"Do you think so, Buster?"
"No, sir, but you does. W'y, sir, gals gives me pains. Hi would n't swap one paw of Lord Castlereagh for the 'ole sex. Wot good is they? They can't fight--"
"It is evident, Buster, that you have never been married," interrupted Moore. "However, continue with your oration. I am interested."
"His yer?" said Buster, much delighted. "Well that his fine. Hi 'll continyer. They can't fight, that is not with their fisties, hat least not hin accordance with the rules o' the ring. They is timid, hand selfish! My Lord, hain't they selfish! Halways thinking about 'ow they look; hand eating!--W'y, sir, a girl is nine-tenths happetite and the rest 'unger. Clothes and vittles his all they thinks is worth while, hand the devotion hand effort to please with wich we honors them hain't naught but about 'arf wot they thinks they deserves. A gal, sir, thinks has 'ow she does the earth a service, w'en she puts 'er footsy down hupon it. 'Arf of 'em himagines they consecrates the ground they walk on. Hexcuse me w'en it comes to gals. Hi could n't 'ave 'em squallin' and complainin' hany where Hi 'm at. Hand then, sir, they is sich fearsome liars. They never 'ad no hintroduction to truth, sir. W'y they can honly tell it w'en they 'ears it, hand w'en they repeats it they halways dresses it hup with himaginations like they 'd pile fancy clothes hon their hown hanatomy previous to hattending some bloomin' masquerade. Facts halways assumes a disguise hafter a hincounter wid females. Believe 'em we could n't and we would n't, would we, doggie?"
"Woof!" remarked Lord Castlereagh, playfully nipping at Buster's shoestring.
"Quite right, pupsy, you halways agrees with me; there, sir, that's one thing a wife won't do, his n't it?"
"I wish I could forswear dependence as you have done, Buster," said Moore with a sigh, "but it's no use. I have n't the strength of mind. By the way, lad, did you sell the empty wine-bottles?"
"No, sir, but Hi'll tend to it very soon, sir. Hi'll get 'em hout right away," replied Buster, suiting the action to the word. From the cupboard he took six bottles which once upon a time, though not very recently, had contained sherry. These he stood upon a stool and was about to ransack the depths of the closet in quest of more when there came a rapping at the door.
"Hit's Mr. Dabble from the wine-shop, sir," announced Buster, after opening the door a little.
"Tell Mr. Dabble I didn't order any wine," said Moore, crossly. "Will I never get started on this poem?"