"Well, I've been thinkin' it over, an' I've argied it out that life'dnot be worth livin' if we didn't keep our inimies. I can have all th'frinds I need. Anny man can that keeps a liquor sthore. But a ralesthrong inimy, specially a May-o inimy,--wan that hates ye ha-ard, an'that ye'd take th' coat off yer back to do a bad tur-rn to,--is a luxurythat I can't go without in me ol' days. Dorsey is th' right sort. Ican't go by his house without bein' in fear he'll spill th' chimbly downon me head; an', whin he passes my place, he walks in th' middle iv th'sthreet, an' crosses himsilf. I'll swear off on annything but Dorsey.He's a good man, an' I despise him. Here's long life to him."
ON GOLD-SEEKING.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Hennessy, "that Alaska's th' gr-reat place. Ithought 'twas nawthin' but an iceberg with a few seals roostin' on it,an' wan or two hundherd Ohio politicians that can't be killed on accountiv th' threaty iv Pawrs. But here they tell me 'tis fairly smothered ingoold. A man stubs his toe on th' ground, an lifts th' top off iv agoold mine. Ye go to bed at night, an' wake up with goold fillin' inye'er teeth."
"Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "Clancy's son was in here this mornin', an' hesays a frind iv his wint to sleep out in th' open wan night, an' whin hegot up his pants assayed four ounces iv goold to th' pound, an' hiswhiskers panned out as much as thirty dollars net."
"If I was a young man an' not tied down here," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'dgo there: I wud so."
"I wud not," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I was a young man in th' ol'counthry, we heerd th' same story about all America. We used to set beth' tur-rf fire o' nights, kickin' our bare legs on th' flure an'wishin' we was in New York, where all ye had to do was to hold ye'er hatan' th' goold guineas'd dhrop into it. An' whin I got to be a man, Icome over here with a ham and a bag iv oatmeal, as sure that I'd returnin a year with money enough to dhrive me own ca-ar as I was that me namewas Martin Dooley. An' that was a cinch.
"But, faith, whin I'd been here a week, I seen that there was nawthin'but mud undher th' pavement,--I larned that be means iv a pick-axe attin shillin's th' day,--an' that, though there was plenty iv goold, thimthat had it were froze to it; an' I come west, still lookin' f'r mines.Th' on'y mine I sthruck at Pittsburgh was a hole f'r sewer pipe. I madeit. Siven shillin's th' day. Smaller thin New York, but th' livin' wascheaper, with Mon'gahela rye at five a throw, put ye'er hand around th'glass.
"I was still dreamin' goold, an' I wint down to Saint Looey. Th'nearest I come to a fortune there was findin' a quarther on th' sthreetas I leaned over th' dashboord iv a car to whack th' off mule. Whin Igot to Chicago, I looked around f'r the goold mine. They was Injuns herethin. But they wasn't anny mines I cud see. They was mud to be shovelledan' dhrays to be dhruv an' beats to be walked. I choose th' dhray; f'r Iwas niver cut out f'r a copper, an' I'd had me fill iv excavatin'. An' Idhruv th' dhray till I wint into business.
"Me experyence with goold minin' is it's always in th' nex' county. If Iwas to go to Alaska, they'd tell me iv th' finds in Seeberya. So I thinkI'll stay here. I'm a silver man, annyhow; an' I'm contint if I can seegoold wanst a year, whin some prominent citizen smiles over hisnewspaper. I'm thinkin' that ivry man has a goold mine undher his owndure-step or in his neighbor's pocket at th' farthest."
"Well, annyhow," said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd like to kick up th' sod, an'find a ton iv goold undher me fut."
"What wud ye do if ye found it?" demanded Mr. Dooley.
"I--I dinnaw," said Mr. Hennessy, whose dreaming had not gone this far.Then, recovering himself, he exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "I'd throwup me job an'--an' live like a prince."
"I tell ye what ye'd do," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye'd come back here an'sthrut up an' down th' sthreet with ye'er thumbs in ye'er armpits; an'ye'd dhrink too much, an' ride in sthreet ca-ars. Thin ye'd buy foldin'beds an' piannies, an' start a reel estate office. Ye'd be fooled a gooddeal an' lose a lot iv ye'er money, an' thin ye'd tighten up. Ye'd be ina cold fear night an' day that ye'd lose ye'er fortune. Ye'd wake up inth' middle iv th' night, dhreamin' that ye was back at th' gas-housewith ye'er money gone. Ye'd be prisidint iv a charitable society. Ye'dhave to wear ye'er shoes in th' house, an' ye'er wife'd have ye aroundto rayciptions an dances.' Ye'd move to Mitchigan Avnoo, an' ye'd hire acoachman that'd laugh at ye. Ye'er boys'd be joods an' ashamed iv ye,an' ye'd support ye'er daughters' husbands. Ye'd rackrint ye'er tinantsan' lie about ye'er taxes. Ye'd go back to Ireland on a visit, an' puton airs with ye'er cousin Mike. Ye'd be a mane, close-fisted,onscrupulous ol' curmudgeon; an', whin ye'd die, it'd take half ye'erfortune f'r rayqueems to put ye r-right. I don't want ye iver to speakto me whin ye get rich, Hinnissy."
"I won't," said Mr. Hennessy.
ON BOOKS.
"Ivry time I pick up me mornin' paper to see how th' scrap come out atBatthry D," said Mr. Dooley, "th' first thing I r-run acrost issomethin' like this: 'A hot an' handsome gift f'r Christmas is Lucy AnnPatzooni's "Jims iv Englewood Thought"'; or 'If ye wud delight th'hear-rt iv yer child, ye'll give him Dr. Harper's monymental histhry ivth' Jewish thribes fr'm Moses to Dhry-fuss' or 'Ivrybody is r-readin'Roodyard Kiplin's "Busy Pomes f'r Busy People."' Th' idee iv givin'books f'r Christmas prisints whin th' stores are full iv tin hor-rns an'dhrums an' boxin' gloves an choo-choo ca-ars! People must be crazy."
"They ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy. "My house is so full iv books yecudden't tur-rn around without stumblin' over thim. I found th' life ivan ex-convict, the 'Prisoner iv Zinders,' in me high hat th' other day,where Mary Ann was hidin' it fr'm her sister. Instead iv th' chidherfightin' an' skylarkin' in th' evenin', they're settin' around th' tablewith their noses glued into books. Th' ol' woman doesn't read, but shepicks up what's goin' on. 'Tis 'Honoria, did Lor-rd What's-his-namemarry th' fair Aminta?' or 'But that Lady Jane was a case.' An' so itgoes. There's no injymint in th' house, an' they're usin' me cravats f'rbookmarks."
"'Tis all wrong," said Mr. Dooley. "They're on'y three books in th'wurruld worth readin',--Shakespeare, th' Bible, an' Mike Ahearn'shisthry iv Chicago. I have Shakespeare on thrust, Father Kelly r-readsth' Bible f'r me, an' I didn't buy Mike Ahearn's histhry because I seenmore thin he cud put into it. Books is th' roon iv people, speciallynovels. Whin I was a young man, th' parish priest used to preach againthim; but nobody knowed what he meant. At that time Willum Joyce had th'on'y library in th' Sixth Wa-ard. Th' mayor give him th' bound volumesiv th' council proceedings, an' they was a very handsome set. Th' on'ybooks I seen was th' kind that has th' life iv th' pope on th' outsidean' a set iv dominos on th' inside. They're good readin'. Nawthin' cudbe better f'r a man whin he's tired out afther a day's wurruk thin to goto his library an' take down wan iv th' gr-reat wurruks iv lithratchooran' play a game iv dominos f'r th' dhrinks out iv it. Anny other kind ivr-readin', barrin' th' newspapers, which will niver hurt anny onedycatedman, is desthructive iv morals.
"I had it out with Father Kelly th' other day in this very matther. Hewas comin' up fr'm down town with an ar-rmful iv books f'r prizes at th'school. 'Have ye th' Key to Heaven there?' says I. 'No,' says he, 'th'childher that'll get these books don't need no key. They go in under th'turnstile,' he says, laughin'. 'Have ye th' Lives iv th' Saints, or theChristyan Dooty, or th' Story iv Saint Rose iv Lima?' I says. 'I havenot,' says he. 'I have some good story books. I'd rather th' kids'dr-read Char-les Dickens than anny iv th' tales iv thim holy men thatwas burned in ile or et up be lines,' he says. 'It does no good in thesedegin'rate days to prove that th' best that can come to a man f'rbehavin' himsilf is to be cooked in a pot or di-gisted be a line,' hesays. 'Ye're wrong,' says I. 'Beggin' ye'er riv'rince's pardon, ye'rewrong,' I says. 'What ar-re ye goin' to do with thim young wans? Ye'regoin' to make thim near-sighted an' round-shouldered,' I says. 'Ye'regoin' to have thim believe that, if they behave thimsilves an' lead avirchous life, they'll marry rich an' go to Congress. They'll wake upsome day, an' find out that gettin' money an behavin' ye'ersilf don'talways go together,' I says. 'Some iv th' wickedest men in th' wurruldhave marrid rich,' I says. 'Ye're goin' to teach thim that a man doesn'tha
ve to use an ax to get along in th' wurruld. Ye're goin' to teach thimthat a la-ad with a curlin' black mustache an' smokin' a cigareet isalways a villyan, whin he's more often a barber with a lar-rge family.Life, says ye! There's no life in a book. If ye want to show thim whatlife is, tell thim to look around thim. There's more life on a Saturdahnight in th' Ar-rchy Road thin in all th' books fr'm Shakespeare to th'rayport iv th' drainage thrustees. No man,' I says, 'iver wrote a bookif he had annything to write about, except Shakespeare an' Mike Ahearn.Shakespeare was all r-right. I niver read anny of his pieces, but theysound good; an' I know Mike Ahearn is all r-right.'"
"What did he say?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"He took it all r-right," said Mr. Dooley. "He kind o' grinned, an' sayshe: 'What ye say is thrue, an' it's not thrue,' he says. 'Books is f'rthim that can't injye thimsilves in anny other way,' he says. 'If ye'rein good health, an' ar-re atin' three squares a day, an' not ayether sador very much in love with ye'er lot, but just lookin' on an' not carin'a'--he said rush--'not carin' a rush, ye don't need books,' he says.'But if ye're a down-spirited thing an' want to get away an' can't, yeneed books. 'Tis betther to be comfortable at home thin to go to th'circus, an' 'tis betther to go to th' circus thin to r-read anny book.But 'tis betther to r-read a book thin to want to go to th' circus an'not be able to,' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'whin I was growin' up, halfth' congregation heard mass with their prayer books tur-rned upsidedown, an' they were as pious as anny. Th' Apostles' Creed niver was ascon-vincin' to me afther I larned to r-read it as it was whin I cudden'tread it, but believed it.'"
ON REFORM CANDIDATES.
"That frind iv ye'ers, Dugan, is an intilligent man," said Mr. Dooley."All he needs is an index an' a few illusthrations to make him abicyclopedja iv useless information."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, judiciously, "he ain't no Soc-rates an' heain't no answers-to-questions colum; but he's a good man that goes tohis jooty, an' as handy with a pick as some people are with a cocktailspoon. What's he been doin' again ye?"
"Nawthin'," said Mr. Dooley, "but he was in here Choosday. 'Did yevote?' says I. 'I did,' says he. 'Which wan iv th' distinguished bunkosteerers got ye'er invalu'ble suffrage?' says I. 'I didn't have nonewith me,' says he, 'but I voted f'r Charter Haitch,' says he. 'I've beenwith him in six ilictions,' says he, 'an' he's a good man,' he says.'D'ye think ye're votin' f'r th' best?' says I. 'Why, man alive,' Isays, 'Charter Haitch was assassinated three years ago,' I says. 'Washe?' says Dugan. 'Ah, well, he's lived that down be this time. He was agood man,' he says.
"Ye see, that's what thim rayform lads wint up again. If I likedrayformers, Hinnissy, an' wanted f'r to see thim win out wanst in theirlifetime, I'd buy thim each a suit iv chilled steel, ar-rm thim withraypeatin' rifles, an' take thim east iv State Sthreet an' south ivJackson Bullyvard. At prisint th' opinion that pre-vails in th' ranks ivth' gloryous ar-rmy iv rayform is that there ain't annything worthseein' in this lar-rge an' commodyous desert but th' pest-house an' thebridewell. Me frind Willum J. O'Brien is no rayformer. But Willum J.undherstands that there's a few hundherds iv thousands iv people livin'in a part iv th' town that looks like nawthin' but smoke fr'm th' roofiv th' Onion League Club that have on'y two pleasures in life, to wurrukan' to vote, both iv which they do at th' uniform rate iv wan dollaran' a half a day. That's why Willum J. O'Brien is now a sinitor an' willbe an aldherman afther next Thursdah, an' it's why other people aresinding him flowers.
"This is th' way a rayform candydate is ilicted. Th' boys down town hasheerd that things ain't goin' r-right somehow. Franchises is bein'handed out to none iv thim; an' wanst in a while a mimber iv th' club,comin' home a little late an' thryin' to ricon-cile a pair iv r-roundfeet with an embroidered sidewalk, meets a sthrong ar-rm boy that pushesin his face an' takes away all his marbles. It begins to be talked thatth' time has come f'r good citizens f'r to brace up an' do somethin',an' they agree to nomynate a candydate f'r aldherman. 'Who'll we putup?' says they. 'How's Clarence Doolittle?' says wan. 'He's laid up witha coupon thumb, an' can't r-run.' 'An' how about Arthur Doheny?' 'Iswore an oath whin I came out iv colledge I'd niver vote f'r a man thatwore a made tie.' 'Well, thin, let's thry Willie Boye.' 'Good,' saysth' comity. 'He's jus' th' man f'r our money.' An' Willie Boye, afterthinkin' it over, goes to his tailor an' ordhers three dozen pairs ivpants, an' decides f'r to be th' sthandard-bearer iv th' people. Musin'over his fried eyesthers an' asparagus an' his champagne, he bets a polopony again a box of golf-balls he'll be ilicted unanimous; an' all th'good citizens make a vow f'r to set th' alar-rm clock f'r half-pastthree on th' afthernoon iv iliction day, so's to be up in time to votef'r th' riprisintitive iv pure gover'mint.
"'Tis some time befure they comprehind that there ar-re other candydatesin th' field. But th' other candydates know it. Th' sthrongest ivthim--his name is Flannigan, an' he's a re-tail dealer in wines an'liquors, an' he lives over his establishment. Flannigan was nomynatedenthusyastically at a prim'ry held in his bar-rn; an' before Willie Boyehad picked out pants that wud match th' color iv th' Austhreelyan ballotthis here Flannigan had put a man on th' day watch, tol' him to speakgently to anny ray-gistered voter that wint to sleep behind th' sthove,an' was out that night visitin' his frinds. Who was it judged th' cakewalk? Flannigan. Who was it carrid th' pall? Flannigan. Who was it sthudup at th' christening? Flannigan. Whose ca-ards did th' grievin' widow,th' blushin' bridegroom, or th' happy father find in th' hack?Flannigan's. Ye bet ye'er life. Ye see Flannigan wasn't out f'r th' goodiv th' community. Flannigan was out f'r Flannigan an' th' stuff.
"Well, iliction day come around; an' all th' imminent frinds iv goodgover'mint had special wires sthrung into th' club, an' waited f'r th'returns. Th' first precin't showed 28 votes f'r Willie Boye to 14 f'rFlannigan. 'That's my precin't,' says Willie. 'I wondher who voted thimfourteen?' 'Coachmen,' says Clarence Doolittle. 'There are thirty-fiveprecin'ts in this ward,' says th' leader iv th' rayform ilimint. 'Atthis rate, I'm sure iv 440 meejority. Gossoon,' he says, 'put a keg ivsherry wine on th' ice,' he says. 'Well,' he says, 'at last th'community is relieved fr'm misrule,' he says. 'To-morrah I will start inarrangin' amindmints to th' tariff schedool an' th' ar-bitrationthreety,' he says. 'We must be up an' doin',' he says. 'Hol' on there,'says wan iv th' comity. 'There must be some mistake in this fr'm th'sixth precin't,' he says. 'Where's the sixth precin't?' says Clarence.'Over be th' dumps,' says Willie. 'I told me futman to see to that. Helives at th' corner iv Desplaines an Bloo Island Av'noo on Goose'sIsland,' he says. 'What does it show?' 'Flannigan, three hundherd an'eighty-five; Hansen, forty-eight; Schwartz, twinty; O'Malley, sivinteen;Casey, ten; O'Day, eight; Larsen, five; O'Rourke, three; Mulcahy, two;Schmitt, two; Moloney, two; Riordon, two; O'Malley, two; Willie Boye,wan.' 'Gintlemin,' says Willie Boye, arisin' with a stern look in hiseyes, 'th' rascal has bethrayed me. Waither, take th' sherry wine offth' ice. They'se no hope f'r sound financial legislation this year. I'mgoin' home.'
"An', as he goes down th' sthreet, he hears a band play an' sees aprocission headed be a calceem light; an', in a carredge, with his plughat in his hand an' his di'mond makin' th' calceem look like a piece ivpunk in a smoke-house, is Flannigan, payin' his first visit this side ivth' thracks."
ON PATERNAL DUTY.
"I'm havin' a time iv it with Terence," said Mr. Hennessy, despondently.
"What's th' la-ad been doin'?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"It ain't so much what he's doin'," Mr. Hennessy explained, "as what heain't doin.' He ain't stayin' home iv nights, an' he ain't wurrukin';but he does be out on th' corner with th' Cromleys an' th' rest, dancin'jig steps an' whistlin' th' 'Rogue's March' whin a polisman goes by.Sure, I can do nawthin' with him, f'r he's that kind an' good at homethat he'd melt th' heart iv a man iv stone. But it's gray me life is,thinkin' iv what's to become iv him whin he gets to be a man grown.Ye're lucky, Martin, that ye're childless."
"Sure, I cudden't be anny other way, an' hold me good name," said Mr.Dooley. "An', whin I look about me sometimes, it's glad I am. They
'sebeen times, perhaps--But lave that go. Is there somethin' in th' air oris it in oursilves that makes th' childher nowadays turn out to curseth' lives iv thim that give thim life? It may be in th' thrainin'. WhinI was a kid, they were brought up to love, honor, an' respect th' ol'folks, that their days might be long in th' land. Amen. If they didn't,th' best they cud do was to say nawthin' about it. 'Twas th' back iv th'hand an' th' sowl iv th' fut to th' la-ad that put his spoon first intoth' stirabout. Between th' whalin's we got at school h'isted on th' backiv th' big boy that was bein' thrainned to be a Christyan brother an'th' thumpin's we got at home, we was kept sore an' sthraight fr'm wanyear's end to another. 'Twas no mild doses they give us, ayether. I mindwanst, whin I was near as big as I am now, I handed back some onkindre-emarks to me poor father that's dead. May he rest in peace, perDominum! He must iv been a small man, an' bent with wurruk an' worry.But did he take me jaw? He did not. He hauled off, an' give me a r-righthook where th' bad wurruds come fr'm. I put up a pretty fight, f'r meyears; but th' man doesn't live that can lick his own father. He rowledme acrost an oat-field, an' I give up. I didn't love him anny too wellf'r that lickin', but I respected him; an', if he'd come into this placeto-night,--an' he'd be near a hundherd: he was born in th' year '98, an'pikes was hid in his cradle,--if he come in here to-night an' pulled meear, I'd fear to go again him. I wud so.
Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War Page 6