Havent ye heerd? said Mr. Dooley. Dorseys become a counthry squire. Hes landed gintry, like me folks in th ol dart. He lives out among th bur-rds an th bugs, in a house that looks like a cuckoo clock. In an hour or two yell see him go by to catch the five five. He wont catch it because there aint anny five five. Th la-ad that makes up th time-table found las week that if he didnt get away earlier he cuddent take his girl fr a buggy ride, an hes changed th five five to four forty-eight. Dorsey will wait fr th six siven an hell find that it dont stop at Paradise Manor, where he lives on Saturdahs an Winsdahs except Fridahs in Lent. Hell get home at ilivin oclock, an if his wifes frgot to lave th lanthern in th deepo hell crawl up to th house on his hands an knees. I see him las night in at th dhrug sthore buyin ile iv peppermint fr his face. Tis a gran life in th counthry, says he, far, he says, frm th madding crowd, says he. Ye have no idee, he says, how good it makes a man feel, he says, to escape th dust an grime iv th city, he says, an watch th squrls at play, he says. Whin I walk in me own garden, he says, an see th viggytables comin up, I hope, an hear me own cow lowin at th gate iv th fence, he says, I frget, he says, that theyse such a thing as a jint to be wiped or a sink to be repaired, he says. He had a box iv viggytables an a can iv condensed milk undher his arm. Th wife is goin away nex week, he says, do ye come out an spind a few days with me, he says. Not while I have th strength to stay here, says I. Well, he says, maybe, he says, Ill r-run in an see ye, he says. Is there annything goin on at th theayters? he says.
I wanst spint a night in th counthry, Hinnissy. Twas whin Hogan had his villa out near th river. Twas called a villa to distinguish it frm a house. If twas a little bigger twud be big enough fr th hens, an if twas a little smaller twud be small enough fr a dog. It looked as if twas made with a scroll saw, but Hogan mannyfacthered it himself out iv a design in th pa-aper. How to make a country home on wan thousan dollars. Puzzle: find th money. Hogan kidnapped me wan afthernoon an took me out there in time to go to bed. He boosted me up a laddher into a bedroom adjinin th roof. I hope, says I, Im not discommodin th pigeons, I says. There aint anny pigeons here, says he. Whats that? says I. Thats a mosquito, says he. I thought ye didnt have anny here, says I. Tis th first wan Ive seen, says he, whackin himsilf on th back iv th neck. I got ye that time, assassin, he says, hurlin th remains to the ground. They ony come, he says, afther a heavy rain or a heavy dhry spell, he says, or whin theyse a little rain, he says, followed by some dhryness, he says. Ye mustnt mind thim, he says. A mosquito ony lives fr a day, he says. Tis a short life an a merry wan, says I. Do they die iv indigisthion? I says. So he fell down through th thrap-dure an left me alone.
Well, I said me prayers an got into bed an lay there, thinkin iv me past life an wondherin if th house was on fire. Twas warrum, Hinnissy. Ill not deny it. Th roof was near enough to me that I cud smell th shingles, an th sun had been rollin on it all day long, an though it had gone away, itd left a ray or two to keep th place. But Im a survivor iv th gr-reat fire, an I often go down to th rollin-mills, an besides, mind ye, Im iv that turn iv mind that whin its hot I say tis hot an lave it go at that. So I whispers to mesilf, Ill dhrop off, I says, into a peaceful slumber, I says, like th healthy plowboy that I am, says I. An I counted as far as I knew how an conducted a flock ov sheep in a steeplechase, an Id just begun fr to wondher how th las thing I thought iv came into me head, whin a dog started to howl in th yard. They was a frind iv this dog in th nex house that answered him an they had a long chat. Some other dogs butted in to be companionable. I heerd Hogan rollin in bed, an thin I heerd him goin out to get a dhrink iv wather. He thripped over a chair befure he lighted a match to look at th clock. It seemed like an hour befure he got back to bed. Be this time th dogs was tired an I was thinkin Id take a nap, whin a bunch iv crickets undher me windows begun fr to discoorse. Ive heerd iv th crickets on th hearth, Hinnissy, an I used to think they were all th money, but anny time they get on me hearth I buy me a pound iv insect powdher. Id rather have a pianola on th hearth anny day, an Gawd save me frm that! An so twas dogs an mosquitoes an crickets an mosquitoes an a screech-owl an mosquitoes an a whip-poor-will an mosquitoes an cocks beginnin to crow at two in th mornin an mosquitoes, so that whin th sun bounced up an punched me in th eye at four I knew what th thruth is, that th counthry is th noisiest place in th wurruld. Mind ye, theres a roar in th city, but in th counthry th noises beats on yeer ear like carpet-tacks bein driven into th dhrum. Between th chirp iv a cricket an th chirp iv th hammer at th mills, Ill take th hammer. I can go to sleep in a boiler shop, but I spint th rest iv that night at Hogans settin in th bathtub.
I saw him in th mornin at breakfast. We had canned peaches an condinsed milk. Ye have yeer valise, says he. Arent ye goin to stay out? I am not, says I. Whin th first rattler goes by yell see me on th platform fleein th peace an quiet iv th counthry, fr th turmoil an heat, I says, an food iv a gr-reat city, I says. Stay on th farm, says I. Commune, I says, with nature, I says. Enjoy, I says, th simple rustic life iv th merry farmer-boy that goes whistlin to his wurruk befure breakfast, says I. But I must go back, I says, to th city, I says, where there is nawthin to eat but what ye want and nawthin to dhrink but what ye can buy, I says. Where th dust is laid be th sprinklin cart, where th ice-man comes reglar an th roof-garden is in bloom an yere waked not be th sun but be th milkman, I says. I want to be near a doctor whin Im sick an near eatable food whin Im hungry, an where I can put me hand out early in the mornin an hook in a newspaper, says I. Th city, says I, is th ony summer resort fr a man that has iver lived in th city, I says. An so I come in.
Tis this way, Hinnissy, th counthry was all right whin we was young and hearty, befure we become enfeebled with luxuries, dye mind. Twas all right whin we cud shtand it. But were not so shtrong as we was. Were diffrent men, Hinnissy. Ye may say, as Hogan does, that were ladin an artificyal life, but, be Hivins, ye might as well tell me I ought to be paradin up an down a hillside in a suit iv skins, shootin th antylope an th moose, be gorry, an livin in a cave, as to make me believe I ought to get along without sthreet-cars an ilicthric lights an illyvators an sody-water an ice. We ought to live where all th good things iv life comes frm, says Hogan. No, says I. Th place to live is in where all th good things iv life goes to. Ivrything thats worth havin goes to th city; th counthry takes whats left. Ivrything thats worth havin goes to th city an is iced. Th cream comes in an th skim milk stays; th sun-burnt viggytables is consumed be th hearty farmer-boy an I go down to Callaghans store an ate the sunny half iv a peach. Th farmer-boy sells what he has fr money an I get the money back whin he comes to town in th winther to see the exposition. They give us th products iv th sile an we give thim cottage organs an knockout dhrops, an they think theyve broke even. Dont lave anny wan con-vince ye th counthrys th place to live, but dont spread th news yet fr a while. Im goin to advertise Dooleyville be-th-River. Within six siconds iv sthreet-cars an railway thrains, an aisy reach iv th theayters an ambulances. Spind th summer far frm th busy haunts iv th fly an th bug be th side iv th purlin ice-wagon. Ill do it, I tell ye. Ill organize excursions an Ill have th poor iv th counthry in here settin on th cool steps an passin th can frm hand to hand; Ill take thim to th ball-game an th theayter; Ill lave thim sleep till breakfast-time an Ill sind thim back to their overcrowded homes to dhream iv th happy life in town. I will so.