Chapter IV: Part 4

“But takin' it by an' large 'twill be a hard winter f'r th' r-rich. Manny iv thim will have money enough f'r to return, but they'll be much sufferin' among thim. I ixpict to have people dhroppin' in here nex' fall with subscription books f'r th' survivors iv th' Paris exhibition. Th' women down be th' rollin' mills 'll be sewin' flannels f'r th' disthressed millyonaires, an' whin th' childher kick about th' food ye'll say, Hinnissy, 'Just think iv th' poor wretches in th' Lake Shore dhrive an' thank Gawd f'r what ye have.' Th' mayor 'll open soup kitchens where th' unforchnit people can come an' get a hearty meal an' watch th' ticker, an' whin th' season grows hard, ye'll see pinched an' hungry plutocrats thrampin' th' sthreets with signs r-readin': 'Give us a cold bottle or we perish.' Perhaps th' polis 'll charge thim an' bust in their stovepipe hats, th' prisidint 'll sind th' ar-rmy here, a conspiracy 'll be discovered at th' club to blow up th' poorhouse, an' volunteers 'll be called on fr'm th' nickel bed houses to protect th' vested inthrests iv established poverty.”

“'Twill be a chanst f'r us to get even, Hinnissy. I'm goin' to organize th' Return Visitin' Nurses' association, composed entirely iv victims iv th' parent plant. 'Twill be worth lookin' at to see th' ladies fr'm th' stock yards r-rushin' into some wretched home down in Peerary avenue, grabbin' th' misthress iv th' house be th' shouldhers an' makin' her change her onhealthy silk dhress f'r a pink wrapper, shovelin' in a little ashes to sprinkle on th' flure, breakin' th' furniture an' rollin' th' baby in th' coal box. What th' r-rich needs is intilligint attintion. 'Don't ate that oatmeal. Fry a nice piece iv r-round steak with onions, give th' baby th' bone to play with, an' sind Lucille Ernestine acrost th' railroad thrack f'r a nickel's worth iv beer. Thin ye'll be happy, me good woman.' Oh, 'twill be gran'. I won't give annything to people that come to th' dure. More har-m is done be indiscriminate charity than anny wan knows, Hinnissy. Half th' bankers that'll come to ye-er kitchen nex' winter cud find plenty iv wurruk to do if they really wanted it. Dhrink an' idleness is th' curse iv th' class. If they come to me I'll sind thim to th' Paris Survivors' Mechanical Relief Association, an' they can go down an' set on a cake iv ice an' wait till th' man in charge finds thim a job managin' a diamond mine.”

{Illustration}

Mr. Hennessy dismissed Mr. Dooley's fancy sketch with a grin and remarked: “These here expositions is a gran' thing f'r th' progress iv th' wurruld.”

“Ye r-read that in th' pa-apers,” said Mr. Dooley, “an' it isn't so. Put it down fr'm me, Hinnissy, that all expositions is a blind f'r th' hootchy-kootchy dance. They'll be some gr-reat exhibits at th' Paris fair. Th' man that has a machine that'll tur-rn out three hundhred thousan' toothpicks ivry minyit'll sind over his inthrestin' device, they'll be mountains iv infant food an' canned prunes, an' pickle casters, an' pants, an' boots, an' shoes an' paintin's. They'll be all th' wondhers iv modhern science. Ye can see how shirts ar-re made, an' what gives life to th' sody fountain. Th' man that makes th' glue that binds 'll be wearin' more medals thin an officer iv th' English ar-rmy or a cinchry bicycle rider, an' years afther whin ye see a box iv soap ye'll think iv th' manufacthrer standin' up befure a hundhred thousan' frinzied Fr-rinchmen in th' Boss du Boloney while th' prisidint iv th' Fr-rinch places a goold wreath on his fair brow an' says: 'In th' name iv th' ar-rts an' science, undher th' motto iv our people, “Libertinity, insanity, an' frugality,” I crown ye th' champeen soapmaker iv th' wurruld. {Cheers.} Be ye'er magnificint invintion ye have dhrawn closer th' ties between Paris an' Goshen, Indyanny {frantic applause}, which I hope will niver be washed away. I wish ye much success as ye climb th' lather iv fame.' Th' invintor is thin dhrawn ar-roun' th' sthreets iv Paris in a chariot pulled be eight white horses amid cries iv 'Veev Higgins,' 'Abase Castile,' et cethra, fr'm th' populace. An' manny a heart beats proud in Goshen that night. That's th' way ye think iv it, but it happens diff'rent, Hinnissy. Th' soap king, th' prune king, an' th' porous plaster king fr'm here won't stir up anny tumult in Paris this year. Th' chances ar-re th' prisidint won't know they're there, an' no wan'll speak to thim but a cab dhriver, an' he'll say: 'Th' fare fr'm th' Changs All Easy to th' Roo de Roo is eighteen thousan' francs, but I'll take ye there f'r what ye have in ye-er pockets.'”

“The millyonaire that goes over there to see th' piled up riches iv th' wurruld in sausage-makin' 'll take a look ar-round him an' he'll say to th' first polisman he meets: 'Gossoon, this is a fine show an' I know yon palace is full to th' seams with chiny-ware an' washtubs, but wud ye be so kind, mong brav', as to p'int out with ye-er club th' partic'lar house where th' houris fr'm th' sultan's harem dances so well without the aid iv th' human feet?' I know how it was whin we had th' fair here. I had th' best intintions in th' wurruld to find out what I ought to have larned fr'm me frind Armour, how with th' aid iv Gawdgiven machinery ye can make a bedstead, a pianola, a dozen whisk-brooms, a barrel iv sour mash whisky, a suit iv clothes, a lamp chimbly, a wig, a can iv gunpowdher, a bah'rl iv nails, a prisidintial platform, an' a bur-rdcage out iv what remains iv th' cow-I was detarmined to probe into th' wondhers iv science, an' I started fair f'r th' machinery hall. Where did I bring up, says ye? In th' fr-ront seat iv a playhouse with me eye glued on a lady iv th' sultan's coort, near Brooklyn bridge, thryin' to twisht out iv hersilf.”

“No, Hinnissy, they'll be manny things larned be Americans that goes to Paris, but they won't be about th' 'convarsion iv boots into food, or vicey varsa,' as Hogan says. An' that's r-right. If I wint over there 'tis little time I'd be spindin' thryin' to discover how th' wondhers iv mechanical janius are projooced that makes livin' so much more healthy an' oncomfortable. But whin I got to Paris I'd hire me a hack or a dhray painted r-red, an' I'd put me feet out th' sides an' I'd say to th' dhriver: 'Rivolutionist, pint ye-er horse's head to'rds th'home iv th' skirt dance, hit him smartly, an' go to sleep. I will see th' snow-plow show an' th' dentisthry wurruk in th' pa-apers. F'r th' prisint I'll devote me attintion to makin' a noise in th' sthreets an' studyin' human nature.'”

“Ye'd be a lively ol' buck over there,” said Mr. Hennessy, admiringly. '“Tis a good thing ye can't go.”

“It is so,” said Mr. Dooley. “I'm glad I have no millyonaire rilitives to be depindent on me f'r support whin th' show's over.”

CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM

“I see,” said Mr. Dooley, “that th' la-ad out in Kansas that thried to r-run a paper like what th' Lord wud r-run if he had lived in Topeka, has thrun up th' job.”

“Sure, I niver heerd iv him,” said Mr. Hennessy.

“Well, 'twus this way with him,” Mr. Dooley explained. “Ye see, he didn't like th' looks iv th' newspapers. He got tired iv r-readin' how many rows iv plaits Mrs. Potther Pammer had on th' las' dhress she bought, an' whether McGovern oughtn't to go into th' heavy-weight class an' fight Jeffries, an' he says, says th' la-ad, 'This is no right readin' f'r th' pure an' passionless youth iv Kansas,' he says. 'Give me,' he says, 'a chanst an' I'll projooce th' kind iv organ that'd be got out in hiven,' he says, 'price five cints a copy,' he says, 'f'r sale be all newsdealers; f'r advertisin' rates consult th' cashier,' he says. So a man in Topeka that had a newspaper, he says: 'I will not be behindhand,' he says, 'in histin' Kansas up fr'm its prisint low an' irrellijous position,' he says. 'I don't know how th' inhabitants iv th' place ye refer to is fixed,' he says, 'f'r newspapers,' he says, 'an' I niver heerd iv annybody fr'm Kansas home-stakin' there,' he says, 'but if ye'll attind to th' circulation iv thim parts,' he says, 'I'll see that th' paper is properly placed in th' hands iv th' vile an' wicked iv this earth, where,' he says, 'th' returns ar-re more quick,' he says.”

“Well, th' la-ad wint at it, an' 'twas a fine paper he made. Hogan was in here th' other day with a copy iv it an' I r-read it. I haven't had such a lithry threat since I was a watchman on th' canal f'r a week with nawthin' to r-read but th' delinquent tax list an' the upper half iv a weather map. 'Twas gran'. Th' editor, it seems, Hinnissy, wint into th' editoryal rooms iv th' pa-aper an' he gathered th' force around him fr'm their reg'lar jobs in th' dhrug stores, an' says he, 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'tell me ye'er plans f'r to enoble this here Christyan publication f'r to-day!' he says. 'Well,' says th' horse rayporther, 'they's a couple iv rabbits goin' to sprint around th' thrack at th' fair groun's,' he says. I think 'twud be a good thing f'r rellijon if ye'd lind me tin that I might br-reak th' sin-thralled bookys that come down here fr'm Kansas City f'r to skin th' righteous,' he says. 'No,' says th' editor, he says, 'no horse racin' in this paper,' he says. ''Tis th' roonation iv th' young, an' ye can't beat it,' he says. 'An' you, fair-haired youth,' he says, 'what d'ye do that makes ye'er color so good an' ye'er eye so bright?' 'I,' says th' la-ad, 'am th' boy that writes th' fightin' dope,' he says. 'They'se a couple iv good wans on at th' op'ra house to-night, an' if his Spiklets don't tin-can 'tis like findin' money in an ol' coat that--' 'Fightin',' says th' editor, 'is a crool an' onchristyan spoort,' he says. 'Instead iv chroniclin' th' ruffyanism iv these misguided wretches that weigh in at th' ringside at 125 poun's, an' I see in a pa-aper I r-read in a barber shop th' other day that Spike's gone away back--what's that I'm sayin'? Niver mind. D'ye go down to th' home iv th' Rivrind Aloysius Augustus Morninbinch an'interview him on th' question iv man's co-operation with grace in conversion. Make a nice chatty article about it an' I'll give ye a copy iv wan iv me books.' 'I will,' says th' la-ad, 'if he don't swing on me,' he says. The editor thin addhressed th' staff. 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'I find that th' wurruk ye've been accustomed to doin',' he says, 'is calc'lated f'r to disthroy th' morality an' debase th' home life iv Topeka, not to mintion th' surroundin' methrolopuses iv Valencia, Wanamaker, Sugar Works, Paxico an' Snokomo,' he says. 'Th' newspaper, instead iv bein' a pow'rful agent f'r th' salvation iv mankind, has become something that they want to r-read,' he says. 'Ye can all go home,' he says. 'I'll stay here an' write th' paper mesilf,' he says. 'I'm th' best writer ar-round here, annyhow, an' I'll give thim something that'll prepare thim f'r death,' he says.

“An' he did, Hinnissy, he did. 'Twas a gran' paper. They was an article on sewerage an' wan on prayin' f'r rain, an' another on muni-cipal ownership iv gas tanks, an' wan to show that they niver was a good milker ownded be a pro-fane man. They was pomes, too, manny iv thim, an' fine wans: 'Th' Man with th' Shovel,' 'Th' Man with th' Pick, 'Th' Man with th' Cash-Raygisther,' 'Th' Man with th' Snow Plow,' 'Th' Man with th' Bell Punch,' 'Th' Man with th' Skate,' 'Th' Man with No Kick Comin'.' Fine pothry, th' editor askin' who pushed this here man's forehead back an' planed down his chin, who made him wear clothes that didn't fit him and got him a job raisin' egg-plant f'r th' monno-polists in Topeka at a dollar a day. A man in th' editor's position ought to know, but he didn't, so he ast in th'pomes. An' th' advertisin', Hinnissy! I'd be scandalized f'r to go back readin' th' common advertisin' in th' vile daily press about men's pantings, an' DoesannyoneknowwhereIcangeta biscuit, an' In th' spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to Pocohontas plug, not made be th' thrusts. Th' editor left thim sacrilegious advertisements f'r his venal contimp'raries. His was pious an' nice: 'Do ye'er smokin' in this wurruld. Th' Christyan Unity Five-Cint See-gar is made out iv th' finest grades iv excelsior iver projooced in Kansas!' 'Nebuchednezzar grass seed, f'r man an' beast.' 'A handful iv meal in a barrel an' a little ile in a curse. Swedenborgian bran fried in kerosene makes th' best breakfast dish in th' wurruld.' 'Twus nice to r-read. It made a man feel as if he was in church--asleep.”

“How did th'pa-aper sthrike th' people?” says ye. “Oh, it sthruck thim good. Says th' Topeka man, skinnin' over th' gossip about Christyan citizenship an' th' toolchest iv pothry: 'Eliza, here's a good paper, a fine wan, f'r ye an' th' childher. Sind Tommy down to th' corner an' get me a copy iv th' Polis Gazette.'”

“Ye see, Hinnissy, th' editor wint to th' wrong shop f'r what Hogan calls his inspiration. Father Kelly was talkin' it over with me, an' says he: 'They ain't anny news in bein' good. Ye might write th' doin's iv all th' convents iv th' wurruld on th' back iv a postage stamp, an' have room to spare. Supposin' ye took out iv a newspaper all th' murdhers, an' suicides, an' divorces, an elopements, an' fires, an' disease, an' war, an' famine,' he says, 'ye wudden't have enough left to keep a man busy r-readin' while he rode ar-roun' th' block on th' lightnin' express. No,' he says, 'news is sin an' sin is news, an' I'm worth on'y a line beginnin': “Kelly, at the parish-house, April twinty-sicond, in th' fiftieth year iv his age,” an' pay f'r that, while Scanlan's bad boy is good f'r a column anny time he goes dhrunk an' thries to kill a polisman. A rellijious newspaper? None iv thim f'r me. I want to know what's goin' on among th' murdher an' burglary set. Did ye r-read it?' he says. 'I did,' says I. 'What did ye think iv it?' says he. 'I know,' says I, 'why more people don't go to church,' says I.”

THE ADMIRAL'S CANDIDACY

“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!”

CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Dooley, “'tis good to see that th' gloryous ol' commonwealth iv Kentucky is itsilf again.”

“How's that?” asked Mr. Hennessy.

“F'r some time past,” said Mr. Dooley, “they's been nawthin' doin' that'd make a meetin' iv th' Epworth League inthrestin'. Th' bystanders in Kentucky has been as safe as a journeyman highwayman in Chicago. Perfectly innocent an' unarmed men wint into th' state an' come out again without a bullethole in their backs. It looked f'r awhile as if th' life iv th' ordn'ry visitor was goin' to be as harmless in Kentucky as in Utah, th' home iv th' desthroyers iv American domestic life. I dinnaw why it was, whether it was th' influence iv our new citizens in Cubia an' th' Ph'lippeens or what it was, but annyhow th' on'y news that come out iv Kentucky was as peaceful, Hinnissy, as th' rayports iv a bloody battle in South Africa. But Kentucky, as Hogan says, was not dead but on'y sleepin'. Th' other day that gran' ol' state woke up through two iv its foremost rapid firin' citizens.”

“They met be chanst in a hotel con-tagious to a bar. Colonel Derringer was settin' in a chair peacefully fixin' th' hammer iv his forty-four Colt gun, presinted to him be his constitooents on th' occasion iv his mim'rable speech on th' nicissity iv spreadin' th' civilization iv th' United States to th' ends iv th' wur-ruld. Surroundin' him was Major Bullseye, a well-known lawyer, cattle-raiser an' journalist iv Athens, Bulger County, whose desthruction iv Captain Cassius Glaucus Wiggins at th' meetin' iv' th' thrustees in th' Sicond Baptist Church excited so much comment among spoortin' men three or four years ago, Gin'ral Rangefinder iv Thebes, Colonel Chivvy iv Sparta, who whittled Major Lycurgus Gam iv Thermopylae down to th' wishbone at th' anti-polygamist meetin' las' June, an' other well-known gintlemen.”

“Th' party was suddenly confronted be Major Lyddite iv Carthage an' a party iv frinds who were in town for th' purpose iv protectin' th' suffrage again' anny pollution but their own. Colonel Derringer an' Major Lyddite had been inimies f'r sivral months, iver since Major Lyddite in an attimpt to desthroy wan iv his fellow-citizens killed a cow belongin' to th' janial Colonel. Th' two gintlemen had sworn f'r to slay each other at sight or thirty days, an' all Kentucky society has been on what Hogan calls th' _quee veev_ or look-out f'r another thrajeedy to be added to th' long list iv sim'lar ivints that marks th' histhry iv th' Dark an' Bloody Groun'--which is a name given to Kentucky be her affectionate sons.”

{Illustration}

“Without a wur-rud or a bow both gintlemen dhrew on each other an' begun a deadly fusillade. That is, Hinnissy, they begun shootin' at th' bystanders. I'll tell ye what th' pa-apers said about it. Th' two antagonists was in perfect form an' well sustained th' reputation iv th' state f'r acc'rate workmanship. Colonel Derringer's first shot caught a boot an' shoe drummer fr'm Chicago square in th' back amid consid'rable applause. Major Lyddite tied th' scoor be nailin' a scrubwoman on th' top iv a ladder. Th' man at th' traps sprung a bell boy whom th' Colonel on'y winged, thus goin' back wan, but his second barrel brought down a book-canvasser fr'm New York, an' this bein' a Jew man sint him ahead three. Th' Major had an aisy wan f'r th' head waiter, nailin' him just as he jumped into a coal hole. Four all. Th' Colonel thried a difficult polisman, lamin' him. Thin th' Major turned his attintion to his own frinds, an' made three twos in succession. Th' Colonel was not so forch'nate. He caught Major Bullseye an' Captain Wiggins, but Gin'ral Rangefinder was safe behind a barber's pole an' Colonel Chivvy fluttered out iv range. Thus th' scoor was tin to six at th' conclusion iv th' day's spoort in favor iv Major Lyddite. Unforchnately th' gallant Major was onable f'r to reap th' reward iv his excellent marksmanship, f'r in a vain indeavor f'r a large scoor, he chased th' barber iv th' sicond chair into th' street, an' there slippin' on a banana peel, fell an' sustained injuries fr'm which he subsequently died. In him th' counthry loses a valu'ble an' acc'rate citizen, th' state a lile an' rapid firin' son, an' society a leadin' figure, his meat-market an' grocery bein' wan iv th' largest outside iv Minerva. Some idee iv th' acc'racy iv th' fire can be gained fr'm th' detailed scoor, as follows: Lyddite, three hearts, wan lung, wan kidney, five brains. Derringer, four hearts, two brains. This has seldom been excelled. Among th' minor casualties resultin' fr'm this painful but delightful soiree was th' followin': Erastus Haitch Muggins, kilt be jumpin' fr'm th' roof; Blank Cassidy, hide an' pelt salesman fr'm Chicago, burrid undher victims; Captain Epaminondas Lucius Quintus Cassius Marcellus Xerxes Cyrus Bangs of Hoganpolis, Hamilcar Township, Butseen County, died iv hear-rt disease whin his scoor was tied. Th' las' named was a prominent leader in society, a crack shot an' a gintleman iv th' ol' school without fear an' without reproach. His son succeeds to his lunch car. Th' others don't count.”

“'Twas a gr-reat day f'r Kentucky, Hinnissy, an' it puts th' gran' ol' state two or three notches ahead iv anny sim'lar community in th' wur-ruld. Talk about th' Boer war an' th' campaign in th' Ph'lippeens! Whin Kentucky begins f'r to shoot up her fav'rite sons they'll be more blood spilled thin thim two play wars'd spill between now an' th' time whin Ladysmith's relieved f'r th' las' time an' Agynaldoo is r-run up a three in th' outermost corner iv Hoar County, state iv Luzon. They'se rale shootin' in Kentucky, an' whin it begins ivrybody takes a hand. 'Tis th' on'y safe way. If ye thry to be an onlooker an' what they calls a non-combatant 'tis pretty sure ye'll be taken home to ye'er fam'ly lookin' like a cribbage-boord. So th' thing f'r ye to do is to be wan iv th' shooters ye'ersilf, load up ye'er gun an' whale away f'r th' honor iv ye'er counthry.”

“'Tis a disgrace,” said Mr. Hennessy. “Where were th' polis?”

“This was not th' place f'r a polisman,” said Mr. Dooley. “I suspict though, fr'm me knowledge iv th' kind iv man that uses firear-rms that if some wan'd had th' prisence iv mind to sing out 'They'se a man at th' bar that offers to buy dhrinks f'r th' crowd,' they'd be less casu'lties fr'm bullets, though they might be enough people kilt in th' r-rush to even it up. But whin I read about these social affairs in Kentucky, I sometimes wish some spool cotton salesman fr'm Matsachoosets, who'd be sure to get kilt whin th' shootin' begun, wud go down there with a baseball bat an' begin tappin' th' gallant gintlemen on th' head befure breakfast an' in silf definse. I'll bet ye he'd have thim jumpin' through thransoms in less thin two minyits, f'r ye can put this down as thrue fr'm wan that's seen manny a shootin', that a man, barrin' he's a polisman, on'y dhraws a gun whin he's dhrunk or afraid. Th' gun fighter, Hinnissy, tin to wan is a cow'rd.”

“That's so,” said Mr. Hennessy. “But it don't do to take anny chances on.”

“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “he might be dhrunk.”

A SOCIETY SCANDAL

“Well, sir, I guess I'm not up on etiket,” said Mr. Dooley.

“How's that?” demanded Mr. Hennessy.

“I've been readin' about Willum Waldorf Asthor,” replied Mr. Dooley, “an' th' throuble he had with a la-ad that bummed his way into his party. Ye see, Hinnissy, Willum Waldorf Asthor give a party at his large an' commodjious house in London. That's where he lives--in London--though he r-runs a hotel in New York, where ye can see half th' state iv Ioway near anny night, they tell me. Well, he give this party on a gran' scale, an' bought gr-reat slathers iv food an' dhrink, an' invited th' neighbors an' the neighbors' childher. But wan man he wudden't have. He's goin' over th' list iv th' people that's to come, an' he says to his sicrety: 'Scratch that boy. Him an' me bump as we pass by.' He didn't want this fellow, ye see, Hinnissy. I don't know why. They was dissatisfaction between thim; annyhow, he says: 'Scratch him,' an' he was out iv it.”

“Well, wan night, th' fellow was settin' down f'r a bite to eat with Lady O----, an' Lady S----, an' Lady G----, an' Lady Y----, an' other ladies that had lost their names, an' says wan iv thim, 'Cap,' she says, 'ar-re ye goin' to Asthor's doin's tonight?' she says. 'Not that I know iv,' says th' Cap. 'He hasn't sint me anny wurrud that I'm wanted,' he says. 'What differ does it make,' says th' lady. 'Write an invitation f'r ye'rsilf on ye'er cuff an' come along with us,' says she. 'I'll do it,' says the Cap, an' he sint f'r an automobile an' goes along.

“Well, ivrything was all r-right f'r awhile, an' th' Cap was assaultin' a knuckle iv ham an' a shell iv beer, whin Willum Waldorf Asthor comes up an' taps him on th' shoulder an' says: 'Duck.' 'What name?' says th' Cap. 'Asthor,' says Willum. 'Oh,' says th' Cap, 'ye're th' American gazabo that owns this hut,' he says. 'I am,' says Willum. 'I can't go,' says th' Cap. 'Ye didn't ask me here an' ye can't sind me away,' he says. 'Gossoon, another shell iv malt, an' dhraw it more slow,' he says. 'I am an English gintleman an' I know me rights,' he says. 'Dure or window,' says Willum. 'Take ye'er choice,' he says. 'If ye insist,' says th' Cap, 'I'll take th' dure,' he says, 'but ye don't know th' customs iv civilization,' he says; an' th' hired man just grazed him on th' dure sthep.

“Well, Willum Waldorf Asthor was that mad, he wint down to his pa-aper office, an' says he, 'I want to put in an item,' he says, an' he put it in. 'It is wished,' he says, 'to be apprihinded,' he says, 'be those desirous not to have been misinformed,' he says, 'concarnin' th' recent appearance iv Cap Sir Mills at me party,' he says, 'that 'twas not be me that said Cap Sir Mills come to be on th' site,' he says, 'but rather,' he says, 'through a desire on th' part iv Cap Sir Mills to butt into a party to which his invitation was lost about three hours befure 'twas written,' he says.”

“Well, now, ye'd think that was all right, wudden't ye? Ye'd say Asthor acted mild whin he didn't take down his goold ice pick from th' wall an' bate th' Cap over th' head. Th' Cap, though a ganial soul, had no business there. 'Twas Willum Waldorf Asthor that paid f'r the ice cream an' rented th' chiny. But that's where ye'd be wrong, an' that's where I was wrong. Whin th' Prince iv Wales heerd iv it he was furyous. 'What,' he says, 'is an English gintleman goin' to be pegged out iv dures be a mere American be descent?' he says. 'A man,' he says, 'that hasn't an entail to his name,' he says. 'An American's home in London is an Englishman's castle,' he says. 'As th' late Earl iv Pitt said, th' furniture may go out iv it, th' constable may enther, th' mortgage may fall on th' rooned roof, but a thrue Englishman'll niver leave,' he says, 'while they'se food an' dhrink,' he says. 'Willum Waldorf Asthor has busted th' laws iv hospitality, an' made a monkey iv a lile subjick iv th' queen,' he says. 'Hinceforth,' he says, 'he's ast to no picnics iv th' Buckingham Palace Chowder Club,' he says. An' th' nex' day Willum Waldorf Asthor met him at th' races where he was puttin' down a bit iv money an' spoke to him, an' th' Prince iv Wales gave him wan in th' eye. He must've had something in his hand, f'r the pa-aper said he cut him. P'raps 'twas his scipter. An' now no wan'll speak to Willum Waldorf Asthor, an' he's not goin' to be a jook at all, an' he may have to come back here an' be nachurlized over again like a Bohamian. He's all broke up about it. He's gone to Germany to take a bath.”

“Lord, help us,” said Mr. Hennessy, “can't he get wan nearer home?”

“It seems not,” said Mr. Dooley. “Mebbe the Prince iv Wales has had th' wather cut off. He has a big pull with th' people in th' city hall.”

DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS

“Why should anny man want to kill a king?” said Mr. Dooley. “That's what I'd like to know. Little gredge have I again' anny monarch in th' deck. Live an' let live's me motto. Th' more ye have in this wurruld th' less ye have. Make in wan place, lose in another's th' rule, me boy. Little joy, little sorrow. Takin' it all an' all I'd rather be where I am thin on a throne, an' be th' look iv things I'll have me wish. 'Tis no aisy job bein' a king barrin' th' fact that ye don't have to marry th' woman iv ye'er choice but th' woman iv somebody else's. 'Tis like takin' a conthract an' havin' th' union furnish th' foreman an' th' mateeryal. Thin if th' wurruk ain't good a wild-eyed man fr'm Paterson, Noo Jarsey, laves his monkey an' his hand organ an' takes a shot at ye. Thank th' Lord I'm not so big that anny man can get comfort fr'm pumpin' a Winchester at me fr'm th' top iv a house.”

“But if I was king ne'er an organ grinder'd get near enough me to take me life with a Hotchkiss gun. I'd be so far away fr'm the multitood, Hinnissy, that they cud on'y distinguish me rile features with a spy-glass. I'd have polismen at ivry tur-rn, an' I'd have me subjicks retire to th' cellar whin I took me walk. Divvle a bit wud you catch me splattherin' mesilf with morthar an' stickin' newspapers in a hole in a corner shtone to show future gin'rations th' progress iv crime in this cinchry. They'd lay their own corner-shtone f'r all iv me. I'd communicate with th' pop'lace be means iv ginral ordhers, an' I'd make it a thing worth tellin' about to see th' face iv th' gr-reat an' good King Dooley.”

“Kings is makin' thimsilves too common. Nowadays an arnychist dhrops into a lunch-room at th' railroad depot an' sees a man settin' on a stool atin' a quarther section iv a gooseb'ry pie an' dhrinkin' a glass iv buttermilk. 'D'ye know who that is?' says th' lunch-counter lady. 'I do not,' says th' arnychist, 'but be th' look iv him he ain't much.' 'That's th' king,' says th' lady. 'Th' king, is it,' says th' arnychist. 'Thin here's f'r wan king less,' he says, an' 'tis all over. A king ought to be a king or he oughtn't. He don't need to be a good mixer. If he wants to hang on he must keep out iv range. 'Tis th' kings an' queens that thrusts so much in th' lilety iv their people that they live in summer resort hotels an' go out walkin' with a dog that's hurted. Th' on'y person that ought to be able to get near enough a rale king to kill him is a jook, or th' likes iv that. Th' idee iv a man from Noo Jarsey havin' th' chanst!”

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“What on earth's to be done about thim arnychists?” Mr. Hennessy asked. “What ails thim annyhow? What do they want?”

“Th' Lord on'y knows,” said Mr. Dooley.

“They don't want annything, that's what they want. They want peace on earth an' th' way they propose to get it is be murdhrin' ivry man that don't agree with thim. They think we all shud do as they please. They're down on th' polis foorce an' in favor iv th' pop'lace, an' whin they've kilt a king they call on th' polis to save thim fr'm th' mob. An' between you an' me, Hinnissy, ivry arnychist I've knowed, an' I've met manny in me time, an' quite, law-abidin' citizens they was, too, had th' makin' iv a thradeejan in him. If they was no newspapers they'd be few arnychists. They want to get their pitchers in th' pa-apers an' they can't do it be wheelin' bananas through th' sthreets or milkin' a cow, so they go out an' kill a king. I used to know a man be th' name iv Schmitt that was a cobbler be profession an' lived next dure but wan to me. He was th' dacintist man ye iver see. He kep' a canary bur-rd, an' his devotion to his wife was th' scandal iv th' neighborhood. But bless my soul, how he hated kings. He cudden't abide Cassidy afther he heerd he was a dayscinded fr'm th' kings iv Connock, though Cassidy was what ye call a prolotoorio or a talkin' workin'man. An' th' wan king he hated above all others was th' king iv Scholizwig-Holstein, which was th' barbarous counthry he come fr'm. He cud talk fairly dacint about other kings, but this wan--Ludwig was his name an' I seen his pitcher in th' pa-apers wanst--wud throw him into a fit. He blamed ivrything that happened to Ludwig. If they was a sthrike he charged it to Ludwig. If Schwartzmeister didn't pay him f'r half-solin' a pair iv Congress gaiters he used to wear in thim days, he tied a sthring arround his finger f'r to remind him that he had to kill Ludwig. 'What have ye again' th' king?' says I. 'He is an opprissor iv th' poor,' he says. 'So ar-re ye,' I says, 'or ye'd mend boots free.' 'He's explodin' th' prolotoorio,' he says. 'Sure,' says I, 'th' prolotoorio can explode thimsilves pretty well,' says I. 'He oughtn't to be allowed to live in luxury while others starve,' he says. 'An' wud ye be killin' a man f'r holdin' a nice job?' says I. 'What good wud it do ye?' says I. 'I'd be th' emancipator iv th' people,' says he. 'Ye'd have th' wurred on th' coffin lid,' says I. 'Why,' says he, 'think iv me, Schmitt, Owgoost Schmitt, stalkin' forth to avinge th' woes iv th' poor,' he says. 'Loodwig, th' cursed, goes by. I jumps fr'm behind a three an' society is freed fr'm th' monsther,' he says. 'Think iv th' glory iv it,' he says. 'Owgoost Schmitt, emancipator,' he says. 'I'll prove to Mary Ann that I'm a man,' he says. Mary Ann was his wife. Her maiden name was Riley. She heard him say it. 'Gus,' says she, 'if iver I hear iv ye shootin' e'er a king I'll lave ye,' she says.”

“Well, sir, I thought he was jokin', but be hivins, wan day he disappeared, an' lo an' behold, two weeks afther I picks up a pa-aper an' r-reads that me brave Schmitt was took up be th' polis f'r thryin' to cop a monarch fr'm behind a three. I sint him a copy iv a pa-aper with his pitcher in it, but I don't know if iver he got it. He's over there now an' his wife is takin' in washin'.”

“It's vanity that makes arnychists, Hinnissy--vanity an' th' habits kings has nowadays iv bein' as common as life insurance agents.”

“I don't like kings,” said Mr. Hennessy, “but I like arnychists less. They ought to be kilt off as fast as they're caught.”

“They'll be that,” said Mr. Dooley. “But killin' thim is like wringin' th' neck iv a mickrobe.”

ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS

“Hinnissy, if iver we have war with what me frind Carl Schurz'd call th' Mother County, it'll not come fr'm anny Vinnyzwalan question. Ye can't get me excited over th' throbbin' debate on th' location iv th' Orynocoo River or whether th' miners that go to Alaska f'r goold ar're buried be th' Canajeen or th' American authorities. Ye bet ye can't. But some day we'll be beat in a yacht r-race or done up at futball an' thin what Hogan call th' dogs iv war'll break out iv th' kennel an' divastate th' wurruld.”

“Well,” said Mr. Hennessy, complacently, “if we wait f'r that we might as well disband our navy.”

“I dinnaw about that,” said Mr. Dooley, “I dinnaw abut that; afther ye left to investigate th' ir'n foundhries an' other pitcheresque roons iv this misguided counthry, I wint out to give a few raw rahs f'r me fellow colleejens, who was attimptin' to dimonsthrate their supeeryority over th' effete scholars iv England at what I see be th' pa-apers is called th' Olympian games. Ye get to th' Olympian games be suffocation in a tunnel. Whin ye come to, ye pay four shillin's or a dollar in our degraded currency, an' stand in th' sun an' look at th' Prince iv Wales. Th' Prince iv Wales looks at ye, too, but he don't see ye.”

“Me frind, th' American ambassadure was there, an' manny iv th' seats iv larnin' in th' gran' stand was occupied be th' flower iv our seminaries iv meditation or thought conservatories. I r-read it in th' pa-apers. At th' time I come in they was recitin' a pome fr'm th' Greek, to a thoughtful-lookin' young profissor wearin' th' star-spangled banner f'r a necktie an' smokin' a cigareet. 'Now, boys,' says th' profissor, 'all together.' 'Rickety, co-ex, co-ex, hullabaloo, bozoo, bozoo, Harvard,' says th' lads. I was that proud iv me belovid counthry that I wanted to take off me hat there an' thin an' give th' colledge yell iv th' Ar-rchey road reform school. But I was resthrained be a frind iv mine that I met comin' over. He was fr'm Matsachoosetts, an' says he: 'Don't make a disturbance,' he says. 'We've got to create a fav'rable impression here,' he says, 'Th' English,' he says, 'niver shows enthusyasm,' he says. 'Tis regarded as unpolite,' he says. 'If ye yell,' he says, 'they'll think we want to win,' he says, 'an' we didn't come over here to win,' he says. 'Let us show thim,' he says, 'that we're gintlemen, be it iver so painful,' he says. An' I resthrained mesilf be puttin' me fist in me mouth.”

{Illustration}

“They was an Englishman standin' behind me, Hinnissy, an' he was a model iv behaviour f'r all Americans intindin' to take up their homes in Cubia. Ye cudden't get this la-ad war-rmed up if ye built a fire undher him. He had an eye-glass pinned to his face an' he niver even smiled whin a young gintleman fr'm Harvard threw a sledge hammer wan mile, two inches. A fine la-ad, that Harvard man, but if throwin' th' hammer's spoort, thin th' rowlin' mills is th' athletic cintre iv our belovid counthry. Whin an Englishman jumped further thin another la-ad, me frind th' Ice-box, says he: 'H'yah, h'yah!' So whin an American la-ad lept up in th' air as though he'd been caught be th' anchor iv a baloon, I says: 'H'yah, h'yah!' too. Whin a sign iv th' effete aristocracy iv England done up sivral free-bor-rn Americans fr'm Boston in a fut r-race, me frind the Farthest North, he grabs his wan glass eye an' says he: 'Well r-run, Cambridge!' he says; 'Well r-run,' he says. An' 'Well r-run, whativer colledge ye're fr'm,' says I, whin wan iv our la-ads jumped over a fence ahead iv some eager but consarvative English scholars.”

“Well, like a good game, it come three an' three. Three times had victhry perched upon our banner an' thrice--I see it in th' pa-aper--had th' flag iv th' mother counthry proclaimed that Englishmen can r-run. It was thryin' on me narves an' I wanted to yell whin th' tie was r-run off but th' man fr'm Matsachoosetts says: 'Contain ye'ersilf,' he says. 'Don't allow ye'er frinzied American spirit to get away with ye'er manners,' he says. 'Obsarve.' he says, 'th' ca'm with which our brother Anglo-Saxon views th' scene,' he says. 'Ah!' he says, 'they're off an' be th' jumpin' George Wash'nton, I bet ye that fellow fr'm West Newton'll make that red-headed, long-legged, bread-ballasted Englishman look like thirty cints. 'Hurroo,' he says. 'Go on, Harvard,' he says. 'Go on,' he says. 'Rah, rah, rah,' he says. 'Ate him up, chew him up,' he says. 'Harvard!' he says.”

“I looked ar-round at th' ca'm dispassyonate Englishman. He dhropped his eye-glass so he cud see th' race an' he had his cane in th' air. 'Well r-run,' he says. 'Well r-run, Cambridge,' he says. 'Pull him down,' he says. 'Run over him,' he says. 'Thrip him up,' he says. 'They can't r-run,' he says, 'except whin they're Ph'lipinos behind thim,' he says. 'Well r-run,' he says, an' he welted th' man fr'm Matsachoosetts with his cane. 'Be careful what ye're doin' there,' says th' Anglo-Saxon. 'If it wasn't f'r th' 'liance I'd punch ye'er head off,' he says. 'An',' says th' ca'm Englishman, 'if it wasn't f'r our common hurtage,' he says, 'I'd make ye jump over th' gran' stand,' he says. 'Th' English always cud beat us r-runnin',' says the sage iv Matsachoosetts. 'Th' Americans start first an' finishes last,' says th' Englishman. An' I had to pull thim apart.”

“Whether it is that our American colleejans spinds too much iv their lung power in provin' their devotion to what Hogan calls their Almy Matthers or not, I dinnaw, but annyhow, we had to dhrag th' riprisintative iv our branch iv th' Anglo-Saxon an' Boheemyan civilization in th' three-mile race fr'm undher two thousand iv our cousins or brothers-in-law that was ca'mly an' soberly, but hurridly an' noisily chargin' acrost th' thrack to cheer their own man.”

“Me frind fr'm Matsachoosets was blue as we winded our way to th' sthrangulation railway an' started back f'r home. 'I'm sorry,' he says, 'to lose me timper,' he says, 'but,' he says, 'afther all th' pretinded affection iv these people f'r us,' he says, 'an' afther all we've done f'r thim in Alaska an'--an' ivrywhere,' he says, 'an' thim sellin' us coal whin they might've sold it to th' Spanyards if th' Spanyards'd had th' money,' he says, 'to see th' conduct iv that coarse an' brutal Englishman--' 'Th' wan that won th' r-race?' says I. 'Yes,' he says. 'No, I mean th' wan that lammed me with his cane,' he says. 'If it hadn't been,' he says, 'that we're united,' he says, 'be a common pathrimony,' he says, 'I'd've had his life,' he says. 'Ye wud so,' says I, 'an' ye're r-right,' I says. 'If all th' la-ads enthered into th' r-races with th' same spirit ye show now,' I says, 'th' English flag'd be dhroopin' fr'm th' staff, an' Cyrus Bodley iv Wadham, Mass., 'd be paintin' th' stars an' sthripes on th' Nelson monnymint,' I says. 'Whin we hated th' English,' I says, 'an' a yacht r-race was li'ble to end in a war message fr'm the prisidint, we used to bate thim,' I says. 'Now,' says I, 'whin we're afraid to injure their feelin's,' I says, 'an' whin we 'pologise befure we punch, they bate us,' I says. 'They're used to 'pologisin' with wan hand an' punchin' with th' other,' I says. 'Th' on'y way is th' way iv me cousin Mike,' I says. 'He was a gr-reat rassler an' whin he had a full Nelson on th' foolish man that wint again him, he used to say, 'Dear me, am I breakin' ye'er neck, I hope so.'”

“But th' Matsachoosetts man didn't see it that way. An' some time, I tell ye, Hinnissy, an' Englishman'll put th' shot wan fut further than wan iv our men th' Lord save us fr'm th' disgrace!--an' th' next day we'll invade Canada.”

“We ought to do it, annyhow,” said Mr. Hennessy stoutly.

“We wud,” said Mr. Dooley, “if we were sure we cud lave it aftherwards.”

VOICES FROM THE TOMB

“I don't think,” said Mr. Dooley, “that me frind Willum Jennings Bryan is as good an orator as he was four years ago.”

“He's th' grandest talker that's lived since Dan'l O'Connell,” said Mr. Hennessy.

“Ye've heerd thim all an' ye know,” said Mr. Dooley. “But I tell ye he's gone back. D'ye mind th' time we wint down to th' Coleesyum an' he come out in a black alapaca coat an' pushed into th' air th' finest wurruds ye iver heerd spoke in all ye'er bor-rn days? 'Twas a balloon ascinsion an' th' las' days iv Pompey an' a blast on th' canal all in wan. I had to hold on to me chair to keep fr'm goin' up in th' air, an' I mind that if it hadn't been f'r a crack on th' head ye got fr'm a dillygate fr'm Westconsin ye'd 've been in th' hair iv Gin'ral Bragg. Dear me, will ye iver f'rget it, th' way he pumped it into th' pluthocrats? 'I tell ye here an' now,' he says, 'they'se as good business men in th' quite counthry graveyards iv Kansas as ye can find in the palathial lunch-counthers iv Wall street,' he says. 'Whin I see th' face iv that man who looks like a two-dollar pitcher iv Napolyeon at Saint Heleena,' he says, 'I say to mesilf, ye shall not--ye shall not'--what th' divvle is it ye shall not do, Hinnissy?”

“Ye shall not crucify mankind upon a crown iv thorns,” said Mr. Hennessy.

“Right ye ar-re, I forgot,” Mr. Dooley went on. “Well, thim were his own wurruds. He was young an' he wanted something an' he spoke up. He'd been a rayporther on a newspaper an' he'd rather be prisidint thin write anny longer f'r th' pa-aper, an' he made th' whole iv th' piece out iv his own head.