Observations By Mr. Dooley by Finley Peter Dunne (classic novels to read .txt) 📗

f'r an assault an' batthry." An' with a gesture iv th' thrue orator, he seized him be th' throat. Th' debate become gin'ral. Sinitor Spooner iv Wisconsin led f'r th' raypublicans an' Sinitor Morgan iv Alabama counthered f'r th' dimmycrats. Sinitor Platt made a very happy retort with a chair, to which Sinitor Gorman replied with a sintintious cuspidor. Owin' to th' excitin' nature iv th' debate on'y a few iv th' best remarks reached th' gall'ry, wan iv thim, a piece iv hard coal, layin' out a riprisintative iv th' Sultan iv Zulu. At th' hospital he declared himsilf much imprissed. Durin' th' proceedin's Biv'ridge acted in th' mos' gintlemanly an' even ladylike manner. His face wore a smile iv complete sang fraud or pain, an' he niver took his cigar fr'm his mouth wanst. Indeed, it was siv'ral hours befure th' Havana cud be exthracted be th' surgeon who was called in. While th' debate was in progress, a pitcher iv Thomas Jefferson was obsarved to give a slight moan an' turn its face to th' wall. Th' Sinit thin took up routine business an' th' janitor swept up th' hair an' neckties. Sinitor Biv'ridge was not much hurt. Th' tinder outside iv th' wind-pipe was somewhat bruised, but th' wurrukin' inside is still intact.'

"'Twas a pretty scene, Hinnissy, an' wan that makes me proud iv Bailey f'r his courage in pouncin' on his collague; iv Biv'ridge f'r th' manly self resthraint an' rayspict f'r th' dignity iv th' Sinit that par'lyzes a man's hands whin his wind is cut off; iv our noble counthry that projooces such sturdy sons, iv th' Sinit that brings thim together in a clinch an' iv mesilf because I wasn't there. I'm with Bailey. Bailey f'r prisidint! Bailey or bust or choke!

"I'm not sure that if I was in th' same place I'd do th' same thing. But I'm no statesman. Who am I to say that what wudden't be manners in a bar-room is not all right in th' Sinit? Diff'rent men has diff'rent raisons f'r fightin'. Ivry man will fight. Ye can bet on that. A brave man will fight because he is brave an' a cow'rd because he is a cow'rd. All men will fight an' all men will run. Some will fight befure they'll run, but they'll run; some men will run befure they'll fight, but they'll fight. They'se a pretty good fight an' a pretty fast run in ivry man I know. Th' debate in th' Sinit don't prove annything about th' merits iv ayether pug. In some other circumstances, Biv'ridge might have hunted Bailey up a three. It happened to be Bailey's day.

"As I get on in years, I believe less in fightin'. 'Tis a turr'ble thing to see th' aged an' infirm swingin' away at each other. 'Tis so unscientific. I hate to think iv a man with one leg in th' grave usin' th' other to thrip th' free foot iv a fellow aged. I'm glad Bailey an' Biv'ridge ar-re young men. What a scandal if Sinitor Cullom an' Sinitor Morgan shud mix it up! Wan iv th' things a man larns as he grows old is to dislike fightin'. He dislikes annything he can't do as well as he cud. I'm that way. But I wasn't always so. No, sir. They was a time whin I'd fight at th' dhrop iv a hat, f'r money or marbles or pool checks, f'r th' good name iv women or th' revarse, f'r political principles or unprincipled politics, f'r th' gate receipts, f'r me relligion, f'r th' look iv th' thing, because th' barkeeper heard what he said, because he whispered to her, f'r th' sacred theery that th' buildin's is higher in Chicago thin in New York, f'r th' fun iv th' thing, an' f'r th' Fight. That last's th' best iv all. A man that won't fight f'r th' fight itsilf is no rale fighter. I don't know what wud make me fight nowadays. I know lots iv things that wud make me want to fight, but I've larned to repress me desires. Me heart is full iv song but I've lost me voice. In me dhreams I'm always punchin' somebody's head. I shall niver f'rget th' night whin I put Jeffries out iv th' business with wan well-directed punch an' me in me bare feet, too. I can niver f'rget it f'r I fell out iv bed and bumped me head again' th' rocker iv a chair. But in me wakin' hours, I'm a man iv vi'lent impulses an' peaceful raysults. In a fight I'd be like a deef-mute in a debatin' s'ciety. But as I said, Hinnissy, they was a day whin th' lightest wurrud was an insult. Nowadays I say to mesilf: 'Considher th' soorce. How can such a low blaggard as that insult me? Jus' because some dhrunken wretch chooses to apply a foul epitaph to me, am I goin' to dignify him be knockin' him down in th' public sthreet an' p'raps not, an' gettin' th' head beat off me? No, sir. I will raymimber me position in th' community. I will pass on with a smile iv bitter contempt. Maybe I'd betther run a little.'

"Th' las' throuble I got into I begun to think iv th' new suit I had on an' I knew me warryor days was over. Whin a man raymimbers his clothes or his appearance in battle, 'tis high time f'r him to retire fr'm th' ring. Th' ca'm, almost deathlike smile that rests upon a man's face whin another man is cloutin' him about is on'y th' outward exprission iv something about two numbers up th' chest fr'm sea sickness. That's all I've got to say about fightin'. Ye can't lay down anny rules about it."

"Ye niver will go to th' Sinit with thim views," said Mr. Hennessy.

"I don't want to," said Mr. Dooley. "Some day th' Sinit will be pulled."

Home Life of Geniuses

"A woman ought to be careful who she marries," said Mr. Dooley.

"So ought a man," said Mr. Hennessy, with feeling.

"It don't make so much diff'rence about him," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin a man's marrid, he's a marrid man. That's all ye can say about him. Iv coorse, he thinks marredge is goin' to change th' whole current iv his bein', as Hogan says. But it doesn't. Afther he's been hooked up f'r a few months, he finds he was marrid befure, even if he wasn't, which is often th' case, d'ye mind. Th' first bride iv his bosom was th' Day's Wurruk, an' it can't be put off. They'se no groun's f'r dissolvin' that marredge, Hinnissy. Ye can't say to th' Day's Wurruk: 'Here, take this bunch iv alimony an' go on th' stage.' It turns up at breakfast about th' fourth month afther th' weddin' an' creates a scandal. Th' unforchnit man thries to shoo it off but it fixes him with its eye an' hauls him away fr'm the bacon an' eggs, while the lady opposite weeps and wondhers what he can see in annything so old an' homely. It says, 'Come with me, aroon,' an' he goes. An' afther that he spinds most iv his time an' often a good deal iv his money with th' enchantress. I tell ye what, Hinnissy, th' Day's Wurruk has broke up more happy homes thin comic opry. If th' coorts wud allow it, manny a woman cud get a divorce on th' groun's that her husband cared more f'r his Day's Wurruk thin he did f'r her. 'Hinnissy varsus Hinnissy; corryspondint, th' Day's Wurruk.' They'd be ividince that th' defindant was seen ridin' in a cab with th' corryspondint, that he took it to a picnic, that he wint to th' theaytre with it, that he talked about it in his sleep, an' that, lost to all sinse iv shame, he even escoorted it home with him an' inthrajooced it to his varchoos wife an' innocint childher. So it don't make much diff'rence who a man marries. If he has a job, he's safe.

"But with a woman 'tis diff'rent. Th' man puts down on'y part iv th' bet. Whin he's had enough iv th' convarsation that in Union Park undher th' threes med him think he was talkin' with an intellechool joyntess, all he has to do is to put on his coat, grab up his dinner pail an' go down to th' shops, to be happy though marrid. But a woman, I tell ye, bets all she has. A man don't have to marry but a woman does. Ol' maids an' clargymen do th' most good in th' wurruld an' we love thim f'r th' good they do. But people, especially women, don't want to be loved that way. They want to be loved because people can't help lovin' thim no matther how bad they are. Th' story books that ye give ye'er daughter Honoria all tell her 'tis just as good not to be marrid. She reads about how kind Dorothy was to Lulu's childher an' she knows Dorothy was th' betther woman, but she wants to be Lulu. Her heart, an' a cold look in th' eye iv th' wurruld an' her Ma tell her to hurry up. Arly in life she looks f'r th' man iv her choice in th' tennis records; later she reads th' news fr'm th' militia encampmint; thin she studies th' socyal raygisther; further on she makes hersilf familyar with Bradsthreets' rayports, an' fin'lly she watches th' place where life presarvers are hangin'.

"Now, what kind iv a man ought a woman to marry? She oughtn't to marry a young man because she'll grow old quicker thin he will; she oughtn't to marry an old man because he'll be much older befure he's younger; she oughtn't to marry a poor man because he may become rich an' lose her; she oughtn't to marry a rich man because if he becomes poor, she can't lose him; she oughtn't to marry a man that knows more thin she does, because he'll niver fail to show it, an' she oughtn't to marry a man that knows less because he may niver catch up. But above all things she mustn't marry a janius. A flure-walker, perhaps; a janius niver.

"I tell ye this because I've been r-readin' a book Hogan give me, about th' divvle's own time a janius had with his fam'ly. A cap iv industhry may have throuble in his fam'ly till there isn't a whole piece iv chiny in th' cupboard, an' no wan will be the wiser f'r it but th' hired girl an' th' doctor that paints th' black eye. But ivrybody knows what happens in a janius' house. Th' janius always tells th' bartinder. Besides he has other janiuses callin' on him, an' 'tis th' business iv a janius to write about th' domestic throubles iv other janiuses so posterity'll know what a hard thing it is to be a janius. I've been readin' this book iv Hogan's an' as I tell ye, 'tis about th' misery a wretched woman inflicted on a pote's life.

"'Our hayro,' says th' author,' at this peeryod conthracted an unforchnit alliance that was destined to cast a deep gloom over his career. At th' age iv fifty, afther a life devoted to th' pursoot iv such gayety as janiuses have always found niciss'ry to solace their avenin's, he marrid a young an' beautiful girl some thirty-two years his junior. This wretched crather had no appreciation iv lithrachoor or lithry men. She was frivolous an' light-minded an' ividintly considhered that nawthin' was rally lithrachoor that cudden't be thranslated into groceries. Niver shall I f'rget th' expression iv despair on th' face iv this godlike man as he came into Casey's saloon wan starry July avenin' an' staggered into his familyar seat, holdin' in his hand a bit iv soiled paper which he tore into fragmints an' hurled into th' coal scuttle. On that crumpled parchmint findin' a sombre grave among th' disinterred relics iv an age long past, to wit, th' cariboniferious or coal age, was written th' iver-mim'rable pome: "Ode to Gin." Our frind had scribbled it hastily at th' dinner iv th' Betther-thin-Shakespere Club, an' had attimpted to read it to his wife through th' keyhole iv her bedroom dure an' met no response fr'm th' fillystein but a pitcher iv wather through