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

allies, th' Cubians, he writin' home to his wife that ye might as well thry to make a whistle out iv a pig's tail as a dacint man out iv a Cubian. Gin'ral Bragg will be bounced an' he ought to be. He don't belong in pollytics. His place is iditor iv a losin' newspaper.

"Gov'nor Taft has been in Rome showin' th' wurruld how succissful, sthraightforward, downright, outspoken, manly, frank, fourteen ounces to th' pound American business dalings can be again' th' worn-out di-plomacy iv th' papal coort. Whin last heerd fr'm this astoot an' able man, backed up be th' advice iv Elihoo Root iv York state, was makin' his way tow'rd Manila on foot, an' siv'ral mimbers iv th' colledge iv cardinals was heerd to regret that American statesmen were so thin they cudden't find anything to fit thim in his thrunk.

"Cholera is ragin' in th' Ph'lippeens vice Gin'ral Jake Smith, raymoved.

"Th' stock market is boomin' an' business has become so dull elsewhere that some iv th' best known outside operators ar-re obliged to increase th' depth iv th' goold coatin' on th' brick to nearly an inch.

"Th' capital iv th' nation has raymoved to Eyesther Bay, a city on th' north shore iv Long Island, with a popylation iv three millyion clams, an' a number iv mosquitos with pianola attachments an' steel rams. There day be day th' head iv th' nation thransacts th' nation's business as follows: four A.M., a plunge into th' salt, salt sea an' a swim iv twenty miles; five A.M., horse-back ride, th' prisidint insthructin' his two sons, aged two and four rayspictively, to jump th' first Methodist church without knockin' off th' shingles; six A.M., wrestles with a thrained grizzly bear; sivin A.M., breakfast; eight A.M., Indyan clubs; nine A.M., boxes with Sharkey; tin A.M., bates th' tinnis champeen; iliven A.M., rayceives a band iv rough riders an' person'lly supervises th' sindin' iv th' ambylance to look afther th' injured in th' village; noon, dinner with Sharkey, Oscar Featherstone, th' champeen roller-skater iv Harvard, '98, Pro-fissor McGlue, th' archyologist, Lord Dum de Dum, Mike Kehoe, Immanuel Kant Gumbo, th' naygro pote, Horrible Hank, t' bad lands scout, Sinitor Lodge, Lucy Emerson Tick, th' writer on female sufferage, Mud-in-the-Eye, th' chief iv th' Ogallas, Gin'ral Powell Clayton, th' Mexican mine expert, four rough riders with their spurs on, th' Ambassadure iv France an' th' Cinquovasti fam'ly, jugglers. Th' conversation, we larn fr'm wan iv th' guests who's our spoortin' iditor, was jined in be th' prisidint an' dealt with art, boxin', lithrachoor, horse-breakin', science, shootin', pollytics, how to kill a mountain line, di-plomacy, lobbing, pothry, th' pivot blow, rayform, an' th' campaign in Cubia. Whin our rayporther was dhriven off th' premises be wan iv th' rough riders, th' head iv th' nation was tachin' Lord Dum de Dum an' Sicrety Hay how to do a hand-spring, an' th' other guests was scattered about th' lawn, boxin', rasslin', swingin' on th' thrapeze, ridin' th' buckin' bronco an' shootin' at th' naygro pote f'r th' dhrinks—in short enjyin' an ideel day in th' counthry.

"An' that's all th' news," said Mr. Dooley. "There ye ar-re jus' as if ye cud read. That's all that's happened. Ain't I a good newspaper? Not a dull line in me. Sind in ye'er small ads."

"Sure, all that's no news," said Mr. Hennessy, discontentedly. "Hasn't there annything happened? Hasn't anny wan been—been kilt?"

"There ye ar-re," said Mr. Dooley. "Be news ye mane misfortune. I suppose near ivry wan does. What's wan man's news is another man's throubles. In these hot days, I'd like to see a pa-aper with nawthin' in it but affectionate wives an' loyal husbands an' prosp'rous, smilin' people an' money in th' bank an' three a day. That's what I'm lookin' f'r in th' hot weather."

"Th' newspapers have got to print what happens," said Mr. Hennessy.

"No," said Mr. Dooley, "they've got to print what's diff'rent. Whiniver they begin to put headlines on happiness, contint, varchoo, an' charity, I'll know things is goin' as wrong with this counthry as I think they ar-re ivry naytional campaign."

The End of the War

"Why did th' Boers quit fightin'?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"Th' supply iv British gin'rals give out," said Mr. Dooley. "They were fin'lly crushed be th' surrindher iv Gin'ral Lord Mechoon.

"Up to that time th' British had niver gained anny important advantage. They'd surrindhered ninety or a hundherd thousan' private sojery, thirty or forty colonels, near all th' officers iv th' guards, th' Northumberland Fusileers over an' over again, an' Winston Churchill; they'd hurled gr-reat masses iv th' Impeeryal Yeomanry into th' prison camps iv th' Boers; they'd surrindhered rifles, an' ammunition an' pompons an' mules, but nary a British gin'ral among thim. Although a smaller foorce, Hinnissy, th' Boers had th' advantage iv knowin' ivry foot iv th' ground they were fightin' on. Manny iv thim had just gone there, while th' British had been on th' ground f'r three years with an opporchunity to f'rget something ivry hour. Th' crafty Dutch, marchin' almost as well be bright moonlight as in th' day time, proceedin' without rest f'r hours at a time, always placin' th' catridge in th' gun befure firm', hardy, vigorous an' accustomed to th' veldt, had eluded all attempts to hand thim th' roast beef iv Merry England in th' shape iv a gin'ral.

"But whin Gin'ral, me Lord Kitchener, th' Great Coon Conqueror, wint to South Africa, like th' stern an' remorseless warryor that he is, he detarmined to niver rest till he had desthroyed th' inimy. In less thin two years, he had evolved his sthrategy. I will tell ye what it was, because ye're inthrested in military plans. He spread his magnificent army iv gallant Britons out in a long line that sthretched clane acrost th' counthry, wan yeoman deep. Thin, accompanied be his sub-gin'rals, he moved out in th' followin' ordher. I'll dhraw it f'r ye, as I see it in th' pa-aper. Here ye ar-re:

"The band,

"Gin'ral Lord Kitchener, K.C.B., K.N., K.L.K., G.K.R. (with medals),

"The other gin'rals,

"Pianos, Pianolas, Cottage Organs, Ping Pong Sets, Tennis Bats, Bridge Scores, Cricket Stumps, War Corryspondints,

"Th' Avingin' Line,

"Their horses,

"Their ammunition,

"Their Food, and

"Their Rifles.

"As th' dhread formation moved off in th' bright sunlight iv that fair day in March, with th' band playin' a quick shtep an' th' colors flyin' in th' air, it was a sight to make ivry Englishman proud iv th' fact that he had to be an Englishman. Detarmination was written in ivry face—th' detarmination to go on at anny risk till tea time. No flinchin', no hisitation, ivry man with his head erect an' th' feelin' in his heart that on him rested th' security iv th' impire if so. On, an' iver on they marched, fr'm Spimfontein, past th' gleamin' spires iv Wa-aberneck, till they saw in th' distance th' long, low line iv purple light that marked th' walls iv Boobenastofein. It was thin four o'clock P.M., an' th' column halted while th' bugles blew th' cheery call to tea. Eager hands unshipped th' marmalade an' opened th' caddies, bread was toasted on th' small stoves carrid be ivry officer's valet, th' pickets an' scouts were dispatched f'r plum cake an' f'rgettin' f'r a moment th' thriles iv th' campaign, th' rough warryors indulged in that repast that has done so much to make Englishmen what they are. At siven, havin' taken all precautions, havin' placed th' powdher in a cool runnin' brook an' tethered th' mules to th' rifles, th' vast army slept. It was breakfast time whin th' God iv Slumber was dhriven off be th' other British God iv Appetite. Such, Hinnissy, is th' brief story iv Gin'ral Kitchener's cillybrated dhrive, as I read it in th' pa-apers.

"To some extint it was succissful an' to some other extints not. Th' bands were good. Th' tea was fine, though some prefer Oolong. Rifles, pompons, mules, fusileers, etcethry had been lost. But not wan British gin'ral had been captured. Not wan. They were all at breakfast an' th' great heart iv th' British nation was sad. Th' great heart begun to grumble, which is a way th' great heart iv a nation has. It ast what was th' use iv this costly manoover—if they was as manny gin'rals left afther it as befure. While in this mood, it was ilicthryfied be a piece iv startlin' intilligince. Th' whisper ran round, grew to be a murmur, increased to a roar, mounted to a shriek that Mechoon was captured.

"It seemed too good to be thrue. No wan cud believe it at first. But fin'lly it was officially announced in Parlymint be that hot headed ol' pathrite, Lord Salsberry himsilf. In a voice choked be emotion he arose an' give three cheers. Afther which he read Gin'ral Kitchener's dispatch: 'I have th' pleasure to rayport that yisterdah at nine o'clock Lord Mechoon be a superb sthrategy had himsilf surrounded be an infeeryor foorce iv Boers undher Gin'ral Delaney or some such name. Our cust'mary precaution iv dhrawin' in th' pickets afther nightfall an' buryin' our rifles, which had repeatedly failed in th' past owin' to th' caution iv th' Boers, wurruked admirably. Gin'ral Delaney was completely taken be surprise an' befure he cud recover, Lord Mechoon had thrown himsilf around his neck an' given him his cigreet case in token iv submission. Th' command behaved with gr-reat gallantry. In wan case, a whole comp'ny surrindhered to wan Boer. I am sindin' ricommindations f'r th' Victorya cross be freight. Unforchunitly our casulties were very heavy. Mesilf an' nearly all th' other gin'rals escaped capture. But betther luck nex' time. Gin'ral Dewet is about a mile fr'm here, if in Africa at all, or indeed, livin'. Gin'ral Botha is said to be in Ioway, though ye can't believe ivrything ye see in th' pa-apers. Wan or th' other may be enthrapped into kidnapin' me. In th' manetime I am plannin' right along. I sleep constantly in clothes becomin' me station, an' th' impire may rely on me not makin' a show iv mesilf whin I am took. Ye'ers hopefully, Kitchener.'

"Th' Boers niver raycovered fr'm th' tur'ble blow. Their spirits was crushed. Their hopes had fled. Th' kindergartens had opened an' manny iv their bravest warryors had been carried off be their mothers. Anny moment they might be surrounded an' surrindhered to. So wan mornin' th' entire mighty army, th' whole thirty-two iv them, histed th' white flag an' presinted their bill."

"An' so th' war is over?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"On'y part iv it," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' part that ye see in th' pitcher pa-apers is over, but th' tax collector will continyoo his part iv th' war with relentless fury. Cav'lry charges are not th' on'y wars in a rale war."

Newport

"About this time ivry year," said Mr. Dooley, "I go to Newport f'r th' summer."

"Ye go where?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"I go to Newport," said Mr. Dooley, calmly, "in th' pa-apers. Newport's always there. I may not find annything about th' fire at th' yards or th' war in th' Ph'lippeens, but if Mrs. Rasther opens a can iv salmon or pounds th' top off an egg, it's down in black an' white be th' fearless hands iv th' iditor. 'Tis a gr-reat joy bein' lithry an' knowin' how to read. Th' air is hot in Ar-rchey Road; ye can see it. It looks an' feels like hot soup with people floatin' around in it like viggytables. Th' smoke poors fr'm th' chimbly iv th' rollin' mills an' comes right down on th' sthreet an' jines us. People ar-re lyin' out iv doors with their mouths open. They'se a gr-reat dale iv cholery infantum an' a few deleeryam thremens. If I cudden't read I'd be hot about th' weather an' things. But whin th' day is darkest an' I don't want to see me best cukkin' frind, I takes me yacht at th' top iv page eight an' goes sailin' off to Newport in me shirt sleeves with twelve inches iv malt in th' hook iv me thumb, an' there I stay till I want to come back an' rest.

"'Th' autymobill season has opened in deadly earnest. Manny new machines is seen daily an' wan iv th' delights iv th' summer colony is to go out iv an avenin' an' see th' farmers iv th' neighborhood pluckin' their horses fr'm th' top branches iv threes. Th' younger Hankerbilt has atthracted much attintion be his acc'rate ridin'. Th' other day he made a scoor