Mr. Dooley's Philosophy, Finley Peter Dunne [world best books to read .TXT] 📗
- Author: Finley Peter Dunne
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“That's a good act,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“'Tis fine. In Austhree where this happened whin a man dies ivrybody comes in to see him. Ye meet a frind on th' sthreet an' he says: 'Come on over an see Harrigan jump off.' So whin th' la-ad is r-ready f'r to go out ivry body gathers in his room. 'Tis a fash'nable ivint, like th' Horse Show. Among those prisint is his mother. She's a frivolous ol' loon, this Marie Louisa, that was Napolyon's sicond wife, though between you an' me, Father Kelly has niver reconized her as such, th' Impror havin' a wife livin' that was as tough as they make thim. But annyhow she was there. She hadn't done much f'r her son, but she come to see him off with siv'ral ladies that loved him an' others. Bein' a busy an' fashn'able woman she cudden't raymimber his name. At times she called him 'Frank' an' thin 'Fronzwah' an' 'Fritz' an' 'Ferdynand'—'twas a name beginnin' with 'f' she knew that—but he f'rgive her an' ast somewan to r-read to him. 'What shall it be?' says a gin'ral. 'R-read about th' time I was christened,' says th' boy. An' th' gin'ral r-reads: 'At iliven o'clock at th' church iv Nothre Dame in th' prisince iv th' followin' princes—,' 'Cut out th' princes,' says th' la-ad. 'An' kings—' 'F'rget th' kings,' says th' lad. 'Th' son iv th' Impror—' 'He's dead,' says th' doctor. 'Put on his white soot,' says th' Main Thing among th' Austhreeches that was again him fr'm th' beginnin'. An' there ye ar-re.”
“Is that all?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“That's all,” said Mr. Dooley.
“He died?”
“He did.”
“But he was sthrong r-right up to th' end.”
“He was that. None sthronger.”
“An' what?” asked Mr. Hennessy, “did they do with th' soot iv clothes he ordhered fr'm th' tailor?”
CASUAL OBSERVATIONS
To most people a savage nation is wan that doesn't wear oncomf'rtable clothes.
Manny people'd rather be kilt at Newport thin at Bunker Hill.
If ye live enough befure thirty ye won't care to live at all afther fifty.
As Shakespere says, be thrue to ye'ersilf an' ye will not thin be false to ivry man.
Play actors, orators an' women ar-re a class be thimsilves.
Among men, Hinnissy, wet eye manes dhry heart.
Th' nearest anny man comes to a con-ciption iv his own death is lyin' back in a comfortable coffin with his ears cocked f'r th' flatthrin' remarks iv th' mourners.
A fanatic is a man that does what he thinks th' Lord wud do if He knew th' facts iv th' case.
A millionyaire—or man out iv debt—wanst tol' me his dhreams always took place in th' farm-house where he was bor-rn. He said th' dhreamin' iv his life was th' on'y part that seemed real.
'Tis no job to find out who wrote an anonymous letter. Jus' look out iv th' window whin ye get it. 'Tis harder to do evil thin good be stealth.
A German's idee iv Hivin is painted blue an' has cast-iron dogs on th' lawn.
No man was iver so low as to have rayspict f'r his brother-in-law.
Th' modhren idee iv governmint is 'Snub th' people, buy th' people, jaw th' people.'
I wisht I was a German an' believed in machinery.
A vote on th' tallysheet is worth two in the box.
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