DISCOURSE BY A LOCAL “DOOLEY.”

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3410, 29 December 1911, Page 2

DISCOURSE BY A LOCAL “DOOLEY.”

MUSINCS ABOUT THE “DHUST PROBLIM.”

HOW IT CAN, AND, HAS BEEN SOLVED. 7

Finnegan-.—ominous name—stood chatting glibly to O’Rafferty on the pavement outside the post-offioe _ the other Siorning. The sun shone brightly, and innegan had just .'murmured* something to the effect that “the blishful mornin’ made his heart bleed wid thoughts av old Killarney,” when a particle of road metal wafted up on tho poetry-inspiring breeze, lodged in O’Rafferty’s eye, awaking in that worthy sentiment lie had long cherished, but hitherto had not voiced.

“Av all tlx’ roarin’, tearin’, rampagin’ thornados that iver was!” “And phwat’s th’ matter wid you now?” exclaimed Einnqgan. „• s ; “I’ve got th’ road in me swate blue eye entoirely.” ~ “Thin it’s a fortunate! man ye, are, O’Rafferty. ’Tis meself • can’t git a road to me Guv’mint section at all, at all.” “Git away wid you f’r a gibberin chimpanzee., > An’ it’s me, y r frind, phwat’s sufferin’ mortyal agony. ’ At this Finnegan was evidently moved, for he produced a red handkerchief, and, invoking his friend not to “scraach loike a Kilkenny cat,” backed him against the wall and removed the “disthurbin’ iliment” with a corner of the lurid wipe-all. The momentary relief thus obtained produoed a more -moderate tone in O’Rafferty, who launched on a dissertation as to the best means of, as he expressed it, “eradikatin’ th’ pesht.’ “Diiust,” said he, “is loilce a blue bottlxle on a windy pane. ’Tis a crool desthroyer of all Christyan spirit. “When I was assistyant archyteet, an’ carryin’ sollydified clay in the shape av bricks at th’ noo .gaol, me frind Dooley used to say to me, says lie, ‘Diiust is a tumble thing widout wather, O’Rafferty.’ ‘An’,’ fays he, ‘it behoaves min av intellectool ability, loike me an’ you, f’r instance, to advance a soloosnun to th’ divvle defym posh/t.* “ ‘Thim sitty faythers know nary a thing about it,’ says he, ‘an’, they on’y. gits th’ name because they sits so long o’ nights whin dacent self-rayspectm folks loike me an’ you are at ’ome m our vartchus couches. And when they blusthered f’r about foive hours consarnin’ thim Eddyson battliery cars, they gits up and goes home wid aitch other decidin’ how to revylooshmise th’ univarse, but O’Rafferty, mo bhoy, says he, ‘’tis th’ same ol’ yarrn.they 11 lie tollin’ yez the wake afther nixt and th’ wake afther that.’ ” “Me impurthurbable frind 0 Flaliertv,” says he, “gets up on his fate, and says he, “Bhoys, there s on y one thing f’r it, and that’s salt wather.” “Wather?” says they. “Why, wather on’y makes mud, an’ mud on v suits some people loike Dooley there. “And thinks I.” says Dooley, ‘ that s quite roight, and ’tis on’y a ooncomytyant rhesult that whin th’ salt dries up it should predoos a. dimoralisin effect on the populus. Salt makes min thirsty, and annvthing doin’ that is, as me frind the Dockther says, to be riggerously discouraged.” „ “O’Rafferty, me lamentable loon, lie savs to me, “I sees the saloosliun, bein’ a man av the wurrld an’ a cause and effect philosophy book in wan. “Diiust gits in and creates a disthurbance, so th’ on’y thing to be done anny way is to keep the dhust out. “Whin I was in me prime m Perth we was sufferin’ from th’ same tumble afflicshun, and th’ min wid utilytaryan heads thought out wan av th phrettiest schames in the whole av creation. They decides that dhust made its divvlesome way into th’ swate sity. l°iff iverything that is ondesirable, by th roads, an’ they agrees to put up tin finces across th’ roads to kape tli dhust in its proper plashe.’ “Sicond thots is best, though, me bhoy,” says Dooley, “and afther a while they agrees to erect a high boarrd gate so as to obvyato th necessity av making a road round th finco. “’Twas an lxcillint idee, O’Rafferty, and there was niver a dhrap av dhust got into th’ swate plashe aftherwarrds.” . “In wan wake sivinteen av them vakyum clanin’ consarns giv uj> biz, and the sthrate sweepers union migrated loike th’ swallows in sphring to th wilds av Broken Hill.” “An’ to make the swate schame complate, th’ Cliamby of Commerce rinted th’ gates and painted deloightful scanes on ’em to attracht visitors from th’ outside wurrld.” “’Tis a whonderful man is your frind Dooley,” remarked Finnegan. “Arrah, me bhoy,” rejoined 0 Rafferty, “we’ll get it cheaper down by th’ wharrf,” and the pair wandered away. ■