Mr. Dooley Says by Finley Peter Dunne (best contemporary novels .txt) 📗

havin' a snap-shot took iv him? No, sir. Whin they wanted to satisfy th' vulgar curiosity iv th' popylace to know what their lord looked like, they chained an artist to a wall in th' cellar of th' palace an', says they: 'Now set down an' paint a pitcher iv me that will get ye out iv here,' says they. Nobody in thim days knew that th' king had a mole on his nose an' that wan iv his eyes was made iv glass, excipt th' people that had jobs to lose.

"Up to th' time Abdul Hamid wint thrapezin' around Constantinople in a hack an' havin' his pitcher took be amachoor phottygrafters his job was secure. Up to that time whin wan Turk talked to another about him they talked in whispers. 'What d'ye suppose he's like, Osman?' says wan. 'Oh me, oh my,' says th' other, 'but he's th' tur-rble wan. They says his voice is like thunder, an' lightnin' shoots fr'm his eyes that wud shrivel th' likes iv ye an' me to a cinder.' But whin Abdul, be damid, as th' potes call him, made th' mistake iv pokin' his head out iv th' palace 'twas diff'rent. 'Well, who d'ye think I see to-day but th' Sultan. I tell ye I did. What is he like? He ain't much to look at—a skinny little man, Osman, that ye cud sthrangle between ye'er thumb an' forefinger. He had a bad cold an' was sneezin'. He wore a hand-me-down coat. He has a wen on th' back iv his neck an' he's crosseyed. Here's a pitcher iv him.' 'What, that little runt? Ye don't mean to say that's th' Sultan.—Why, he looks like th' fellow that stops me ivry day on th' corner an' asks me have I anny old clothes betther thin what I have on. An' to think iv th' likes iv him rulin' over th' likes iv us. Let's throw him out.'

"So it was with me old frind Abdul. Wan day a captain an' a squad iv polis backed th' wagon up to th' dure iv th' palace an' rung th' bell. 'Who's there?' says th' Sultan, stuffin' th' loose change into his shoe. 'Th' house is pulled,' says th' captain. 'Ye'er license is expired. Ye'd betther come peaceful,' he says. An' they bust in th' dure an' th' Sultan puts a shirt an' a couple iv collars into a grip an' selicts iliven iv his least formid-able wives to go along with him an' they put on their bonnets an' shawls an' carry out their bur-rd cages an' their goold fish an' their fancy wurruk an' th' pathrol wagon starts off an' has to stop so that iliven iv thim can go back an' get something they f'rgot at th' last moment an' th' ex-commander iv th' faithful says, 'Did ye iver know wan iv thim to be ready, Cap?' an' th' captain says, 'They're all alike, Doc,' an' th' dhriver clangs th' bell, an' off goes th' mighty potentate to a two-story frame house in Englewood. An' th' sultan's brother is taken out iv a padded cell where he had been kept f'r twinty years because he was crazy to be sultan, an' is boosted into th' throne. An' he has his pitcher took an' is intherviewed be th' reporthers an' tells thim he will do th' best he can an' he hopes th' press won't be too hard on him, because he is a poor loonytick annyhow.

"An' there ye ar-re. There goes me dhream iv bein' sultan along with me dhream iv bein' a gr-reat gin'ral till th' Spanish war. If that's th' kind iv job a sultan has, I'll lave it f'r anny wan to take that wants it. Why, be Hivens, whin th' Young Turks come to search th' palace, like th' pathrites they ar-re, to find if he'd left anny money behind, divvle th' thrace they found iv annything that I'd thrade f'r me back room. I begun to feel sorry f'r th' poor old miscreent. Instead iv lollin' on a sofy an' listenin' to th' song iv th' mockin' bur-rd in th' pommygranite threes while ladies fr'm th' chorus iv 'Th' Black Crook' fanned him with fans iv peacock feathers, th' mis'rable old haythen was locked up in a garret with a revolver in his hand ready to shoot anny wan that come next or near him. He suffered fr'm dyspepsia an' he cuddent sleep nights. He cud ate nawthin' sthronger thin milk toast. He was foorced be fashion's whim to have five hundhred wives whin wan was abundant. Take it all in all, he led a dog's life, an' I bet ye he's happyer now where he is, wathrin' th' geeranyums, mowin' th' lawn, an' sneakin' into Constantinople iv a Saturday night an' seein' Circassyan girls dancin' f'r th' first time in his life. His childher are all grown up an' safe in jail, he has four hundhred an' eighty-nine less wives, but iliven are a good manny in th' suburbs; he has put away a few piasthres f'r a rainy day, out-iv-dure life may improve his health, an' I shudden't wondher if ye'd read some day in th' pa-aper: 'At th' Stambool county fair th' first prize f'r Poland Chiny hens was won be A. Hamid, th' pop'lar ex-sultan.'

"Ye can't tell annything about it. Give th' poor man a chance, says I. There may be th' makins iv a dacint citizen in him afther all. What opporchunity has he had, tell me? What can ye expict fr'm a man that niver was taught annything betther thin that he cud do annything he wanted to do without bein' called down f'r it? It doesn't make anny diff'rence whether 'tis a polisman or th' Rajah iv Beloochistan, be gorry, put a club in his hand an' tell him that he can use it an' he'll begin usin' it tomorrah. He'll break wan head tomorrah, two th' next day, an' befure he's been on th' foorce or th' throne a year it'll be a whack on th' chimbly befure he says 'How ar-re ye.' By an' by he'll get so manny people afraid iv him that he'll be in danger and that'll make him afraid iv thim, an' thin he'll be more dangerous thin iver, d'ye mind? Th' on'y man ye need to be afraid iv is th' man that's afraid iv ye. An' that's what makes a tyrant. He's scared to death. If I'd thought about it whin I r-read iv me frind murdherin' people I'd've known they'd find him thremblin' in a room an' shootin' at th' hired girl whin she come in with his porridge. So I'm glad afther all that I didn't put in me application. I want no man to fear me. I'd hate to be more of a coward thin I am."

"What ar-re these Turkish athrocities I've been r-readin' about?" said Mr. Hennessy.

"I don't know," said Mr. Dooley. "I don't keep thim. Have a cigar?"

VACATIONS

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I raaly don't know whether I'm glad or sorry to get back. It seems a little sthrange to be here again in the turmoil iv life in a large city, but thin, again, 'tis pleasant to see th' familyar faces wanst more. Has annything happened since I wint away on me vacation? Did ye miss me? Am I much sunburnt?"

"What ar-re ye talkin' about?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "I see ye on'y last night."

"Ye did not," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye may have seen me undherstudy, but ye didn't see me. Where was I? It depinds on what time iv night it was. If it was eight o'clock, I was croosin' in Pierpont Morgan's yacht off th' coast iv Labrador. We were both iv us settin' up on th' front stoop iv th' boat. I had just won thirty millyon dollars fr'm him throwin' dice, an' he remarked to me 'I bet it's hot in Chicago.' But about eight thirty, th' wind, which had been blowin' acrost th' brick-yard, changed into th' northeast an' I moved back to Newpoort."

"Ar-re ye crazy fr'm th' heat?" Mr. Hennessy asked.

"Divvle th' bit," said Mr. Dooley, "but long ago I made up me mind not to be th' slave iv me vacation. I don't take a vacation whin a vacation comes around an' knocks at th' dure an' dhrags me out to a summer resort. If I did I'd wait a long time. I take it whiniver I feel like it. Whiniver I have a moment to spare, whin ye're talkin' or business is slack fr'm anny other reason, I throw a comb an' brush into a gripsack an' hurry away to th' mountain or th' seashore. While ye think ye're talkin' to me, at that very minyit I may be floatin' on me back in th' Atlantic ocean or climbin' a mountain in Switzerland, yodellin' to mesilf.

"Most iv me frinds take their vacations long afther they are overdue. That's because they don't know how to take thim. They depind on railroads an' steamers an' what th' boss has to say about it. Long afther th' vacation will do thim no good, about th' fifteenth iv August, they tear off for th' beauties iv nature. Nachrally they can't tear off very far or they wudden't hear th' whistle whin it blew to call thim back. F'r a week or two they spind their avenin's larnin' th' profissyon iv baggageman, atin' off thrunks be day an sleepin' on thim be night. Evenchooly th' time comes f'r thim to lave th' sthrife an' throuble iv th' city that they're used to f'r th' sthrife an' throuble iv th' counthry that they don't know how to handle. They catch th' two two f'r Mudville-be-th'-Cannery, or they are just about to catch it whin they remimber that they left their tickets, money an' little Abigail Ann behind thim, an' they catch th' six forty-five which doesn't stop at Mudville excipt on Choosdahs an' Fridahs in Lent, an' thin on'y on signal. Fin'lly they're off. Th' dust an' worry iv th' city with its sprinkled pavements an' its glowin' theaytres is left behind. Th' cool counthry air blows into th' car laden with th' rich perfume iv dainty food with which th' fireman is plyin' his ir'n horse. Th' thrain stops occasion'lly. In fact ye might betther say that occasion'lly it don't stop. A thrain that is goin' to anny iv th' penal colonies where most men spind their vacations will stop at more places thin a boy on an errand. Whiniver it sees a human habitation it will pause an' exchange a few wurruds iv pleasant greetin'. It will stop at annything. It wud stop at nawthin'.

"In this way ye get a good idee iv th' jography iv ye'er native land. Ye make a ten minyit stay at bustlin' little villages that ye didn't know were on th' map, an' ain't on anny map that ye buy. Th' on'y place th' thrain don't stop is at Mudville-be-th'-Cannery. Ye look into th' folder an' see ye'er town marked 'see note b.' Note b says: 'Thrains two to sixteen stop at Mudville on'y whin wrecked.' 'What is th' number iv this here cannon-ball express?' says ye to th' conductor man. 'Number twelve,' says he. 'How am I goin' to get off there?' says ye. 'How do ye usually get off a movin' thrain?' says he. 'Forward or backward?' says he. 'If ye'll go ahead to th' postal car an' get into a mail bag th' clerk may hang ye on th' hook as we pass. He's a good shot. He made three out iv tin last week,' he says.

"But in due time ye reach ye'er destynation an' onpack ye'er thrunks an' come home again. A frind iv mine, a prom'nent railroad officyal who calls th' thrains at th' Union deepo, tells me he's cured his wife iv wantin' to go on a vacation. Whiniver he sees her readin' advertisements iv th' summer resorts he knows that th' fit is coming on, an' befure she gets to th' stage iv buyin' a cure f'r freckles he takes her down to th' deepo an' shows her th' people goin' on their vacations an' comin' back. Thin he gives her a boat ride in th' park, takes her to th' theaytre, an' th' next mornin' she wakes up with hardly anny sign iv her indisposition.

"But th' kind iv vacation I take does ye some good. It is well within me means. In fact it sildom costs me annything but now an' thin th' thrade iv a customer that I give a bottle iv pop to whin he ast f'r a gin sour, not knowin' that at th' minyit I was whilin' me time away in th' Greek islands or climbin' Mount Vesoovyous. I don't have to carry anny baggage. I don't pay anny railroad fares. I'm not bothered be mosquitoes or rain.