So that poor good man gets rewarded for his virtues in exactly the same way that I get punished for my vices.

He don't know what a glass of good wine is, he's as sober as an apostle, he buries the dead, and I--I play for the living to dance.

He is always in a peck o' troubles, while I slip along in a devil-may-care way.

We have come along about even in life; we've got the same snow on our heads, the same funds in our pockets, and I supply him with rope to ring his bell.

He's a republican and I'm not even a publican,--that's all the difference as far as I can see.