Observations By Mr. Dooley by Finley Peter Dunne (english novels to improve english txt) 📕

iv eight fr'm a runnin' start in tin minyits an' this in spite iv th' fact that he was obliged to come back to th' last wan, a Swede named Olson, an' bump him over again.

"'Misther Graball, th' Muskegon millionaire who got into s'ciety las' year be dyin' his hair green an' givin' a dinner at which all th' guests rayceived a lumber mill as sooveneers, has returned suddenly fr'm th' West an' his house party is over.'

"'Little Aigrette Vandycooker has a tooth, her elder sister a markess, an' her mother a siparation.'

"'Misther an' Mrs. Roger Smitherson an' frind ar-re spindin' th' summer at frind's house.'

"Gin'rally we lade a life iv quite an' iligant luxury. Wud ye like a line on me daily routine? Well, in th' mornin' a little spin in me fifty-horse power 'Suffer-little-childher,' in th' afthernoon a whirl over th' green wathers iv th' bay in me goold-an'-ivory yacht, in th' avenin' dinner with a monkey or something akelly as good, at night a few leads out iv th' wrong hand, some hasty wurruds an' so to bed. Such is th' spoortin' life in Rhode Island, th' home iv Roger Williams an' others not so much. It grows tiresome afther awhile. I confess to ye, Algernon Hinnissy, that befure th' monkey was inthrajooced, I was sufferin' fr'm what Hogan calls onwee, which is th' same thing as ingrowin' money. I had got tired iv puttin' new storeys on me cottage an' ridin' up in th' ilivator fr'm th' settin' room on th' eighth flure to th' dinin' room on th' twinty-ninth, I didn't care about ayether thrap-shootin' or autymobillin', I felt like givin' a cawrnation dinner to th' poor iv th' village an' feedin' thim me polo ponies, I didn't care whether th' champagne bar'ls was kept iced, whether th' yacht was as long as th' wan ownded be th' Ginger Snap king nex' dure, whether I had three or tin millyon dollars in me pants pocket in th' mornin' or whether th' Poles in th' coal mine was sthrikin' f'r wan dollar an' forty-siven or wan dollar an' forty-eight cints a day. I was tired iv ivrything. Life had me be th' throat, th' black dog was on me back. I felt like suicide or wurruk. Thin come th' bright idee iv me young frind an' th' monkey saved me. He give me something to live f'r. Perhaps we too may be monkeys some day an' be amusin'. We don't talk half as loud or look half as foolish or get dhrunk half as quick, but give us a chanst. We're a young people an' th' monkeys is an old, old race. They've been Newportin' f'r cinchries. Sure that ol' la-ad who said man was descinded fr'm monkeys knew what he was talkin' about. Descinded, but how far?

"Now, don't go gettin' cross about th' rich, Hinnissy. Put up that dinnymite. Don't excite ye'ersilf about us folks in Newport. It's always been th' same way, Father Kelly tells me. Says he: 'If a man is wise, he gets rich an' if he gets rich, he gets foolish, or his wife does. That's what keeps th' money movin' around. What comes in at th' ticker goes out at th' wine agent. F'river an' iver people have been growin' rich, goin' down to some kind iv a Newport, makin' monkeys iv thimsilves an' goin' back to th' jungle. 'Tis a steady pro-cission. Aisy come, lazy go. In ivry little hamlet in this broad land, there's some man with a broad jaw an' th' encouragement iv a good woman, makin' ready to shove some other man off his steam yacht. At this very minyit whin I speak, me frind Jawn Grates has his eye on Hankerbilk's house. He wud swing a hammock in th' woodshed this year, but nex' he may have his feet up on th' bannister iv th' front stoop. Whin a captain iv industhry stops dhrinkin' at th' bar, he's near his finish. If he ain't caught in his own person, th' constable will get to his fam'ly. Ye read about th' union iv two gr-reat fortunes. A dollar meets another dollar, they are conganial, have sim'lar tastes, an' manny mutual frinds. They are marrid an' bring up a fam'ly iv pennies, dimes, thirty-cintses an' countherfeits. An' afther awhile, th' fam'ly passes out iv circylation. That's th' histhry iv it,' says Father Kelly. 'An',' says he,' I'm glad there is a Newport,' he says. 'It's th' exhaust pipe,' he says. 'Without it we might blow up,' he says. 'It's th' hole in th' top iv th' kettle,' he says. 'I wish it was bigger,' he says."

"Oh, well," said Mr. Hennessy, "we are as th' Lord made us."

"No," said Mr. Dooley, "lave us be fair. Lave us take some iv th' blame oursilves."

Arctic Exploration

"This here business iv Artic exploration's th' gran' pursoot," said Mr. Dooley. "A gran', comfortable, fightin', quarrelin' business."

"What's it all about?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "Why shud annywan want to go to th' North Pole? Ain't it cold enough here?"

"I niver cud quite make it out," said Mr. Dooley. "I've heerd tell that years ago, befure th' fire or th' war, some wan had an idee in his foolish head that they was a gran' sea up there with blue wather dimplin' in th' moonlight an' cocynut threes growin' on th' shore an' if a man cud on'y get in with his boat, he cud sail around th' wurruld an' fetch up in Chiny. That idee blew up an' thin some wan said 'twud be a fine thing f'r science if a white man cud get to th' North Pole. What he'd do if he got there no wan has anny thought. Accordin' to what I hear, th' North Pole ain't like a tillygraft pole, a barber pole, a fishin' pole, a clothes pole, a poll-tax, a Maypole, a Russhyan Pole, or annything that ye can see, smell or ate. Whin ye get to it, it is no diff'rent fr'm bein' annywhere on th' ice. Th' on'y way ye know ye're there is be consultin' a pocket arithmetic, a watch an' a compass. Don't get it into ye'er head that if me frind Baldwin or Peary iver wint north iv Milwaukee an' come acrost th' North Pole they'd carve their names on it or hist a flag over it or bring it home with thim on a thruck an' set it up on th' lake front. Th' north pole is a gigantic column iv cold air, some says hot, an' an enthusyastic explorer that wasn't lookin' where he wint might pass right through it without knowin'.

"In th' arly days whin an explorer wint off to find th' Pole, he bought himsilf a sheepskin coat, a couple iv dogs, a pair iv skates, an' a bottle iv pickled onions an' set out bravely, an' th' people watched th' fam'ly to see what other form th' lunacy wud take. Afther awhile he ayether come back or he didn't. Sometimes th' Esqueemo lady didn't care to lave her pleasant home in th' land iv perpetchool blubber an' in that case th' hardy mariner remained in th' frozen north. I niver cud see th' advantages iv life in th' Artic regions. 'Tis thrue th' nights is six months long an' sleep is wan iv th' spoorts that age hasn't deprived me iv. It mus' be a gr-reat counthry f'r burglars. But f'r a plain wurrukin' man it's very thryin'. Think iv a six months' wurrukin' day. Ye get ye'er breakfast at sun-up in March an' ye don't set down to dinner till th' first iv June. Thin comes a long afthernoon an' I tell ye whin th' whistle blows at six o'clock October, it's a welcome sound it sinds to ye'er ears. Ye go home an' all th' childher has growed up an' th' news in th' mornin' pa-per is six months' old. Ye lie around readin' an' playin' cards f'r a month or two an' thin ye yawn an' set th' alarm clock f'r March an' says: 'Mah, it's th' fifteenth iv Novimber an' time th' childher was abed,' an' go to sleep. About Christmas th' good woman wakes ye up to look f'r th' burglar an' afther ye've paddled around in th' ice floe f'r a week, ye climb back into bed grumblin' an' go to sleep again. Afther awhile ye snore an' th' wife iv ye'er bosom punches ye. 'What time is it?' says ye. 'It's a quarther past th' fifteenth iv Janooary,' says she, 'an' that siren iv ye'ers has been goin' since New Year's day.' At March ye ar-re aroused be th' alarm clock an' ye go out to feed th' seals an' I tell ye, ye need a shave. It mus' be a quare sinsation to wake up in th' mornin' an' find that th' kid ye tucked into bed th' night befure has grown side-whiskers in his sleep an' his feet has pushed out th' foot iv th' cradle. Not f'r my money, Hinnissy. Th' Artic regions f'r thim that likes thim but give me a land where ye don't tell th' time iv day be th' almynac.

"But other people is diff'rent. Th' boldest Artic explorer is a man that's made his money out iv sellin' base-burnin' stoves an' has chillblains in July. Such a man is niver continted till he's started somebody off f'r th' northest north. An' he has no throuble to find a man. Nex' to bein' invited on a private yacht to sail in th' Middyteranyan, th' nicest thing a millyonaire can do f'r ye is to make an Artic explorer iv ye. Th' prelim'naries is great spoort. F'r two years ye go round th' counthry letchrin' on 'What I will see in th' Artic regions whin I get there if at all.' Fin'lly ye set off with th' fleet, consistin' iv a ship f'r ye'ersilf, three f'r th' provisions, two f'r th' clothes an' wan f'r th' diaries. They'se also a convoy. Th' business iv th' convoy is to dhrop in at Thromsoe in Norway an' ast f'r news iv ye. Thromsoe is wan iv th' farthest north places that anny explorer has been. But it well repays a visit, bein' a thrivin', bustlin' Swede city with a good club. Afther th' long sthruggle with th' pitiliss ice machine it is very pleasant to dhrop in on this hospital community an' come back that night be thrain. Well, as I was sayin', wan explorer starts off in a fur suit an' has th' time iv his life an' th' other explorer stays at home an' suffers th' crool hardships an' bitther disapp'intments iv life in Brooklyn. Lashed to his rockin' chair, he shivers ivry time th' wind blows an' he thinks iv his hardy partner facin' th' purls iv that far-off region iv ice an' snow an' funny little Esqueemo women in union garments iv fur. 'He's in Greenland now; he's battlin' with th' deadly ice floe; now he's rasslin' with a Polar bear; he's up; he's away; he's reached th' Pole; he's pullin' it up be th' roots; bravo Baldy!' An' so he goes till his hands is all chapped fr'm thinkin' iv th' cold an' his leg is lame fr'm th' encounther with a Polar bear an' his rockin' chair is in danger iv bein' dashed to pieces again' th' threacherous pianny. An' wan day a message comes fr'm th' other explorer: 'Rio Janeiro. We have rayturned, baffled but not defeated. Th' pickled walnuts give out befure we reached th' West Indies. As far as we've gone we've had excellent raysults. Th' cap'n, th' mate, th' cook, th' stewart an' eighty per cint iv th' crew is in ir'ns an' as soon as I've got this tillygram off I'm goin' in to punch th' surgeon. I congratylate ye. Ye'er name will stand high among th' binnyfactors iv science. We have demonsthrated beyond fear iv conthrydiction that th' gulf sthream is jus' where it was an' that volcanoes ain't what they are cracked up to be. Our motto is: "Niver give up th' ship. It's too comfortable." Who's ye'er banker here?' Whin th' millyionaire dies iv exposure, a victim to science, th' mariner rayturns an' letchers on th' subject: 'Quarrels I have had in th' frozen north.' Talk about th' terrors, iv Artic exploration, Hinnissy! There's where ye get thim. Did ye iver go