The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1914-03-17
Stories of Irish
Wit and Hunor

kEuiJOF MUG - Ou St. Iat-
rick's Day, last year, there APP
peared on this page six Irish
Stories," enormously attributed
to the Irish poet, novelist and lee
turer, Seumas MacManus. Mr..
MacManus has protested against
this attribution, as he has long
kept up vigorous fight against
this type of ''irish humor." His
writings In the leading maya
zines, I'm books and IN his lee
lures are a practical illustration
Of the genuine type Of Irish wit,
hunor and story telling.
We are glad to publish on this
st. Patrick's Day the following
article ON this subject by Mr..
MacManus with typical stories of
Irish humor selected by him. We
believe that the false impression
made by the previous error as to
authorship can be best shown by
this article from Mr.. MacManus'
pen.)
There's a type of American
jokesmith (more correctly jack
asst who will perpetuate Irish
humor" for his fellows to hee-
haw at-and who. assumes that
the people who are admittedly
the keenest and brightest on the
worlds ride are one-haif butts
and one-half blunderers-that an
Irishman cannot open his mouth
without putting both his feet in it
- that, with the face of ba-
boon, he talks in baboonish jar
gon and that the real recipe for
producing Irish dialect" is to
make hash of the English langu-
age, salt the dish with q suffic-
iency of "shure ans" and pepper
dust it with a plentiful sprinkling
of "Oi," "yez," 'bhoy," "praste"
and "Be jabers."
Under my name a year ago,
such a gentleman set down here
"Six best Irish stories" that were
particularly vile. To take the bad
taste off the mouth of those who
swallowed last years, l offer the
following genuine and average
samples Of true Irish wit and
humor:
A fair specimen OF sardonic
Irish humor was that quoted by
Mr.. Taft while he was still dis
placing sixty cubic feet of White
House atmosphere. Some one
asked him what was his favorite
joke, and he said that no joke
tickled him like the old one-the
bit of dialogue passing between
the bar-man I'm the bar and his
Irish boss in the back room:
as Murphy good for q drink"
HAS he got it,"
"He has,"
"He Is.
And the dryest of the dry Irish
wit was well exemplified in a
story told me recently by Will
liam Allen White. who put the
sass in Kansas. When in Ireland
some years ago recklessly search
ing out ancestral records, he,
strolling one afternoon through
the beautiful Phoenix Park in
Dublin, was both amused and
amazed at sight of three great
big burly Dublin policemen striv-
ing to run down a spindly, sickly,
ragged little urchin who was put
ting his putting pursuers out of
breath. Mr.. White, turning to a
seedy, serious-looking old fellow
buried in newspaper on one Of
the park benches, asked: what
has the poor little fellow done
that these big policemen are chas-
ing him?"
The old fellow, taking his eyes
out of the newspaper, looked for
a few moments over his bone
trimmed glasses at the ridiculous
race, snorted and replied: 1.-THE
little vagabonde pulled up a tree
back here and manslaughtered
what policemen aren't afther
him?" Then, snorting again, he
buried himself in his paper.
III.
There is not in Ireland any
character more joking, nor yet
more bejoked than the jaunting
car driver, the jarvey. And with
an eye tipping-time, he is the
most polite of men also. Riding
on the long-car that ran around
the coast from Sligo to bOnny
Bundoran, l had the fortune once
to be entertained by a wonderful
argument upon whisky, its celes-
tial and its internal qualities -
carried on between a publican
(saloonkeeper) who sat on the
storm side of the car and a
preacher who sat on the inland
side. Some one at length ap-
pealed to the jarvey for his opin-