Observations by Mr Dooley | Page 2

printin'-press was invinted. Gunpowdher was invinted th' same time, an'
't is a question I've often heerd discussed which has done more to
ilivate th' human race. A joke.
Th' longer th' wurruld lasts th' more books does be comin' out. Day be
day I r-read in th' pa-apers announcemints iv new publications that look
like th' dilinquent tax-list. They 's a publisher in ivry block, an' in

thousan's iv happy homes some wan is pluggin' away at th' romantic
novel or whalin' out a pome on th' type-writer up-stairs. A fam'ly
without an author is as contimptible as wan without a priest. Is Malachi
near-sighted, peevish, averse to th' suds, an' can't tell whether th' three
in th' front yard is blue or green? Make an author iv him! Does Miranda
prisint no atthractions to th' young men iv th' neighborhood, does her
overskirt dhrag, an' is she poor with th' gas-range? Make an authoreen
iv her! Forchunitly, th' manly insthinct is often too sthrong f'r th'
designs iv th' fam'ly, an' manny a man that if his parents had had their
way might have been at this moment makin' artificial feet f'r a
deformed pome is l'adin' what me fri'nd Hogan calls a glad, free, an'
timperymintal life on th' back iv a sthreet-car.
"But lithrachoor is th' gr-reat life-wurruk iv th' modhren woman. Th'
conthrol is passin' into th' hands iv th' fair sect, an' th' day will come
whin th' wurrud book will mane no more to an able-bodied man thin th'
wurrud gusset. Women write all th' romantic novels that ar-re anny
good. That's because ivry man thinks th' thrue hayroe is himsilf, an'
ivry woman thinks he's James K. Hackett. A woman is sure a good,
sthrong man ought to be able to kill anny number iv bad, weak men,
but a man is always wondherin' what th' other la-ad wud do. He might
have th' punch left in him that wud get th' money. A woman niver cares
how manny men are kilt, but a man believes in fair play, an' he'd like to
see th' polis intherfere about Chapter Three.
"Women writes all th' good romantic novels, an' read thim all. If anny
proud la-ad in th' gum business thinks he riprisints th' ideal iv his wife's
soul, he ought to take a look at th' books she reads. He'll larn there th'
reason he's where he is, is because he was th' on'y chanst, not because
he was th' first choice. 'Twud humble th' haughtiest prince iv thrade to
look into th' heart iv th' woman he cares most f'r an' thinks laste about,
an' find that, instead iv th' photygraft iv a shrewd but kindly man with a
thriflin' absence iv hair on his head an' a burglar-proof safe on his
watch-charm, there's a pitcher iv a young la-ad in green tights playin' a
mandolin to a high front stoop. On th' stoop, with a rose in her hand, is
his lawful-wedded wife, th' lady Annamariar Huggins iv Peotone. Ye
can't keep her away fr'm a romantic novel. No matther what Edward

Atkinson tells ye, she prefers 'Th' Age iv Chivalry' to th' mos'
atthractive housewurruk. A woman's readin' is niver done. Hardly a day
passes but some lady frind iv mine stops me on me way to catch a car,
an' asks me if I don't regard Morse Hewlett as th' gr-reatest an' mos'
homicidal writer iv our time, an' what I've got to say about Hinnelly's
attack on Stevenson. 'Madam,' says I, 'I wud n't know Morse if I was to
see him goin' down th' sthreet ax in hand, an' as f'r Hinnelly, his name
escapes me, though his language is familiar to anny wan who iver
helped load a scow. Stevenson,' I says, 'does n't appeal to me, an' if he
shud, I'll revarse th' decision on th' ground iv th' bad prevyous
charackter iv th' plaintiff, while,' I says, 'admittin' th' thruth iv what he
said. But,' says I, 'th' on'y books in me libr'y is th' Bible an' Shakspere,'
says I. 'They 're gr-reat f'r ye,' says she. 'So bully f'r th' style. D' ye read
thim all th' time?' she says. 'I niver read thim,' says I. 'I use thim f'r
purposes iv definse. I have niver read thim, but I'll niver read annything
else till I have read thim,' I says. 'They shtand between me an' all
modhren lithrachoor,' says I. 'I've built thim up into a kind iv
breakwather,' I says, 'an' I set behind it ca'm an' contint while Hall
Caine rages without,' says I.
"Yes, sir, th' readin' an' writin' iv books is as much woman's wurruk as
th' mannyfacther iv tidies. A woman is a nachral writer. She don't mind