The Wit and Humor of America
Chapter 40 : And that inverted Ball they call the High-- By which the Duffer thinks to live or die,

And that inverted Ball they call the High-- By which the Duffer thinks to live or die, Lift not your hands to IT for help, for it As impotently froths as you or I.

Yon rising Moon that leads us Home again, How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising wait for us At this same Turning--and for One in vain.

And when, like her, my Golfer, I have been And am no more above the pleasant Green, And you in your mild Journey pa.s.s the Hole I made in One--ah! pay my Forfeit then!

[Footnote 1: By permission of Fox, Duffield and Company. From _The Golfer's Rubaiyat_. Copyright, 1901, by Herbert S. Stone and Company.]

MR. DOOLEY ON REFORM CANDIDATES

BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE

"That frind iv ye'ers, Dugan, is an intilligent man," said Mr. Dooley.

"All he needs is an index an' a few ill.u.s.thrations to make him a bicyclopedja iv useless information."

"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, judiciously, "he ain't no Soc-rates an' he ain't no answers-to-questions colum; but he's a good man that goes to his jooty, an' as handy with a pick as some people are with a c.o.c.ktail spoon. What's he been doin' again ye?"

"Nawthin'," said Mr. Dooley, "but he was in here Choosday. 'Did ye vote?' says I. 'I did,' says he. 'Which wan iv th' distinguished bunko steerers got ye'er invalu'ble suffrage?' says I. 'I didn't have none with me,' says he, 'but I voted f'r Charter Haitch,' says he. 'I've been with him in six ilictions,' says he, 'an' he's a good man,' he says.

'D'ye think ye're votin' f'r th' best?' says I. 'Why, man alive,' I says, 'Charter Haitch was a.s.sa.s.sinated three years ago,' I says. 'Was he?' says Dugan. 'Ah, well, he's lived that down be this time. He was a good man,' he says.

"Ye see, that's what thim rayform lads wint up again. If I liked rayformers, Hinnissy, an' wanted f'r to see thim win out wanst in their lifetime, I'd buy thim each a suit iv chilled steel, ar-rm thim with raypeatin' rifles, an' take thim east iv State Sthreet an' south iv Jackson Bullyvard. At prisint th' opinion that pre-vails in th' ranks iv th' gloryous ar-rmy iv ray-form is that there ain't anny-thing worth seein' in this lar-rge an' commodyous desert but th' pest-house an' the bridewell. Me frind Willum J. O'Brien is no rayformer. But Willum J.

undherstands that there's a few hundherds iv thousands iv people livin'

in a part iv th' town that looks like nawthin' but smoke fr'm th' roof iv th' Onion League Club that have on'y two pleasures in life, to wur-ruk an' to vote, both iv which they do at th' uniform rate iv wan dollar an' a half a day. That's why Willum J. O'Brien is now a sinitor an' will be an aldherman afther next Thursdah, an' it's why other people are sinding him flowers.

"This is th' way a rayform candydate is ilicted. Th' boys down town has heerd that things ain't goin' r-right somehow. Franchises is bein'

handed out to none iv thim; an' wanst in a while a mimber iv th' club, comin' home a little late an' thryin' to riconcile a pair iv r-round feet with an embroidered sidewalk, meets a sthrong ar-rm boy that pushes in his face an' takes away all his marbles. It begins to be talked that th' time has come f'r good citizens f'r to brace up an' do somethin', an' they agree to nomynate a candydate f'r aldherman. 'Who'll we put up?' says they. 'How's Clarence Doolittle?' says wan. 'He's laid up with a coupon thumb, an' can't r-run.' 'An' how about Arthur Doheny?' 'I swore an oath whin I came out iv colledge I'd niver vote f'r a man that wore a made tie.' 'Well, thin, let's thry Willie Boye.' 'Good,' says th'

comity. 'He's jus' th' man f'r our money.' An' Willie Boye, after thinkin' it over, goes to his tailor an' ordhers three dozen pairs iv pants, an' decides f'r to be th' sthandard-bearer iv th' people. Musin'

over his fried eyesthers an' asparagus an' his champagne, he bets a polo pony again a box of golf-b.a.l.l.s he'll be ilicted unanimous; an' all th'

good citizens make a vow f'r to set th' alar-rm clock f'r half-past three on th' afthernoon iv iliction day, so's to be up in time to vote f'r th' riprisint.i.tive iv pure gover'mint.

"'Tis some time befure they comprehind that there ar-re other candydates in th' field. But th' other candydates know it. Th' sthrongest iv thim--his name is Flannigan, an' he's a re-tail dealer in wines an'

liquors, an' he lives over his establishment. Flannigan was nomynated enthusyastically at a prim'ry held in his bar-rn; an' befure Willie Boye had picked out pants that wud match th' color iv th' Austhreelyan ballot this here Flannigan had put a man on th' day watch, tol' him to speak gently to anny raygistered voter that wint to sleep behind th' sthove, an' was out that night visitin' his frinds. Who was it judged th' cake walk? Flannigan. Who was it carrid th' pall? Flannigan. Who was it sthud up at th' christening? Flannigan. Whose ca-ards did th' grievin' widow, th' blus.h.i.+n' bridegroom, or th' happy father find in th' hack?

Flannigan's. Ye bet ye'er life. Ye see Flannigan wasn't out f'r th' good iv th' community. Flannigan was out f'r Flannigan an' th' stuff.

"Well, iliction day come around; an' all th' imminent frinds iv good gover'mint had special wires sthrung into th' club, an' waited f'r th'

returns. Th' first precin't showed 28 votes f'r Willie Boye to 14 f'r Flannigan. 'That's my precin't,' says Willie. 'I wondher who voted thim fourteen?' 'Coachmen,' says Clarence Doolittle. 'There are thirty-five precin'ts in this ward,' says th' leader iv th' rayform ilimint. 'At this rate, I'm sure iv 440 meejority. Gossoon,' he says, 'put a keg iv sherry wine on th' ice,' he says. 'Well,' he says, 'at last th'

community is relieved fr'm misrule,' he says. 'To-morrah I will start in arrangin' amindmints to th' tariff schedool an' th' ar-bitration threety,' he says. 'We must be up an' doin',' he says. 'Hol' on there,'

says wan iv th' comity. 'There must be some mistake in this fr'm th'

sixth precin't,' he says. 'Where's the sixth precin't?' says Clarence.

'Over be th' dumps,' says Willie. 'I told me futman to see to that. He lives at th' cor-ner iv Desplaines an' Bloo Island Av'noo on Goose's Island,' he says. 'What does it show?' 'Flannigan, three hundherd an'

eighty-five; Hansen, forty-eight; Schwartz, twinty; O'Malley, sivinteen; Casey, ten; O'Day, eight; La.r.s.en, five; O'Rourke, three; Mulcahy, two; Schmitt, two; Moloney, two; Riordon, two; O'Malley, two; Willie Boye, wan.' 'Gintlemin,' says Willie Boye, arisin' with a stern look in his eyes, 'th' rascal has bethrayed me. Waither, take th' sherry wine off th' ice. They'se no hope f'r sound financial legislation this year. I'm goin' home.'

"An', as he goes down th' sthreet, he hears a band play an' sees a procission headed be a calceem light; an', in a carredge, with his plug hat in his hand an' his di'mond makin' th' calceem look like a piece iv punk in a smokehouse, is Flannigan, payin' his first visit this side iv th' thracks."

AN EVENING MUSICALE

BY MAY ISABEL FISK

Scene--_A conventional, but rather over-decorated, drawing-room. Grand piano drawn conspicuously to center of floor. Rows of camp-chairs. It is ten minutes before the hour of invitation._ The Hostess, _a large woman, is costumed in yellow satin, embroidered in spangles. Her diamonds are many and of large size. She is seated on the extreme edge of a chair, struggling with a pair of very long gloves. She looks flurried and anxious._ Poor Relative, _invited as a "great treat," sits opposite. Her expression is timid and apprehensive. They are the only occupants of the room._

HOSTESS--No such thing, Maria. You look all right. Plain black is always very genteel. Nothing I like so well for evening, myself. Just keep your face to the wall as much as you can, and the worn places will never show. You can take my ecru lace scarf, if you wish, and that will cover most of the spots. I don't mean my new scarf--the one I got two years ago. It's a little torn, but it won't matter--for you. I think you will find it on the top shelf of the store-room closet on the third floor. If you put a chair on one of the trunks, you can easily reach it. Just wait a minute, till I get these gloves on; I want you to b.u.t.ton them. I do hope I haven't forgotten anything. Baron von Gosheimer has promised to come. I have told everybody. It would be terrible if he should disappoint me.

MASCULINE VOICE FROM ABOVE--Sarah, where the devil have you put my s.h.i.+rts? Everything is upside down in my room, and I can't find them. I pulled every blessed thing out of the chiffonier and wardrobe, and they're not there!

HOSTESS--Oh, Henry! You _must_ hurry--I'm going to use your room for the gentlemen's dressing-room, and it's time now for people to come. You _must_ hurry.

HOST (_from above, just as front door opens, admitting_ Baron von Gosheimer _and two women guests_)--Where the devil are my s.h.i.+rts?

HOSTESS (_unconscious of arrivals_)--Under the bed in my room. Hurry!

(HOST, _in bath gown and slippers, dashes madly into wife's room, and dives under bed as women guests enter. Unable to escape, he crawls farther beneath bed. His feet remain visible. Women guests discover them._)

GUESTS (_in chorus_)--Burglars! burglars! Help! help!

(Baron von Gosheimer, _ascending to the next floor, hears them and hastens to the rescue._)

BARON--Don't be alarmed, ladies. Has either of you a poker? No? That is to be deplored. (_Catches_ Host _by heels and drags him out. Tableau._)

HOSTESS (to Poor Relative, _giving an extra tug at her gloves_)--There, it's all burst out on the side! That stupid saleslady said she knew they would be too small. Oh, dear, I'm that upset! And these Louis Quinze slippers are just murdering me. I wish it were all over.

(_Enter_ Baron von Gosheimer _and women guests._)

HOSTESS--Dear baron, how good of you! I was just saying, if you didn't come I should wish my musicale in Jericho. And, now that you are here, I don't care if any one else comes or not. (_To women guests._) How d'ye do? I must apologize for Mr. Smythe--he's been detained down-town. He just telephoned me. He'll be in later. Do sit down; it's just as cheap as standing, I always say, and it does save your feet. You ladies can find seats over in the corner. (_Detaining_ Baron.) Dear baron--(_Enter guests._)

GUEST--So glad you have a clear evening. Now, when _we_ gave _our_ affair, it _poured_. Of course, _we_ had a crowd, just the same. People _always_ come to _us_, whether it rains or not. (_Takes a seat. Guests begin to arrive in numbers._)

HOSTESS--So sweet of you to come!

GUEST--So glad you have a pleasant evening. I am sure to have a bad night whenever I entertain--

HOSTESS--(_to another guest_)--So delightful of you to come!

GUEST--Such a perfect evening! I'm _so_ glad. I said as we started out, "Now, this time, Mrs. Smythe can't help but have plenty of people.

Whenever I entertain, it's sure to--" (_More guests._)

(_Telegram arrives, announcing that the prima donna has a sore throat, and will be unable to come. Time pa.s.ses._)

MALE GUEST (_to another_)--Well, I wish to heaven, something would be doing soon. This is the deadest affair I was ever up against.

OMNIPRESENT JOKER (_greeting acquaintance_)--h.e.l.lo, old man!--going to sing to-night?