Did ye see what th' prisidint said to th' throlley man that bumped him?" asked Mr. Dooley.
"I did not," said Mr. Hennessy. "What was it?"
"I can't tell ye till I get mad," said Mr. Dooley. "Lave us go into ixicutive sission. Whisper. That was it. Ha, ha. He give it to him sthraight. A good, honest, American blankety-blank. Rale language like father used to make whin he hit his thumb with th' hammer. No 'With ye'er lave' or 'By ye'er lave,' but a dacint 'Damn ye, sir,' an' a little more f'r th' sake iv imphasis.
"What else wud ye have him do? 'Twas nayether th' time nor th' occasion, as th' candydate said whin they ast him where he got his money, 'twas nayether th' time nor th' occasion f'r wurruds that wud be well rayceived at Chatauqua. A throlley car had pushed him an' diplomatic relations was suspinded. He was up on top iv a bus, hurryin' fr'm speech to speech an' thinkin' what to say next. 'Th' thrusts,' says he to himsilf, ' are heejous monsthers built up be th' inlightened intherprise iv th' men that have done so much to advance pro-gress in our beloved counthry,' he says. 'On wan hand I wud stamp thim undher fut; on th' other hand not so fast. What I want more thin th' bustin' iv th' thrusts is to see me fellow counthrymen happy an' continted. I wudden't have thim hate th' thrusts. Th' haggard face, th' droopin' eye, th' pallid complexion that marks th' inimy iv thrusts is not to me taste. Lave us be merry about it an' jovial an' affectionate. Lave us laugh an' sing th' octopus out iv existence. Betther blue but smilin' lips anny time thin a full coal scuttle an' a sour heart. As Hogan says, a happy peasanthry is th' hope iv th' state. So lave us warble ti-lire-a-lay—' Jus' thin Euclid Aristophanes Madden on th' quarther deck iv th' throlley car give a twisht to his brake an' th' chief ixicutive iv th' nation wint up in th' air with th' song on his lips. He wint up forty, some say, fifty feet. Sicrety Cortilloo says three hundherd an' fifty. Annyhow whin he come down he landed nachrally on his feet.
"Now, Hinnissy, no matther what a man may've been wan minyit befure he was hit be a throlley car, a minyit afther he's on'y a man. Th' throlley car plays no fav'rites. It bounces th' high an' th' low alike. It tears th' exalted fr'm their throne an' ilivates th' lowly. So whin th' prisidint got back to the earth he wasn't prisidint anny longer but Tiddy Rosenfelt, 180 pounds iv a man. An' he done accordin'ly. If it'd been Willum Jennings Bryan, he'd've ast th' throlley engineer was he a mimber iv th' Union. If he cud show a wurrukin' card he was entitled to bump anny wan. At worst Willum Jennings Bryan wud've written an article about him in th' Commoner, or if he felt unusually vindicative, maybe he'd sind it to him through th' mails. Whin Sicrety Cortilloo come to fr'm a dhream that he'd jus' rayfused a favor to Sinitor Tillman, he hauled out a little note book an' got ready to take down something that cud be put on th' thransparencies two years fr'm now—something like—'No power on earth can stop American business entherprise.' But nawthin' that will iver be printed in th' first reader dhropped fr'm th' lips iv th' chief exicutive. With two jumps he was in th' throlley man's hair an' spoke as follows—No, I won't say it again. But I'll tell ye this much, a barn-boss that was standin' by an' heerd it, said he niver befure regretted his father hadn't sint him to Harvard.
"We know what Wash'nton said to his gin'rals an' what Grant said to Lee an' what Cleveland said to himsilf. They're in th' books. But engraved in th' hearth iv his counthrymen is what Rosenfelt said to th' throlley man. 'Twas good because 'twas so nachral. Most iv th' sayin's I've read in books sounds as though they was made be a patent inkybator. They go with a high hat an' a white tie. Ye can hear th' noise iv th' phonygraft. But this here jim of emotion an' thought come sthraight fr'm th' heart an' wint right to th' heart. That's wan reason I think a lot iv us likes Tiddy Rosenfelt that wudden't iver be suspicted iv votin' f'r him. Whin he does anny talkin'—which he sometimes does—he talks at th' man in front iv him. Ye don't hear him hollerin' at posterity. Posterity don't begin to vote till afther th' polls close. So whin he wished to convey to th' throlley man th' sintimints iv his bosom, he done it in wurruds suited to th' crisis, as Hogan wud say. They do say his remarks singed th' hair off th' head iv th' unforchnit man.
"I don't believe in profanity, Hinnissy—not as a reg'lar thing. But it has its uses an' its place. F'r instance, it is issintial to some thrades. No man can be a printer without swearin'. 'Tis impossible. I mind wanst I wint to a printin' office where a frind iv mine be th' name iv Donovan held cases an' I heerd th' foreman say: 'What gintleman is setting A thirty?' he says. 'I am,' says a pale aristocrat with black whiskers who was atin' tobacco in th' rear iv th' room. 'Thin,' says th' foreman, 'ye blankety-blank blacksmith, get a move on ye. D'ye think this is a annyooal incyclopejee?' he says. Ivrybody swore at ivrybody else. Th' little boys runnin' around with type prattled innocent pro-fanity an' afther awhile th' iditor come in an' he swore more thin annybody else. But 'twas aisy to see he'd not lamed th' thrade iv printer. He swore with th' enthusyasm an' inacc'racy iv an amachoor, though I mus' say, he had his good pints. I wisht I cud raymimber what it was he called th' Czar iv Rooshya f'r dyin' jus' as th' pa-aper was goin' to press. I cud've often used it since. But it's slipped me mind.
"Swearin' belongs to some thrades,—like printin', bricklayin' an' plumbin'. It is no help at all, at all to tailors, shoemakers, hair-dressers, dintists or authors. A surgeon needs it but a doctor niver. It is a great help in unloadin' a ship an' sailor men always swear—th' cap'n an' mate whin wurruk is goin' on an' th' men befure th' mast at meals. Sojers mus' swear. They'se no way out iv it. It's as much th' equipment iv a sojer as catridges. In vigorous spoort it is niciss'ry but niver at checkers or chess an' sildom at dominoes. Cowboys are compelled to use it. No wan cud rope a cow or cinch a pony without swearin'. A sthrick bringin' up is th' same as havin' a wooden leg on th' plains. Profanity shud be used sparingly if at all on childher—especially girls—an' sildom on women, though I've knowed an occasional domestic: 'Damn ye'er eyes' to wurruk wondhers in reg-latin' a fam'ly. Women can't swear. They have th' feelin' but not th' means. Westhern men swear betther thin Eastern men though I mus' say th' mos' lib'ral swearers I iver knew come fr'm Boston.
"But it don't do to use pro-fanity th' way ye wud ordin'ry wurruds. No, sir. Ye've got to save it up an' invist it at th' right time or get nawthin' fr'm it. It's betther thin a doctor f'r a stubbed toe but it niver cured a broken leg. It's a kind iv a first aid to th' injured. It seems to deaden th' pain. Women an' childher cry or faint whin they're hurt. That's because they haven't th' gift iv swearin'. But as I tell ye, they'se no good wastin' it. Th' man that swears at ivrything has nawthin' to say when rale throubles come. I hate to hear annywan spillin' out th' valyable wurruds that he ought to save to be used whin th' shtove-pipe comes down. Not that it shocks me. I'm a dimmycrat. But I know th' foolish man is hurtin' himsilf. Put a little pro-fanity by f'r rainy days, says I. Ye won't miss it an' at th' end iv th' year whin ye renew ye'er lease ye'll be surprised to find out how much ye have on hand. But if ye hurl it broadcast, if ivry time ye open ye'er mouth a hot wan lapes out, th' time will come whin ye'll want to say something scorchin' an' ye'll have nawthin' to say that ye haven't said f'r fun. I'd as soon think iv swearin' f'r pleasure as iv lindin' money f'r pleasure. They ain't too much pro-fanity in th' wurruld. A good dale iv it has been used up since th' coal sthrike begun. Th' govermint ought to presarve it an' prevint annywan fr'm swearin' more thin was niciss'ry f'r to support life.
"I niver knew Father Kelly to swear but wanst. 'Twas a little wan, Hinnissy. Dhropped fr'm th' lips iv a polisman it wud've sounded like a 'thank ye kindly.' But, be Hivins, whin I heerd it I thought th' roof wud fall down on th' head iv Scanlan that he was thryin' to show th' evil iv his ways. Melia Murdher, but it was gran'! They was more varchue in that wan damn thin in a fastin' prayer. Scanlan wint to wurruk th' nex' day an' he hasn't tasted a dhrop since.
"But th' best thing about a little judicyous swearin' is that it keeps th' temper. 'Twas intinded as a compromise between runnin' away an' fightin'. Befure it was invinted they was on'y th' two ways out iv an argymint."
"But I've heerd ye say a man was swearin' mad," said Mr. Hennessy.
"He wasn't fightin' mad, thin," said Mr. Dooley.
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