Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War

by Finley Peter Dunne

  "Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley.

  "Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper thatHobart What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it. Th' other day hemade a scoor iv wan hundherd an' sixty-eight, but whether 'twas miles orstitches I cudden't make out fr'm th' raypoorts."

  "'Tis little ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' game iv goluf is as old asth' hills. Me father had goluf links all over his place, an', whin I wasa kid, 'twas wan iv th' principal spoorts iv me life, afther I'd dug theturf f'r th' avenin', to go out and putt"--

  "Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th'English language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no morethin las' night."

  "There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think thishere game iv goluf is a spellin' match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to berefereein' a twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three. I tell yeI used to go out in th' avenin' an' putt me mashie like hell-an'-all,till I was knowed fr'm wan end iv th' county to th' other as th'champeen putter. I putted two men fr'm Roscommon in wan day, an' theyhad to be took home on a dure.

  "In America th' ga-ame is played more ginteel, an' is more likecigareet-smokin', though less unhealthy f'r th' lungs. 'Tis a good gameto play in a hammick whin ye're all tired out fr'm social duties orshovellin' coke. Out-iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. Ifye bring ye'er wife f'r to see th' game, an' she has her name in th'paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first thing ye do is to find th'raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there. Thin ye ordher a bottle iv brownpop, an' have ye'er second fan ye with a towel. Afther this ye'd dhress,an' here ye've got to be dam particklar or ye'll be stuck f'r th'dhrinks. If ye'er necktie is not on sthraight, that counts ye'eropponent wan. If both ye an' ye'er opponent have ye'er neckties oncrooked, th' first man that sees it gets th' stakes. Thin ye ordher acarredge"--

  "Order what?" demanded Mr. McKenna.

  "A carredge."

  "What for?"

  "F'r to take ye 'round th' links. Ye have a little boy followin' ye,carryin' ye'er clubs. Th' man that has th' smallest little boy it countshim two. If th' little boy has th' rickets, it counts th' man in th'carredge three. The little boys is called caddies; but Clarence Heaneythat tol' me all this--he belongs to th' Foorth Wa-ard Goluf an'McKinley Club--said what th' little boys calls th' players'd not be fitf'r to repeat.

  "Well, whin ye dhrive up to th' tea grounds"--

  "Th' what?" demanded Mr. Hennessy.

  "Th' tea grounds, that's like th' homeplate in base-ball or ordherin' apiece iv chalk in a game iv spoil five. Its th' beginnin' iv ivrything.Whin ye get to th' tea grounds, ye step out, an' have ye're hat irned beth' caddie. Thin ye'er man that ye're goin' aginst comes up, an' he asksye, 'Do you know Potther Pammer?' Well, if ye don't know Potther Pammer,it's all up with ye: ye lose two points. But ye come right back at himwith an' upper cut: 'Do ye live on th' Lake Shore dhrive?' If hedoesn't, ye have him in th' nine hole. Ye needn't play with him annymore. But, if ye do play with him, he has to spot three balls. If he's agood man an' shifty on his feet, he'll counter be askin' ye where yespend th' summer. Now ye can't tell him that ye spent th' summer withwan hook on th' free lunch an' another on th' ticker tape, an' so ye goback three. That needn't discourage ye at all, at all. Here's yer chanceto mix up, an' ye ask him if he was iver in Scotland. If he wasn't, itcounts ye five. Thin ye tell him that ye had an aunt wanst that heerdth' Jook iv Argyle talk in a phonograph; an' onless he comes back an'shoots it into ye that he was wanst run over be th' Prince iv Wales, yehave him groggy. I don't know whether th' Jook iv Argyle or th' Princeiv Wales counts f'r most. They're like th' right an' left bower ivthrumps. Th' best players is called scratch-men."

  "What's that f'r?" Mr. Hennessy asked.

  "It's a Scotch game," said Mr. Dooley, with a wave of his hand. "Iwonder how it come out to-day. Here's th' pa-aper. Let me see. McKinleyat Canton. Still there. He niver cared to wandher fr'm his own fireside.Collar-button men f'r th' goold standard. Statues iv Heidelback,Ickleheimer an' Company to be erected in Washington. Another Vanderbiltweddin'. That sounds like goluf, but it ain't. Newport society livin' inMrs. Potther Pammer's cellar. Green-goods men declare f'r honest money.Anson in foorth place some more. Pianny tuners f'r McKinley. Li HungChang smells a rat. Abner McKinley supports th' goold standard. Wait aminyit. Here it is: 'Goluf in gay attire.' Let me see. H'm. 'Foozled hisaproach,'--nasty thing. 'Topped th' ball.' 'Three up an' two to play.'Ah, here's the scoor. 'Among those prisint were Messrs. an' Mesdames"--

  "Hol' on!" cried Mr. Hennessy, grabbing the paper out of his friend'shands. "That's thim that was there."

  "Well," said Mr. Dooley, decisively, "that's th' goluf scoor."

  ON THE FRENCH CHARACTER.

  "Th' Fr-rinch," said Mr. Dooley, "ar-re a tumulchuse people."

  "Like as not," said Mr. Hennessy, "there's some of our blood in thim. Agood manny iv our people wint over wanst. They cudden't all've been kiltat Fontenoy."

  "No," said Mr. Dooley, "'tis another kind iv tumulchuse. Whin anIrishman rages, 'tis with wan idee in his mind. He's goin' for'ard againa single inimy, an' not stone walls or irne chains'll stop him. He maypause f'r a dhrink or to take a shy at a polisman,--f'r a polisman'salways in th' way,--but he's as thrue as th' needle in th' camel's eye,as Hogan says, to th' objec' iv his hathred. So he's been f'r fourhundherd years, an' so he'll always be while they'se an England on th'map. Whin England purrishes, th' Irish'll die iv what Hogan callsongwee, which is havin' no wan in the weary wurruld ye don't love.

  "But with th' Fr-rinch 'tis diff'rent. I say 'tis diffrent with th'Fr-rinch. They're an onaisy an' a thrubbled people. They start out downth' street, loaded up with obscenthe an' cigareets, pavin' blocks an'walkin' sthicks an' shtove lids in their hands, cryin', 'A base CapDhry-fuss!' th' cap bein' far off in a cage, by dad. So far, so good. 'Abase Cap Dhry-fuss!' says I; 'an' the same to all thraitors, an' mannyiv thim, whether they ar-re or not.' But along comes a man with a poorhat. 'Where did he get th' hat?' demands th' mob. Down with th' badtile!' they say. 'A base th' lid!' An' they desthroy th' hat, an' th'man undher it succumbs to th' rule iv th' majority an' jines th' mob. Onthey go till they come to a restaurant. 'Ha,' says they, 'th' re-sort ivth' infamious Duclose.' 'His char-rges ar-re high,' says wan. 'I found afish-bone in his soup,' says another. 'He's a thraitor,' says a third.'A base th' soup kitchen! A base th' caafe!' says they; an' they seizeth' unfortunate Duclose, an' bate him an' upset his kettles iv broth.Manetime where's Cap Dhry-fuss? Off in his comfortable cage, swingin' onth' perch an' atin' seed out iv a small bottle stuck in th' wire. Be th'time th' mob has desthroyed what they see on th' way, they've f'rgot th'Cap intirely; an' he's safe f'r another day.

  "'Tis unforch'nit, but 'tis thrue. Th' Fr-rinch ar-re not steady ayetherin their politics or their morals. That's where they get done be th'hated British. Th' diff'rence in furrin' policies is the diff'rencebetween a second-rate safe blower an' a first-class boonco steerer. Th'Fr-rinch buy a ton iv dinnymite, spind five years in dhrillin' a holethrough a steel dure, blow open th' safe, lose a leg or an ar-rm, an'get away with th' li'bilities iv th' firm. Th' English dhress up f'r aMethodist preacher, stick a piece iv lead pipe in th' tails iv theircoat in case iv emargency, an' get all th' money there is in th' line.

  "In th' fr-ront dure comes th' Englishman with a coon king on ayetherar-rm that's jus' loaned him their kingdoms on a prom'ssory note, anddiscovers th' Fr-rinchman emargin' frim th' roons iv th' safe. 'Whatar-re ye doin' here?' says th' Englishman. 'Robbin' th' naygurs,' saysth' Fr-rinchman, bein' thruthful as well as polite. 'Wicked man,' saysth' Englishman. 'What ar-re ye doin' here?' says the Fr-rinchman.'Improvin' the morals iv th' inhabitants,' says th' Englishman. 'Is itnot so, Rastus?' he says. 'It is,' says wan iv th' kings. 'I'm a poorerbut a betther man since ye came,' he says. 'Yes,' says th' Englishman,'I pro-pose f'r to thruly rayform this onhappy counthry,' he says. 'Thisbenighted haythen on me exthreme left has been injooced t
o cut out agood dale iv his wife's business,' he says, 'an' go through lifetorminted be on'y wan spouse,' he says. 'Th' r-rest will go to wurrukf'r me,' he says. 'All crap games bein' particular ongodly'll be undherth' con-throl iv th' gover'mint, which,' he says, 'is me. Policyshops'll be r-run carefully, an' I've appinted Rastus hereWriter-in-Waitin' to her Majesty,' he says.

  "'Th' r-rum they dhrink in these par-rts,' he says, 'is fearful,' hesays. 'What shall we do to stop th' ac-cursed thraffic? Sell thim gin,'says I. ''Tis shameful they shud go out with nawthin' to hide theirnakedness,' he says. 'I'll fetch thim clothes; but,' he says, cas th'weather's too war-rum f'r clothes, I'll not sell thim annything that'lllast long,' he says. 'If it wasn't f'r relligion,' he says, 'I don'tknow what th' 'ell th' wurruld wud come to,' he says. 'Who's relligion?'says th' Fr-rinchman. 'My relligion,' says th' Englishman. 'These pore,benighted savidges,' he says, ''ll not be left to yer odjious morals an'yer hootchy-kootchy school iv thought,' he says, 'but,' he says, 'undherth' binif'cint r-rule iv a wise an' thrue gover'mint,' he says, ''ll bethurly prepared f'r hivin,' he says, 'whin their time comes to go,' hesays, 'which I thrust will not be long,' he says. 'So I'll thank ye tobe off,' he says, 'or I'll take th' thick end iv the slung-shot to ye,'he says.

  "Th' Fr-rinchman is a br-rave man, an' he'd stay an' have it out on th'flure; but some wan calls, 'A base th' Chinnyman!' an' off he goes onanother thrack. An', whin he gets to th' Chinnymen, he finds th'English've abased thim already. An' so he dances fr'm wan par-rt th'wurruld to another like a riochous an' happy flea, an' divvle th' bit ivprogress he makes, on'y thrubble f'r others an' a merry life f'rhimsilf."

  "If England wint to war with France," said Mr. Hennessy, suddenly, "I'dbe f'r France."

  "So ye wud, Hinnissy. So ye wud," said Mr. Dooley. "An' I'm not sayin'that I wudden't f'aget that I'm an Anglo-Saxon long enough to take wancrack at th' Prince iv Wales with a coupli' pin mesilf."