Observations By Mr. Dooley by Finley Peter Dunne (e reader .txt) 📖

have doctors in what th' pa-apers calls th' outlyin' wards. They live above th' dhrug-store an' practice midicine on us. Th' physicians an' surgeons are all down town editin' th' pa-apers. Well, dock comes to ye afther awhile in a buggy. On th' way up he sets a broken leg, removes an arm, does a little something f'r th' city directhry, takes a dhrink, talks pollyticks with th' unhappy parent an' fin'lly lands at ye'er dure with th' burglar's tools. Afther he's closed that dure th' secrets iv th' inner man is known on'y to him. No wan hears or wants to hear annything about it. Th' nex' time we see ye, ye come out lookin' pale an' emacyated an' much younger an' betther lookin' thin annywan iver raymimbers seein' ye, an' afther awhile ye obsarve that whin ye start to tell how manny stitches it took an' what ye see whin ye smelled th' dizzy sponge, ye'er frinds begin to sprint away. An' ye go back reluctantly to wurruk. Ye niver hear annywan say: 'Hinnissy is great comp'ny whin he begins to talk about his sickness.' I've seen men turn fr'm a poor, helpless, enthusyastic invalid to listen to a man talkin' about th' Nicaragoon canal.

"But with th' great 'tis far diff'rent. I've often thanked th' Lord that I didn't continyoo in pollytics whin I was cap'n iv me precinct, f'r with th' eyes iv all th' wurruld focussed, as Hogan says, on me, I cud niver injye th' pleasure iv a moment's sickness without people in far-off Boolgahrya knowin' whether me liver was on sthraight. Sickness is wan iv th' privileges iv th' poor man that he shares with no wan. Whin it comes kindly to him, th' four walls iv his room closes in on him like a tent, folks goes by on th' other side iv th' sthreet, th' rollin' mill disappears, an' with th' mornin' comes no honest day's tile. He lies there in blessid idleness an' no matther what's th' matther with him, he don't suffer half as much pain as he would in pursoot iv two dollars a day. I knowed a man wanst who used to take his vacations that way. Whin others wint off f'r to hunt what Hogan calls th' finny monsthers iv th' deep, he become seeryously ill an' took to bed. It made him very sthrong.

"But suppose I hadn't resigned fr'm cap'n iv me precinct whin I was defeated. If annything had happened to me, ye'd pick up th' pa-apers an' see: 'Seeryous news about th' Cap'n iv th' twinty-sicond precinct iv th' sixth ward. He has brain fever. He has not. He got in a fight with a Swede an' had his ribs stove in. He fell out iv th' window iv a joolry store he was burglarizin' an' broke th' left junction iv th' sizjymoid cartilage. Th' throuble with th' Cap'n is he dhrinks too much. A man iv his age who has been a soak all his life always succumbs to anny throuble like hyperthroopily iv th' cranium. Docthor Muggers, dean iv th' Post Gradyate Vethrinary school iv Osteopathy says he had a similar case las' year in Mr. Hinnery Haitch Clohessy, wan iv th' best known citizens iv this city. Like th' Cap, Mr. Clohessy was a high liver, a heavy dhrinker, a gambler an' a flirt. Th' cases are almost identical. Owin' to th' code iv pro-fissional eethics Dr. Muggers cud not tell th' bereaved fam'ly what ailed Misther Clohessy, but it was undoubtedly his Past Life.'

"Thin come th' doctors. Not wan doctor, Hinnissy, to give ye a whiff out iv a towel an' make ye sleep f'r an hour an' wake up an' say 'I fooled ye. Whin do ye begin?' No, but all iv thim. They escort th' prisoner up th' sthreet in a chariot, an' th' little newsboys runs alongside sellin' exthry papers. 'Our night edition will print th' inside facts about Cap Dooley's condition, an' th' Cap himsilf with a cinematograph iv th' jolly proceedin's be Dock Laparatonny.' What happens to th' criminal at first is th' same as if he was a dacint, wurrukin' man. But whin that is done, an' 'tis gettin' so aisy they tell me they'se not much diff'rence between a good clam-salesman an' a first-class surgeon, th' lithry wurruk begins. Ye think 'tis all over whin ye say: 'Dock, put ye'er hand undher th' pillow an' take what's there.' But not so. Th' assembled docks adjourn to a large hall an' prepare th' story iv 'Cap Dooley; a Stormy Career. Be wan who knows.'

"'Upon seein' th' Cap, we at once diagnosed th' case as peritclipalitickipantilitisitis, or chicken bone in th' throat. Dr. Pincers operated, Dr. Smothers administhered th' annysthetic, Dr. Hygeen opened th' window, Dr. Anodyne turned on th' gas, Dr. Aluompaine turned th' pitchers to th' wall, Dr. Rambo looked out th' window, Docthors Peroxide, Gycal, Cephalgern, Antipyreen an' Coltar took a walk in th' park, an' Doctor Saliclate figured up th' bill. As we have said we diagnosed th' case as above. We can't raymimber th' name. It depinds on how th' syllables came out iv th' hat. We were wrong, although what we see whin we got in more thin made up f'r th' error. We made a long incision fr'm th' chin down an' another acrost an' not findin' what we expicted, but manny things that ought to be kept fr'm th' fam'ly, we put th' Cap back an' wint on. Th' op'ration was a complete success. Th' wretch is restin an' swearin' easily. We have given him a light meal iv pickles an' antiseptic oats, an' surgical science havin' done its duty, mus' lave th' rest to Nature, which was not in th' consultation, bein' considhered be some iv us, slightly irregular. (Signed) Look at our names: 'Pincers, Anodyne, Peroxide, Smothers, Coltar, Antipyreen, Cepalgeen, Alicompane, Gycal, Hygeen, Rambo, Saliclate.'

"But that's nawthin'. If ye think they'se annything ye wud like to keep up ye'er sleeve, look f'r it in th' pa-apers. 'Th' followin' facts is stated on th' authority iv wan iv th' attindin' surgeons: Cap Dooley cut up terribly undher th' chloryform, singin' songs, swearin' an' askin' f'r Lucy. His wife's name is Annamariar. She was in th' adjinin' room. It seems they have had throuble. Th' room was poorly furnished. Th' Cap's clothes was much worn as was most iv him. He must have led a shockin' life. It is doubtful if he will iver raycover f'r he is very, very old. He has been concealin' his age f'r manny years. He is a notoryous profligate, as was well shown be th' view we had. Th' flash light pitcher iv th' Cap will appeal to all who know his inner histhry.'

"An' there ye ar-re. Think iv a man comin' out in th' light iv day afther all that. He can't get on clothes enough to cover him. He may bear himsilf with a haughty manner, but he feels that ivry man he meets knows more about him thin he knows himsilf. Th' fellow on th' sthreet has been within th' walls. He's sayin' to himsilf: 'Ye're a hollow sham composed akelly iv impaired organs an' antiseptic gauze.' To th' end iv his life, he'll niver be annything more thin an annytomical chart to his frinds. His privacy is over f'river, f'r what good can it do annywan, Hinnissy, to pull down th' blinds iv his bed room if ivrybody knows exactly th' size, shape an' location iv his spleen?

"No, sir, if I've got to be sick, give me th' ordhn'ry dacencies iv poverty. I don't want anny man to know anny more about me thin he can larn fr'm th' handiwork iv Marks, th' tailor, an' Schmitt, th' shoemaker, an' fr'm th' deceitful expression iv me face. If I have a bad heart, let him know it be me eyes. On me vest is written: 'Thus far an' no farther.' They'se manny a man on intimate terms with th' King iv England to-day that don't know anny more about me thin that I'm broadcloth on Sundah an' serge on week days. An' I don't intind they shall. I hide behind th' privileges iv me position an' say: 'Fellow-citizens, docks an' journalists, I cannot inthrajooce ye to th' Inner Man. He's a reecloose an' avarse to s'ciety. He's modest an' shy an' objects to callers. Ye can guess what kind iv man I am but I wudden't have ye know.' An' I can do that as long as I stay poor."

"I'm glad I'm poor," said Mr. Hennessy.

"It gives ye less to talk about but more to think about," said Mr. Dooley.

The Fighting Word

"That man Bailey iv Texas f'r me ivry time," said Mr. Dooley.

"What's he been doin'?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"He done me frind Biv'ridge iv Injyanny," said Mr. Dooley. "An' I'm f'r him f'r leader iv th' party. He's wan iv th' best two-handed orators in th' sinit or annywhere. He has a wondherful left an' his repartee with th' right is said to be very stingin'. He's inthrajooced th' sthrangle holt be means iv which th' debate can be suddenly cut off. He's me ideel leader.

"I want a leader who's got a good grip on public affairs an' men, who can take hold iv anny question or anny raypublican an' choke it or him till they're black in th' face. Bailey's th' boy. I followed Tillman f'r awhile, but he's gone back. He belongs to th' ol' school iv parlymintaryans, th' same that Jawn L. Sullivan belongs to. He's clever f'r an old 'un an' I'd be willin' to back him again anny raypublican in New England at catch-weights. His reply to Sinitor McLaurin was said to be wan iv th' quickest iver heerd since th' days iv Dan'l Webster. It laid open th' scalp. But they tell me Tillman's speeches is not what Hogan calls impromptchu. He rehearses thim ivry mornin' with a punchin'-bag. Bailey is more iv a nachral debater. No holds barred with him. Hand or fut, 'tis all th' same.

"What was it all about, says ye? Well, ye see this sinitor fr'm Injyanny, me frind Jeremiah Biv'ridge made a mos' insultin' remark to Misther Bailey. What did he say? I mustn't tell ye. No, no, 'tis too horrible. Well, if ye must hear it, close th' dure an' pull down th' blinds. Whisper! There! There ye have it. I blush to raypeat th' wurruds. To think that anny man shud so demean himsilf as to imagine such a thing, lave alone say it. But he did—right out in th' Sinit befure Hinnery Cabin Lodge. Oh, it was turr'ble. Here it is in th' pa-apers: 'Misther Biv'ridge said th' st-t-m-nts iv th' hon'rable sinitor fr'm Texas was unw-r-nted.' Modesty where was thy blush? as Shakespere says. Now, th' sinitors iv th' United States is not aisily shocked. That's not th' way ye get into th' Sinit. Th' bright blush iv shame hasn't been used there more thin twice since th' war. Ye can say almost annything ye like to a sinitor. Ye can say he wanst stole a horse, that he's livin' undher an assumed name, that he was made be a thrust, that his on'y nourishment is beets, or that he belongs to New York s'ciety, an' th' Sinit will on'y yawn. But wanst even hint that his such-an'-such is so-an'-so (I will not repeat th' heejous wurruds) an' ye mus' hurry an' slip on th' brass knuckles, f'r they'se a slap comin' to ye.

"Here's what happened: 'Sinitor Bailey stepped quickly over Sinitors Hoar, Mason, Quay, an' others an' made f'r where Sinitor Biv'ridge was quitely smokin' a cigar an' talkin' to himsilf. Sinitor Bailey says: "Hon'rable sir, ye must withdraw that loathsome insinooation again' me good name," he says. "I have not led a pure life. No man has. I don't claim to be anny betther thin others. But no wan befure has iver said about me such things as these, an' if ye don't take thim back at wanst, I'll kill ye, I'll choke ye, I'll give ye a poke in th' eye," he says. "I cannot consint," says th' bold sinitor fr'm Injyanny, "I cannot consint to haul back me epithet. It wud not be sinitoryal courtesy," he says. "Thin," says Sinitor Bailey, "here goes