Blarney Stone, bearing the date of 1703. The person who has kissed the stone is henceforth irresistible, when he pours his soft pleadings into the ears of his desired lady. Any transoceanic ticket line will quote the price of accommodations to County Cork and return.
A different kind of blarney is evidenced in the kiss for political purposes. You may remember that when the young ensign, Richmond Pearson Hobson, almost successfully sank a boat in Santiago harbor, in the attempt to bottle up the Spanish fleet, and thereafter returned to the United States, he went upon the lecture platform, and at the first lecture was offered a kiss by first one and then all of the young ladies present. His lecture series was a great success from the osculatory standpoint, at least.
The Congressman's kissing the babies of his constituency is a silent blarney that never fails to work. As far back as 1888, McComas of Maryland reduced baby-kissing to a fine art. After pensively gazing at the infant, the Congressman, as if overcome by an overpowering burst of emotion, would seize the infant to his bosom, hold it for a moment with head bowed reverentially, then bring his supple moustaches close to the little face, and—Smack!—the deed was done. In 1912, Congressman Huddleston of Alabama went the Marylander one better, by achieving the record of kissing every child in his Birmingham constituency. Thereafter, he might oppose the corporations, denounce conscription, vote against the war, do what he pleased—he had the babies and their mothers,
