Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen by Finley Peter Dunne (classic books for 10 year olds txt) 📕

What was I to do? Was I to stay in office, an' have me hat smashed in ivry time I wint out to walk? I tell ye, gintlemen, that office is no signcure. Until hats are made iv cast iron, no poor man can be Prisident iv Fr-rance. But I was not speakin' iv th' Dhryfuss case.'

"'Don't dare to mintion that matter in this coort,' says th' prisident. 'I'm surprised a man iv ye'er intilligence 'd thry to dhrag in exthranyous matther, whin th' honor iv th' ar-rmy is at stake. Gin'ral Merceer, stand beside this witness. Now both speak at wanst! Annybody else that has annything to say, lave him say it now, so it won't be heard.'

"'Mon colonel,' says a former minister iv th' Fr-rinch governmint, who was th' polisman at th' dure, 'Judge Crazy th' Boorepare is here, demandin' to be heard.'

"'Gr-reat hivins!' says th' coort; an' they wint out through th' windows.

"That night they was gr-reat excitement in Rennes. Th' citizens dhrivin home their cows cud har'ly make their way through th' excited throngs on th' sthreet. Th' corryspondints iv th' English papers do not dare to go to bed befure nine o'clock on account iv rumors iv a gin'ral massacre. Madame Sara Bernhardt gave a magnificint performance at th' theaytre, an' was wildly cheered. It was believed in London, Budapesth, Posen, New York, Cookham, an' Upper Sandusky that Fr-rance is about to perish. As I go to press, th' news has excited no commint in Fr-rance."

 

 

III.

"While th' thrillin' scenes I'm tellin' ye about is goin' on, Hinnissy, worse is bein' enacted in beautiful Paris. In that lovely city with its miles an' miles iv sparklin' resthrants,—la belly Paree, as Hogan 'd say,—th' largest American city in th' wurruld, a rivolution's begun. If ye don't believe it, read th' pa-apers. They've arrested a pote. That was all r-right; f'r Fr-rance is sufferin' fr'm too much pothry that 'll scan, as Hogan says, an' too much morality that won't. They ought to be a rule f'r th' polis to pinch anny pote caught poting between th' hours iv twelve an' twelve. But th' mistake th' chief iv th' polis made was to r-run in a butcher at th' same time. What th' butcher done I dinnaw; but annyhow they accused him iv wantin' to poleaxe th' governmint; an' they thrun him into a cell. Now th' butcher he had a frind be th' name iv Guerin,—an Irish name it is, but this la-ad don't appear to be wan iv us,—Jools Guerin. He was wanst in th' thripe business; but he is now r-runnin' a newspaper, like most iv th' people iv Fr-rance. As a thripe butcher, his circulation was larger an' among a betther class than his newspaper. Bein' a la-ad with a fine sinse iv gratichood, an' havin' been wanst fed an' clothed be a Jew man, he calls his pa-aper th' Anti-Jew; an' its principle is, whin ye see a Jew, hand him a crack in th' jaw. 'Tis a good principle, though I wanst knew a man be th' name iv Solomon Felsenthal, that was known in th' ring as Mike Gallegher, th' Tipp'rary Cyclone, as a thribute to th' feelin's iv th' pathrons iv spoort; an', if Jools had thried to carry out his platform with Solly, they'd be no siege in Fort Chabrool. Not anny. That Jew man 'd been champeen iv th' wurruld if all iv him cud 've kept out iv close quarthers with th' man again him.

"I don't quarrel with Jools' feelin's, mind ye. 'Tis th' histhry iv th' wurruld that th' Jews takes our watches fr'm us be tin per cint a month, an' we take thim back be means iv a jimmy an' a piece iv lead pipe. They're on'y two known methods iv finance,—bankin' an' burglary. Th' Jews has th' first down fine, but all th' rest iv th' wurruld is at home in th' second. So Jools's all r-right as far as he goes. But he don't go far.

"Well, whin Jools hear-rd that his frind th' butcher was sloughed up, he wint fairly wild. He says to himsilf, he says, 'I'll go home,' he says, 'an' defy th' governmint,' he says. 'I'll start a rivolution,' he says. 'But,' he says, 'I must first notify th' polis,' he says, 'so's to prevint disordher,' he says. So he wint to th' chief iv polis, who was an ol' frind iv his,—they was in th' same newspaper office or thripe dairy or something,—an' th' chief kissed Jools, an' asked him what he cud do f'r him. 'I wish,' said Jools, 'ye'd sind down tin or a dozen good men in uniform an' a few detectives in citizen's clothes,' he says.

"I've asked some ladies an' gintlemen to a five o'clock rivolution at my house,' he says; 'an' I'd like to be sure they'll be no disordher,' he says. 'Well,' says th' chief, ''twill not be aisy,' he says. 'Ye see th' prisident—I f'rget his name—has been asked to go to th' r-races with some frinds,' he says; 'an' they will prob'bly thry to kill him,' he says. 'We can't play anny fav'rites here,' he says. 'We have to protect th' low as well as th' high,' he says. 'If annything happens to this man, th' case is li'ble to be taken up be th' ex-prisidents' association; an' they're num'rous enough to make throuble f'r us,' he says. 'But,' he says, 'I'll do what I can f'r ye, me ol' frind,' he says. 'Give us th' best ye have,' says Jools; 'an', if ye've nawthin' to do afther ye close up, ye might dhrop in,' he says, 'an' have a manifesto with us,' he says. 'Come just as ye ar-re,' he says. ''Tis an informal rivolution,' he says.

"An' away he wint. At sharp five o'clock th' rivolution begun. Th' sthreets was dinsely packed with busy journalists, polis, sojers, an' fash'nably dhressed ladies who come down fr'm th' Chang's All Easy in motocycles. There was gr-reat excitement as Jools come to th' windy an' pinned a copy iv his vallyable journal on th' sill, accompanied be a thrusty liftnant wavin' a statement iv th' circulation iv th' Anti-Jew. Jools at this moment was a tur-rble sight. He was dhressed fr'm head to foot in Harveyized, bomb-proof steel, with an asbestos rose in his buttonhole. Round his waist was sthrapped four hundherd rounds iv ca'tridges an' eight days' provisions. He car-rid a Mauser rifle on each shoulder, a machine gun undher wan ar-rm, a dinnymite bomb undher another, an' he was smoking a cigareet. 'Ladies an' gintlemen,' he says, 'I'm proud an' pleased to see ye prisint in such lar-rge numbers at th' first rivolution iv th' prisint season,' he says. 'With th' kind permission iv th' hated polis undher th' di-rection iv me good frind an' fellow-journalist, Loot Franswoo Coppere, an' th' ar-rmy, f'r whose honor ivry Fr-renchman 'll lay down his life, th' siege will now begin. We will not,' he says, 'lave this house till we have driven ivry cur-rsed Cosmypollitan or Jew,' he says, 'fr'm this noble land iv th' br-rave an' home iv th' flea,' he says. 'Veev Fr-rance!' he says. 'Veev Jools Guerin!' he says. 'Conspuez Rothscheeld!' he says. 'It's ye'er move, Loot,' he says to th' polisman.

"'I defer to th' ar-rmy whose honor is beyond reproach,' says th' polisman, 'or recognition,' he says. 'Veev l'army!' he says.

"'Thank ye,' says Gin'ral Bellow, salutin'. 'I will do me jooty. Man can do no more,' he says. 'Jools,' he says, 'surrinder,' he says. 'Ye cannot longer hol' out,' he says. 'Ye have provisions on'y f'r eight years.'

"'We will remain till th' last wan iv us perishes iv indigestion,' says Jools.

"'Thin I must take sthrong measures,' says th' gin'ral. 'At a given signal we will storm th' house, bate down th' dures, smash in th' roofs, cut off th' gas, poison th' wather supply, back up th' sewer, break th' windys, an' r-raise th' rint.'"

"'Do ye'er worst,' says Jools, proudly.

"'Thin,' says th' gin'ral, imprissively, 'if these measures do not suffice, I will suspind th' deliv'ry iv th' mails,' he says.

"'Miscreant!' cries Jools, tur-rnin' white. 'An' this is called a merciful governmint,' he says. 'Mong doo,' he says, 'what cr-rimes will not Fr-rinchmen commit again' Fr-rinchmen!' he says. 'But,' he says, 'ye little know us, if ye think we can be quelled be vi'lence,' he says. 'I have a last card,' he says. 'I refuse to give th' signal,' he says.

"'Thin,' says th' gin'ral, tur-rnin' away with tears in his eyes, 'we must adopt other measures.'

"'Very well,' says Jools. 'But mark wan thing,—that, if ye attempt to make me ridiculous, ye shall suffer.'

"'I assure ye, mong editor,' says th' gin'ral, earnestly, 'that th' governmint will not make ye anny more ridiculous than it makes itsilf,' says he.

"'Me honor is satisfied,' says Jools. 'Do ye'er worst,' he says.

"At eight o'clock th' minister iv war ar-rived, an' took command. He ordhered up twinty rig'mints iv cav'lry, tin batthries iv artillery, an' two divisions iv fut sojers. It was his intintion to sind th' cav'lry in over th' roofs, while th' army carried th' front stoop, protected be fire fr'm th' heavy artillery, while th' Fr-rinch navy shelled th' back dure. But this was seen to be impossible, because th' man that owned th' wine-shop next dure, he said 'twud dhrive away custom. All th' sthreets f'r miles ar-round was blockaded without effect. Th' fire departmint was called to put Jools out, but wather niver touched him. Th' sewer gang wint down an' blocked th' dhrains, an' Jools soon had inspiration f'r a year's writin'. At last accounts th' garrison was still holdin' out bravely again a witherin' fire iv canned food, lobsters, omelets, an' hams. A brave gossoon in th' Sivinth Artill'ry did partic'larly effective wurruk, hur-rlin' a plate iv scrambled eggs acrost th' sthreet without spillin' a dhrop, an' is now thrainin' a pie like mother used to make on th' first windy iv th' sicond flure. It is reported that th' minister iv war at four o'clock to-morrow mornin' will dhrop a bundle iv copies iv Jools' paper through th' chimbley. Whin he opens th' windy, a pome be Paul Deroulede 'll be read to him. This is again th' articles iv war, but th' case is desp'rate.

"But I was thinkin', Hinnissy, as I walked down th' Roo Chabrool, how I'd like to see a Chicago polisman come sthrollin' along with his hat on th' back iv his head. I don't love Chicago polismen. They seem to think ivry man's head's as hard as their own. But I'd give forty-three francs, or eight dollars an' sixty cints iv our money, if th' Fr-rinch governmint 'd sind f'r Jawnny Shea, an' ask him to put down this here rivolution. Th' nex' day they'd move th' office iv th' Anti-Seemite Society to th' morgue."

 

 

IV.

"Well, Hinnissy, to get back to Rennes. Whin I left off, th' air was full iv rumors iv an approachin' massacree. It was still full at daybreak. Exthraordinney measures was adopted to provide again disturbance. Th' gyard was doubled, an' both polismen had all they cud do to keep th' crowd in ordher. Th' English an' American journalists appeared at th' thrile wrapped up in th' flags iv their rayspictive counthries. All th' Jews, excipt th' owners iv anti-Jew papers fr'm Paris, wore heavy masks an' kep' their hands in their pockets. At four o'clock th' prisident called th' aujience to disordher, an', havin' disentangled Gin'ral Merceer an' a former prisident iv th' raypublic, demanded if Moosoo Bertillon was in th' room.

"'Here,' says that gr-reat janius, descindin' fr'm th' roof in a parachute. Ye know Bertillon. Ye don't? Iv coorse ye do, Hinnissy. He's th' la-ad that invinted th' system iv ditictive wurruk med aisy that they use down in th' Cintral Polis Station. I mind wanst, afther 'twas inthrojooced, th' loot says to Andy Rohan,—he's a sergeant now, be hivins!—he says, 'Go out,' he says, 'an' fetch in Mike McGool, th' safe robber,' he says. 'Here's his description,' he says: 'eyelashes, eight killomethres long; eyes, blue an' assymethrical; jaw, bituminous; measuremint fr'm abaft th' left ear to base iv maxillory glan's, four hectograms; a r-red scar runnin' fr'm th' noomo-gasthric narve to th' sicond dorsal verteebree,' he says. 'Tis so. I have th' description at home in th' cash dhrawer. Well, Andy come in about six o'clock that night, lookin' as though he'd been thryin' to r-run a fut race acrost a pile iv scrap ir'n; an' says he, 'Loot,' he says, 'I've got him,' he says. "I didn't take th' measuremints,' he says, 'because, whin I pulled out th' tape line, he rowled me eighty hectograms down th' sthreet,' he says. 'But 'tis Mike McGool,' he says. 'I don't know annything about his noomo-gasthric narves,' he says, 'but I reco'nized his face,' he says. 'I've r-run him in fifty times,' he says.

"Bertillon, besides