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One thing I never understood, he said to be original on the spur of the moment. Why they put tables upside down at night, I mean chairs upside down, on the tables in cafes. To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment's hesitation, saying straight off: To sweep the floor in the morning.

A situation as clerk in a merchant's office was his only resource, and during three years he had eked out his salary to support a delicate wife whose ill health was a neverfailing source of anxiety and expense two infants, and himself.

On the other hand it is incredible and scarce to be imagined, how the posts of houses and corners of streets were plastered over with doctors' bills and papers of ignorant fellows, quacking and tampering in physic, and inviting the people to come to them for remedies, which was generally set off with such flourishes as these, viz.: 'Infallible preventive pills against the plague. 'Neverfailing preservatives against the infection. 'Sovereign cordials against the corruption of the air. 'Exact regulations for the conduct of the body in case of an infection. 'Anti-pestilential pills. 'Incomparable drink against the plague, never found out before. 'An universal remedy for the plague. 'The only true plague water. 'The royal antidote against all kinds of infection'; and such a number more that I cannot reckon up; and if I could, would fill a book of themselves to set them down.

Shaking his head moodily, he took from his hat his neverfailing snuff-box, but, having extracted a pinch, paused suddenly in the act of inhaling it, to stare at me very hard. "But," said he, in a more hopeful tone, "but your face be all bruised an' swole up, to be sure, Peter." "Is it, Ancient?" "Ah! that it be that it be," he cried, his eyes brightening, "an' your thumb all bandaged tu."

Allow me to say in conclusion how much I regret that unavoidable circumstances have caused me to see so little of you since my return home, and how earnestly I pray for the speedy restoration of your health. Yours most sincerely, Malvern Wells. Tuesday, March, 1864. My dear Mr. Wallace, Your kindness is neverfailing.

Yet was he wise enough in his generation to acknowledge the commodity of a fat Pasty and a full Flask every day in the year, and of a neverfailing crown piece in the pouch in the morning for a draught to cool one's throat, when the bottle had been pushed about pretty briskly overnight. Parson Hodge was a philosopher.