Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen | Page 8

'Glory be to the saints!' says I. 'Had I better swallow some insect

powdher?' I says. 'Some iv thim in me head has a fallin' out, an' is
throwin' bricks.' 'Foolish man,' says he. 'Go to bed,' he says, 'an' lave
thim alone,' he says, 'Whin they find who they're in,' he says, 'they'll
quit ye.'
"So I wint to bed, an' waited while th' Mickrobes had fun with me.
Mondah all iv thim was quite but thim in me stummick. They stayed up
late dhrinkin' an' carousin' an' dancin' jigs till wurruds come up between
th' Kerry Mickrobes an' thim fr'm Wexford; an' th' whole party wint
over to me left lung, where they cud get th' air, an' had it out. Th' nex'
day th' little Mickrobes made a toboggan slide iv me spine; an'
manetime some Mickrobes that was wurkin' f'r th' tilliphone comp'ny
got it in their heads that me legs was poles, an' put on their spikes an'
climbed all night long.
"They was tired out th' nex' day till about five o'clock, whin thim that
was in me head begin flushin' out th' rooms; an' I knew there was goin'
to be doin's in th' top flat. What did thim Mickrobes do but invite all th'
other Mickrobes in f'r th' ev'nin'. They all come. Oh, by gar, they was
not wan iv them stayed away. At six o'clock they begin to move fr'm
me shins to me throat. They come in platoons an' squads an' dhroves.
Some iv thirn brought along brass bands, an' more thin wan hundherd
thousand iv thim dhruv through me pipes on dhrays. A throlley line
was started up me back, an' ivry car run into a wagon-load iv scrap iron
at th' base iv me skull.
"Th' Mickrobes in me head must 've done thimsilves proud. Ivry few
minyits th' kids 'd be sint out with th' can, an' I'd say to mesilf: 'There
they go, carryin' th' thrade to Schwartzmeister's because I'm sick an'
can't wait on thim.' I was daffy, Jawn, d'ye mind. Th' likes iv me fillin'
a pitcher f'r a little boy-bug! Such dhreams! An' they had a game iv
forty-fives; an' there was wan Mickrobe that larned to play th' game in
th' County Tipp'rary, where 'tis played on stone, an' ivry time he led
thrumps he'd like to knock me head off. 'Whose thrick is that?' says th'
Tipp'rary Mickrobe. ''Tis mine,' says th' red-headed Mickrobe fr'm th'
County Roscommon. They tipped over th' chairs an' tables: an', in less
time thin it takes to tell, th' whole party was at it. They'd been a hurlin'

game in th' back iv me skull, an' th' young folks was dancin'
breakdowns an' havin' leppin' matches in me forehead; but they all
stopped to mix in. Oh, 'twas a grand shindig--tin millions iv men,
women, an' childher rowlin' on th' flure, hands an' feet goin', ice-picks
an' hurlin' sticks, clubs, brickbats, an' beer kags flyin' in th' air! How
manny iv thim was kilt I niver knew; f'r I wint as daft as a hen, an'
dhreamt iv organizin' a Mickrobe Campaign Club that 'd sweep th'
prim'ries, an' maybe go acrost an' free Ireland. Whin I woke up, me legs
was as weak as a day old baby's, an' me poor head impty as a cobbler's
purse. I want no more iv thim. Give me anny bug fr'm a cockroach to
an aygle save an' excipt thim West iv Ireland Fenians, th' Mickrobes."

LEXOW.
"This here wave iv rayform," said Mr. Dooley, "this here wave iv
rayform, Jawn, mind ye, that's sweepin' over th' counthry, mind ye,
now, Jawn, is raisin' th' divvle, I see be th' pa-apers. I've seen waves iv
rayform before, Jawn. Whin th' people iv this counthry gets wurruked
up, there's no stoppin' thim. They'll not dhraw breath until ivry man that
took a dollar iv a bribe is sent down th' r-road. Thim that takes two goes
on th' comity iv th' wave iv rayform.
"It sthruck th' r-road las' week. Darcey, th' new polisman on th' bate,
comes in here ivry night f'r to study spellin' an' figgers. I think they'll
throw him down, whin he goes to be examined. Wan iv th' wild la-ads
down be th' slough hit him with a brick wanst, an' he ain't been able to
do fractions since. Thin he's got inflammathry rheumatism enough to
burn a barn, an' he can't turn a page without makin' ye think he's goin'
to lose a thumb. He's got wife an' childher, an' he's on in years; but he's
a polisman, an' he's got to be rayformed. I tell him all I can. He didn't
know where St. Pethersburg was till I tould him it