Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War, Finley Peter Dunne [good books to read txt] 📗

man come fr'm a gr-eat gin'ral, a fine-lookin' la-ad that had manny a mash in his day, an' niver lost money be wan iv thim. Ye'll find all about him in Casey's 'Histhry iv English Misrule in Ireland: Th' Story iv a Crime.' 'Tis good readin'.

"Th' la-ad's father marrid a rich woman. So did his uncle. So ye see he was a natural bor-rn fi-nanceer. An' he begun to luk around him f'r what th' pa-apers calls a 'financee.'

"He didn't have far to go. I dinnaw how he done it, whether th' Ganderbilks asked him 'r he asked th' Ganderbilks. Annyhow, 'twas arranged. 'Twas horse an' horse between thim. Th' Ganderbilks had money, an' he was a jook. They was wan divorce on each side. So they imported him over, what they call assisted immygration. He didn't come undher th' head iv skilled workman. They must've classed him as a domestic servant. Th' first thing he done was to get himsilf arristed. A man be th' name iv Sweeney,--there are some good Sweeneys, though it's a name I don't like on account iv wan iv thim stealin' me fa-ather's grin'stone,--a man be th' name iv Sweeney, a polisman, r-run him in f'r disordherly conduct. They got him out with a pull. Thin he sint f'r lawyers an' f'r his financee's father, an' they settled down to talk business. 'Well,' says Ganderbilk, 'how much d'ye want?' he says. 'I'll give ye a millyon.' 'Goowan,' says th' jook, 'I cud get that much marryin' somewan I knew.' 'Thin how much d'ye want?' says Ganderbilk. 'Well,' says th' jook, th' castle has to be put in repair. Th' plumbin' is all gone to th' divvle, an' they'll have to be a new catch-basin put in,' he says. 'Thin they'se calciminin' an' paper-hangin',--well, call it tin millyons.' 'But what do I get out iv it?' says Ganderbilk. 'Have ye a ticket to th' church to see me marrid?' says th' jook. 'No,' says his pappa-in-law. 'Well, here's a couple,' says th' jook. 'Bring wan iv ye'er frinds with ye.' So Ganderbilk he coughed.

"They say th' jook was that poor he had to have his coat made out iv what was left over fr'm his pants, they do so. But he was at th' church bright an' early; an' Ganderbilk he was there, too, standin' out on th' steps in th' cold, combin' his whiskers--he wears a pair iv sluggers--with his fingers. Afther awhile his daughter, the jook's financee, come along; an', seein' the jook, says she, 'Pappa,' she says, 'inthrojooce me to ye'er frind.' 'Jook,' says Ganderbilk, 'shake hands with me daughther. She's your's,' he says. An' so they were marrid.

"Well, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, becoming serious, "'tis a dhroll wurruld, an' I suppose we've got to take th' jooks an' th' Ganderbilks with the r-rest. I'm goin' to a weddin' mesilf nex' week. Th' banns has been called between little Dalia Hogan an' big Tom Moran. They've been engaged f'r three year, her wurrkin' in a box facthry an' him doin' overtime at th' blast. They've money enough to start, an' it'll not cost ol' ma-an Hogan a cint. But, whin he spoke about it las' night, he cried as if his heart'd break."


ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND GERMANY.

Mr. McKenna was aware that a gentle feud had existed between Mr. Dooley and Mr. Schwartzmeister, the German saloon-keeper down Archey Road, for some years. It was based upon racial differences, but had been accented when Mr. Schwartzmeister put in a pool table. Of course there was no outburst. When the two met on the street, Mr. Dooley saluted his neighbor cordially, in these terms: "Good-nobben, Hair Schwartzmeister, an' vas magst too yet, me brave bucko!" To which Mr. Schwartzmeister invariably retorted: "Py chapers, Tooley, where you haf been all der time, py chapers?" But this was mere etiquette. In the publicity of their own taverns they entertained no great regard for each other. Mr. Schwartzmeister said a friend of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley's beer, and Mr. Dooley confessed that he would rather go to a harness-shop for whiskey than to Mr. Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKenna was amazed to learn that Mr. Schwartzmeister had been entertained by the philosopher, and that they had paraded Archey Road arm-in-arm at a late hour.

"Tubby sure he was," said Mr. Dooley. "Tubby sure he was. Right where ye're standin' at this moment, me dhrinkin' beer an' him callin' f'r hot Irish. 'Make it hot,' he says. 'Make it hot, me frind; an' we'll make it hot f'r th' British between us,' says Schwartzmeister.

"It come about this way: Ye see Willum Joyce come in, an' says he, 'We've got thim.' 'Sure,' says I. 'We've the comityman, haven't we?' 'Th' Dutch is with us,' he says. 'I mane the Germans is our frinds.' 'Ye're goin' too far there,' says I. 'Stuckart was again Reed las' spring.' 'No, no,' says Willum Joyce, he says. 'Th' Germans is up in ar-rms again th' Sassenach,' he says. 'Mind ye,' he says, 'mind ye,' he says, ''tis our jooty to be frindly with th' Germans,' he says. 'I'm now on me way f'r to organize a camp iv me Dutch frinds down be th' slough,' he says. An' off he goes.

"'Twas not long afther whin I heerd a man singin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th' Green' down th' sthreet, an' in come Schwartzmeister. 'Faugh a ballagh,' says he, meanin' to be polite. 'Lieb vaterland,' says I. An' we had a dhrink together.

"'Vell,' says he (ye know th' murdhrin' way he has iv speakin'), 'here we are,' he says, 'frinds at las'.' 'Thrue f'r ye,' says I. 'Tooley,' he says, f'r he calls me that, 'we're wan to-night, alretty,' he says. 'We are that,' says I. 'But, glory be, who iver thought th' Irish'd live to see th' day whin they'd be freed be th' Dutch? Schwartz, me lieber frind,' I says, 'here's a health to th' imp'ror, hock,' says I. 'Slanthu,' says he; an' we had wan.

"''Twud be a great combination,' says I, 'We'd carry th' wa-ard be th' biggest majority iver heerd iv,' I says. 'We wud so,' says he. 'I'd be aldherman.' 'Afther me,' says I. ''Tis my turn first,' I says. 'I don't know about that,' says he. 'Now,' says I, 'look here, Schwartzmeister,' I says. 'This here arrangement between Germany an' Ireland has got to be brought down to th' Sixth Wa-ard,' I says. 'Do ye f'rgive th' way we done ye in th' beer rites?' I says. 'I do,' says he. 'They was befure me time.' 'Well,' says I, 'are ye sure ye can get over th' whalin' ye got whin th' Sarsfield Fife an' Dhrum Corpse met th' Frederick Willum Picnic Band?' I says. 'I do,' says he. 'An' ye have no har-rd feelin' about th' way th' bridges has been give out?' 'Not a thrace,' says he. 'Well,' says I, 'Schwartz,' I says, 'they'se wan thing more,' I says. 'We're both pathrites,' I says. 'We have a common cause,' I says. 'Ye're a Dutchman, an' I'm iv' th' other sort,' I says. 'But we're both again th' Sassenach,' I says. 'An' in th' inthrests iv th' freedom iv Ireland,' I says, 'I f'rgive ye th' pool table.'

"Well, sir, Jawn, he wept like a child. 'Tooley,' he says, 'we'll march side be side,' he says. 'Both iv us in th' front rank,' he says. 'Aldherman Tooley an' Aldherman Schwartzmeister, to free Ireland,' he says. 'But where does Germany come in?' he says. 'Germany!' says I, 'Germany! Well, we'll take care iv Germany, all right. We'll let Germans into th' prim'ries,' I says. An' there an' thin we formed th' Sarsfield-an'-Gatty camp. Gatty is a German frind iv Schwartzmeister. We shook dice to see which name'd come first. Ireland won. They was my dice.

"I learned Schwartzmeister th' Shan-van-Voght before we was through; an' I've got th' German naytional chune be heart,--'Ich vice nit wauss allus bay doitan'. What'll ye have to drink, Jawn?"

And, as Mr. McKenna went out, he heard his friend muttering: "Freed be th' Dutch! Freed be the Dutch! An' we niver give thim so much as a dillygate."


ON ORATORY IN POLITICS.

"I mind th' first time Willum J. O'Brien r-run f'r office, th' Raypublicans an' th' Indypindants an' th' Socialists an' th' Prohybitionist (he's dead now, his name was Larkin) nommynated a young man be th' name iv Dorgan that was in th' law business in Halsted Sthreet, near Cologne, to r-run again' him. Smith O'Brien Dorgan was his name, an' he was wan iv th' most iloquint young la-ads that iver made a speakin' thrumpet iv his face. He cud holler like th' impire iv a base-ball game; an', whin he delivered th' sintimints iv his hear-rt, ye'd think he was thryin' to confide thim to a man on top iv a high buildin'. He was prisidint iv th' lithry club at th' church; an' Father Kelly tol' me that, th' day afther he won th' debate on th' pen an' th' soord in favor iv th' pen, they had to hire a carpenter to mend th' windows, they'd sagged so. They called him th' boy or-rator iv Healey's slough.

"He planned th' campaign himsilf. 'I'll not re-sort,' says he, 'to th' ordin'ry methods,' he says. 'Th' thing to do,' he says, 'is to prisint th' issues iv th' day to th' voters,' he says. 'I'll burn up ivry precin't in th' ward with me iloquince,' he says. An' he bought a long black coat, an' wint out to spread th' light.

"He talked ivrywhere. Th' people jammed Finucane's Hall, an' he tol' thim th' time had come f'r th' masses to r-rise. 'Raymimber,' says he, 'th' idees iv Novimb'r,' he says. 'Raymimber Demosthens an' Cicero an' Oak Park,' he says. 'Raymimber th' thraditions iv ye'er fathers, iv Washin'ton an' Jefferson an' Andhrew Jackson an' John L. Sullivan,' he says. 'Ye shall not, Billy O'Brien,' he says, 'crucify th' voters iv th' Sixth Ward on th' double cross,' he says. He spoke to a meetin' in Deerin' Sthreet in th' same wurads. He had th' sthreet-car stopped while he coughed up ree-marks about th' Constitution, until th' bar-rn boss sint down an' threatened to discharge Mike Dwyer that was dhrivin' wan hundherd an' eight in thim days, though thransferred to Wintworth Avnoo later on. He made speeches to polismin in th' squadroom an' to good la-ads hoistin' mud out iv th' dhraw at th' red bridge. People'd be settin' quite in th' back room playin' forty-fives whin Smith O'Brien Dorgan'd burst in, an' addhress thim on th' issues iv th' day.

"Now all this time Bill O'Brien was campaignin' in his own way. He niver med wan speech. No wan knew whether he was f'r a tariff or again wan, or whether he sthud be Jefferson or was knockin' him, or whether he had th' inthrests iv th' toilin' masses at hear-rt or whether he wint to mass at all, at all. But he got th' superintindint iv th' rollin'-mills with him; an' he put three or four good faml'ies to wurruk in th' gas-house, where he knew th' main guy, an' he made reg'lar calls on th' bar-rn boss iv th' sthreet-ca-ars. He wint to th' picnics, an' hired th' orchesthry f'r th' dances, an' voted himsilf th' most pop'lar man at th' church fair at an expinse iv at laste five hundherd dollars. No wan that come near him wanted f'r money. He had headquarthers in ivry saloon fr'm wan end iv th' ward to th' other. All th' pa-apers printed his pitcher, an' sthud by him as th' frihd iv th' poor.

"Well, people liked to hear Dorgan at first, but afther a