Oh, wear it forever, love, nearest thy heart.”
I knew very well who she wuz aposthrofizin’ in her own heart entirely onbeknown to her as she wuz hummin’ over little snatches of the song and a-pickin’ the glowin’ green sprays. And I knew that the affection and constancy that dwelt in her soul wuz as deathless as that ivy and fur more clingin’ and beautiful.
Martin had climbed up to the elevation where the Blarney Stun hung suspended two feet below the surface, fastened by iron clamps.
But he wouldn’t resk his neck by bein’ lowered down to that place, but he kissed a little chunk that layed on the ground inside the castle, for I see him.
And so did Josiah, though I didn’t advise him to.
Josiah, a-lookin’ up from below, had been makin’ calculations on how he could be lowered down to the big Blarney Stun on the ruff.
Sez he, “It wuz a oversight in me not takin’ a rope; but,” sez he, all rousted up, as his ardent, impulsive way is, sez he, “I might take that mantilly you’ve got on.”
It bein’ a cool day I’d worn it.
“And you, and Martin, and Fazer could hang holt of one end, and tie the other end round my waist. I could be lowered down and kiss it and not git a hair of my head hurt.”
I glanced pityin’ly at his bald head, and sez I coldly—