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I remained at home, and one evening when, during the course of a gay party, the conversation came around to the subject of mysticism and occult occurrences, I dished up my story of the enigmatical manuscript.

You will doubtless recall the description, as so frequently and graphically dished up by the inspired writers of travelogue stuff the picturesque, tumbledown place, where on a cloth of coarse linen white like snow old Marie, her wrinkled face abeam with hospitality and kindness, places the delicious omelet she has just made, and brings also the marvelous salad and the perfect fowl, and the steaming hot coffee fragrant as breezes from Araby the Blest, and the vin ordinaire that is even as honey and gold to the thirsty throat.

The coming of dusk found them with more than thirty miles to go. They were in an almost deserted section of the country when suddenly, as they were running slowly up a hill, there was a sudden crack, the auto gave a lurch to one side of the roadway and then settled heavily. Tom clapped on both brakes quickly, and gave a cry of dismay. "Broken front axle!" he said. "We're dished, Ned!"

His mouth contracted. She did not expect thunder to issue from it, but she did fear to hear a sarcasm, or that she would have to endure a deadly silence: and she was gathering her own lips in imitation of his, to nerve herself for some stroke to come, when he laughed in his peculiar close- mouthed manner. 'I'm afraid you've dished yourself. 'You cannot forgive me, my lord?

"Well," cried she, "they've nabbed my husband; but I'll be dished if I hav'n't boxed up the midship-mite in that parlour, and he shall take his place." I thought I should have died when I looked at the woman, and perceived her coming up to the door, followed by some others, to unlock it.

That was "rare Ben Jonson's" way. "There's some one knocking, master," said the boy. A quick tap-tapping rattled on the wicket-gate. "Who is it?" asked the quiet man. "'Tis Edmund with the news," cried one. "I've dished him," said Ben Jonson. "'Tis Condell come to raise our wages," said Robin Armin, with a grin. "Thou'lt raise more hopes than wages, Rob," said Tarlton, mockingly.

M. Decauville has adopted the latter system, because it offers sufficient strength, while the lines are lighter and less cumbersome. Where at first he used flat iron sleepers, he now fits his lines with dished steel sleepers, in accordance with Figs. 1 and 2.

To be absolutely correct, this salad should be served without lettuce; it can, however, be dished on lettuce leaves.

'Keats had been dished utterly demolished and dished by Blackwood long before Mr. Gifford's scribes mentioned his name.... But let us hear no more of Johnny Keats. It is really too disgusting to have him and his poems recalled in this manner after all the world thought they had got rid of the concern. 'Mr. Shelley died, it seems, with a volume of Mr.

I gev orders to have the meats dished as soon as the first horse was seen over the rise o' the hill, and it'll all be smokin' on the table." Though the meal was such as no one had ever before seen in the Barton farm-house, it was enjoyed by very few of the company. The sense of something to come after it made them silent and uncomfortable. Mr.