The Birmingham age-herald. [volume], August 24, 1913, MAGAZINE SECTION, Image 48

About The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950

Image provided by: University of Alabama Libraries, Tuscaloosa, AL

                
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_ By Finley Peter Dunne
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“Me sicond son, Ephraim, I have provided for already by lettin’ him
git him elf a good job.”
—. ..- — _
‘Til show ye whu’s th’ boss here.”
{^ I NIVER made a will,” said Mr. Dooley.
| “ I didn't want to give mesilf a headache
thinkin’ iv somethin’ to put into it. A
will iv mine wud be a puny little thing annyhovv,
an’ if anny wan thried to file it he’d be lible to
be locked up f’r contimpt iv tlv Probate coort.
Besides, I wuddint like to cause anny onseemlv
wrangles an' maybe lawsuits among me heirs
about who wud pay f’r th' expriss wagon to
carry th' estate to th’ city dump. An’ annyhow
I've always thought that if there’s goin’ to be
ayether cheers or tears at me obsekees they shud
spring fr'm th’ heart, not fr'm mercinary mo
tives. If anny fellow feels like cillybratin’ me
departure let him do it out iv his own pocket.
Thin I'll know he’s sincere. ’Twud grieve me if
>some wan broke into song at th’ news if a
sthranger was to ask, ‘ Is that wan iv his buli
mies?’ an’ th’ reply wud be, ‘No, it's wan iv
his heirs.’
* “ So f’r one reason or another I've niver made
a will, but I'll not deny it must be eonsidhrable
spoort f’r tliim that has th’ namej an’ the’ imag
ination to injye it. I’m putty sure I'd bust into
tears whin th' lawwers wrote down th’ directions
f’r somebody else to set in me rockin’ chair, an’
I can't think iv annything that wud brighten th’
wurruld with me out iv it. But that wud be
because I wuddint go at it in th’ right way. To
be injyeable. a will must be at wan an’ the same
time a practical joke on th' heirs an' an adver
tisemint iv th’ wan that made it. Manny a man
niver has his own way till he has it through his
will. Afther he’s dead an’ gone he shoves his
hat on th’ back iv his head an’ stalks up an’
down through th’ house saying, ‘ I’ll show ye
whu’s th’ boss here. F’r th' fust time in me life,
now' that I'm dead. I’m goin’ to be obeyed.’ No
w'ondher that manny meek millyonaires comfort
their declinin’ years with this amusemint; it is,
as Hogan says, th’ last infirm’ry f’r their noble
minds; it’s a chance f’r thim to tache th’ fam’ly
their proper place, an’ blow their ow'n horns
without havin’ anny wan intherrupt th’ solo.
“ I was readin’ a fine will th’ other day. I
niver see th’ lad that made it, but I think iv
him, walkin’ up an’ down th’ lawyer’s office as
he dictated it, whackin’ himsilf on th' chest an’
sayin’ ‘ Bedad! ’ after iv’ry paragraph. It wint
somethin’ like this: ‘ I, Ephraim Sniwy, bein’
in a sound mind, no matther what may come out
in coort later, but realizin’ that th’ repytation iv
me onparalleled succiss in business has spread
so far that I am lible to be called elsewhere, do
make this me last will an’ testymint. All me
money I lave to me faithful frind, th’ Confidin
tyal Chattel Morgedge comp'ny, w'hich I com
mand to disburse as follow's:
“ ‘ To me devoted wife, Belinda Ann Sniwy,
shall be paid th’ sum iv four hundhred dollars
per annum, undher th’ followin' conditions : That
she shall niver marry again; that she shall wrear
a black veil f’r th’ rest iv her life in me honor;
that she shall go to me grave wanst a week an’
dew it with her tears; that she shall be sorry
that she often spoke to me th’ way she did; that
she shall wear suspinded fr’m her neck a photy
graft iv me framed in rhinestones; that she shall
keep th’ ile paintin’ iv me in th’ parlor in good
repair; that she shall not attind anny dance,
baukit, theatyre, wake, or other frivolous inter
tainmint. If she fails to comply with anny i\
these conditions, or if anny man undher th’ age
iv eighty is discovered in her neighborhood, oi
if she is iver seen to laugh in public, I direct me
exicutors to cut her off fr’m me bounty an’ turr
her out on th’ wurruld f’r th’ heartless flirt she is
“ ‘ To me son Silas I lave th’ use iv me horse
an’ buggy an’ two bags iv oats ontil he ha;
arrived at th’ age of forty-five. If at that time h<
has showed a proper apprecyation iv th’ thrust
th' said property shall pass to his ownership
undher condition that me name shall appear ir
letters a foot high on th’ dashboard.
Me sicond son, Ephraim, I have provided
f’r already be' lettin’ him get himsilf a good job
in a blacksmith shop.
“ ' Me son Elias havin’ affinded me b’ goiiv
to a baseball game, I desire that he shall get
nawthin’ fr’m me estate.
“ ‘ To me daughter Eliza I lave th’ kitchen
range in thrust. In this age iv fortune hunters
a father cannot be too careful, hinse I direct that
she shall not marry ontil she arrives at th’ age iv
fifty. At that time if she sees fit to bestow her
hand on a worthy young man, who shall be
acciptible to th' loan comity iv me bank, I direct
that she shall be paid three dollars a week out
iv her mother’s allowance, th’ said fund to be
known as “ Th’ Gin’rous Eph Snivvy Founda
tion f'r Indygint Daughters.”
“'To me faithful frind an’ nurse, Bedalia
O’Brien, who has sarved me devotedly f’r twinty
years, an’ who is now too old f’r other iinply
mint, I lave me collection iv old med’eine bottles.
“ ’ To William Waldorf Astor I lave me
sthraw hat. on condition that he changes his
name to Snivvy.
"' To th’ mayor iv Venice. Italy, I lave two
dollars to erict a monymint to me an' alther th’
name iv th’ town to Snivvyville.
“ ‘ Th’ rest iv th’ residoo iv me splindid for
tune I lave in thrust to me on’y frind, th’ Con
lidintyal Chattel Morgedge bank, an’ direct thim
to let it* accummylate ontil it amounts to four
millyon dollars. This sum they will expind in
erictin’ a chimbley in white marble an’ goold on
th’ Snivvy glue wurruks, said chimbley to be at
laste thirty feet higher thin anny in th’ neigh
borhood, with an electhric sign, which shall
be kept constantly burnin’, with th’ motto:
“ Snivvy, he done it.” ’
“ Yes, sir; it must be fun makin’ a will. Think
iv th’ throuble ye can cause an' th’ insults ye can
hurl at ye’re innimies. 1 often thought ’twud be
a fine way iv gettin’ aven with a man I didn’t
like. Supposin’ Hogan an’ me had a quarrul,
an’ I didn’t have time to write a frindly biog
raphy about him, or was afraid I might go first.
Nawthin’ wud be nater thin to put him in me
will: ‘ Hereby cancel all bequests to me frind
Terrence Hogan on account of his bad habits.’
“ I bet he'd be sorry I was gone. How he'd
wish he cud have me back ag’in f’r a while.
“ I niver see anny wan that enthred into th’
spirit iv makin’ a will so thruly as our ol’ frind
Dochney. Ye didn’t like him, but I did. I liked
him because he was so simple an’ sincere. Pru
dent fellows like y’rsilf, that spind y'r lives pilin’
up grate stores iv good will an’ affection an’ a
comfortable conscience f’r y’r ol’ age don’t ap
precyate a spindthrift like Dochney, who threw
all these things away in th’ pursuit iv his pleas
ure, which wus makin’ money. Ye thought he
wus a bad man, but I knew him f'r a single
“If Dochney had wan fault it was he was too sintimintal about money.”
minded, innocint ol’ la-ad who niver harmed
anny wan excipt f'r gain an’ was incap’ble iv
falsehood outside iv business. To those who see
him in th’ rough battle iv life at home or among
his neighbors he may’ve seemed hard, but we
who knew him in th’ quiet seclusvon iv th’ bank,
among his recreations, found another Dochney,
a cheerful soul who always had a smile on his
face, wrote little verses to th’ promissory notes,
an’ cuddent keep his feet still whin th’ goold
coin clatthered on th’ counter. If Dochney had
wan fault it wus he wus too sintimintal about
money. Men like ye ar-re th’ ra-ally rapacyous
wans. Ye have nawthin’ l^ut desire f’r money.
Ye don’t want to give it a home an’ take care
iv it. But Dochney had a tender feelin’ f’r it.
Tears came to his eyes as he watched it grow.
He become so attached to it that no wan cud pry
it away fr’m him. An’ money reciprocated.
Iv’ry dollar he had wurruked f’r him. It wint
out an’ decoyed another dollar an’ even if it
come back ladin’ nawthin’ more thin a little
‘ chicken feed ’ Dochney wasn’t cross about it.
He wud pat a nickel on th’ back an’ say, ‘ Ye’re
small now. but with a little ineouragemint we’ll
make a big sthrappin’ dollar out iv ye yet.’
“ Dochney lived to an old age, because, as th’
pote says, ‘ There’s nawthin’ like avirice to keep
a man young.’ The Spanyards knew that whin
they sarched f’r th’ fountain iv perpetchool
youth. They’d heerd th’ Indyans had money.
Annvhow, Dochney’s cheeks wore th’ bloom iv
usury long afther manny philanthropists ar-re
lookin’ pale. But th’ time comes whin somethin’
in th’ eyes iv his financial frinds told him ’twud
be betther not to go down town ag’in unarmed,
an’ he rethired. He planted his money th’ way
they do eyesthers an’ let it breed, sindin’ down
wanst a week to haul out enough to sustain life
an’ puttin’ th’ rest back in again.
" But this was no life f'r wan that had been
an eyesther pirate in his day, an’ Dochney begun
to pine. I thried to ammuse him. I had th’ con
gressman sind him iv’ry hour th’ new currency
bill; I cut out th’ repoorts wanst a week iv th’
bankruptcies in th’ United States an’ Canady,
an’ wurruked th’ cash registher f’r him be th’
hour, because he liked th’ ol’ refrain. But
nawthin’ did him anny good ontil Dock O’Leary
advised him to alther his will. Th’ Dock says
he always thrys this prescription on aged mill
yonaires afther th’ oxigin fails. Wan mornin’
Dochney come in lookin’ as cheerful as an ad
vertisemint iv a breakfast food an’ jinglin’ his
key ring in his pocket, f’r he niver car-ried
annythin’ else to jingle, but made a practice iv
exthractin’ carfare out iv th’ gran’childhren’s
bank with a penknife iv’ry mornin’.
“ ‘ Ye’re lookin’ well, me ol' buccaneer,’ said I.
‘ It’s feelin’ well I am,’ says he, fillin’ his pocket
fr’m th’ cheese bowl. ‘ I've been with me lawyer
all mornin’ revisin' me will. I find I’ve left out
a good manny ol’ frinds. Ye haven’t a middle
inityal to ye’er name, have ye? That’s what I
told him. Give me a glass iv sas-prilly,’ he says.
Well, sir, though I knew th’ crafty ol’ pirate, th’
thought suddently lept into me head that maybe
his heart or his brain had softened an’ he’d put.
me in th' will. In that fatal'sicond I bought two
autymobills, a yacht, an’ a goold watch an’
chain, an’ shook me ol’ frinds; an’ whin I come
to me sinses he’d gone an’ hadn’t settled f’r th’
sas-prilly.
“Well, th’ fun he had afther that! All day
long he wint around makin’ delicate inquiries
about people’s circumstances, an’ in th* mornin'
he was downtown puttin’ something new in hi9
will, He hadn't been a popylar man. He had
cashed in th’ affections iv his neighbors ’arly in
life. An’ prejudicis ar-re hard to overcome. But
grajally—that is to say. within a week or ten
days—people begun to see that a gr-reat injus
thice had been done to him. ,He didn’t say
annythin’ about a will. But he had a way iv
askin' people did they spell their name with an
aitch or a zee an’ puttin’ it down in a notebook
that wus very consolin’. His relitives begun to
show a gr-reat inthrest in him. an’ some iv thim
come fr'm as far as San Francisco to cheer his
declinin’ years an’ form vigilance comities to pro
tict him fr'm fortune hunters. He was niver
' alone, but always had th- most agreeable s’ciety.
’Twas ‘ Uncle, that’s a fine cough ye have; wud
den’t ye like to set in this cool draft.' or ‘ Cousin
Andhrew. tell us that joke ye made las’ night. I
nearly died laughin' at it, but no wan can tell it
like y’silf.’
“ He niver took a meal at home. He stopped
payin’ all bills. He insisted on all babies born
in th’ ward bein’ named afther him. He insulted
people an: challenged thim to fight. By an’ by
th’ pa-apers got hold iv him an’ always spoke iv
him as th’ eccenthric philanthropia). Rows iv
carredges shtud at his dure, an’ inside iv his house
he debated with th’ thrustees iv binivolint insti
tutions an’ prisidints iv colledges about their
plan f'r new buildin’s. Wan iv th’ lading uni
varsities sint th' glee club down to serenade him.
He was dieted vice prisidint iv Andhrew Car
naygie’s peace comity, thrustee iv th’ art mu
s’um, director in th’ Home f’r Wan Eyed Owls,
an’ LL. D. in Skowhegan univarsity.’
“ An’ all th’ time the wurruld was talkin’
about this gr-reat binifaethor all Mrs. Dochney
cud find in her coold heart to say was: ‘ There’s
no fool like an ol’ fool,’ an’ wint about her
housewurruk an’ made poultices f’r him whin he
come home fr'm th’ meeting iv th’ S'cietv f’r
Pathronizin’ th’ Poor, where they’d give him a
coold in th’ chest fr’m th’ Chautauqua salute.
" Well, sir, all times, good an’ bad, has got to
come to an end, an’ wan day Dochney come in
to see me. ‘ I think,' says lie, ‘ I’ll go home an’
go to bed an’ stay there. I’ve finished me will
an’ me life is no longer safe fr’m th’ binificyants.
There’s a prisidint iv a colledge cornin’ to tovri*
He’s an eager idjacator, an’ as I don’t want to
die with me boots on I think I won’t see him.
Here’s 5 cints I owe ye f'r th’ sasprilly,’ he says.
An’ he wint away an' I niver set eyes on him
ag’in. He left a will in five lines, givin’ all his
money to th’ good woman, an’ sayin’ that he
thought he’d done enough f’r iv'rybody else by
keepin’ thim in hopes all these years, which is
th’ only pleasure in life.”
“ I niver cud undherstand a man like Dochney
makin’ money,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“ He made it,” said Mr. Dooley, “ because he
honestly loved it with an innocint affiction. He
was thrue to it. Th’ reason ye have no money
is because ye don’t love it f’r itsilf alone. Money
won’t iver surrinder to such a flirt.”
.(Copyright: 1913: By Finley Peter Dqimm.)