Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1897-02-18
WOODBURY., N. J, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1897.

ins?' sez I, sittin up close to her an
thryin to slip me arrum round her
waist
''Get along wild ye," she cries, liftin
her chair along the fiure. II niyer seen
a man loike ye for insultin motions.
Kape yer arrum down. y
Zach sure now, mavourneen, tits
tired wild hangin down all the evenin. .
well thin, hould it up above ye1
head to- rest it. -
THAT wud be too high intoirely.
'Twud be high enough if kept it just
about the height av yer luvely neck.
An besides, that wud kape the cowld
away from ye, an thin l cud kill two
birds wild wan shtone, as the pote sez y
"Maybes, but sorra fear av me bein
wan av thin birds yer pote talks av. -
lis it fond av poethry ye are, acush-
lap
CAT toimes--good poethry''
"Well, sez /, 81 have some gran
poethry in me pocket. Maybes ye'd
loike to hear it. -
81 moight. What's it about?n
Sure now it's about yer luvely si1f,
an no wan else.
Lets hear it thin -
''Arrah now, maybes ye won't be
loikin it. +"
''How can tell ye till / hear it. -
''Well, this the way it goes" Wild
that I takes the kyard out av me pocket
an reads it:
If married bliss ye wud injoy,
Just ak swate Kate O'Flynn.
To be your own wud give her Joy.
Terence, go in an win.
Zach, tits luvely. Are ye afther com.
posin it yersilf?" she axes.
"Niver word. Twas from Barney
the postman got it this mornin. 'Tis
wonderin / am who cud have sent it.
But compose it or not, tits hint I'm
afther takin. An now mavourneen,
yell be crool no longer? I luve ye to
distraction, an if ye' ID only say the word
tits yer own devoted Terence I'll be
from now to me dyin ind -
Here 1 gets me chair up beside her
again, an thin all the shy wint out av
me at wanst. I puts me arrum round
her waist an tries to draw her to me.
But before cud kiss her she twists her
silf away an sez she:
''Is it in earnest ye are, Terence?"
''It is, sez 1; dead earnest"
"Well," =" sez she, ''d'ye promise to be
true, true till death, as the pote sez?''
81 do"
"An will ye niver lave me, deceive
me, nor grieve me?"
"Niver, me own jewell
"An if I marry ye will ye always get
up first in the mornin an put ON the
fire an give me cup av tay in bed?"
"Dade will I, me darlint, me precious
wan.
Thin I'm yers for iver an a day
longer, Terence, me bhoy.s Ye may kiss
sme-just wan now. Och, och, och, ye
murtherin thafe How many d 'ye want?'
she cries, for be this tonne | had her in
me arrums an was tastin the delicious
lips av her.
After that twas the delightful even
in we had intoirely. Sittin there at the
fire, sez Katie to me:
"Ye can't tell yet who sent ye that
kyard wild the poethry?"
''Sure an haven t the laste notion. y
Well, Terence, tbs thinkin / am 1
can tell ye if ye won't be angry"
"Angry, mavourneen, It's deloight-
ed I'll be. 'Tis the foinest letther liver
seen. J"
"Arrah, thin, twas seein was ye was
that shy We wud niver spake yer luve
widout incouragin, an as 'tis leap year
an twas wishin to see ye happy was,
why, twas just mesif that sent ye that
wee pome av me own composure. y
"Ye name it--thrue?" I cries de-
1oighted
''Faix, It's not word av lie I'm
afther tellin ye, " sez she.
"Thin hooray for leap yearr' 1
shouts. San ye're the grandest pote as
iver was. Sure ye'll be afther givin me
another kiss or maybes two, as thrifie
more incouragmint, wudn't ye now?"
Loike the jewel she is, she Encouraged
me again.
Be the tonne ye read this 'tis married
we hope to be, for I'm just afther seein
Father Donovan about the weddin -
Scottish Nights.