Note (return) — Chapter VII · LIBATION TO POMONA

“’T is awnly my fearless disposition,” declared the wounded man with great humility; “no partic’lar credit to me. I doan’t care wan iotum for the thought of churchyard mould—not wan iotum. I knaw the value of gude rich soil tu well; an’ a man as grudges the rames3 of hisself to the airth that’s kept un threescore years an’ ten’s a carmudgeonly cuss, surely.”