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Updated: June 17, 2025
I asked Polynesia in a whisper. "Oh, the dog has had a letter from his mistress and he has brought it to the Doctor to read for him. That's all. He belongs to a funny little girl called Minnie Dooley, who lives on the other side of the town. She has pigtails down her back.
I suppose they ought to be left walk about, an' I'm a fair man. If th' blackest iv thim wint by now, I'd not raise me hand" "Hello," says Mr. McKenna, "here goes Killen, the Armagh man. They say he digs with his left foot." "Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, eagerly, "if ye run up on th' roof, ye'll find th' bricks loose in th' top row iv th' chimbley. Ye might hand him a few."
Hennessy, who had learned to study his friend in order to escape disagreeable complications, patiently waited for the philosopher to speak. Mr. Dooley rubbed the bar to the end, tossed the cloth into a mysterious recess with a practised movement, moved a glass or two on the shelf, cleaned his spectacles, and drew a letter from his pocket. "Hm-m!" he said: "I have news fr'm th' fr-ront.
Dooley at least is a household word. This is so much the case that a sort of legend has grown around American humour. It is presumed to be a superior article and to enjoy the same kind of pre-eminence as French cooking, the Russian ballet, and Italian organ grinding.
But Don Fernando well knew that the reporters, as was customary with them, would embellish that one word rather curiously, for they were kind to him, and invariably made him say all the witty things they could think of. "Upon my word, Mr. Dooley," whispered Don Fernando, "the thing has ended well; and it strikes me we have had speeches enough for the evening."
Now bring out Dooley." Half an hour later, just as the midnight call of the sentries was going the rounds, Hal Willett, after whispered words of good-night to a tall and slender shadow at Darrah's door, came swiftly up the steps of his new quarters, and was surprised to find a little group at the adjoining veranda. Two civilians were there, one of whom he knew to be the sheriff.
'Hinnissy, I says, 'they'se no crime in th' catalogue akel to bein' old, I says. 'Th' nearest thing to it, I says, 'is bein' a fool, I says; 'an' ye're both, I says." "Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, "did ye iver hear th' puzzle whin a woman's not a woman?" "Faith, I have," said Mr. McKenna. "When I was a kid, I knew the answer." "Ye didn't know this answer," said Mr. Dooley.
Laying down his paper, he said: "By dad, I always said they give me frind Shafter th' worst iv it. If they'd left him do th' job th' way he wanted to do it, he'd 've taken Sandago without losin' an ounce." "How was it he wanted to do it?" Mr. Hennessy asked. "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "'twas this way. This is th' way it was. Ol' Cervera's fleet was in th' harbor an' bottled up, as th' man says.
Old Felix had always thought little of his daughter Maggie's mental powers, and less ever since her marriage with Peter Dooley, who kept a shop in the Town, and could be described as "an ould gombeen man," if one wished to regard him from an unfavourable point of view, which his father-in-law not uncommonly did.
"Epictetus," says Waldo, breakin' it to me as gentle as he can, "was a Greek philosopher. We are reading his 'Discourses." "Oh!" says I. "Not so close, was I? Now, what was his line of dope something like the Dooley stuff?" Waldo and Tidman swaps grins, sort of sly and sheepish, like they wasn't used to indulgin' in such frivolity.
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