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Every morning he had his prisoner supplied with a quarter of a loaf of bread, made of two bushels of flour, to this he added a quarter of a sheep or a fat calf, and he had a cup made which held forty pints of wine, and allowed Ogier a quarter of it daily.
Indeed, the interesting and charming narrative would have run somewhat after this fashion: "Last year the autumn crop was richer than the winter crop; this year it is the reverse." Or, "The large black cow yields daily six pints of milk more than the brindled cow." Or, "The January sheep have turned out more woolly than the sheep of last March."
Take the liquor of three pints of oysters. Strain it, and set it on the fire. Put into it, pepper to your taste, two table-spoonfuls of butter rolled in flour, and a bunch of sweet marjoram and other pot-herbs, with a saucer full of chopped celery. When it boils, add a quart of rich milk-and as soon as it boils again, take out the herbs, and put in the oysters just before you send it to table.
The fact was that the canvas had been so long exposed to the action of the waves, that it had become thoroughly impregnated by salt, which of course was taken up again by the water that fell upon it. Dis- appointed we were; but with several pints of water in our possession, we were not only contented for the present, but sanguine in our prospect for the future.
Coming to the conclusion that he must have passed the water, he decided to send the horses back to the last camp for a fresh supply before venturing further on. At midnight the overseer and the natives started back, leaving Eyre to mind the baggage with the scanty allowance of six pints of water to last him for six days until their return.
We were forty-two people who had to feed upon six biscuits and about four pints of water, with no hope of a farther supply. Then came the moment for deciding whether we were to perish among the breakers, which defended the approach to the shores of the Desert, or to die of famine in continuing our route. The majority preferred the last species of misery.
He is pretty thoroughly disgusted with Persia and everything in it, and this, together with his fever, has kept him in anything but an amiable frame of mind. But now his face is actually illumined with a smile. On the little table before him stand a half-dozen black bottles, imperial pints, bearing labels inscribed with outlandish Russian words.
That night I tuk maybe the half av three pints not enough to turn the hair of a man in his natural senses.
It gets better if you keep your mouth shut and work sixty hours a week. I haven't actually started. I just came from the interview, but it's a pretty sure thing. I'll buy." Sam set two pints in front of them. "Maybe it won't be too bad," George said. "Lot of women in there." "All very well for you, George. I am a man with responsibilities." "I see them going in.
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