"Is that all that's going on?" asked Mr. McKenna.
"That an' th' death iv wan iv Hinnissy's goats,--Marguerite. No, no,not that wan. That's Odalia. Th' wan with th' brown spots. That's her.She thried to ate wan iv thim new theayter posthers, an' perished ingreat ag'ny. They say th' corpse turned red at th' wake, but ye can'tbelieve all ye hear."
THE HAY FLEET.
Mr. Dooley had been reading about General Shafter's unfortunatelyabandoned enterprise for capturing Santiago by means of a load of hay,and it filled him with great enthusiasm. Laying down his paper, hesaid: "By dad, I always said they give me frind Shafter th' worst ivit. If they'd left him do th' job th' way he wanted to do it, he'd've taken Sandago without losin' an ounce."
"How was it he wanted to do it?" Mr. Hennessy asked.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "'twas this way. This is th' way it was. Ol'Cervera's fleet was in th' harbor an' bottled up, as th' man says.Shafter he says to Sampson: 'Look here, me bucko, what th' divvlear-re ye loafin' ar-round out there f'r,' he says, 'like a dep'tysheriff at a prize fight?' he says. 'Why don't ye go in, an' smash th'Castiles?' he says. 'I'm doin' well where I am,' says Sampson. 'Th'navy iv th' United States,' he says, 'which is wan iv th' best, if notth' best, in th' wurruld,' he says, 'was not,' he says, 'intinded f'rsthreet fightin',' he says. 'We'll stay here,' he says, 'where wear-re,' he says, 'until,' he says, 'we can equip th' ships withnoomatic tire wheels,' he says, 'an' ball bearin's,' he says.
"'Well,' says Shafter, 'if ye won't go in,' he says, 'we'll show yeth' way,' he says. An' he calls on Cap Brice, that was wan iv th'youngest an' tastiest dhressers in th' whole crool an' devastatin'war. 'Cap,' he says, 'is they anny hay in th' camp?' he says.'Slathers iv it,' says th' cap. 'Onless,' he says, 'th' sojers et it,'he says. 'Th' las' load iv beef that come down fr'm th' undhertakers,'he says, 'was not good,' he says. 'Ayether,' he says, ''twasimproperly waked,' he says, 'or,' he says, 'th' pall-bearers wascareless,' he says. 'Annyhow,' he says, 'th' sojers won't eat it; an',whin I left, they was lookin' greedily at th' hay,' he says. 'Cap,'says Gin'ral Shafter, 'if anny man ates a wisp, shoot him on th'spot,' he says. 'Those hungry sojers may desthroy me hopes ivvicthry,' he says. 'What d'ye mane?' says Cap Brice. 'I mane this,'says Gin'ral Shafter. 'I mane to take yon fortress,' he says. 'I'llsind ye in, Cap,' he says, 'in a ship protected be hay,' he says. 'Herturrets 'll be alfalfa, she'll have three inches iv solid timithy toth' water line, an' wan inch iv th' best clover below th' watherline,' he says. 'Did ye iver see an eight-inch shell pinithrate a baleiv hay?' he says. 'I niver did,' says Cap Brice. 'Maybe that wasbecause I niver see it thried,' he says. 'Be that as it may,' saysGin'ral Shafter, 'ye niver see it done. No more did I,' he says.'Onless,' he says, 'they shoot pitchforks,' he says, 'they'll niverhur-rt ye,' he says. 'Ye'll be onvincible,' he says. 'Ye'll pro-ceedinto th' harbor,' he says, 'behind th' sturdy armor iv projuce,' hesays. 'Let ye'er watchword be "Stay on th' far-rm," an' go on tovicthry,' he says. 'Gin'ral,' says Cap Brice, 'how can I thank ye f'rth' honor?' he says. ''Tis no wondher th' men call ye their fodder,'he says. 'Twas a joke Cap Brice med at th' time. 'I'll do th' best Ican,' he says; 'an', if I die in th' attempt,' he says, 'bury me wherethe bran-mash 'll wave over me grave,' he says.
"An' Gin'ral Shafter he got together his fleet, an' put th' armor onit. 'Twas a formidable sight. They was th' cruiser 'Box Stall,' fullarmored with sixty-eight bales iv th' finest grade iv chopped feed;th' 'R-red Barn,' a modhern hay battleship, protected be a whole mowiv timothy; an' th' gallant little 'Haycock,' a torpedo boat shootin'deadly missiles iv explosive oats. Th' expedition was delayed be waniv th' mules sthrollin' down to th' shore an' atin' up th' aftherbatthry an' par-rt iv th' ram iv th' 'R-red Barn' an', befure repairswas made, Admiral Cervera heerd iv what was goin' on. 'Glory be to thesaints,' he says, 'what an injaynious thribe these Yankees is!' sayshe. 'On'y a few weeks ago they thried to desthroy me be dumpin' a loadiv coal on me,' he says; 'an' now,' he says, 'they're goin' tosmother me in feed,' he says. 'They'll be rollin' bar'ls iv flour onme fr'm th' heights next,' he says. 'I'd betther get out,' he says.''Tis far nobler,' he says, 'to purrish on th' ragin' main,' he says,'thin to die with ye'er lungs full iv hayseed an' ye'er eyes full ivdust,' he says. 'I was born in a large city,' he says; 'an' I don'tknow th' rules iv th' barn,' he says. An' he wint out, an' took hislickin'.
"'Twas too bad Shafter didn't get a chanst at him, but he's give th'tip to th' la-ads that makes th' boats. No more ixpinsive steel an'ir'n, but good ol' grass fr'm th' twinty-acre meadow. Th' ship-yards'll be moved fr'm th' say, an' laid down in th' neighborhood iv Polo,Illinye, an' all th' Mississippi Valley 'll ring with th' sound iv th'scythe an' th' pitchfork buildin' th' definse iv our counthry's honor.Thank th' Lord, we've winrows an' winrows iv Shafter's armor platebetween here an' Dubuque."
Mr. Hennessy said good-night. "As me cousin used to say," he remarked,"we're through with wan hell iv a bad year, an' here goes f'r anotherlike it."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "may th' Lord niver sind us a foolisher wanthan this!"
THE PERFORMANCES OF LIEUTENANT HOBSON.
"If I'd been down to th' Audjitooroom th' other night," said Mr.Hennessy, "an' had a chunk iv coal fr'm th' sunk 'Merrimac,' I'd ivhanded it to that man Loot Hobson. I wud so. Th' idee iv a herostandin' up befure thousan's iv men with fam'lies an' bein' assaultedbe ondacint females. It med me blush down to th' soles iv me feet. Ifthey let this thing go on, be hivins, why do they stop th'hootchy-kootchy?"
"Ividinces iv affection is always odjious to an Irishman," said Mr.Dooley, "an' to all reel affectionate people. But me frind Hobson'snot to blame. 'Tis th' way th' good Lord has iv makin' us cow'rdscontinted with our lot that he niver med a brave man yet that wasn'thalf a fool. I've more sinse an' wisdom in th' back iv me thumb thinall th' heroes in th' wurruld. That's why I ain't a hero. If Hobsonhad intilligence, he'd be wurrukin' in th' post-office; an', if annyol' hin thried to kiss him, he'd call f'r th' polis. Bein' young an'foolish, whin me frind Sampson says, 'Is there anny man here that 'lltake this ol' coal barge in beyant an' sink it, an' save us th'throuble iv dhrownin' on our way home?' Loot Hobson says, says he:'Here I am, Cap,' says he. 'I'll take it in,' he says, 'an' seal upth' hated Castiles,' he says, 'so that they can niver get out,' hesays. 'But,' he says, 'I'll lave a hole f'r thim to get out whin theywant to get out,' he says. An' he tuk some other la-ads,--I f'rgettheir names,--they wasn't heroes, annyhow, but was wurrukin' be th'day; an' he wint in in his undherclothes, so's not to spoil his suit,an' th' Castiles hurled death an' desthruction on him. An' it nivertouched him no more thin it did anny wan else; an' thin they riscuedhim fr'm himsilf, an' locked him up in th' polis station an' fed himth' best they knew how. An' he wint on a lecther tour, an' here he is.Be hivins, I think he's more iv a hero now thin iver he was. I'd standup befure a cross-eyed Spanish gunner an' take his shootin' without amask mesilf; but I'd shy hard if anny ol' heifer come up, an' thriedto kiss me.
"On th' flure iv th' 'Merrimac,' in his light undherclothes, LootHobson was a sthrong, foolish man. On th' stage iv th' Audjitooroom,bein' caressed be women that 'd kiss th' Indyun in front iv a see-garsthore, if he didn't carry a tommyhawk, he's still foolish, but notsthrong. 'Tis so with all heroes. Napolyeon Bonyparte, th' Impror ivth' Fr-rinch, had manny carryin's on, I've heerd tell; an' ivry manknows that, whin Jawn Sullivan wasn't in th' r-ring, he was noincyclopedja f'r intelligence. No wan thried to kiss him, though. Theyknew betther.
"An' Hobson 'll larn. He's young yet, th' Loot is; an' he's goin' outto th' Ph'lippeens to wurruk f'r Cousin George. Cousin George is nohero, an' 'tisn't on record that anny wan iver thried to scandalizehis good name be kissin' him. I'd as lave, if I was a foolish woman,which, thanks be, I'm not, hug a whitehead torpedo as Cousin George.He'll be settin' up on th' roof iv his boat, smokin' a good see-gar,an' wondhrin' how manny iv th' babbies named afther him 'll be in th'pinitinchry be th' time he gets back home. Up comes me br-rave Hobson.'Who ar-re ye, disturbin' me quite?' says Cousin George. 'I'
m a hero,'says th' Loot. 'Ar-re ye, faith?' says Cousin George. 'Well,' he says,'I can't do annything f'r ye in that line,' he says. 'All th' herojobs on this boat,' he says, 'is compitintly filled,' he says, 'bemesilf,' he says. 'I like to see th' wurruk well done,' he says, 'so,'he says, 'I don't thrust it to anny wan,' he says. 'With th' aid iv asmall boy, who can shovel more love letthers an' pothry overboard thinanny wan I iver see,' he says, 'I'm able to clane up me hero businessbefore noon ivry day,' he says. 'What's ye'er name?' he says.'Hobson,' says th' loot. 'Niver heerd iv ye, says Cousin George.'Where 'd ye wurruk last?' 'Why,' says th' Loot, 'I'm th' man that sunkth' ship,' he says; 'an' I've been kissed be hundherds iv women athome,' he says. 'Is that so?' says Cousin George. 'Well, I don'tb'lieve in sinkin' me own ship,' he says. 'Whin I'm lookin' f'r adivarsion iv that kind, I sink somebody else's,' he says. ''Tischeaper. As f'r th' other thing,' he says, 'th' less ye say aboutthat, th' betther,' he says. 'If some iv these beauchious Ph'lippeenbelles ar-round here hears,' he says, 'that ye're in that line, theymay call on ye to give ye a chaste salute,' he says, 'an',' he says,'f'rget,' he says, 'to take th' see-gars out iv their mouths,' hesays. 'Ye desthroyed a lot iv coal, ye tell me,' he says. 'Do ye,' hesays, 'go downstairs now, an' shovel up a ton or two iv it,' he says.'Afther which,' he says, 'ye can roll a kag iv beer into me bedroom,'he says; 'f'r 'tis dhry wurruk settin' up here watchin' ixpansionixpand,' he says.
"That's what Cousin George 'll say to th' Loot. An', whin th' Lootcomes back, he won't be a hero anny more; an', if anny woman thries tokiss him, he'll climb a three. Cousin George 'll make a man iv him.'Tis kicks, not kisses, that makes men iv heroes."
"Well, mebbe ye're r-right," said Mr. Hennessy. "He's nawthin' but akid, annyhow,--no oldher thin me oldest boy; an' I know what a foolhe'd be if anny wan ast him to be more iv a fool thin he is. Hobson'll be famous, no matther what foolish things he does."
"I dinnaw," said Mr. Dooley. "It was headed f'r him; but I'm afraid,as th' bull-yard players 'd say, fame's been kissed off."
THE DECLINE OF NATIONAL FEELING.
"What ar-re ye goin' to do Patrick's Day?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Patrick's Day?" said Mr. Dooley. "Patrick's Day? It seems to me I'veheard th' name befure. Oh, ye mane th' day th' low Irish that hasn'tanny votes cillybrates th' birth iv their naytional saint, who was aFr-rinchman."
"Ye know what I mane," said Mr. Hennessy, with rising wrath. "Don't yeget gay with me now."
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I may cillybrate it an' I may not. I'mthinkin' iv savin' me enthusyasm f'r th' queen's birthday, whiniver itis that that blessid holiday comes ar-round. Ye see, Hinnissy,Patrick's Day is out iv fashion now. A few years ago ye'd see thePrisident iv th' United States marchin' down Pinnsylvanya Avnoo, withthe green scarf iv th' Ancient Ordher on his shoulders an' a shamrockin his hat. Now what is Mack doin'? He's settin' in his parlor,writin' letthers to th' queen, be hivins, askin' afther her health. Hewas fr'm th' north iv Ireland two years ago, an' not so far northayether,--just far enough north f'r to be on good terms with Derry an'not far enough to be bad frinds with Limerick. He was raised onbutthermilk an' haggis, an' he dhrank his Irish nate with a dash ivorange bitthers in it. He's been movin' steadily north since; an', ifhe keeps on movin', he'll go r-round th' globe, an' bring up somewherein th' south iv England.
"An' Hinnery Cabin Lodge! I used to think that Hinnery would niver diecontint till he'd took th' Prince iv Wales be th' hair iv th'head,--an' 'tis little th' poor man's got,--an' dhrag him fr'm th'tower iv London to Kilmainham Jail, an' hand him over to th' tindhermercies, as Hogan says, iv Michael Davitt. Thim was th' days whin ye'dhear Hinnery in th' Sinit, spreadin' fear to th' hear-rts iv th'British aristocracy. 'Gintlemen,' he says, 'an' fellow-sinitors, th'time has come,' he says, 'whin th' eagle burrud iv freedom,' he says,'lavin',' he says, 'its home in th' mountains,' he says, 'an'circlin',' he says, 'undher th' jool 'd hivin,' he says, 'fr'm where,'he says, 'th' Passamaquoddy rushes into Lake Erastus K. Ropes,' hesays, 'to where rowls th' Oregon,' he says, 'fr'm th' lakes to th'gulf,' he says, 'fr'm th' Atlantic to th' Passific where rowls th'Oregon,' he says, 'an' fr'm ivry American who has th' blood iv hisancesthors' hathred iv tyranny in his veins,--your ancesthors an'mine, Mr. McAdoo,' he says,--'there goes up a mute prayer that th'nation as wan man, fr'm Bangor, Maine, to where rowls th' Oregon,that,' he says, 'is full iv salmon, which is later put up in cans, buthas th' same inthrest as all others in this question,' he says,'that,' he says, 'th' descindants iv Wash'nton an',' he says, 'ivImmitt,' he says, 'will jine hands f'r to protect,' he says, 'th'codfisheries again th' Vandal hand iv th' British line,' he says. 'Itherefore move ye, Mr. Prisident, that it is th' sinse iv this house,if anny such there be, that Tay Pay O'Connor is a greater man thinLord Salisberry,' he says.
"Now where's Hinnery? Where's th' bould Fenian? Where's th'moonlighter? Where's th' pikeman? Faith, he's changed his chune, an''tis 'Sthrangers wanst, but brothers now,' with him, an' 'Hands acrostth' sea an' into some wan's pocket,' an' 'Take up th' white man'sburden an' hand it to th' coons,' an' 'An open back dure an' a closedfr-ront dure.' 'Tis th' same with all iv thim. They'se me frind JoeChoate. Where 'd Joe spind th' night? Whisper, in Windsor Castle, noless, in a night-shirt iv th' Prince iv Wales; an' the nex' mornin',whin he come downstairs, they tol' him th' rile fam'ly was laterisers, but, if he wanted a good time, he cud go down an' look at th'cimitry! An' he done it. He went out an' wept over th' grave iv th'Father iv his Counthry. Ye'er man, George Washington, Hinnissy, wason'y th' stepfather.
"Well, glory be, th' times has changed since me frind Jawn Finertycome out iv th' House iv Riprisintatives; an', whin some wan ast himwhat was goin' on, he says, 'Oh, nawthin' at all but some damnedAmerican business.' Thim was th' days! An' what's changed thim? Well,I might be sayin' 'twas like wanst whin me cousin Mike an' a Kerry manbe th' name iv Sullivan had a gredge again a man named Doherty, thatwas half a Kerry man himsilf. They kept Doherty indures f 'r a day,but by an' by me cousin Mike lost inthrest in th' gredge, havin'others that was newer, an' he wint over to th' ya-ards; an' Dohertyan' Sullivan begin to bow to each other, an' afther a while they foundthat they were blood relations, an', what's closer thin that whinye're away fr'm home, townies. An' they hooked arms, an' sthrutted upan' down th' road, as proud as imprors. An' says they, 'We can lickannything in th' ward,' says they. But, before they injyed th''lieance f'r long, around th' corner comes me cousin Mike, with ahalf-brick in each hand; an' me brave Sullivan gives Doherty th' Kerryman's thrip, an' says he, 'Mike,' he says, 'I was on'y pullin' him onto give ye a crack at him,' he says. An' they desthroyed Doherty, sothat he was in bed f'r a week."
"Well, I wondher will Mike come back?" said Mr. Hennessy.
"Me cousin Mike," said Mr. Dooley, "niver missed an iliction. An' whinth' campaign opened, there wasn't a man on th' ticket, fr'm mayor toconstable, that didn't claim him f'r a first cousin. There aredifferent kinds iv hands from acrost th' sea. There are pothry handsan' rollin'-mill hands; but on'y wan kind has votes."
"CYRANO DE BERGERAC."
"Ivry winter Hogan's la-ad gives a show with what he calls th' SixthWa-ard Shakspere an' Willum J. Bryan Club, an' I was sayjooced intogoin' to wan las' night at Finucane's hall," said Mr. Dooley.
"Th' girls was goin'," said Mr. Hennessy; "but th' sthovepipe comedown on th' pianny, an' we had a minsthrel show iv our own. What wasit about, I dinnaw?"
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I ain't much on th' theayter. I niverwint to wan that I didn't have to stand where I cud see a man in blueoveralls scratchin' his leg just beyant where the heeroyne was prayin'on th' palace stairs, an' I don't know much about it; but it seemed tome, an' it seemed to Hartigan, th' plumber, that was with me, that'twas a good play if they'd been a fire in th' first act. They was alot iv people there; an', if it cud 've been arranged f'r to haveinjine company fifteen with Cap'n Duffy at th' head iv thim come inthrough a window an' carry off th' crowd, 'twud've med a hit with me.
"'Tis not like anny play I iver see
before or since. In 'Tur-rble Tom;or, th' Boys iv Ninety-eight,' that I see wanst, th' man that's th'main guy iv th' thing he waits till ivry wan has said what he has tosay, an' he has a clean field; an' thin he jumps in as th' man thatplays th' big dhrum gives it an upper cut. But with this here play iv'Cyrus O'Bergerac' 'tis far diff'rent. Th' curtain goes up an' showsBill Delaney an' little Tim Scanlan an' Mark Toolan an' Packy Dugan,that wurruks in the shoe store, an' Molly Donahue an' th' Caseysisters, thim that scandalized th' parish be doin' a skirt dance atth' fair, all walkin' up an' down talkin'. 'Tin to wan on Sharkey,'says Toolan. 'I go ye, an' make it a hundherd,' says Tim Scanlan. 'Wasye at th' cake walk?' 'Who stole me hat?' 'Cudden't ye die waltzin'?''They say Murphy has gone on th' foorce.' 'Hivins, there goes th' las'car!' 'Pass th' butther, please: I'm far fr'm home.' All iv thimtalkin' away at once, niver carin' f'r no wan, whin all at wanst upstheps me bold Hogan with a nose on him,--glory be, such a nose! Iniver see th' like on a man or an illyphant.
Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen Page 11