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Updated: May 27, 2025
"But that's not here or there, avick. I was r-readin' in th' pa-apers iv a lad be th' name iv Scanlan bein' sint down th' short r-road f'r near a lifetime; an' I minded th' first time I iver see him, a bit iv a curly-haired boy that played tag around me place, an' 'd sing 'Blest Saint Joseph' with a smile on his face like an angel's. Who'll tell what makes wan man a thief an' another man a saint?
There I set at night dhrinkin' absinthe, sherry wine, port wine, champagne, beer, whisky, rum, claret, kimmel, weiss beer, cream de mint, curaso, an' binidictine, occas'nally takin' a dhraw at an opeem pipe an' r-readin' a Fr-rinch novel. Th' touch iv a woman's hand wudden't help this here abode iv luxury.
Be r-readin' th' pa-apers ye'd think a bachelor was a man bor-rn with a depraved an' parvarse hathred iv wan iv our most cherished institootions, an' anti- expansionist d'ye mind. But'tis no such thing. A bachelor's a man that wud extind his benificint rule over all th' female wurruld, fr'm th' snow-capped girls iv Alaska to th' sunny eileens iv th' Passyfic.
Th' women down be th' rollin' mills 'll be sewin' flannels f'r th' disthressed millyonaires, an' whin th' childher kick about th' food ye'll say, Hinnissy, 'Just think iv th' poor wretches in th' Lake Shore dhrive an' thank Gawd f'r what ye have. Th' mayor 'll open soup kitchens where th' unforchnit people can come an' get a hearty meal an' watch th' ticker, an' whin th' season grows hard, ye'll see pinched an' hungry plutocrats thrampin' th' sthreets with signs r-readin': 'Give us a cold bottle or we perish. Perhaps th' polis 'll charge thim an' bust in their stovepipe hats, th' prisidint 'll sind th' ar-rmy here, a conspiracy 'll be discovered at th' club to blow up th' poorhouse, an' volunteers 'll be called on fr'm th' nickel bed houses to protect th' vested inthrests iv established poverty."
At night ye can set be th' fire an' improve ye'er mind be r-readin' half th' love story in th' part iv th' pa-aper that th' cheese come home in, an' whin ye're through with that, all ye have to do is to climb a ladder to th' roof an' fall through th' skylight an' ye're in bed." "But wud ye believe it, Hinnissy, manny iv these misguided women rayfuse f'r to take a job that aint in a city.
So he bought wan, an' was r-readin' it an' lookin' over th' top iv it at th' women in th' boxes, an' wondhrin' why some wan didn't tell thim their dhresses was slippin' down, whin over comes Cassidy, and says he, 'What's th' news in th' Sixth? 'Nawthin, says Duggan. 'Will O'Brien win? says Cassidy. 'They can't beat him, says Duggan. 'I dinnaw, says Cassidy.
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