Which persuade them to think they would not mind it much,

And they yield as a prey to the feminine clutch.

When, lo!—but I'll not track this sad history farther;

Than e'er marry myself I would really die rather."

"Sour grapes! sour grapes!" whispered Jonas, "'tis plain.

But how lucky that single he still can remain!

Sure I married have been thirty years, and ne'er found

The discomforts with which the said state does abound."

"Very likely," was Flanagan's smothered reply;

"But I've found all he said more than true by the bye;