through th' whole Spanish fleet. An' he r-run away. I tell ye, it makes me tired to think iv th' way we abused th' Spanyards not long ago. Why, say, they done a lot betther thin this fellow Dewey, with his forty or fifty men-iv-war an' this gran' nation, miles away, standin' shoulder to shoulder at his back. They niver tur-rned over their property to their wives.' 'Yes,' says wan man, 'Dewey was a cow'rd. Let's go an' stone his house.' 'No,' says the crowd, 'he might come out. Let's go down to th' v'riety show an' hiss his pitcher in th' kinetoscope.' Well!'”

“Well what?” demanded Mr. Hennessy.

“Well,” Mr. Dooley continued, “I was on'y goin' to say, Hinnissy, that in spite iv me hathred iv George as a man--a marrid man--an' me contimpt f'r his qualities as a fighter, in spite iv th' chickens he has stole an' the notes he has forged an' th' homes he has rooned, if he was to come r-runnin' up Archey road, as he might, pursooed be ladies an' gintlemen an' th' palajeem iv our liberties peltin him with rotten eggs an' ol' cats, I'd open th' dure f'r him, an' whin he come in I'd put me fut behind it an' I'd say to th' grateful people: 'Fellow-citizens,' I'd say, 'lave us,' I'd say. 'They'se another hero down in Halstead Sthreet that's been marrid. Go down an' shivaree him. An' you, me thrusted collagues iv th' press, disperse to ye'er homes,' I'd say. 'Th' keyholes is closed f'r th' night, I'd say. An' thin I'd bolt th' dure an' I'd say, 'George, take off ye'er coat an' pull up to th' fire. Here's a noggin' iv whisky near ye'er thumb an' a good seegar f'r ye to smoke. I'm no hero-worshiper. I'm too old. But I know a man whin I see wan, an' though we cudden't come out an' help ye whin th' subscription list wint wild, be sure we think as much iv ye as we did whin ye'er name was first mintioned be th' stanch an' faithful press. Set here, ol' la-ad, an' warrum ye'er toes by th' fire. Set here an' r-rest fr'm th' gratichood iv ye'er fellow-counthrymen, that, as Shakspere says, biteth like an asp an' stingeth like an adder. R-rest here, as ye might r-rest at th' hearth iv millyons iv people that cud give ye no house but their own!”

“I dinnaw about that,” said Mr. Hennessy. “I like Dewey, but I think he oughtn't to've give away th' gift iv th' nation.”

“Well,” said Mr. Dooley, “if 'twas a crime f'r an American citizen to have his property in his wife's name they'd be close quarthers in th' pinitinchry.”

MARRIAGE AND POLITICS

“I see,” said Mr. Hennessy, “that wan iv thim New York joods says a man in pollytics oughtn't to be marrid.”

“Oh, does he?” said Mr. Dooley.

“Well, 'tis little he knows about it. A man in pollytics has got to be marrid. If he ain't marrid where'll he go f'r another kind iv throuble? An' where'll he find people to support? An unmarrid man don't get along in pollytics because he don't need th' money. Whin he's in th' middle iv a prim'ry, with maybe twinty or thirty iv th' opposite party on top iv him, thinks he to himsilf: 'What's th' good iv fightin' f'r a job? They'se no wan depindant on me f'r support,' an' he surrinders. But a marrid man says: 'What'll happen to me wife an' twelve small childher if I don't win out here today?' an' he bites his way to th' top iv th' pile an' breaks open th' ballot box f'r home and fireside. That's th' thruth iv it, Hinnissy. Ye'll find all th' big jobs held be marrid men an' all th' timpry clerkships be bachelors.”

“Th' reason th' New York jood thinks marrid men oughtn't to be in pollytics is because he thinks pollytics is spoort. An' so it is. But it ain't amachoor spoort, Hinnissy. They don't give ye a pewter mug with ye'er name on it f'r takin' a chanst on bein' kilt. 'Tis a profissional spoort, like playin' base-ball f'r a livin' or wheelin' a thruck. Ye niver see an amachoor at annything that was as good as a profissional. Th' best amachoor ball team is beat be a bad profissional team; a profissional boxer that thrains on bock beer an' Swiss cheese can lam the head off a goold medal amachoor champeen that's been atin' moldy bread an' dhrinkin' wather f'r six months, an' th' Dago that blows th' cornet on th' sthreet f'r what annywan 'll throw him can cut the figure eight around Dinnis Finn, that's been takin' lessons f'r twinty year. No, sir, pollytics ain't dhroppin' into tea, an' it ain't wurrukin' a scroll saw, or makin' a garden in a back yard. 'Tis gettin' up at six o'clock in th' mornin' an' r-rushin' off to wurruk, an' comin' home at night tired an' dusty. Double wages f'r overtime an' Sundahs.”

“So a man's got to be marrid to do it well. He's got to have a wife at home to make him oncomfortable if he comes in dhrunk, he's got to have little prattlin' childher that he can't sind to th' Young Ladies' academy onless he stuffs a ballotbox properly, an' he's got to have a sthrong desire f'r to live in th' av'noo an' be seen dhrivin' downtown in an open carredge with his wife settin' beside him undher a r-red parasol. If he hasn't these things he won't succeed in pollytics--or packin' pork. Ye niver see a big man in pollytics that dhrank hard, did ye? Ye never will. An' that's because they're all marrid. Th' timptation's sthrong, but fear is sthronger.”

“Th' most domestic men in th' wurruld ar-re politicians, an' they always marry early. An' that's th' sad part iv it, Hinnissy. A pollytician always marries above his own station. That's wan sign that he'll be a successful pollytician. Th' throuble is, th' good woman stays planted just where she was, an' he goes by like a fast thrain by a whistlin' station. D'ye mind O'Leary, him that's a retired capitalist now, him that was aldherman, an' dhrainage thrustee, an' state sinitor f'r wan term? Well, whin I first knew O'Leary he wurruked down on a railroad section tampin' th' thrack at wan-fifty a day. He was a sthrong, willin' young fellow, with a stiff right-hand punch an' a schamin' brain, an' anny wan cud see that he was intinded to go to th' fr-ront. Th' aristocracy iv th' camp was Mrs. Cassidy, th' widdy lady that kept th' boordin'-house. Aristocracy, Hinnissy, is like rale estate, a matther iv location. I'm aristocracy to th' poor O'Briens back in th' alley, th' brewery agent's aristocracy to me, his boss is aristocracy to him, an' so it goes, up to the czar of Rooshia. He's th' pick iv th' bunch, th' high man iv all, th' Pope not goin' in society. Well, Mrs. Cassidy was aristocracy to O'Leary. He niver see such a stylish woman as she was whin she turned out iv a Sundah afthernoon in her horse an' buggy. He'd think to himsilf, 'If I iver can win that I'm settled f'r life,' an' iv coorse he did. 'Twas a gran' weddin'; manny iv th' guests didn't show up at wurruk f'r weeks.”

“O'Leary done well, an' she was a good wife to him. She made money an' kept him sthraight an' started him for constable. He won out, bein' a sthrong man. Thin she got him to r-run f'r aldher-man, an' ye shud've seen her th' night he was inaugurated! Be hivins, Hinnissy, she looked like a fire in a pawnshop, fair covered with dimons an' goold watches an' chains. She was cut out to be an aldherman's wife, and it was worth goin' miles to watch her leadin' th' gran' march at th' Ar-rchy Road Dimmycratic Fife an' Dhrum Corps ball.”

“But there she stopped. A good woman an' a kind wan, she cudden't go th' distance. She had th' house an' th' childher to care f'r an' her eddy-cation was through with. They isn't much a woman can learn afther she begins to raise a fam'ly. But with O'Leary 'twas diffrent. I say 'twas diff'rent with O'Leary. Ye talk about ye'er colleges, Hinnissy, but pollytics is th' poor man's college. A la-ad without enough book larnin' to r-read a meal-ticket, if ye give him tin years iv polly-tical life, has th' air iv a statesman an' th' manner iv a jook, an' cud take anny job fr'm dalin' faro bank to r-runnin th' threasury iv th' United States. His business brings him up again' th' best men iv th' com-munity, an' their customs an' ways iv speakin' an' thinkin' an robbin' sticks to him. Th' good woman is at home all day. Th' on'y people she sees is th' childher an' th' neighbors. While th' good man in a swallow-tail coat is addhressin' th' Commercial club on what we shud do f'r to reform pollytics, she's discussin' th' price iv groceries with th' plumber's wife an' talkin' over th' back fince to the milkman. Thin O'Leary moves up on th' boolyvard. He knows he'll get along all r-right on th' boolyvard. Th' men'll say: 'They'se a good deal of rugged common sinse in that O'Leary. He may be a robber, but they's mighty little that escapes him.' But no wan speaks to Mrs. O'Leary. No wan asts her opinion about our foreign policy. She sets day in an' day out behind th' dhrawn curtains iv her three-story brownstone risidence prayin' that somewan'll come in an' see her, an if annywan comes she's frozen with fear. An' 'tis on'y whin she slips out to Ar-rchey r-road an' finds th' plumber's wife, an' sets in th' kitchen over a cup iv tay, that peace comes to her. By an' by they offer O'Leary th' nommynation f'r congress. He knows he's fit for it. He's sthronger thin th' young lawyer they have now. People'll listen to him in Wash'nton as they do in Chicago. He says: 'I'll take it.' An' thin he thinks iv th' wife an' they's no Wash'nton f'r him. His pollytical career is over. He wud niver have been constable if he hadn't marrid, but he might have been sinitor if he was a widower.”

“Mrs. O'Leary was in to see th' Dargans th' other day. 'Ye mus' be very happy in ye'er gran' house, with Mr. O'Leary doin' so well,' says Mrs. Dargan. An' th' on'y answer th' foolish woman give was to break down an' weep on Mrs. Dargan's neck.”

“Yet ye say a pollytician oughtn't to get marrid,” said Mr. Hennessy.

“Up to a certain point,” said Mr. Dooley, “he must be marrid. Afther that--well, I on'y say that, though pollytics is a gran' career f'r a man, 'tis a tough wan f'r his wife.”

ALCOHOL AS FOOD

“If a man come into this saloon--” Mr. Hennessy was saying.

“This ain't no saloon,” Mr. Dooley interrupted. “This is a resthrant.”

“A what?” Mr. Hennessy exclaimed.

“A resthrant,” said Mr. Dooley. “Ye don't know, Hinnissy, that liquor is food. It is though. Food--an' dhrink. That's what a doctor says in the pa-apers, an' another doctor wants th' gover'mint to sind tubs iv th' stuff down to th' Ph'lipeens. He says 'tis almost issintial that people shud dhrink in thim hot climates. Th' prespiration don't dhry on thim afther a hard pursoot iv Aggynaldoo an' th' capture iv Gin'ral Pantaloons de Garshy; they begin to think iv home an' mother sindin' down th' lawn-sprinkler to be filled with bock, an' they go off somewhere, an' not bein' able to dhry thimsilves with dhrink, they want to die. Th' disease is called nostalgia or home-sickness, or thirst.”

“'What we want to do f'r our sojer boys in th' Ph'lipeens besides killin' thim,' says th' ar-rmy surgeon, 'is make th' place more homelike,' he says. 'Manny iv our heroes hasn't had th' deleeryum thremens since we first planted th' stars an' sthripes,' he says, 'an' th' bay'nits among th' people,' he says. 'I wud be in favor iv havin' th' rigimints get their feet round wanst a week, at laste,' he says. 'Lave us,' he says, 'reform th' reg'lations,' he says, 'an' insthruct our sojers to keep their powdher dhry an' their whistles wet,' he says.”

“Th' idee ought to take, Hinnissy, f'r th' other doctor la-ad has discovered that liquor is food. 'A man,' says he, 'can live f'r months on a little booze taken fr'm time to time,' he says 'They'se a gr-reat dale iv nourishment in it,' he says. An' I believe him, f'r manny's th' man I know that don't think iv eatin' whin he can get a dhrink. I wondher if the time will iver come whin ye'll see a man sneakin' out iv th' fam'ly enthrance iv a lunch-room hurridly bitin' a clove! People may get so they'll carry a light dinner iv a pint iv rye down to their wurruk, an' a man'll tell ye he niver takes more thin a bottle iv beer f'r breakfast. Th' cook'll give way to th' bartinder and th' doctor 'll ordher people f'r to ate on'y at meals. Ye'll r-read in th' pa-apers that 'Anton Boozinski, while crazed with ham an' eggs thried to kill his wife an' childher.' On Pathrick's day ye'll see th' Dr. Tanner Anti-Food Fife an' Drum corpse out at th' head iv th' procession instead iv th' Father Macchews, an' they'll be places where a man can be took whin he gets th' monkeys fr'm immodhrate eatin'. Th' sojers 'll complain that th' liquor was unfit to dhrink an' they'll be inquiries to find out who sold embammin' flood to th' ar-rmy--Poor people 'll have simple meals--p'raps a bucket iv beer an' a little crame de mint, an' ye'll r-read in th' pa-apers about a family found starvin' on th' North side, with nawthin' to sustain life but wan small bottle iv gin, while th' head iv th' family, a man well known to the polis, spinds his wages in a low doggery or bakeshop fuddlin' his brains with custars pie. Th' r-rich 'll inthrajoose novelties. P'raps they'll top off a fine dinner with a little hasheesh or proosic acid. Th' time'll come whin ye'll see me in a white cap fryin' a cocktail over a cooksthove, while a nigger hollers to me: 'Dhraw a stack iv Scotch,' an' I holler back: 'On th' fire.' Ye will not.”

{Illustration}

“That's what I thought,” said Mr. Hennessy.

“No,” said Mr. Dooley. “Whisky wudden't be so much iv a luxury if'twas more iv a necissity. I don't believe 'tis a food, though whin me frind Schwartzmeister makes a cocktail all it needs is a few noodles to look like a biled dinner. No, whisky ain't food. I think betther iv it thin that. I wudden't insult it be placin' it on th' same low plane as a lobster salad. Father Kelly puts it r-right, and years go by without him lookin' on it even at Hallowe'en. 'Whisky,' says he, 'is called the divvle, because,' he says, ''tis wan iv the fallen angels,' he says. 'It has its place,' he says, 'but its place is not in a man's head,' says he. 'It ought to be th' reward iv action, not th' cause iv it,' he says. 'It's f'r th' end iv th' day, not th' beginnin',' he says. 'Hot whisky is good f'r a cold heart, an' no whisky's good f'r a hot head,' he says. 'Th' minyit a man relies on it f'r a crutch he loses th' use iv his legs. 'Tis a bad thing to stand on, a good thing to sleep on, a good thing to talk on, a bad thing to think on. If it's in th' head in th' mornin' it ought not to be in th' mouth at night. If it laughs in ye, dhrink; if it weeps, swear off. It makes some men talk like good women, an' some women talk like bad men. It is a livin' f'r orators an' th' death iv bookkeepers. It doesn't sustain life, but, whin taken hot with wather, a lump iv sugar, a piece iv lemon peel, and just th' dustin' iv a nutmeg-grater, it makes life sustainable.”

“D'ye think ye-ersilf it sustains life?” asked Mr. Hennessy.

“It has sustained mine f'r many years,” said Mr. Dooley.

HIGH FINANCE

“I think,” said Mr. Dooley, “I'll go down to th' stock yards an' buy a dhrove iv Steel an' Wire stock.”

“Where wud ye keep it?” asked the unsuspecting Hennessy.

“I'll put it out on th' vacant lot,” said Mr. Dooley, “an' lave it grow fat by atin' ol' bur-rd cages an' tin cans. I'll milk it hard, an' whin 'tis dhry I'll dispose iv it to th' widdies an' orphans iv th' Sixth Ward that need household pets. Be hivins, if they give me half a chanst, I'll be as gr-reat a fi-nanceer as anny man in Wall sthreet.

“Th' reason I'm so confident iv th' value iv Steel an' Wire stock, Hinnissy, is they're goin' to hur-rl th' chairman iv th' comity into jail. That's what th' pa-apers calls a ray iv hope in th' clouds iv dipression that've covered th' market so long. 'Tis always a bull argymint. 'Snowplows common was up two pints this mornin' on th' rumor that th' prisidint was undher ar-rest.' 'They was a gr-reat bulge in Lobster preferred caused be th' report that instead iv declarin' a dividend iv three hundhred per cint. th' comp'ny was preparin' to imprison th' boord iv directors.' 'We sthrongly ricommind th' purchase iv Con and Founder. This comp'ny is in ixcillint condition since th' hangin' iv th' comity on reorganization.'”

“What's th' la-ad been doin', Hinnissy? He's been lettin' his frinds in on th' groun' flure--an' dhroppin' thim into th' cellar. Ye know Cassidy, over in th' Fifth, him that was in th' ligislachure? Well, sir, he was a gr-reat frind iv this man. They met down in Springfield whin th' la-ad had something he wanted to get through that wud protect th' widdies an' orphans iv th' counthry again their own avarice, an' he must've handed Cassidy a good argymint, f'r Cassidy voted f'r th' bill, though threatened with lynchin' be stockholders iv th' rival comp'ny. He come back here so covered with dimons that wan night whin he was standin' on th' rollin' mill dock, th' captain iv th' Eliza Brown mistook his shirt front f'r th' bridge lights an' steered into a soap facthry on th' lee or gas-house shore.”

“Th' man made a sthrong impression on Cassidy. 'Twas: 'As me frind Jawn says,' or 'I'll ask Jawn about that,' or 'I'm goin' downtown to-day to find out what Jawn advises.' He used to play a dollar on th' horses or sivin-up f'r th' dhrinks, but afther he met Jawn he wanted me to put in a ticker, an' he wud set in here figurin' with a piece iv chalk on how high Wire'd go if hoopskirts come into fashion again. 'Give me a dhrop iv whisky,' he says, 'f'r I'm inthrested in Distillers,' he says, 'an' I'd like to give it a shove,' he says. 'How's Gas?' he says. 'A little weak, to-day,'” says I.

“Twill be sthronger,' he says. 'If it ain't,' says I, 'I'll take out th' meter an' connect th' pipe with th' ventilator. I might as well bur-rn th' wind free as buy it,'” I says.

“A couple iv weeks ago he see Jawn an' they had a long talk about it. 'Cassidy,' says Jawn, 'ye've been a good frind iv mine,' he says, 'an' I'd do annything in the wurruld f'r ye, no matther what it cost ye,' he says. 'If ye need a little money to tide over th' har-rd times till th' ligislachure meets again buy'--an' he whispered in Cassidy's ear. 'But,' he says, 'don't tell annywan. 'Tis a good thing, but I want to keep it bottled up,'” he says.

“Thin Jawn took th' thrain an' begun confidin' his secret to a few select frinds. He give it to th' conductor on th' thrain, an' th' porther, an' th' candy butcher; he handed it to a switchman that got on th' platform at South Bend, an' he stopped off at Detroit long enough to tell about it to the deepo' policeman. He had a sign painted with th' tip on it an' hung it out th' window, an' he found a man that carrid a thrombone in a band goin' over to Buffalo, an' he had him set th' good thing to music an' play it through th' thrain. Whin he got to New York he stopped at the Waldorf Asthoria, an' while th' barber was powdhrin' his face with groun' dimons Jawn tol' him to take th' money he was goin' to buy a policy ticket with an' get in on th' good thing. He tol' th' bootblack, th' waiter, th' man at th' news-stand, th' clerk behind th' desk, an' th' bartinder in his humble abode. He got up a stereopticon show with pitchers iv a widow-an-orphan befure an' afther wirin', an' he put an advertisement in all th' pa-apers tellin' how his stock wud make weak men sthrong. He had th' tip sarved hot in all th' resthrants in Wall sthrcet, an' told it confidintially to an open-air meetin' in Madison Square. 'They'se nawthin,' he says, 'that does a tip so much good as to give it circulation,' he says. 'I think, be this time,' he says, 'all me frinds knows how to proceed, but--Great Hivins!' he says. 'What have I done? Whin all the poor people go to get th' stock they won't be anny f'r thim. I can not lave thim thus in th' lurch. Me reputation as a gintleman an' a fi-nanceer is at stake,' he says. 'Rather than see these brave people starvin' at th' dure f'r a morsel iv common or preferred, I'll--I'll sell thim me own stock,' he says. An' he done it. He done it, Hinnissy, with unfalthrin' courage an' a clear eye. He sold thim his stock, an' so's they might get what was left at a raysonable price, he wrote a confidintial note to th' pa-apers tellin' thim th' stock wasn't worth thirty cints a cord, an' now, be hivins, they're talkin' iv puttin' him in a common jail or pinitinchry preferred. Th' ingratichood iv man.”

“But what about Cassidy?” Mr. Hennessy asked.

“Oh,” said Mr. Dooley, “he was in here las' night. 'How's our old frind Jawn?' says I. He said nawthin'. 'Have ye seen ye'er collidge chum iv late?' says I. 'Don't mintion that ma-an's name,' says he. 'To think iv what I've done f'r him,' he says, 'an' him to throw me down,' he says. 'Did ye play th' tip?' says I. 'I did,' says he. 'How did ye come out?' says I. 'I haven't a cint lift but me renommynation f'r th' ligislachure,' says he. 'Well,' says I, 'Cassidy,' I says, 'ye've been up again what th' pa-apers call hawt finance,' I says. 'What th' divvle's that?' says he. 'Well,' says I, 'it ain't burglary, an' it ain't obtainin' money be false pretinses, an' it ain't manslaughter,' I says. 'It's what ye might call a judicious seliction fr'm th' best features iv thim ar-rts,' I says. 'T'was too sthrong f'r me,' he says. 'It was,' says I. 'Ye're about up to simple thransom climbin', Cassidy,' I says.”

THE PARIS EXPOSITION

“If this r-rush iv people to th' Paris exposition keeps up,” said Mr. Hennessy, “they won't be enough left here f'r to ilict a prisidint.”

“They'll be enough left,” said Mr. Dooley. “There always is. No wan has gone fr'm Arrchey r-road, where th' voters ar-re made. I've looked ar-round ivry mornin' expectin' to miss some familyar faces. I thought Dorgan, th' plumber, wud go sure, but he give it up at th' las' moment, an' will spind his summer on th' dhrainage canal. Th' baseball season 'll keep a good manny others back, an' a number iv riprisintative cit'zens who have stock or jobs in th' wire mills have decided that 'tis much betther to inthrust their savin's to John W. Gates thin to blow thim in again th' sthreets iv Cairo.”