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Mr. Dooley\'s Philosophy by Finley Peter Dunne

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MR. DOOLEY'S PHILOSOPHY

by

FINLEY PETER DUNNE







_Illustrated by_

F. OPPER.



[Illustration: POOR PEOPLE 'LL HAVE SIMPLE MEALS.]



_To the Hennessys of the world who suffer and are silent_




PREFACE


The reporter of these monologues would apologize for the frequent
reappearances of Mr. Dooley, if he felt the old gentleman would
appreciate an apology in his behalf. But Mr. Dooley has none of the
modesty that has been described as "an invention for protection against
envy," because unlike that one of his distinguished predecessors who
discovered this theory to excuse his own imperfect but boastful egotism,
he recognizes no such human failing as envy. Most of the papers in the
present collection of the sayings of this great and learned man have
appeared in the press of America and England. This will account for the
fact that they deal with subjects that have pressed hard upon the minds
of newspaper readers, statesmen, and tax-payers during the year. To
these utterances have been added a number of obiter dicta by the
philosopher, which, perhaps, will be found to have the reminiscent
flavor that appertains to the observations of all learned judges when
they are off the bench.

In some cases the sketches have been remodeled and care has been taken
to correct typographical blunders, except where they seemed to improve
the text. In this connection the writer must offer his profound
gratitude to the industrious typographer, who often makes two jokes grow
where only one grew before, and has added generously to the distress of
amateur elocutionists.

F. P. D.





CONTENTS


A BOOK REVIEW
AMERICANS ABROAD
SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM
THE TRANSVAAL
WAR AND WAR MAKERS
UNDERESTIMATING THE ENEMY
THE WAR EXPERT
MODERN EXPLOSIVES
THE BOER MISSION
THE CHINESE SITUATION
MINISTER WU
THE FUTURE OF CHINA
PLATFORM MAKING
THE YACHT RACES
POLYGAMY
PUBLIC FICKLENESS
KENTUCKY POLITICS
YOUNG ORATORY
PUBLIC GRATITUDE
MARRIAGE AND POLITICS
ALCOHOL AS FOOD
HIGH FINANCE
THE PARIS EXPOSITION
CHRISTIAN JOURNALISM
THE ADMIRAL'S CANDIDACY
CUSTOMS OF KENTUCKY
A SOCIETY SCANDAL
DOINGS OF ANARCHISTS
ANGLO-AMERICAN SPORTS
VOICES FROM THE TOMB
THE NEGRO PROBLEM
THE AMERICAN STAGE
TROUBLES OF A CANDIDATE
A BACHELOR'S LIFE
THE EDUCATION OF THE YOUNG
"L'AIGLON"
CASUAL OBSERVATIONS

* * * * *




A BOOK REVIEW


"Well sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I jus' got hold iv a book, Hinnissy, that
suits me up to th' handle, a gran' book, th' grandest iver seen. Ye know
I'm not much throubled be lithrachoor, havin' manny worries iv me own,
but I'm not prejudiced again' books. I am not. Whin a rale good book
comes along I'm as quick as anny wan to say it isn't so bad, an' this
here book is fine. I tell ye 'tis fine."

"What is it?" Mr. Hennessy asked languidly.

"'Tis 'Th' Biography iv a Hero be Wan who Knows.' 'Tis 'Th' Darin'
Exploits iv a Brave Man be an Actual Eye Witness.' 'Tis 'Th' Account iv
th' Desthruction iv Spanish Power in th' Ant Hills,' as it fell fr'm th'
lips iv Tiddy Rosenfelt an' was took down be his own hands. Ye see 'twas
this way, Hinnissy, as I r-read th' book. Whin Tiddy was blowed up in
th' harbor iv Havana he instantly con-cluded they must be war. He
debated th' question long an' earnestly an' fin'lly passed a jint
resolution declarin' war. So far so good. But there was no wan to carry
it on. What shud he do? I will lave th' janial author tell th' story in
his own wurruds.

"'Th' sicrety iv war had offered me,' he says, 'th' command of a
rig'mint,' he says, 'but I cud not consint to remain in Tampa while
perhaps less audacious heroes was at th' front,' he says. 'Besides,' he
says, 'I felt I was incompetent f'r to command a rig'mint raised be
another,' he says. 'I detarmined to raise wan iv me own,' he says. 'I
selected fr'm me acquaintances in th' West,' he says, 'men that had
thravelled with me acrost th' desert an' th' storm-wreathed mountain,'
he says, 'sharin' me burdens an' at times confrontin' perils almost as
gr-reat as anny that beset me path,' he says. 'Together we had faced th'
turrors iv th' large but vilent West,' he says, 'an' these brave men had
seen me with me trusty rifle shootin' down th' buffalo, th' elk, th'
moose, th' grizzly bear, th' mountain goat,' he says, 'th' silver man,
an' other ferocious beasts iv thim parts,' he says. 'An' they niver
flinched,' he says. 'In a few days I had thim perfectly tamed,' he says,
'an' ready to go annywhere I led,' he says. 'On th' thransport goi'n to
Cubia,' he says, 'I wud stand beside wan iv these r-rough men threatin'
him as a akel, which he was in ivrything but birth, education, rank an'
courage, an' together we wud look up at th' admirable stars iv that
tolerable southern sky an' quote th' bible fr'm Walt Whitman,' he says.
'Honest, loyal, thrue-hearted la-ads, how kind I was to thim,' he says."

[Illustration: Read the articles by Roosevelt and Davis in the Car Fare
Magazine]

"'We had no sooner landed in Cubia than it become nicessry f'r me to
take command iv th' ar-rmy which I did at wanst. A number of days was
spint be me in reconnoitring, attinded on'y be me brave an' fluent body
guard, Richard Harding Davis. I discovered that th' inimy was heavily
inthrenched on th' top iv San Juon hill immejiately in front iv me. At
this time it become apparent that I was handicapped be th' prisence iv
th' ar-rmy,' he says. 'Wan day whin I was about to charge a block house
sturdily definded be an ar-rmy corps undher Gin'ral Tamale, th' brave
Castile that I aftherwards killed with a small ink-eraser that I always
carry, I r-ran into th' entire military force iv th' United States lying
on its stomach. 'If ye won't fight,' says I, 'let me go through, 'I
says. 'Who ar-re ye?' says they. 'Colonel Rosenfelt,' says I. 'Oh,
excuse me,' says the gin'ral in command (if me mimry serves me thrue it
was Miles) r-risin' to his knees an' salutin'. This showed me 'twud be
impossible f'r to carry th' war to a successful con-clusion unless I was
free, so I sint th' ar-rmy home an' attackted San Juon hill. Ar-rmed
on'y with a small thirty-two which I used in th' West to shoot th' fleet
prairie dog, I climbed that precipitous ascent in th' face iv th' most
gallin' fire I iver knew or heerd iv. But I had a few r-rounds iv gall
mesilf an' what cared I? I dashed madly on cheerin' as I wint. Th'
Spanish throops was dhrawn up in a long line in th' formation known
among military men as a long line. I fired at th' man nearest to me an'
I knew be th' expression iv his face that th' trusty bullet wint home.
It passed through his frame, he fell, an' wan little home in far-off
Catalonia was made happy be th' thought that their riprisintative had
been kilt be th' future governor iv New York. Th' bullet sped on its mad
flight an' passed through th' intire line fin'lly imbeddin' itself in
th' abdomen iv th' Ar-rch-bishop iv Santiago eight miles away. This
ended th' war.'

"'They has been some discussion as to who was th' first man to r-reach
th' summit iv San Juon hill. I will not attempt to dispute th' merits iv
th' manny gallant sojers, statesmen, corryspondints an' kinetoscope men
who claim th' distinction. They ar-re all brave men an' if they wish to
wear my laurels they may. I have so manny annyhow that it keeps me broke
havin' thim blocked an' irned. But I will say f'r th' binifit iv
Posterity that I was th' on'y man I see. An I had a tillyscope.'"

"I have thried, Hinnissy," Mr. Dooley continued, "to give you a fair
idee iv th' contints iv this remarkable book, but what I've tol' ye is
on'y what Hogan calls an outline iv th' principal pints. Ye'll have to
r-read th' book ye'ersilf to get a thrue conciption. I haven't time f'r
to tell ye th' wurruk Tiddy did in ar-rmin' an' equippin' himself, how
he fed himsilf, how he steadied himsilf in battle an' encouraged himsilf
with a few well-chosen wurruds whin th' sky was darkest. Ye'll have to
take a squint into th' book ye'ersilf to l'arn thim things."

"I won't do it," said Mr. Hennessy. "I think Tiddy Rosenfelt is all r-
right an' if he wants to blow his hor-rn lave him do it."

"Thrue f'r ye," said Mr. Dooley, "an' if his valliant deeds didn't get
into this book 'twud be a long time befure they appeared in Shafter's
histhry iv th' war. No man that bears a gredge again' himsilf 'll iver
be governor iv a state. An' if Tiddy done it all he ought to say so an'
relieve th' suspinse. But if I was him I'd call th' book 'Alone in
Cubia.'"




AMERICANS ABROAD


"I wondher," said Mr. Dooley, "what me Dutch frind Oom Paul'll think
whin he hears that Willum Waldorf Asthor has given four thousan' pounds
or twinty thousan' iv our money as a conthribution to th' British
governmint?"

"Who's Willum Waldorf Asthor?" Mr. Hennessy asked. "I niver heerd iv
him."

"Ye wudden't," said Mr. Dooley. "He don't thravel in ye'er set. Willum
Waldorf Asthor is a gintleman that wanst committed th' sin iv bein'
bor-rn in this counthry. Ye know what orig-inal sin is, Hinnissy. Ye was
bor-rn with wan an' I was bor-rn with wan an' ivrybody was bor-rn with
wan. 'Twas took out iv me be Father Tuomy with holy wather first an' be
me father aftherward with a sthrap. But I niver cud find out what it
was. Th' sins I've committed since, I'm sure iv. They're painted red an'
carry a bell an' whin I'm awake in bed they stan' out on th' wall like
th' ilicthric signs they have down be State sthreet in front iv th'
clothin' stores. But I'll go to th' grave without knowin' exactly what
th' black orig-inal sin was I committed. All I know is I done wrong. But
with Willum Waldorf Asthor 'tis dif'rent. I say 'tis diff'rent with
Willum Waldorf Asthor. His orig-inal sin was bein' bor-rn in New York.
He cudden't do anything about it. Nawthin' in this counthry wud wipe it
out. He built a hotel intinded f'r jooks who had no sins but thim iv
their own makin', but even th' sight iv their haughty bills cud not
efface th' stain. He thried to live down his crime without success an'
he thried to live down to it be runnin' f'r congress, but it was no go.
No matther where he wint among his counthrymen in England some wan wud
find out he was bor-rn in New York an' th' man that ownded th' house
where he was spindin' th' night wud ast him if he was a cannibal an' had
he anny Indyan blood in his veins. 'Twas like seein' a fine lookin' man
with an intel-lecjal forehead an' handsome, dar-rk brown eyes an'
admirin' him, an' thin larnin' his name is Mudd J. Higgins. His accint
was proper an' his clothes didn't fit him right, but he was not bor-rn
in th' home iv his dayscindants, an' whin he walked th' sthreets iv
London he knew ivry polisman was sayin': 'There goes a man that pretinds
to be happy, but a dark sorrow is gnawin' at his bosom. He looks as if
he was at home, but he was bor-rn in New York, Gawd help him.'

[Illustration]


"So this poor way-worn sowl, afther thryin' ivry other rimidy fr'm
dhrivin' a coach to failin' to vote, at las' sought out th' rile high
clark iv th' coort an' says he: 'Behold,' he says, 'an onhappy man,' he
says. 'With millyons in me pocket, two hotels an' onlimited credit, 'he
says, 'me hear-rt is gray,' he says. 'Poor sowl,' says th' clark iv th'
coort, 'What's ailin' ye'?' he says. 'Have ye committed some gr-reat
crime?' he says. 'Partly,' says Willum Waldorf Asthor. 'It was partly me
an' partly me folks,' he says. 'I was,' he says, in a voice broken be
tears, 'I was,' he says, 'bor-rn in New York,' he says. Th' clark made
th' sign iv th' cross an' says he: 'Ye shudden't have come here,' he
says. 'Poor afflicted wretch,' he says, 'ye need a clargyman,' he says.
'Why did ye seek me out?' he says. 'Because,' says Willum Waldorf
Asthor, 'I wish,' he says, 'f'r to renounce me sinful life,' he says. 'I
wish to be bor-rn anew,' he says. An' th' clark bein' a kind man helps
him out. An' Willum Waldorf Asthor renounced fealty to all foreign
sovereigns, princes an' potentates an' especially Mack th' Wanst, or
Twict, iv th' United States an' Sulu an' all his wur-ruks an' he come
out iv th' coort with his hat cocked over his eye, with a step jaunty
and high, afther years iv servile freedom a bondman at last!

"So he's a citizen iv Gr-reat Britain now an' a lile subject iv th'
Queen like you was Hinnissy befure ye was r-run out."

"I niver was," said Mr. Hennessy. "Sure th' Queen iv England was
renounced f'r me long befure I did it f'r mesilf--to vote."

"Well, niver mind," Mr. Dooley continued, "he's a citizen iv England an'
he has a castle that's as big as a hotel, on'y nobody goes there excipt
thim that's ast, an' not all of those, an' he owns a newspaper an' th'
editor iv it's the Prince iv Wales an' th' rayporthers is all jooks an'
th' Archbishop iv Canterbury r-runs th' ilivator, an' slug wan in th'
printin' office is th' Impror iv Germany in disgeese. 'Tis a pa-per I'd
like to see. I'd like to know how th' Jook iv Marlbro'd do th' McGovern
fight. An' some day Willum Waldorf Asthor'll be able to wurruk f'r his
own pa-aper, f'r he's goin' to be a earl or a markess or a jook or
somethin' gran'. Ye can't be anny iv these things without money,
Hinnissy, an' he has slathers iv it."

"Where does he get it?" demanded Mr. Hennessy.

"F'rm this counthry," said Mr. Dooley.

"I shud think," Mr. Hennessy protested stoutly, "if he's ashamed iv this
counthry he wudden't want to take money f'rm it."

"That's where ye're wrong," Mr. Dooley replied. "Take money annywhere ye
find it. I'd take money f'rm England, much as I despise that formerly
haughty but now dejected land, if I cud get anny from there. An' whin ye
come down to it, I dinnaw as I blame Willum Waldorf Asthor f'r shiftin'
his allegiance. Ivry wan to his taste as th' man said whin he dhrank out
iv th' fire extinguisher. It depinds on how ye feel. If ye ar-re a tired
la-ad an' wan without much fight in ye, livin' in this counthry is like
thryin' to read th' Lives iv the Saints at a meetin' iv th' Clan-na-
Gael. They'se no quiet f'r annybody. They's a fight on ivry minyit iv
th' time. Ye may say to ye'ersilf: 'I'll lave these la-ads roll each
other as much as they plaze, but I'll set here in th' shade an' dhrink
me milk punch, but ye can't do it. Some wan 'll say, 'Look at that
gazabo settin' out there alone. He's too proud f'r to jine in our simple
dimmycratic festivities. Lave us go over an' bate him on th' eye.' An'
they do it. Now if ye have fightin' blood in ye'er veins ye hastily gulp
down yeer dhrink an' hand ye'er assailant wan that does him no kind iv
good, an' th' first thing ye know ye're in th thick iv it an' its scrap,
scrap, scrap till th' undhertaker calls f'r to measure ye. An' 'tis tin
to wan they'se somethin' doin' at th' fun'ral that ye're sorry ye
missed. That's life in America. Tis a gloryous big fight, a rough an'
tumble fight, a Donnybrook fair three thousan' miles wide an' a ruction
in ivry block. Head an' ban's an' feet an' th' pitchers on th' wall. No
holds barred. Fight fair but don't f'rget th' other la-ad may not know
where th' belt line is. No polisman in sight. A man's down with twinty
on top iv him wan minyit. Th' next he's settin' on th' pile usin' a
base-ball bat on th' neighbor next below him. 'Come on, boys, f'r 'tis
growin' late, an' no wan's been kilt yet. Glory be, but this is th'
life!'

"Now, if I'm tired I don't want to fight. A man bats me in th' eye an' I
call f'r th' polis. They isn't a polisman in sight. I say to th' man
that poked me: 'Sir, I fain wud sleep.' 'Get up,' he says, 'an' be
doin',' he says. 'Life is rale, life is earnest,' he says, 'an' man was
made to fight,' he says, fetchin' me a kick. An' if I'm tired I say,
'What's th' use? I've got plenty iv money in me inside pocket. I'll go
to a place where they don't know how to fight. I'll go where I can get
something but an argymint f'r me money an' where I won't have to rassle
with th' man that bates me carpets, ayether,' I says, 'f'r fifty cints
overcharge or good govermint,' I says. An' I pike off to what Hogan
calls th' effete monarchies iv Europe an' no wan walks on me toes, an'
ivry man I give a dollar to becomes an acrobat an' I live comfortably
an' die a markess! Th' divvle I do!

"That's what I was goin' to say," Mr. Hennessy remarked. 'Ye wudden't
live annywhere but here."

"No," said Mr. Dooley, "I wudden't. I'd rather be Dooley iv Chicago than
th' Earl iv Peltvule. It must be that I'm iv th' fightin' kind."




SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM


Whin Congress gets through expellin' mimbers that believes so much in
mathrimony that they carry it into ivry relation iv life an' opens th'
dure iv Chiny so that an American can go in there as free as a Chinnyman
can come into this refuge iv th' opprissed iv th' wurruld, I hope'twill
turn its attintion to th' gr-reat question now confrontin' th' nation--
th' question iv what we shall do with our hired help. What shall we do
with thim?

"We haven't anny," said Mr. Hennessy.

"No," said Mr. Dooley. "Ar-rchey r-road has no servant girl problem. Th'
rule is ivry woman her own cook an' ivry man his own futman, an' be th'
same token we have no poly-gamy problem an' no open dure problem an' no
Ph'lippeen problem. Th' on'y problem in Ar-rchey r-road is how manny
times does round steak go into twelve at wan dollar-an-a-half a day.
But east iv th' r-red bridge, Hinnissy, wan iv th' most cryin' issues iv
th' hour is: What shall we do with our hired help? An' if Congress don't
take hold iv it we ar-re a rooned people."

"'Tis an ol' problem an' I've seen it arise an' shake its gory head ivry
few years whiniver th' Swede popylation got wurruk an' begun bein'
marrid, thus rayjoocin' th' visible supply iv help. But it seems 'tis
deeper thin that. I see be letters in th' pa-apers that servants is
insolent, an' that they won't go to wurruk onless they like th' looks iv
their employers, an' that they rayfuse to live in th' counthry. Why anny
servant shud rayfuse to live in th' counthry is more thin I can see.
Ye'd think that this disreputable class'd give annything to lave th'
crowded tinimints iv a large city where they have frinds be th'
hundherds an' know th' polisman on th' bate an' can go out to hateful
dances an' moonlight picnics--ye'd think these unforchnate slaves'd be
delighted to live in Mulligan's subdivision, amid th' threes an' flowers
an' bur-rds. Gettin' up at four o'clock in th' mornin' th' singin' iv
th' full-throated alarm clock is answered be an invisible choir iv
songsters, as Shakespere says, an' ye see th' sun rise over th' hills as
ye go out to carry in a ton iv coal. All day long ye meet no wan as ye
thrip over th' coal-scuttle, happy in ye'er tile an' ye'er heart is
enlivened be th' thought that th' childher in th' front iv th' house ar-
re growin' sthrong on th' fr-resh counthry air. Besides they'se always
cookin' to do. At night ye can set be th' fire an' improve ye'er mind be
r-readin' half th' love story in th' part iv th' pa-aper that th' cheese
come home in, an' whin ye're through with that, all ye have to do is to
climb a ladder to th' roof an' fall through th' skylight an' ye're in
bed."

[Illustration]


"But wud ye believe it, Hinnissy, manny iv these misguided women
rayfuse f'r to take a job that aint in a city. They prefer th' bustle
an' roar iv th' busy marts iv thrade, th' sthreet car, th' saloon on
three corners an' th' church on wan, th' pa-apers ivry mornin' with
pitchers iv th' s'ciety fav'rite that's just thrown up a good job at
Armours to elope with th' well-known club man who used to be yard-
masther iv th' three B's, G, L, & N., th' shy peek into th' dhry-goods
store, an' other base luxuries, to a free an' healthy life in th'
counthry between iliven P.M. an' four A.M. Wensdahs an' Sundahs. 'Tis
worse thin that, Hinnissy, f'r whin they ar-re in th' city they seem to
dislike their wurruk an' manny iv thim ar-re givin' up splindid jobs
with good large families where they have no chanst to spind their
salaries, if they dhraw thim, an' takin' places in shops, an' gettin'
marrid an' adoptin' other devices that will give thim th' chanst f'r to
wear out their good clothes. 'Tis a horrible situation. Riley th'
conthractor dhropped in here th' other day in his horse an' buggy on his
way to the dhrainage canal an' he was all wurruked up over th' question.
'Why,' he says, ''tis scand'lous th' way servants act,' he says. 'Mrs.
Riley has hystrics,' he says. 'An' ivry two or three nights whin I come
home,' he says, 'I have to win a fight again' a cook with a stove lid
befure I can move me family off th' fr-ront stoop,' he says. 'We threat
thim well too,' he says. 'I gave th' las' wan we had fifty cints an' a
cook book at Chris'mas an' th' next day she left befure breakfast,' he
says. 'What naytionalties do ye hire?' says I. 'I've thried thim all,'
he says, 'an',' he says, 'I'll say this in shame,' he says, 'that th'
Irish ar-re th' worst,' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'ye need have no
shame,' I says, 'f'r'tis on'y th' people that ar-re good servants
that'll niver be masthers,' I says. 'Th' Irish ar-re no good as servants
because they ar-re too good,' I says. 'Th' Dutch ar-re no good because
they aint good enough. No matther how they start they get th' noodle
habit. I had wan, wanst, an' she got so she put noodles in me tay,' I
says. 'Th' Swedes ar-re all right but they always get marrid th' sicond
day. Ye'll have a polisman at th' dure with a warrant f'r th' arrist iv
ye'er cook if ye hire a Boheemyan,' I says. 'Coons'd be all right but
they're liable f'r to hand ye ye'er food in ragtime, an' if ye ordher
pork-chops f'r dinner an' th' hall is long,'tis little ye'll have to eat
whin th' platter's set down,' I says. 'No,' says I, 'they'se no
naytionality now livin' in this counthry that're nathral bor-rn
servants,' I says. 'If ye want to save throuble,' I says, 'ye'll import
ye'er help. They'se a race iv people livin' in Cinthral Africa that'd be
jus' r-right. They niver sleep, tkey can carry twice their weight on
their backs, they have no frinds, they wear no clothes, they can't read,
they can't dance an' they don't dhrink. Th' fact is they're thoroughly
oneddycated. If ye cud tache thim to cook an' take care iv childher
they'd be th' best servants,' says I. 'An' what d'ye call thim"?' says
he. 'I f'rget,' says I. An' he wint away mad."

"Sure an' he's a nice man to be talkin' iv servants," said Mr. Hennessy.
"He was a gintleman's man in th' ol' counthry an' I used to know his
wife whin she wurruked f'r ----"

"S-sh," said Mr. Dooley. "They're beyond that now. Besides they speak
fr'm experyence. An' mebbe that's th' throuble. We're always harder with
our own kind thin with others. 'Tis I that'd be th' fine cinsor iv a
bartinder's wurruk. Th' more ye ought to be a servant ye'ersilf th' more
difficult'tis f'r ye to get along with servants. I can holler to anny
man fr'm th' top iv a buildin' an' make him tur-rn r-round, but if I
come down to th' sthreet where he can see I aint anny bigger thin he is,
an' holler at him, 'tis twinty to wan if he tur-rns r-round he'll hit me
in th' eye. We have a servant girl problem because, Hinnissy, it isn't
manny years since we first begun to have servant girls. But I hope
Congress'll take it up. A smart Congress like th' wan we have now ought
to be able to spare a little time fr'm its preparation iv new Jims iv
speech f'r th' third reader an' rig up a bill that'd make keepin' house
a recreation while so softenin' th' spirit iv th' haughty sign iv a
noble race in th' kitchen that cookin' buckwheat cakes on a hot day with
th' aid iv a bottle iv smokeless powdher'd not cause her f'r to sind a
worthy man to his office in slippers an' without a hat."

"Ah," said Mr. Hennessy, the simple democrat. "It wud be all r-right if
women'd do their own cookin'."

"Well," said Mr. Dooley. "'Twud be a return to Jacksonyan simplicity,
an' 'twud be a gr-reat thing f'r th' resthrant business."




THE TRANSVAAL


"It looks like war," said Mr. Hennessy, who had been glancing at the
flaming head-lines of an evening paper over Mr. Dooley's shoulder.

"It always does," said Mr. Dooley. "Since th' Czar iv Rooshia
inthrajooced his no-fight risolution, they'se been no chanst that they
wudden't be ructious."

"An' what's it all about?" demanded Mr. Hennessy. "I can't make head nor
tail iv it at all, at all."

"Well ye see 'tis this way," said Mr. Dooley. "Ye see th' Boers is a
simple, pasthral people that goes about their business in their own way,
raisin' hell with ivrybody. They was bor-rn with an aversion to society
an' whin th' English come they lit out befure thim, not likin' their
looks. Th' English kept comin' an' the Boers kept movin' till they
cudden't move anny further without bumpin' into th' Soodanese ar-rmy an'
thin they settled down an' says they, 'This far shall we go,' says they,
bein' a rellijous people, 'an' divvle th' sthep further.' An' they
killed off th' irrelijous naygurs an' started in f'r to raise cattle.
An' at night they'd set outside iv their dorps, which, Hinnissy, is
Dutch f'r two-story brick house an' lot, an' sip their la-ager an' swap
horses an' match texts fr'm th' Bible f'r th' seegars, while th' childer
played marbles with dimons as big as th' end iv ye'er thumb.

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Alex Ross: Winner of the Guardian first book award
Stuart Evers: They made a real difference to Britain's literary culture, and it would be a terrible shame if they got forgotten in the age of Amazon

Congratulations to Alex Ross, winner of the Guardian first book award
One of only seven copies of The Tales of Beedle the Bard handwritten by JK Rowling is unveiled at the New York Public Library as the mass market edition goes on sale around the world

The arcane first book that's also a bestseller

Congratulations to Alex Ross, the deserving winner of the 2008 Guardian first book award. There's been a massed chorus of appreciation for this work already, so I shan't add much, except to say that what I particular enjoy about it is the connections it makes between musics and musicians. I'm the sort of person who goes to a lot of concerts, plays the violin, has some kind of grasp of how the history of music works – but frankly, it's all a bit fragmented and vague, since I have never studied the history of music properly and I can't really do the textbook musicological stuff. As I was reading Ross's book, it dawned on me that most of my knowledge of 20th-century music was based on reading the occasional Grove essay – and mostly, reading programme notes. What Ross's book does brilliantly is knit all these odd and isolated bits of knowledge together, so that everything starts to synthesise rather wonderfully, and you get to know what Sibelius thought of Stravinsky, say (not much – "stillborn affectations" was the phrase employed); or that Alban Berg was lionised by George Gershwin; or that David Bowie referenced Philip Glass and vice versa. That, and then the material is set against its historical and political background, such that this is a book for history-lovers as much as music-lovers.

By the way, there's a pungent criticism of the new-music scene by Hans Eisler in 1928, as quoted by Ross. How much have things changed, I wonder?

"The big music festivals have become downright stock exchanges, where the value of the works is assessed and contracts for the coming season are settled. Yet all this noise is carried out in the vacuum of a bell glass, so to speak, so that not a sound can be heard outside. An empty officiousness celebrates orgies of inbreeding, while there is a complete lack of interest or participation of a public of any kind."

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