face. He's a gr-reat frind iv theirs an' they're surprised he isn't
gayer. Something must've happened to him. Maybe he's lost his job. There
ar-re a gr-reat manny noises in th' sthreet. Th' undertaker whistles as
he goes by, an' two iv th' neighbors ar-re at th' gate sayin' what a
fine man ye were if ye didn't dhrink, an' askin' did ye leave much.

"An' little ye care. Everything is a millyon miles away fr'm ye. F'r th'
first time in ye'er life ye're alone. F'r the first time in ye'er life
ye ar-re ye'ersilf. F'r Hiven knows how manny years ye've been somebody
else. Ye've been ye'er wife, ye'er fam'ly, ye'er relations, th' polisman
on th' beat, th' doctor, th' newspaper reporther, th' foreman at th'
mills, th' laws iv th' land, th' bartinder that gives ye dhrinks, th'
tailor, th' barber, an' public opinion. Th' wurruld has held a
lookin'-glass in front iv ye fr'm th' day ye were born an' compelled ye
to make faces in it. But in this here particular business ye have no wan
to please but ye'ersilf. 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.'