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If you are ready, look over the white things first for spots. Coffee, tea, and fruit stains must have boiling water poured through them till they disappear. Rust must be rubbed with lemon juice and salt and laid on a new, shiny tin in the sunshine till the spot disappears; some people use acid, but this is apt to eat the cloth.
As they resumed their climbing, Eyvind the Ice-lander observed sagely, "Never saw I any one whose speech reminded me so strongly of the hot springs we have at home. All of a sudden, without warning or cause, the words shoot up into the air, boiling hot; and it would be as much as one's life is worth to try to stop them. It is incomprehensible."
Then, looking at Gavin curiously, she said, "But my name is Babbie." "That's short for Barbara," said Nanny; "but Babbie what?" "Yes, Babbie Watt," replied the gypsy, as if one name were as good as another. "Weel, men, lift the lid off the kettle, Babbie," said Nanny, "for it's boiling ower."
Go from this redeemed soil, If you think you cannot travel Through a lake of boiling oil."
The hurrying crowd which is going nowhere, the blazing fires, the cries of the venders, the songs of the majos under the great trees of the Paseo, the purposeless hurly-burly, and above, the steam of the boiling oil and the dust raised by the myriad feet, form together a striking and vivid picture. The city is more than usually quiet. The stir of life is localized in the Prado.
They are perpetually bubbling up and boiling over; seething and fuming and frothing and foaming and yet remaining so cool and clear that a quick fancy would discover thousands of banished fountains under that agitated and impatient surface. Both ends of the island are as much alike as its sides are dissimilar.
But in the festival days of San Giuseppe, gayly ornamented booths are built at the corner of many of the streets, especially near the church in Capo le Case, in the Borgo, and at San Eustachio, which are adorned with great green branches as large as young trees, and hung with red and gold draperies, where the "Frittelle di San Giuseppe" are fried in huge caldrons of boiling oil and served out to the common people.
They had driven away from the high-road by a path leading through long and sweet-smelling pastures of Dutch clover; they had got up from these sandy swathes to a table-land of rock; and here and there they caught glimpses of fearful precipices leading sheer down to the boiling and dashing sea.
Even the walls smell of resin and remind me of nature. And what have I been; what was I? 'At night without a bed I wander And my tongue put out by day... to use the words of a poet of genius. But you're wet through.... Wouldn't you like some tea?" "Don't trouble." "The samovar has been boiling since eight o'clock, but it went out at last like everything in this world.
Boil a quart of milk; when boiling stir into it the well-beaten yolks of six eggs; add six tablespoonfuls of sugar and one tablespoonful of sifted flour, which have been well beaten together; when boiled, turn it into a dish, and pour over it the whites beaten to a stiff froth, mixing with them six tablespoonfuls, of powdered sugar. Set all in the oven and brown slightly.
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