Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War. Finley Peter Dunne
'A Spanish gin'ral,' says th' copper. 'Give him a typewriter an' set him to wurruk,' says th' king. 'On with th' dance,' he says. An' afther awhile, whin he gits tired iv th' game, he'll write home an' say he's got the islands; an' he'll tur-rn thim over to th' gover'mint an' go back to his ship, an' Mark Hanna'll organize th' F'lip-ine Islands Jute an' Cider Comp'ny, an' th' rivolutchinists'll wish they hadn't. That's what'll happen. Mark me wurrud."
ON SOME ARMY APPOINTMENTS.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I didn't vote f'r Mack, but I'm with him now. I had me doubts whether he was th' gr-reatest military janius iv th' cinchry, but they'se no question about it. We go into this war, if we iver do go into it, with th' most fash'n-able ar-rmy that iver creased its pants. 'Twill be a daily hint fr'm Paris to th' crool foe.
"Other gin'rals iv th' r-rough-house kind, like Napoleon Bonypart, th' impror iv th' Frinch, Gin'ral Ulis S. Grant, an' Cousin George Dooley, hired coarse, rude men that wudden't know th' diff'rence between goluf an' crokay, an' had their pants tucked in their boots an' chewed tobacco be th' pound. Thank Hivin, McKinley knows betther thin to sind th' likes iv thim abroad to shock our frinds be dumpin' their coffee into thimsilves fr'm a saucer.
"Th' dure bell rings, an' a futman in liv'ry says: 'I'm Master Willie Dooselbery's man, an' he's come to be examined f'r th' army,' says he. 'Admit him,' says McKinley; an' Master Willie enters, accompanied be his val-lay, his mah an' pah an' th' comity iv th' goluf club. 'Willie,' says th' Prisident, 'ye ar-re enthrin' upon a gloryous car-eer, an' 'tis nic'ssry that ye shud be thurly examined, so that ye can teach th' glories iv civilization to th' tyr-ranies iv Europe that is supported be ye'er pah an' mah,' he says. ''Twud be a tur-r'ble thing,' he says, 'if some day they shud meet a Spanish gin'ral in Mahdrid, an' have him say to thim, "I seen ye'er son Willie durin' th' war wearin' a stovepipe hat an' tan shoes." Let us begin th' examination,' he says. 'Ar-re ye a good goluf player?' 'I am,' says Willie. 'Thin I appint ye a liftnant. What we need in th' ar-rmy is good goluf players,' he says. 'In our former war,' he says, 'we had th' misfortune to have men in command that didn't know th' diff'rence between a goluf stick an' a beecycle; an' what was th' raysult? We foozled our approach at Bull R-run,' he says. 'Ar-re ye a mimber iv anny clubs?' he says. 'Four,' says Willie. 'Thin I make ye a major,' he says. 'Where d'ye get ye'er pants?' he says. 'Fr'm England,' says Willie. 'Gloryous,' says McKinley. 'I make ye a colonel,' he says. 'Let me thry ye in tactics,' he says. 'Suppose ye was confronted be a Spanish ar-rmy in th' afthernoon, how wud ye dhress?' he says. 'I'd wear a stovepipe hat, a long coat, a white vest, an' lavender pants,' says Willie. 'An' if th' attack was be night?' he says. 'I'd put on me dhress shoot, an' go out to meet thim,' says Willie. 'A thuro sojer,' says McKinley. 'Suppose th' sociable lasted all night?' he says. 'I'd sound th' rethreat at daybreak, an' have me brave boys change back,' he says, 'to suitable appar'l,' he says. 'Masterly,' says McKinley. 'I will sind ye'er name in as a brigadier-gin'ral,' he says. 'Thank Gawd, th' r-rich,' he says, 'is brave an' pathriotic,' he says. 'Ye will jine th' other boys fr'm th' club at Tampa,' he says. 'Ye shud be careful iv ye'er equipment,' he says. 'I have almost ivrything r-ready,' says Willie. 'Me man attinded to thim details,' he says. 'But I fear I can't go to th' fr-ront immejetly,' he says. 'Me pink silk pijammas hasn't arrived,' he says. 'Well,' says Mack,' 'wait f'r thim,' he says. 'I'm anxious f'r to ind this hor'ble war,' he says, 'which has cost me manny a sleepy night,' he says; 'but 'twud be a crime f'r to sind a sojer onprepared to battle,' he says. 'Wait f'r th' pijammas,' he says. 'Thin on to war,' he says; 'an' let ye'er watchword be, "Raymimber ye'er manners,"' he says.
"'They'se a man out here,' says th' privit sicrity, 'that wants to see ye,' he says. 'He's a r-rough-lookin' charackter that was in th' Soo war,' he says. 'His name is Gin'ral Fiteum,' he says. 'Throw th' stiff out,' says Mack. 'I seen him in Pinnsylvania Avnoo yisterdah, r-ridin' in a sthreet ca-ar,' he says. 'Ah, Willie, me boy,' he says, ''tis little ye know what throuble I have fr'm these vulgar sojers with pants that bags at th' knees. Give me a goold-tipped cigareet, an' tell me whether shirt waists is much worn in New York this year.'
"Yis, Hinnissy, we'll put th' tastiest ar-rmy in th' field that iver come out iv a millinery shop. 'Right dhress!' will be an ordher that'll mean somethin'. Th' ar-rmy'll be followed be specyal correspondints fr'm Butthrick's Pattherns an' Harper's Bazar; an', if our brave boys don't gore an' pleat th' inimy, 'twill be because th' inimy'll be r-rude enough to shoot in anny kind iv clothes they find on th' chair whin they wake up."
ON STRATEGY.
"A sthrateejan," said Mr. Dooley, in response to Mr. Hennessy's request for information, "is a champeen checker-player. Whin th' war broke out, me frind Mack wint to me frind Hanna, an' says he, 'What,' he says, 'what can we do to cr-rush th' haughty power iv Spain,' he says, 'a'n br-ring this hateful war to a early conclusion?" he says. 'Mobilize th' checker-players,' says Hanna. An' fr'm all cor-rners iv th' counthry they've gone to Washin'ton, where they're called th' Sthrateejy Board.
"Day an' night they set in a room with a checker-board on th' end iv a flour bar'l, an' study problems iv th' navy. At night Mack dhrops in. 'Well, boys,' says he, 'how goes th' battle?' he says. 'Gloryous,' says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Two more moves, an' we'll be in th' king row.' 'Ah,' says Mack, 'this is too good to be thrue,' he says. 'In but a few brief minyits th' dhrinks'll be on Spain,' he says. 'Have ye anny plans f'r Sampson's fleet?' he says. 'Where is it?' says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'I dinnaw,' says Mack. 'Good,' says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Where's th' Spanish fleet?' says they. 'Bombardin' Boston, at Cadiz, in San June de Matzoon, sighted near th' gas-house be our special correspondint, copyright, 1898, be Mike O'Toole.' 'A sthrong position,' says th' Sthrateejy Board. 'Undoubtedly, th' fleet is headed south to attack and seize Armour's glue facthory. Ordher Sampson to sail north as fast as he can, an' lay in a supply iv ice. Th' summer's comin' on. Insthruct Schley to put on all steam, an' thin put it off again, an' call us up be telephone. R-rush eighty-three millyon throops an' four mules to Tampa, to Mobile, to Chickenmaha, to Coney Island, to Ireland, to th' divvle, an' r-rush thim back again. Don't r-rush thim. Ordher Sampson to pick up th' cable at Lincoln Par-rk, an' run into th' bar-rn. Is th' balloon corpse r-ready? It is? Thin don't sind it up. Sind it up. Have th' Mulligan Gyards co-op'rate with Gomez, an' tell him to cut away his whiskers. They've got tangled in th' riggin'. We need yellow-fever throops. Have ye anny yellow fever in th' house? Give it to twinty thousand three hundherd men, an' sind thim afther Gov'nor Tanner. Teddy Rosenfelt's r-rough r-riders ar-re downstairs, havin' their uniforms pressed. Ordher thim to th' goluf links at wanst. They must be no indecision. Where's Richard Harding Davis? On th' bridge iv the New York? Tur-rn th' bridge. Seize Gin'ral Miles' uniform. We must strengthen th' gold resarve. Where's th' Gussie? Runnin' off to Cuba with wan hundherd men an' ar-rms, iv coorse. Oh, war is a dhreadful thing. It's ye'er move, Claude,' says th' Sthrateejy Board.
"An' so it goes on; an' day by day we r-read th' tur-rble story iv our brave sthrateejans sacrificin' their time on th' altar iv their counthry, as Hogan says. Little we thought, whin we wint into this war, iv th' horrors it wud bring. Little we thought iv th' mothers at home weepin' f'r their brave boys down at Washin'ton hur-rtin their poor eyes over a checker-board. Little we thought iv these devoted men, as Hogan says, with achin' heads, plannin' to sind three hundherd thousand millyon men an' a carload iv beans to their fate at Tampa, Fla. But some wan must be sacrificed, as Hogan says. An' these poor fellows in Washin'ton with their r-red eyes an' their tired backs will be an example to future ginerations, as Hogan says, iv how an American sojer can face his jooty whin he has to, an' how he can't whin he hasn't to."
"Dewey ain't a sthrateejan?" inquired Mr. Hennessy.
"No," said Mr. Dooley. "Cousin George is a good man, an' I'm very fond iv him—more be raison iv his doin' that May-o bosthoon Pat Mountjoy, but he has low tastes. We niver cud make a sthrateejan iv him. They'se a kind iv a vulgar fightin' sthrain in him that makes him want to go out an' slug some wan wanst a month. I'm glad he ain't in Washin'ton. Th' chances ar-re he'd go to th' Sthrateejy Board and