Books: Observations by Mr. Dooley

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"There it is, Hinnissy. Who won? I don't know. I can't tell at
this minyit whether I ought to be undher th' bed larnin' German
f'r th' time whin a Prooshyan sojer'll poke me out with his saber,
or down at Finucane's hall callin' a meetin' to thank th' definders
iv th' fireside. Nobody knows. It's a quare game, f'r they tell
me afther th' battles has been fought an' th' kilt has gone back
to holeystonin' th' deck an' th' smoke fr'm th' chafin' dish has
cleared away, th' decision is up to a good figurer at Wash'nton.
It depinds on him whether we ar-re a free people or whether we
wear th' yoke iv sarvichood an' bad German hats f'r all time.
He's th' officyal scoorer an' what Higginson thinks was a base
hit, he calls a foul an' what McArthur calls an accipted chanst
is an error. Afther th' gallant lads in blue an' gold has got
through, a wathry-eyed clerk named Perkins H. Something-or-other,
sets down an' figures out th' victhry. Th' man behind th' fountain
pen is th' boy. It's up to him whether th' stars an' sthripes
still floats over an onconquered people or whether five pfennigs
is th' price iv a dhrink in New York. He sets on his high stool
an' says he: 'Five times eight is twinty-nine, subthract three
f'r th' duchess, a quarther to one o'clock an' eighty miles fr'm
Narragansett pier is two-an'-a-half, plus th' load-wather-line iv
th' saloon companionway, akel to two-fifths iv th' differentyal
tangent. Huroo! Misther Sicrety, ye can go home an' tell ye'er
wife th' counthry's safe.' He has to be a smart man. A good
book-keeper, as th' pote says, is th' counthry's on'y safety. He
mus' be careful, too, d'ye mind. Th' honor iv th' army an' the
navy is at stake. Wan or th' other iv thim has been careless."

"D'ye think a foreign fleet cud capture this counthry?" asked Mr.
Hennessy.

"Not onless it was op'rated be a throlley," said Mr. Dooley.

"Supposin' ye an' I had throuble, Hinnissy, an' both iv us was
armed with bricks an' ye was on roller skates an' I was on th' top
iv a house, how much chanst wud ye have again' me? Ships is good
to fight other ships. That's all. I'd sooner be behind a bank
iv mud thin in th' finest ship in th' wurruld. A furrin inimy
thryin' to get up to New York wud be like a blind burglar attimptin'
to walk on th' top iv a hot-house with all th' neighbors an' th'
neighbors' dogs waitin' f'r him. Th' war game is all right. It
don't do anny harm. But it's like punchin' th' bag an' I'd jus'
as soon thrain a man f'r a fight be larnin' him to play th' mandolin,
as be insthructin' him in bag punchin'. It's a fine game. I don't
know who won, but I know who lost."

"Who's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

"Th' threeasury," said Mr. Dooley.

Newspaper Publicity

"Was ye iver in th' pa-apers?" asked Mr. Dooley.

"Wanst," said Mr. Hennessy. "But it wasn't me. It was another
Hinnissy. Was you?"

"Manny times," said Mr. Dooley. "Whin I was prom'nent socyally,
ye cud hardly pick up a pa-aper without seein' me name in it an'
th' amount iv th' fine. Ye must lade a very simple life. Th'
newspaper is watchin' most iv us fr'm th' cradle to th' grave, an'
befure an' afther. Whin I was a la-ad thrippin' continted over
th' bogs iv Roscommon, ne'er an iditor knew iv me existence, nor
I iv his. Whin annything was wrote about a man 'twas put this
way: 'We undhershtand on good authority that M--l--chi H---y,
Esquire, is on thrile before Judge G----n on an accusation iv
l--c--ny. But we don't think it's true.' Nowadays th' larceny is
discovered be a newspa-aper. Th' lead pipe is dug up in ye'er
back yard be a rayporther who knew it was there because he helped
ye bury it. A man knocks at ye'er dure arly wan mornin' an' ye
answer in ye'er nighty. 'In th' name iv th' law, I arrist ye,'
says th' man seizin' ye be th' throat. 'Who ar-re ye?' ye cry.
'I'm a rayporther f'r th' Daily Slooth,' says he. 'Phottygrafter,
do ye'er jooty!' Ye're hauled off in th' circylation wagon to th'
newspaper office, where a con-fission is ready f'r ye to sign;
ye're thried be a jury iv th' staff, sintinced be th' iditor-in-chief
an' at tin o'clock Friday th' fatal thrap is sprung be th' fatal
thrapper iv th' fam'ly journal.

"Th' newspaper does ivrything f'r us. It runs th' polis foorce
an' th' banks, commands th' milishy, conthrols th' ligislachure,
baptizes th' young, marries th' foolish, comforts th' afflicted,
afflicts th' comfortable, buries th' dead an' roasts thim aftherward.
They ain't annything it don't turn its hand to fr'm explaining
th' docthrine iv thransubstantiation to composin' saleratus biskit.
Ye can get anny kind iv information ye want to in ye'er fav'rite
newspaper about ye'ersilf or annywan else. What th' Czar whispered
to th' Imp'ror Willum whin they were alone, how to make a silk
hat out iv a wire matthress, how to settle th' coal sthrike, who
to marry, how to get on with ye'er wife whin ye're married, what
to feed th' babies, what doctor to call whin ye've fed thim as
directed,--all iv that ye'll find in th' pa-apers.

"They used to say a man's life was a closed book. So it is but
it's an open newspaper. Th' eye iv th' press is on ye befure ye
begin to take notice. Th' iditor obsarves th' stork hoverin' over
th' roof iv 2978 1/2 B Ar-rchey Road an' th' article he writes
about it has a wink in it. 'Son an' heir arrives f'r th' Hon'rable
Malachi Hinnissy,' says th' pa-aper befure ye've finished th'
dhrink with th' doctor. An' afther that th' histhry iv th'
offspring's life is found in th' press:

"'It is undhershtud that there is much excitement in th' Hinnissy
fam'ly over namin' th' lates' sign. Misther Hinnissy wishes it
called Pathrick McGlue afther an uncle iv his, an' Mrs. Hinnissy
is in favor iv namin' it Alfonsonita afther a Pullman car she seen
wan day. Th' Avenin Fluff offers a prize iv thirty dollars f'r
th' bes' name f'r this projeny. Maiden ladies will limit their
letters to three hundherd wurruds.'

"'Above is a snap shot iv young Alfonsonita McGlue Hinnissy, taken
on his sicond birthday with his nurse, Miss Angybel Blim, th'
well-known specyal nurse iv th' Avenin' Fluff. At th' time th'
phottygraft was taken, th' infant was about to bite Miss Blim which
accounts f'r th' agynized exprission on that gifted writer's face.
Th' Avenin Fluff offers a prize iv four dollars to th' best answer
to th' question: "What does th' baby think iv Miss Blim?"'

"'Young Alf Hinnissy was siven years ol' yisterdah. A rayporther
iv th' Fluff sought him out an' indeavored to intherview him on
th' Nicaragooan Canal, th' Roomanyan Jews, th' tahriff an' th'
thrusts. Th' comin' statesman rayfused to be dhrawn on these
questions, his answer bein' a ready, "Go chase ye'ersilf, ye big
stiff!" Afther a daylightful convarsation th' rayporther left,
bein' followed to th' gate be his janial young host who hit him
smartly in th' back with a brick. He is a chip iv th' ol' block.'

"'Groton, Conn., April 8. Ye'er rayporther was privileged to see
th' oldest son iv th' Hon'rable Malachi Hinnissy started at this
siminary f'r th' idjacation iv young Englishmen bor-rn in America.
Th' heir iv th' Hinnissys was enthered at th' exclusive school
thirty years befure he was bor-rn. Owin' to th' uncertainty iv
his ancesthors he was also enthered at Vassar. Th' young fellow
took a lively intherest in th' school. Th' above phottygraft
riprisints him mathriculatin'. Th' figures at th' foot ar-re
Misther an' Mrs. Hinnissy. Those at th' head ar-re Profissor
Peabody Plantagenet, prisident iv th' instichoochion an' Officer
Michael H. Rafferty. Young Hinnissy will remain here till he has
a good cukkin' idjacation.'

"'Exthry Red Speshul Midnight Edition. Mumps! Mumps! Mumps! Th'
heir iv th' Hinnissy's sthricken with th' turr'ble scoorge. Panic
on th' stock exchange. Bereaved father starts f'r th' plague spot
to see his afflicted son. Phottygrafts iv Young Hinnissy at wan,
two, three, eight an' tin. Phottygrafts iv th' house where his
father was born, his mother, his aunt, his uncle, Profissor
Plantagenet, Groton School, th' gov'nor iv Connecticut, Chansy
Depoo, statue iv Liberty, Thomas Jefferson, Niagara Falls be
moonlight. Diagram iv jaw an' head showin' th' prob'ble coorse
iv the Mumpococeus. Intherviews with J. Pierpont Morgan, Terry
McGovern, Mary MeLain, Jawn Mitchell, Lyman J. Gage, th' Prince
iv Wales, Sinitor Bivridge, th' Earl iv Roslyn, an' Chief Divry
on Mumps. We offer a prize iv thirty million dollars in advertisin'
space f'r a cure f'r th' mumps that will save th' nation's pride.
Later, it's croup.'

"An' so it goes. We march through life an' behind us marches th'
phottygrafter an' th' rayporther. There are no such things as
private citizens. No matther how private a man may be, no matther
how secretly he steals, some day his pitcher will be in th' pa-aper
along with Mark Hanna, Stamboul 2:01 1/2, Fitzsimmons' fightin'
face, an' Douglas, Douglas, Tin dollar shoe. He can't get away
fr'm it. An' I'll say this f'r him, he don't want to. He wants
to see what bad th' neighbors are doin' an' he wants thim to see
what good he's doin'. He gets fifty per cint iv his wish; niver
more. A man keeps his front window shade up so th' pa-apers can
come along an' make a pitcher iv him settin' in his iligant furnished
parlor readin' th' life iv Dwight L. Moody to his fam'ly. An'
th' lad with th' phottygraft happens along at th' moment whin he
is batin' his wife. If we wasn't so anxious to see our names among
those prisint at th' ball, we wudden't get into th' pa-apers so
often as among those that ought to be prisint in th' dock. A man
takes his phottygraft to th' iditor an' says he: 'Me attintion has
been called to th' fact that ye'd like to print this mug iv a
prom'nent philanthropist;' an' th' iditor don't use it till he's
robbed a bank. Ivrybody is inthrested in what ivrybody else is
doin' that's wrong. That's what makes th' newspapers. An' as
this is a dimmycratic counthry where ivrybody was bor-rn akel
to ivrybody else, aven if they soon outgrow it, an' where wan man's
as good as another an' as bad, all iv us has a good chanst to have
his name get in at laste wanst a year.

"Some goes in at Mrs. Rasther's dinner an' some as victims iv a
throlley car, but ivrybody lands at last. They'll get ye afther
awhile, Hinnissy. They'll print ye'er pitcher. But on'y wanst.
A newspaper is to intertain, not to teach a moral lesson."

"D'ye think people likes th' newspapers iv th' prisint time?" asked
Mr. Hennessy.

"D'ye think they're printed f'r fun?" said Mr. Dooley.

Adventure

"What a life iv advinture I have led, to be sure. I've niver been
still a minyit since I cud see an' hear--always on th' go, performin'
heeroyc actions on land an' sea. Between th' ages iv eight an'
fifteen I bet ye I caught more runaway teams thin all th' park
polismen in th' wurruld. I begun with stoppin' th' horses iv a
man called Monahan that owned a canal boat an' askin' as a reward
that he give me a job dhrivin' th' mule. But I rose rapidly in
th' wurruld, an' befure I was fifteen I was dashin' out nearly
ivry hour an' nailin' a team iv maddened animals in th' bullyvard
an' savin' th' life iv th' pet daughther iv a millyonaire. She
usully accepted me young hand in marredge in th' dhrug store. But
sometimes whin I needed a top or a kite I took money. I'm ashamed
to con-fiss it, but I did. Iv coorse I rayfused th' first offer
iv th' pluthycrat. Whin he thried to crowd wan millyon dollar on
me, I give him a look iv scorn an' moved away. He was tur-rbly
ashamed iv his onmanly action an' followed me up an' be sharp
schamin' managed to get two millyons to me in a way that I cuddn't
resint. I think it come in th' shape iv an advance payment on th'
dowry.

"At fifteen I quit stoppin' runaway horses as on'y suited to
childher. After that I wint in almost entirely f'r knockin' down
arnychists as they was about to shoot. I saved th' life iv th'
Impror iv Rooshya, an' he was anxious f'r to have me stay at th'
coort, but people begun to talk about me an' wan iv th' rile
princesses an' I left. On my way home I seized an arnychist jus'
as he had raised his pistol again th' Prince iv Wales, an' as a
reward he freed Ireland on th' spot. I rayceived an ovation f'r
this in Dublin in 1860 or thereabouts, but I disclaimed anny glory,
was always willin' to do annything f'r me counthry, wisht them th'
best iv luck: gintlemen, I can on'y say, I thank ye, I thank ye,
I thank ye.

"Me raycint advintures has been more in th' spoortin' line. I had
to give up futball afther winnin' victhry f'r me almy matther f'r
four successive years be a suparb run aroun' th' end. F'r a long
time I sailed th' cup dayfinder ivry year, an' always won be a
sthrategy that no wan but mesilf undherstands. I've killed iliphants
an' tigers be th' hundherd, rescooed people fr'm dhrownin' be th'
thousan', climbed up th' outside iv a burnin' buildin' an' come
down with two or three fine-lookin' ladies in me arms, captured
forts, charged armies, knocked out th' wurruld's greatest pugilists
with a punch, led revolutions, suppressed thim, an' done it all
modestly an' quietly.

"Iv coorse I won't say 'twas always th' spirit iv advinture led
me into these gallant acts. If I must tell ye th' thruth I've
gin'rally took less intherest in th' advinture itself thin in th'
reward. I'm always a little hazy about th' details iv how I saved
th' girl fr'm th' rapids iv Niagra whin I can't swim, or how I
happened to hit th' tiger in th' eye whin I'm so afraid iv firearms,
or how I stopped th' runaway team whin I know that th' other day
whin th' milkman's horse broke loose th' best I cud do was run to
th' edge iv th' sidewalk an' wring me hands an' yell: "Whoa!" But
th' grateful millyonaire is always distinct. I can always hear
th' cheers iv th' crowd as I come dhrippin' fr'm th' wather.
Though th' raison I happened to be ladin' me rig'mint up th' hill
iv San Joon is not clear to me now, I can plainly see mesilf
returnin' fr'm th' war, bronzed and weather-beaten, settin' erect
on me horse an' respondin' to th' frantic cheers iv th' multichood
with a slight bow. I always used to lose an arm or part iv an
arm, but I've larned that isn't nicess'ry.

"An' where have all these advintures occurred, d'ye say? Well,
some iv th' most feerocyous iv thim happened in me bedroom, an'
some on th' front stoop iv th' house on warm moonlight nights, but
most iv thim here in this room in front iv th' fire. Be rights
th' walls ought to be dic'rated with moose antlers, tigers' heads,
diplomas, soords, votes iv Congress, medals an' autygrafted pitchers
iv th' crowned heads iv Europe. Th' best advintures anny iv us
has is at home in a comf'rtable room--th' mos' excitin' an' th'
asiest. Ye can make ye'ersilf as brave as ye want an' as cool,
ye avide mussin' ye'er clothes, ye flavor with danger to suit th'
taste, an' ye get a good dale more applause an' get it quicker
thin th' other kind iv hayro. F'r manny years I've shot all me
tigers fr'm this rockin' chair."

Rights and Privileges of Women

"Woman's rights? What does a woman want iv rights whin she has
priv'leges? Rights is th' last thing we get in this wurruld.
They're th' nex' things to wrongs. They're wrongs tur-ned inside
out. We have th' right to be sued f'r debt instead iv lettin' the
bill run, which is a priv'lege. We have th' right to thrile be a
jury iv our peers, a right to pay taxes an' a right to wurruk.
None iv these things is anny good to me. They'se no fun in thim.
All th' r-rights I injye I don't injye. I injye th' right to
get money, but I niver have had anny money to spind. Th'
constichooshion guarantees me th' right to life, but I die; to
liberty, but if I thry bein' too free I'm locked up; an' to th'
pursoot iv happiness, but happiness has th' right to run whin
pursood, an' I've niver been able to three her yet. Here I am at
iver-so-manny years iv age blown an' exhausted be th' chase, an'
happiness is still able to do her hundhred yards in tin minyits
flat whin I approach. I'd give all th' rights I read about for
wan priv-lege. If I cud go to sleep th' minyit I go to bed I
wudden't care who done me votin'.

"No, sir, a woman don't need rights. Th' pope, imprors, kings an'
women have priv-leges; ordhin'ry men has rights. Ye niver hear
iv th' Impror of Rooshya demandin' rights. He don't need thim
in his wurruk. He gives thim, such as they ar're, to th' moojiks,
or whativer it is ye call thim. D'ye think anny wan wud make a
gr-reat success be goin' to th' Czar an' sayin': "Czar (or sire,
as th' case may be), ye must be unhappy without th' sufferage.
Ye must be achin' all over to go down to th' livry stable an' cast
ye'er impeeral ballot f'r Oscaroviski K. Hickinski f'r school
thrustee?" I think th' Czar wud reply: 'Gintlemen, ye do me too
much honor. I mus' rayfuse. Th' manly art iv sufferage is wan
iv th' most potint weepins iv th' freeman, but I'm not used to it,
an' I wudden't know what to do with it. It might be loaded. I
think I'll have to crawl along with me modest preerogatives iv
collectin' th' taxes, dalin' life an' death to me subjicks, atin'
free, dhrinkin' th' best an' livin' aisy. But ye shall have ye'er
rights. Posieotofski, lade th' gintlemen out into th' coortyard
an' give thim their rights as Rooshyan citizens. I think about
twinty f'r each iv th' comity an' about a dozen exthry f'r the
chairman. F'r wan iv th' rights guaranteed to his subjicks, be
me sainted father, was a good latherin' ivry time it was comin'
to thim.'

"An' so it is with women. They haven't th' right to vote, but
they have th' priv'lege iv conthrollin' th' man ye ilict. They
haven't th' right to make laws, but they have th' priv'lege iv
breakin' thim, which is betther. They haven't th' right iv a fair
thrile be a jury iv their peers; but they have th' priv'lege iv
an unfair thrile be a jury iv their admirin' infeeryors. If I cud
fly d'ye think I'd want to walk?"

Avarice and Generosity

"I niver blame a man f'r bein' avaricyous in his ol' age. Whin a
fellow gits so he has nawthin' else to injye, whin ivrybody calls
him 'sir' or 'mister,' an' young people dodge him an' he sleeps
afther dinner, an' folks say he's an ol' fool if he wears a
buttonhole bokay an' his teeth is only tinants at will an' not
permanent fixtures, 'tis no more thin nach'ral that he shud begin
to look around him f'r a way iv keepin' a grip on human s'ciety.
It don't take him long to see that th' on'y thing that's vin'rable
in age is money an' he pro-ceeds to acquire anything that happens
to be in sight, takin' it where he can find it, not where he wants
it, which is th' way to accumylate a fortune. Money won't prolong
life, but a few millyons judicyously placed in good banks an'
occas'nally worn on th' person will rayjooce age. Poor ol' men
are always older thin poor rich men. In th' almshouse a man is
decrepit an' mournful-lookin' at sixty, but a millyonaire at sixty
is jus' in th' prime iv life to a frindly eye, an' there are no
others.

"It's aisier to th' ol' to grow rich thin it is to th' young. At
makin' money a man iv sixty is miles ahead iv a la-ad iv
twinty-five. Pollytics and bankin' is th' on'y two games where
age has th' best iv it. Youth has betther things to attind to,
an' more iv thim. I don't blame a man f'r bein' stingy anny more
thin I blame him f'r havin' a bad leg. Ye know th' doctors say
that if ye don't use wan iv ye'er limbs f'r a year or so ye can
niver use it again. So it is with gin'rosity. A man starts arly
in life not bein' gin'rous. He says to himsilf: "I wurruked f'r
this thing an' if I give it away I lose it." He ties up his
gin'rosity in bandages so that th' blood can't circylate in it.
It gets to be a superstition with him that he'll have bad luck if
he iver does annything f'r annybody. An' so he rakes in an' puts
his private mark with his teeth on all th' movable money in th'
wurruld. But th' day comes whin he sees people around him gettin'
a good dale iv injyemint out iv gin'rosity an' somewan says: 'Why
don't ye, too, be gin-rous? Come, ol' green goods, unbelt, loosen
up, be gin-rous.' 'Gin'rous?' says he, 'what's that?' 'It's th'
best spoort in th' wurruld. It's givin' things to people.' 'But
I can't,' he says. 'I haven't annything to do it with,' he says.
'I don't know th' game. I haven't anny gin'rosity,' he says.
'But ye have,' says they. 'Ye have as much gin'rosity as annywan
if ye'll only use it,' says they. 'Take it out iv th' plasther
cast ye put it in an' 'twill look as good as new,' says they. An'
he does it. He thries to use his gin'rosity, but all th' life is
out iv it. It gives way undher him an' he falls down. He can't
raise it fr'm th' groun'. It's ossyfied an' useless. I've seen
manny a fellow that suffered fr'm ossyfied gin'rosity.

"Whin a man begins makin' money in his youth at annything but games
iv chance, he niver can become gin'rous late in life. He may make
a bluff at it.

Some men are gin'rous with a crutch. Some men get the use of their
gin'rosity back suddenly whin they ar-re in danger. Whin Clancy
the miser was caught in a fire in th' Halsted Sthreet Palace hotel
he howled fr'm a window: 'I'll give twinty dollars to annywan
that'll take me down.' Cap'n Minehan put up a laddher an' climbed
to him an' carrid him to the sthreet. Half-way down th' laddher
th' brave rayscooer was seen to be chokin' his helpless burdhen.
We discovered aftherwards that Clancy had thried to begin negotyations
to rayjooce th' reward to five dollars. His gin'rosity had become
suddenly par'lyzed again.

"So if ye'd stay gin'rous to th' end niver lave ye'er gin'rosity
idle too long. Don't run it ivry hour at th' top iv its speed,
but fr'm day to day give it a little gintle exercise to keep it
supple an' hearty an' in due time ye may injye it."

The End of Things

"The raison no wan is afraid iv Death, Hinnessy, is that no wan
ra-ally undherstands it. If anny wan iver come to undherstand
it he'd be scared to death. If they is anny such thing as a cow'rd,
which I doubt, he's a man that comes nearer realizin' thin other
men, how seeryous a matther it is to die. I talk about it, an'
sometimes I think about it. But how do I think about it? It's me
lyin' there in a fine shoot iv clothes an' listenin' to all th'
nice things people are sayin' about me. I'm dead, mind ye, but I
can hear a whisper in the furthest corner iv th' room. Ivry wan
is askin' ivry wan else why did I die. 'It's a gr-reat loss to
th' counthry,' says Hogan. 'It is,' says Donahue. 'He was a fine
man,' says Clancy. 'As honest a man is iver dhrew th' breath iv
life,' says Schwartzmeister. 'I hope he forgives us all th' harm
we attimpted to do him,' says Donahue. 'I'd give annything to
have him back,' says Clancy. 'He was this and that, th' life iv
th' party, th' sowl iv honor, th' frind iv th' disthressed, th'
boolwark iv th' constichoochion, a pathrite, a gintleman, a Christyan
an' a scholard.' 'An' such a roguish way with him,' says th' Widow
O'Brien.

"That's what I think, but if I judged fr'm expeeryence I'd know
it'd be, 'It's a nice day f'r a dhrive to th' cimitry. Did he
lave much?' No man is a hayro to his undertaker."

Hypocrisy

"It must be a good thing to be good or ivrybody wudden't be
pretendin' he was. But I don't think they'se anny such thing as
hypocrisy in th' wurruld. They can't be. If ye'd turn on th' gas
in th' darkest heart ye'd find it had a good raison for th' worst
things it done, a good varchous raison, like needin' th' money or
punishin' th' wicked or tachin' people a lesson to be more careful,
or protectin' th' liberties iv mankind, or needin' the money."

History

"I know histhry isn't thrue, Hinnessy, because it ain't like what
I see ivry day in Halsted Sthreet. If any wan comes along with a
histhry iv Greece or Rome that'll show me th' people fightin',
gettin' dhrunk, makin' love, gettin' married, owin' th' grocery
man an' bein' without hard-coal, I'll believe they was a Greece
or Rome, but not befure. Historyans is like doctors. They are
always lookin' f'r symptoms. Those iv them that writes about their
own times examines th' tongue an' feels th' pulse an' makes a wrong
dygnosis. Th' other kind iv histhry is a post-mortem examination.
It tells ye what a counthry died iv. But I'd like to know what
it lived iv."

Enjoyment

"I don't think we injye other people's sufferin', Hinnessy. It
isn't acshally injyement. But we feel betther f'r it."

Gratitude

"Wan raison people ar-re not grateful is because they're proud iv
thimsilves an' they niver feel they get half what they desarve.
Another raison is they know ye've had all th' fun ye're entitled
to whin ye do annything f'r annybody. A man who expicts gratichood
is a usurer, an' if he's caught at it he loses th' loan an' th'
intherest."

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