MR. DOOLEY AGAIN.

Press, Volume LVII, Issue 10636, 21 April 1900, Page 6

MR. DOOLEY AGAIN.

Few would maintain that Mr. Dunne's second volume—"Mr. Dooley in the Hearts of His Countrymen"— is quite equal to the first. In the rarity, however, of really humorous books, which is one of the signs of the times, it should find a ready welcome. Those misguided persons w_o were unable to "see anything to laugh-at" in Mr. Dooley on his first appearance, and w—o scoffed at the language in which that worthy expressed himself, failed to grasp the elementary fact that iMr. Dooley was not an Irishman-, hut an Irish-American, combining in 'himself choice characteristics of both nationalities. . Perhaps, the best of the pieces in the present volume are those on Mr. Kipling amd on "Expansion." The former, with its delicious description of the versatile bard as writing "in all dialects and army language, plain an' fancy pothry, pothry fr young an' old, pothry by weight, pothry fr small parties of eight or tin a specialty," has been already quoted in these columns. We fancy it will cause Mr. •Kipling more annoyance than the violent attack by Mr Robert Buchanan, or even the defence by Sir Walter Besant. "Expansion" contains some fine strokes of satire. Mr. Dooley speaks of America as an "indulgent parent kneelin' on the stomach iv his adopted child, while a dillygation fr'm Boston bastes him with an umbrella." "There dt stands, he continues, "and how it will come out I dinnow. I'm not much of an expansionist meself. F'r the las' tin years I've been thryin to decide whether 'tvmd- be good policy and thrue to mc thraditions to make this here bar two or three feet longer; an mannys tlf night I've laid awake tryin* to puzzle it out. But I don't know what to do with the Ph'lippenos army more than I did las' summer, befure I hurd tell iv thim. We can't give them to army wan without makin* th' wan that gits them feel th' way Doherty felt to Clancy, when Clancy mcd a friendly call, an' give Doherty's childher th' measles.

We can't sell thim, we can't ate thim, an we cant' throw thim into the alley whin no wan is lookin*. An twnd be a disgrace for to lave befure weve pounded these frindless and ongrateful people into insensibility. So I suppose Hennessy, we'll have to stay and do the best we can . . . They'se wan consolation: an* that is, if th' American people can govern themselves they cajn govern anything that walks."

The "Decline of National Feeling" is of particular interest now, as the Queen's visit to Ireland should assist the tendency to which Mr Dooley refers. When that worthy publican is asked by his friend Hennessy, What ar-re ye goin' to do Patrick's day?" "Patrick's day, is his reply; "Patrick's day? It seems to mc I've heard the name before. Oh, ye mane th' day th' low Irish that hasn't army votes cillybrates the birth iv their naytional saint, who was a Fr-rinch man." . . . . "I may cillybrate it and I may not. I'm thinkin' iv

savin my enthusiasym fr the Queen's birthday, whenever it is that that blessed holiday comes ar-round. Ye see Henncs,sv Patrick's day is out iv fashion now. ._ few years ago ye'd see the President iv th' United States marchin' down Pinjisylvanva Avnoo with the green scarf iv th' Ancient Ordher onhisshoudors, and a leaf ay shamrock in his hat. Now .... he's settin'in his parlor, wrifcin' letthers to the Queen be hivins, askin' after her health." There are half a dozen stories in the book which we should like to quote. We have however, room for but one more extract wiiich we quote as much for its truth as its humour. Mr. Dooley is musing on the success of Irishmen abroad:—"There was Pat McMahon, the winchmuu, that bat* Looey Napoleon, an' O'Donnell, the Spanish juke; an' O'Drischoll, an Lynch, who do be the whole thing down South America, not to mention Patsy Bolivar." . . . "When there's battles to be won, who do they send for? McMahou or Thurdun or Phil Kearney, or Colonel Colby. Whin there's books to be wrote, who writes thim but Charles Lever or Oliver Goldsmith or William Carleton? When there's speeches to be- made, who makes them but Edmund Burke, or Macchew P. Brady?. . . Whin the king iv Siam wants a plisint cvenin', who does he send fr, but a lively Kerry man that can sing a song, an' play a, good hand at spile-five? Whin the Sultan 'iv Boolgahria takes tea, 'tis tin to wan th' man across fr'm him is more to home in a canteen thin in a turban. There's Mac's and O's in ivry capital in Europe atin' off silver plates, whin their relations is staggerin' under the creels iy turf in the Connaught bogs." In the face of which, 'who cart doubt the general truth of Mr Dooley's conclusion:—"Jason, our people makes poor Irishmen, but good Dutchmen; an th' more I see iv them, th' more I says to mesif that th' rale honey fide Irishman is no more than a foreigner born away from home?"