“No, sir; th’ ladies ar-re not to blame.  They’ve always thried to reform man, an’ they haven’t yet got onto th’ fact that maybe he’s not worth reformin’.  They don’t undherstan’ why a man shud be allowed to pizen himsilf into th’ belief that he amounts to something, but thin they don’t undherstand man.  They little know what a bluff he is an’ how ’tis on’y be fortifyin’ himsilf with stuff that they regard as iv no use except to burn undher a tea-kettle that he dares to go on livin’ at all.  He knows how good dhrink makes him look to himsilf, an’ he dhrinks.  They see how it makes him look to ivrybody else, an’ they want to take it away fr’m him.  Whin he’s sober his bluff is on th’ outside.  Whin he’s dhrunk he makes th’ bluff to his own heart.  Dhrink turns him inside out as well as upside down, an’ while he’s congratulatin’ himsilf on th’ fine man he is, th’ neighbors know him f’r a boaster, a cow’rd, an’ something iv a liar.  That th’ ladies see an’ hate.  They do not know that there is wan thing an’ on’y wan thing to be said in favor iv dhrink, an’ that is that it has caused manny a lady to be loved that otherwise might’ve died single.”

“They’re all right, said Mr. Hennessy.  I’m against it.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Dooley.  “Anny man is against dhrink that’s iver been really against it.”

THINGS SPIRITUAL

“Th’ latest thing in science,” said Mr. Dooley, “is weighin’ th’ human soul.  A fellow up in Matsachoosetts has done it.  He weighs ye befure ye die an’ he weighs ye afther ye die, an’ th’ diff’rence is what ye’er soul weighs.  He’s discovered that th’ av’rage weight iv a soul in New England is six ounces or a little less.  Fr’m this he argies that th’ conscience isn’t part iv th’ soul.  If it was th’ soul wud be in th’ heavyweight class, f’r th’ New England conscience is no feather.  He thinks it don’t escape with th’ soul, but lies burrid in th’ roons iv its old fam’ly home—­th’ liver.

“It’s so simple it must be true, an’ if it ain’t true, annyhow it’s simple.  But it’s a tur-rble thing to think iv.  I can’t see anny money in it as an invintion.  Who’ll want to have his soul weighed?  Suppose ye’er time has come.  Th’ fam’ly ar-re busy with their own thoughts, grievin’ because they hadn’t been as good to ye as they might, because they won’t have ye with thim anny more, because it’s too late f’r thim to square thimsilves, pityin’ ye because ye’er not remainin’ to share their sorrows with thim, wondhrin’ whether th’ black dhresses that were bought in honor iv what people might have said if they hadn’t worn thim in mimry iv Aunt Eliza, wud be noticed if they were worn again f’r ye.  Th’ very young mimbers iv th’ fam’ly ar-re standin’ around, thryin’ to look as sad as they think they ought to look.  But they can’t keep it up.  They nudge each other, their eyes wandher around th’ room, an’ fr’m time to time they glance over at Cousin Felix an’ expect him to make a laugh’ble