The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current, December 16, 1906, Magazine Section, Page 43, Image 43

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    niE SUNDAY OREGONIAN. PORTLAND. DECEMBER 1G, v 1906.
43
"PRESIDENT .ROQSEVEUF5
ACTIVITIES
i.
Akel opportunities to spell anny way ye like, is me motto. Specyal
privilege to none. Th' great liberty-lovin', ign'rant masses have been
spelled down into th' very earth be bloated monopolists in spellin' like
Dock Eliot iv Harvard.
I've seen it estimated that 90 per cent iv all th' correctly spelled
wnrruds in th' United States was owned by three hundred men. Thay
door Rosenfelt proposed to stbrike off th' shackles fr'm th' hands iv
th' sufferin' illiterate. He demanded th' free coinage of wurruds.
'Tis no snap bein ' a Cab 'net officer undher Tiddy Rosenfelt. He'll
send them back to their wurruk rooms, where they slape with their
clothes on, an' have a messenger call, a fire gong and a tillyphone at
th' head iv th' bed. " " ' .-'.,'.
"He's very popylar," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Very," said Mr. Dooley. "If I was as popylar as he is, I'd '
alwaj's keep my fingers crossed."
BY F. P. DUNNE.
lfcW1IAT'S the Prisidint doin'
W these days?" asked Mr.
Hennessy.
"Not much," said Mr. Dooley.
"He's not doin' much. Ye seldom
hear iv him. Whether 'tis old age
creepin? on hs must be all iv twinty
four or th' responsibilities iv .th'
office I don't know, but he's kind iv
quited down. Now, ye take last week.
With th' exception iv bouncin a few
indispinsable Cabinet officers, invint
in' a battleship, writin' an article on
th' spoorts iv the ancient Greeks,
lecturin' th' Presbyteeryan Church
on infant damnation, refereein' a"
poker bet between wau iv his old
companions in ar-rms an' th' estate
iv another, describin' th' delights iv
ocean thravel to th' navy, passin' out
a bunch of lagel tips to th'Supreem
Coort, divisin' a tackles back play f 'r
football, an' sindin' a recipe f'r pre
parin pie plant f'r th' table to th'
Ladies' Cookin' Club iv Omaha, ye
might say he hardly done annything
last week."
"Maybe th' poor man's sick," said
Mr. Hennessy.
"Divvle the bit. He's not th' kind
that gets sick, an' th' Prisidincy is
wan iv th' healthiest jobs in th'
wurruld. No wan was iver ilicted to
it that was even suspected iv a slight
cough. They go in sthrong an' they
stay .sthrong. All th' Prisidint has
to do is to keep-Fairbanks out iv the
kitchin iv th' White House. No, Ted
dy ain't sick. He 's like mesilf. He's
"SLEEP 13 ROOXIV YE'ER TEMPER." j
settled down to a broad an' compre
hensive view iv life, d'ye mind. He
takes no action onless 'tis demanded
be th ' needs iv th ' whole people. Now,
there's spellin' reform. No Prisidint
befure him iver tackled that. An
drew Jackson might have done it, but
he wud've been accused iv selfish
motives. That gr-reat man spelled
like a broken lypewrater. .
"I'd always thought that if I iver
was ilicted Prisident an' I might 've
been if I'd stuck in polly ticks an'
been more prudent about where. I was
bor-rn th' first thing I wud do wud
be to make bad spellin' more respic
table. 'Twud be me ambition to take
th' poorest speller in tnis broad land
iv ours an' lift him up to a place
where be cud look in th ' eye th ' most
powerful speller in th' Univarsity iv
Injyanny. Akel opportunities to
spell anny way ye like is me motto.
Specyal privileges to none. Too long
long have we been oppressed be those
that know more thin we do. Th' great
liberty-lovin' ign'rant masses have
been spelled down into th' very earth
be bloated moimopolists iv spellin'
like Dock Eliot iv Harvard. I've seen
it estimated that 90 per cent iv all th'
correctly spelled wurruds in th'
United States was owned by three
hundred men. Thaydoor Rosenfelt
proposed to sthrike off th ' shackles
fr'm th' hands iv th' suffer
in' illiterate an' make him th' peer
iv anny man. He demanded th' free
coinage iv wurruds. He freed a
gr-reat people. Ye needn't -send
Packy to school anny more. He's
lamed enough when he's masthered
th' alphabet. All he has to do to
make a wurrud now will be officially
correct is to throw a lot iv letters into
his hat an' shake thim out. '
"But I don't want to give all th'
credit f'r th', measure that has made
us th ' akels" iv th ' most uninlightened
nations in th' wurruld to me frind
Tiddy. 'Twas Andhrew Carnaygie
that put it up to him. There's a roan
ye'd think ought to eijjye life. He has
ivrything that ought to make a man
happy. He has money, he has fame,
he has Andhrew Carneygie, an' he's
a little deaf. But he isn't happy. Or
he wasn't. With all his gr-reat
wealth, this man who had turned out
millions iv gran' books, steel rails,
an' American wurrukin' men was
sad. Whin he cud stand, his grief no
longer he wint to th' Prisidint about
it. ,
" 'Sire,' says he. 'Don't call me
that,' says Tiddy; 'Taft is listenin','
he says. 'Excuse me,' says Andhrew,
' I thought I was at home. If ye
had a beard an' was more regal on
the waistline ye 'd look like . him.
Ye'er Excellency, I am gloomy these
days,' he says. 'People envy me. I
can see it in their eyes. They think
I am happy. . They little know,' he
says. ' 'Tis thrue I have what ought;
to make anny man happy. I am. rich,
as th' wurruld goes. I am gin-rous
to a fault, especially if it's me own.
I am revered in Scotland, worshiped
in New York behind me back, an' in
Homestead,' he says, 'they can't
speak iv me without tears.,
, " 'But, alasl I am not happy. This
careless exteeryor, this winnin' smile,
this chest " whijh ' extends beyond th'
buildin' line, conceal a gray an' ach
in' heart,' lie says. 'A secret grief
is gnawin'at me vitals. F'r, oh Sir,
I cannot spell,' he says. 'If ye only
knew th' agonies I endure whin me
brain is burnin' with thought, whin
thought is thryin' to buret out like
lava fr'm Mount ' What's-the-name-iv-it,
an' rush to th' point iv me pen,
to have to stop,' he says, 'an' dig,'
he says, 'down into me pocket an'
pull out,' he says, 'a little spellin '
book,' he says, 'an' find whether
thought is spelledwith a j or an 'r,'
he says.
'Me heart bleeds a good deal al
ready, ' says th ' Prisidint. ' I 've been
givin' th' subjeet a gr-reat deal iv
attintion f'r a long time since ye
come in,' he says. I don't like to
make up me mind hurriedly,' he says.
'As ivrybody knows, I'm reluctant to
act on me impulses. Make haste slow
ly if ye must is me motto. But make
haste.' Th' race-is not often to th'
slow. Th' shortest way acrost is th
shortest way acrost if . ye, know it.
I've heerd iv th' fable iv th' tortoise
an' th' rabbit. It's a fable. Anny
how, if thrue,' it was a shockin' re
varsal iv public form. If they iver
get up a return match all me money
goes on ' th ' rabbit. So, ' he says,
'bavin' thurly studied' th' question
out, ' he says, ' 'tis me determination
to inthrajooce this rayform at wanst,'
he says.
" 'I've been thryin' to do some
thing that wud benifit all classes iv
me counthrymen. I niver found an
nything that was satisfacthry to all
hands. What I done f'r th' poor
seemed onpopylar among th' rich, an'
" MR. DOOLEY, BY HARRY MtiEPHY.
what I done f'r the rich seemed bad
f'r th' poor. I don't know why. But
spellin' rayform is good f'r all. Fr'm
th' little breaker boy in th' mines
to th' coal baron in his private car,
fr'm th' plain wurrukin 'man in his
comfortable flat to th' millyonaire in
his oncomfortable yacht, all have suf
fered fr'm this tyranny. None have
escaped th' age-old injustice,' he
says,' 'iv spellin ' through with an
aitch,' he says. . 'I will issue an edick
at wanst. An',' he says, 'all th'
wurruld will know I done it fr'm a
pure motive, for,' he says; 'I know
iv no way iv simplifying th' wurrud
I,' he says.
"And so he done it. Today th'
simplest American citizen is th' peer,
iv th' man that wrote th' ditchnry.
No more will any wan have to bow
his head in shame because he don't
know how manny n 's there are in
Cincinatty or how manny s's in Mis
sissippi. He puts in as manny as his
means will allow an' lets it go .at
that. I seen -wan iv Tiddy 's ad
dhresses th' other day. Wbat does
it look like! It's beautiful. I
haven't read anyytbing like it since
th' Sweet Singer iv Mitchigan died.
'-'What else" has he done? AVell,
he wint down : to Pannyma. There
was no ostentation about th' depar
ture. On a battleship, accompanied
only be a sicrity an' th' United
States Navy, he stole away f'r a sur
prise visit. As he left his departure
was announced be th ' cust 'mry salute
iv four hundhred an' eight guns to
which th' forts responded with th'
usual eleven hundhred an' nine. At
Pannyma th' enjyneers. an' Jamaica
naygurs were busy at theSr wurruk but
they managed to give him a hasty an'
enthusyastic welcome, in spite iv th'
fact that it had rained f'r two weeks
an' th' decorations were somewhat
spiled. Tbrowin' off his hat an' coat,
he-done a, hop-skip-an '-a-jump acrost
th' Isthmus an' nearly stepped on
th' Prisidint iv the Raypublic iv Pan'
nyma comin' back. This gr-reat sojer
an' statesman, whose right name I
have forgot, but no matther, was
wanst well known in our connthry
as wan iv th ' most popylar midgets
on th' dime museum cirket. Standin'
fully three feet two in his stockin's,
whin be raymimbers to put thim on,
he is th' ideel figure iv a marshal
hero. Layin' his hand imprissively
on th' Prisident 's kneecap he ad
dhressed him as follows:
" 'Great an' good brother,' he says.
'It is a proud an' happy priv'lege to
have ye in our mist.. It seems like
rain to ye, but ye niver see wan iv
our reg'lar old-fashioned thunder
showers. I make no boasts about me
impeeryal domain. We have no fer
tile fields, no mines iv ontold wealth,
no railways, no eddycation, no food,
no clothes, nawthin much, but I'd
like to bet ye all th' money Bunny
Vanilla says he has that it rains here
more than it does in anny other ray
public in the wurruld. white or black,
give or. take ten buckets. Whativer
else we can promise ye, we're sure iv
this, that ye'er canal will alwaj be
full iv wather. If th' Fsssytic an'
th' Atlantic both dhried up, Panny
ma 's blessed rain will always be wet.
" 'But,' he says, 'I digress,' he
says. 'We welcome you to our im
peeryal domain,' he says. 'As far
as th' band can reach it stretches out
on both sides iv ye fr'm where th''
stately Passyfie washes th' feet iv
old Pannyma w'ith little effect,' he
says, 'to where th' tumulchuse At
lantic oozes up to Colon,' he says. 'It
is eight miles long as th' crow flies
afther th' engineerin' gangs an' thir
ty yards wide,' he says. 'Our coun
thry, we love it, an' why shouldn't
we, f'r isn't it now or soon to be
entirely composed iv mud thrown out
iv an American canal,' he says. 'Wel
come, thrice welcome, Serene Brother.
A brother in ar-rms salutes ye,' he
says. 'An' wud ye mind movin' th'
left fut forard a little. We don't
want anny complications with our
neighborin' raypublic iv Costa Rica,'
he says.
"Th' Prisidint made a short speech
in reply. 'Sir,' says he, '.I am proud
to be in ye 'er grand, damp raypublic.
Ye have welcomed me in appropriate
language, but ye have har'ly said too
much in th' circumstances. Con
sidhren that I made this' here little
raypublic mesilf with a scroll saw
in me barn, ye ought to be proud to.
see me. If ye ain 't proud don 't show
it, or I'll give ye wan. I inthrested in
seein' this handywurk iv mine. It
looks betther in th' maps thin it does
to th' naked eye, but its all right.
Certainly 'tis th' wan counthry in
th' wurruld that was made f'r a
canal. In fact, ye 'er happy raypublic
is a canal already. If I 'd on 'y known
it 1 wud've put In a few locks an in
vited th' navies iv th' wurruld to
slip through. Whin I came ashore
I thought I'd stepped off'th' gang
plank four miles out. Does th' sky
always sob this way on top iv ye?
I had no idee it rained so down here.
I'm wet through.. Since I've been
talkin' I've had an idee. We've got
th' canal. What shall we do with th'
bye-product? I'll tell ye what we'll
do. We'll pipe ye'er impeeryal ray
public to fertilize th' arid deserts iv
th' gr-reat West,', he says. An'
sindin' a wireless message f'r a mus
tard bath, he dashed f'r th' man-iv-war.
"It was thin four o'clock. Th'
next da,y he was in Porther Ricky. I
haven't heerd much iv that isle
iv th' blessed since th' bold
Miles conkered it with his new
clothes. But it seems to be goin'
on as merrily as iver. Th' popylace
turned out to meet th' Prisidint. They
didn't have to turn far. Whin th'
popylace iv Portlier Ricky wants to
turn out f'r a popylar dimonsthration
all it has to do is to roll over. He
was met' by gr-reat crowds iv our
fellow-citizens in ivrything but th'
XAYIN' HIS HAND MrRKSSIVEM, ON THE PRESIDENT'S KNEE-CAY."
name an' th'"fact. They prisinted
him with a bunch iv roses, an' he
prisinted thim with th' franchise.
They're American citizens now, like
you an' me.
"'Honored Sir,' says th' Chair
man iv th ' comity, ' if it 's not too
much trouble wud ye mind givin' us
a vote?' 'Not at all.' says Tiddy i
Rosenfelt. 'No throuble in th' least.
Why didn't ye mintion it- before?
Jawn. -wire Loeb at wanst and tell
him to sind these good fellows the
franchise be tomorrah's mail. Ye
needn't wait fr' th' formal announce
ment, boys. Go on. an' vote just as
ye ar-re, " he says. An' so another
star was added to th' bright dydem
on Columbya's fair brow.
"An' now he's home again, an'
glad I am to see him. Thim Cab 'net
mimbers iv his have had th' aisy
time iv it while he was gone. Diwle
a sthroke iv wurruk did they do but.
slept with their heels on the mantel
piece. They'll be arnin' their money
fr'm now on. 'Hi no snap bein' a
Cab 'net officer undher Tiddy Rosen
felt.' He'll sind them back to their
wurrukrooms, where they sleep with
their clothes on an' have a messenger
call, a fire gong, and a tillyphone at
th' head ivth' bed. 'Hello, hello, I
say. Is that ye Elihoo? Jump down
an' take th' midnight express f'r
New York an' tell thim how to vole.
Oh, I niver mind a bag.' 'Shaw, I
expect ye to be in Saint Joe, Mitchi
gan, tomorrah avenin' at eight. I
have a message to deliver to th'
Mitchigan Free Stone Peach Associa
tion. 'Wire Metealf to meet Cortiloo
in Salt Lake an' look afther th' Mor
mon situation. Dhrop in on Tama
Jim an' tell him to carry out that
bag iv sunflower seeds with me com
pliments to me old frind an' fellow
campaigner Scorpion Sam, in Tucson.
Hello, hello. Is that yon, Taft? Oh,
wake up. It's me. What ar-re ye
doin' in bed at this liour? Sleep is
roonin ye'er timper. I want ye to
look up a timetable an' see whin ye
ean get th' first train to Idaho. Oh,
why shud a young fellow like you
mind a little journey iv 3000 miles?
It'll be good f'r ye. Take a buffay
car, if ye want to rayjooce ye'er
weight. I have a message f'r ye to
carry to Bill Biggs at Boise. I want
ye to tell him he 's a good fellow. Ye
can go as far as ye like. Don't hesi
tate to say annything that comes into
ye'er head. I've just issued an edick
sayin' that hincefoorth th' Prisidint
will not be responsible f'r annything
Thaydoor Rosenfelt is reported to
have said onless he heard him say it
himsilf.'
"An' there ye ar-re. He's th'
gr-reat man.
"He is that," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Ye needn't make fun iv him. I'm
with him an' so ar-re nearly all th'
Dimmycrats up this way."
"Ye ought to be," said Mr. Dooley.
"He spells like a Dimmyerat, he acts
like a Raypublican an' he is Tiddy
Rosenfelt a combination 'tis no
good drawin' again."
"He's very popylar," said Mr,
Hennessy.
"Very," said Mr. Dooley. "If I
was as popular as he is I'd always
keep me fingers crossed."
(Copyright, 1906. H. H. McClure &
Co.)
' '