But now that I'm in love," he continued,
"sure, I ought to look out for the wife."
"Ah! Neal," said the schoolmaster, "you are tempting destiny: your
temerity be, with all its melancholy consequences, upon your own head."
"Come," said the tailor, "it wasn't to hear you groaning to the tune of
'Dhrimmind-hoo,' or 'The ould woman rockin' her cradle,' that I came;
but to know if you could help me in makin' out the wife. That's the
discoorse."
"Look at me, Neal," said the schoolmaster, solemnly; "I am at this
moment, and have been any time for the last fifteen years, a living
caveto against matrimony. I do not think that earth possesses such a
luxury as a single solitary life. Neal, the monks of old were happy men:
they were all fat and had double chins; and, Neal, I tell you, that all
fat men are in general happy. Care cannot come at them so readily as
at a thin man; before it gets through the strong outworks, of flesh
and blood with which they are surrounded, it becomes treacherous to its
original purpose, joins the cheerful spirits it meets in the system, and
dances about the heart in all the madness of mirth; just like a sincere
ecclesiastic, who comes to lecture a good fellow against drinking, but
who forgets his lecture over his cups, and is laid under the table with
such success, that he either never comes to finish his lecture, or
comes often; to be laid under the table, Look at me Neal, how wasted,
fleshless, and miserable, I stand before you.
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