tailorman? There's not a marrid man among thim. They're all bachelors.
What does th' gents' furnishing man hang his finest neckties in th'
front window f'r but to glisten with a livelier iris, as Hogan says, th'
burnished bachelor? See th' lordly bachelor comin' down th' sthreet,
with his shiny plug hat an' his white vest, th' dimon stud that he wint
in debt f'r glistenin' in his shirt front, an' th' patent-leather shoes
on his feet out-shinin' th' noonday sun.

"Thin we see th' marrid man with th' wrinkles in his coat an' his tie
undher his ear an' his chin unshaven. He's walkin' in his gaiters in a
way that shows his socks ar-re mostly darned. I niver wore a pair iv
darned socks since I was a boy. Whin I make holes in me hosiery I throw
thim away. 'Tis a fine idee iv th' ladies that men are onhappy because
they have no wan to darn their socks an' put buttons on their shirts.
Th' truth is that a man is not onhappy because his socks ar-re not
darned but because they ar-re. An' as f'r buttons on his shirt, whin
th' buttons comes off a bachelor's shirt he fires it out iv th' window.
His rule about clothes is thurly scientific. Th' survival iv th' fit,
d'ye mind. Th' others to th' discard. No marrid man dares to wear th'
plumage iv a bachelor. If he did his wife wud suspict him. He lets her
buy his cravats an' his seegars an' 'tis little diff'rence it makes to
him which he smokes.

"'Twud be villanous to tax th' bachelors. Think iv th' moral side iv it.
What's that? Ye needn't grin. I said moral. Yes, Sir. We're th' most
onselfish people in th' wurruld. All th' throubles iv th' neighborhood
ar-re my throubles an' my throubles ar-re me own. If ye shed a tear f'r
anny person but wan ye lose ye'er latch-key, but havin' no wan in
partiklar to sympathize with I'm supposed to sympathize with ivry wan.
On th' conthry if ye have anny griefs ye can't bear ye dump thim on th'