Observations by Mr. Dooley by Finley Peter Dunne (best romance books of all time TXT) 📖

fightin' face. 'Tis no good thryin' to tache him a thrade. Let's make a sojer iv him.' An' he wint into th' army. If he'd done there what he's done in th' patch, 'tis Gin'ral Gilligan he'd be be this time--Gin'ral Gilligan stormin' th' heights iv San Joon Hill; Gin'ral Mike Gilligan suspindin' th' haveas corpus in th' Ph'lippeens an' th' anti-impeeryalists at home; Gin'ral Mike Gilligan capturin' Aggynaldoo, an' he'd do it with bare hands an' without th' aid iv a mustache; Gin'ral Mike Gilligan abolishin' th' third reader; Gin'ral Mike Gilligan discoorsin' to th' public on 'Books I have niver read: Series wan, th' Histhry iv th' United States.' If his foot slips an' he grows a little cross with a pris'ner iv war on th' way to th' station an' dhrops his soord or his club on th' top iv him, is he up befure th' judge an' thried be a jury iv his peers? Officer Mike, yes; Gin'ral Mike, no. Gin'ral Mike has no peers. He raceives a letther notifyin' him that he has broken a human skull divine an' th' reg'lations iv th' army an' must be thried. 'Who will me brave frind have go through with this here austere but hail-fellow inquiry?' 'Oh, annywan will do. Anny iv th' gallant lift'nants iv me brigade will do,' says Gin'ral Mike. So th' Gin'ral is put on thrile an' a frind iv his addhresses th' coort. 'Gintlemen,' says he, 'th' question befure th' coort is not so much did our gallant leader hammer th' coon as whether our flag wanst stuck up where we have wathered so many precious citizens shall iver come down. (Th' coort: 'No, no!') That's th' pint. What do th' people at home who know nawthin' about this here war, excipt what we tell thim, what do they mane be subjectin' this here hayro, gray an' bent with infirmities but pretty spry at that, to this ignominy? He has fought f'r thim an' what have they done f'r him? In more thin wan year he has on'y risen fr'm th' rank iv captain to brigadier gin'ral an' his pay is less thin twinty times what it was. (Here th' coort weeps.) I ast ye, I ast ye, ye fine little boys, is it meet an' proper, nay, is it meat an' dhrink f'r us, to punish him?'

"An' th' coort puts th' vardict iv acquittal in th' shape iv th' pop'lar song 'F'r he's a jolly good fellow' an' adds a ricommindation that Harvard colledge is gettin' too gay annyhow.

"That's th' diff'rence between sojer an' polisman. Why is it that th' fair sect wudden't be seen talkin' to a polisman, but if ye say 'Sojer' to thim, they're all out iv th' window but th' feet? I want to know."

"I can't tell," said Mr. Hennessy. "I heerd a frind iv Willum J. Bryan say we was in danger iv havin' thim run th' counthry like they do in--in Germany, d'ye mind."

"Niver fear," said Mr. Dooley. "There's too manny Gilligans not in th' ar-rmy f'r that."


King Edward's Coronation

"Now that th' king iv Great Britain an' Ireland, but Ireland don't know it, an' th' Dominyons beyond th' sea, f'r awhile, has been cawrnated," said Mr. Dooley, "we can raysume where we left off."

"So it has been done at last, has it?" said Mr. Hennessy.

"Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "in th' prisince iv th' mos' illusthrees iv his subjects, except me frind Whitelaw Reid, he was cawrnated las' Saturdah. 'Tis too bad it was put off. 'Twas got up, d'ye mind, f'r th' thrue an' staunch subjects on this side iv th' wather. Th' king didn't need it. He's been king all th' time. A lot iv us knew it. All he had to do anny time was to take his caubeen fr'm th' rack, but his subjects fr'm beyond th' sea wanted to see a cawrnation, an' they cudden't convaniently have wan here where th' counthry is still run be univarsal suffering an' there are a good manny shootin' gall'ries, an' annyhow he thought he'd like to keep on good terms with th' Captains iv Industhry f'r fear they might get mad an' put his furniture out into th' channel an' use th' island f'r storin' ex-prisidints. So he got up th' cawrnation. An' afther all, most iv thim didn't see it. They had to come home here where they were born an' lave th' land where they expict to die an' will, too, if they an' us have luck.

"But 'twas a gorgyous spicticle annyhow, Hinnissy. F'r weeks an' weeks some iv th' finest minds in Europe has been debatin' whether th' king shud stand on th' Earl iv Whinkie or th' markess iv Ballyhoo durin' th' ceremony. It was decided that th' honor shud go to th' noble earl, but that it was th' privilege iv th' noble markess that his majesty shud put his feet on his back whin he set down. Th' king ain't supposed to do annything f'r himsilf but go up an' be cawrnated. At ivry turn they must be a jook or somebody akelly as good to pull his tie sthraight, hand him his gloves, an' haul his coat down whin it gets up over th' collar. An' ivrybody cudden't do it, mind ye. It had to be done be th' right party, whose folks had done it f'r other kings. I've been readin' about it an' I've come to th' con-clusion, Hinnissy, that th' Scotch nobility is mos'ly dayscinded fr'm tailors.

"Annyhow, these here mighty questions was all decided accoordin' to th' rules iv th' game, whin wan day I read in th' pa-aper: 'Th' king dines with Wall sthreet magnates. Jools missin' fr'm th' crown.' Ye see, th' hat had not been out f'r a long time an' whin they come to get it fr'm th' box, 'twas found that manny iv th' vallyable gems in th' band was missin'. I don't know whether 'tis thrue or not, but 'tis said that th' ancesthors iv th' prisint king, bein' hard up, was used to pick a jool out iv th' hat iv a Saturdah night an' go down to Mose at th' corner an' get something on it. An' whin times was slack an' th' ponies backward, they cudden't get th' jools out, so they cut a piece fr'm th' window an' pasted it in. It looked f'r awhile as though th' king wud have to be cawrnated be a glazier. They cudden't find th' tickets high or low. It wudden't do to cawrnate him in a glass hat, an' there was gr-reat thribylations, but Pierpont Morgan come along at th' right moment an' give thim a handful iv his unimportant jools an' th' hat was properly decorated. Fr'm that time on we saw that if we were to get th' worth iv our money, we'd have to do th' job oursilves, an' ivrybody turned in to help our depindant cousins. Andhrew Carnaygie lint Wistminsther Abbey which was superbly dicorated with tapestries lint be J. Pierpont Morgan; Yerkes lint thim th' sthreets; Frohman th' theatres; th' American syndicate give thim th' use iv th' river, an' a hundherd thousand lile American hearts an' lungs lint thim a pathriotic howl that made th' king jump ivry time he heerd it.

"An' th' American duchesses! Were they there? Look in th' pa-apers. I sometimes wondher whin I read th' palajeems iv our liberties whether an English nobleman iver marries at home. Is it a law that prevints thim fr'm marryin' thim fresh-faced, clear-eyed daughters iv ol' Albion or is it fear? Annyhow, th' American duchesses is about all there is to it in London. They were at th' cawrnation, ye bet. They were th' cawrnation. They bore th' thrain iv th' queen. No wan can lift a thrain betther or higher thin a free-born American lady. At th' side iv her majesty walked th' beautiful Duchess iv Binkie-whistle, born Lucy hicks iv Dobbs Ferry. Th' Duchess' father an' mother come over las' week with their respictive fam'lies, an' it is undhershtud that wan iv th' happiest ivints iv th' whole glad cawrnation season was th' determination iv Ma Hicks to devote her alimony intire to rebuildin' th' ancesthral mansion iv th' jook. Pa Hicks, not to be outdone, announced that he wud add th' rent derived fr'm th' ancesthral mansion iv th' duchess, which is now used as a livery stable.

"An' so th' gr-reat ivint come off. I won't describe it to ye. It's been done betther thin I cud do it be a fearless press. Ye know ye'ersilf how th' pro-cission winded its way through th' sthreets; how Wistminsther Abbey was crowded with peers an' peeresses, an' what a mighty shout wint up fr'm Willum Waldorf Astor whin he come in an' sat on his hat near th' dure. It was all right. First come th' prelates backin' to'rd th' althar. Thin all th' jooks bowin' low. Thin th' queen, attinded be a bevy iv American duchesses. Thin th' king lookin' ivry inch a king--sixty-four be sixty-two in all. Thin th' Rile Shoes, th' Rile Socks, th' Rile Collar an' Cuffs, an' th' Rile Hat borne be th' hereditary Sockbearers, Shoesters, Collariferios, an' th' High an' Magnificint Lid-Lord (in chains). Suddenly all is silent. A hush falls on th' assimblage, broken on'y be a low, sad cry. Willum Waldorf Astor has fainted.

"An' so, says th' pa-aper, in th' prisince iv th' mighty dead an' th' mighty near dead, among th' surroundings that recalled th' days iv shivaree an' in an atmosphere full iv aristocratic assocyations, on account iv th' vintilation bein' poor, Albert Edward Ernest Pathrick Arthur, king, definder iv th' faith, put on his hat. Th' organ pealed off a solemn peal, th' cannons boomed, th' duchesses et hard-biled eggs out iv a paper bag, an' a pale man in silk tights wept over th' tomb iv Major Andhre. It was Joseph Chote. That night all Great Britain rejoiced, fr'm wan end iv Ireland to th' other th' lile popylace showed their joy an' th' sky was lit up be hundherds iv burnin' barns an' a salute iv forty-four guns was fired in th' County Kerry at a landlord's agent comin' home fr'm a ball.

"I hope he'll make a good king. I ain't so much down on kings as I used to be, Hinnissy. I ain't down on thim anny more because I don't invy thim, an' ye can't be down on anny man ye don't invy. 'Tis a hard job an' a thankless wan. A king nowadays is no more thin a hitchin' post f'r wan pollytician afther another. He ain't allowed to move himsilf, but anny crazy pollytician that ties up to him is apt to pull him out be th' roots. He niver has anny childhood. He's like th' breaker-boys in th' mines; he's put to wurruk larnin' his thrade as soon as he can walk. Whin it comes time f'r him to marry, th' prime ministher takes him out wan day an' says: 'There's th' on'y woman in th' wurruld f'r ye.' 'But I niver see her befure,' says th' unforchnit king. 'Ye'll see less iv her afther nex' week,' says th' prime ministher. 'Ye're goin' to marry her,' he says. An' he backs him up to th' bench where th' young lady sets an' inthrajooces thim an' they're marrid. Think iv havin' th'