Good opinyon an' bad opinyon ar-re alike. Ye're
akelly unthroubled be gratichood an' revenge. No wan can help ye or stay
ye. Ye're beyond th' sound iv th' alarm clock an' th' facthry whistle
an' beginnin' th' Big Day Off whin th' man iv Science shakes ye be th'
elbow an' says: 'Ye've got to weigh out.' An' he weighs figures: 'Wan
hundhred an' forty-siven fr'm wan hundhred an' fifty. Siven fr'm naught
can't be done; borry wan; siven fr'm ten leaves three. I find that th'
soul iv our late laminted frind weighed a light three pounds
avirdoopoise.'
"No, sir, it won't do. 'Twill niver be popylar. People won't have their
souls weighed. I wudden't f'r all th' wurruld have th' wurrud go through
th' ward: 'Did ye hear about Dooley's soul?' 'No, what?' 'They had to
get an expert accountant to figure its weight, it was that puny.'
"D'ye suppose Dorgan, th' millyonaire, wud consint to it? Whin he
entered th' race iv life he was properly handicapped with a soul to
offset his avarice an' his ability, so that some iv th' rest iv us wud
have a kind iv a show again him. But as soon as he thinks no wan can see
him he begins to get rid iv his weight an' comes rompin' home miles
ahead. But th' judges say: 'Hold on, there; yell have to weigh out,' an'
a little later a notice is posted up that Dorgan is disqualified f'r
ridin' undherweight in th' matther iv soul.
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