United States or Norway ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Fairfax's affectation, your insufferable amiability, and the dreariness of those concertina people, I feel so wretched that I could find it in my heart to loathe anybody and everybody." "Nonsense, Nelly! You are only in the blues." "Only in the blues!" said Miss McQuinch sarcastically. "Yes. That is all." "Take some sherry. It will brighten you up." "Dutch courage!
"Ah; well; you can look at it in that light if you please. John has the key of the cellar. He's a man I can trust. As a rule I have port and sherry at table every day. If you like claret I will get some a little cheaper than what I use when friends are here." "What wine I have is quite indifferent to me." "I like it good, and I have it good. I always breakfast at 9.30.
Pyncheon set down the emptied glass, he thought he beheld his grandfather frown. "This sherry is too potent a wine for me; it has affected my brain already," he observed, after a somewhat startled look at the picture. "On returning to Europe, I shall confine myself to the more delicate vintages of Italy and France, the best of which will not bear transportation."
"But I don't see anything of him," he added, after peering through the swinging doors. "They tell me this Sherry has a room upstairs, also for drinking purposes," returned Powell. "Maybe Flapp and his friends are up there. They wouldn't want to be seen in public, you must remember." "That is true. But how do they get upstairs through the saloon?" "There may be a back way. Let us look."
"Who would not be The Laureate bold, With his butt of sherry To keep him merry, And nothing to do but pocket his gold?" But The Lay of the Lovelorn is a clumsy and rather vulgar skit on Locksley Hall a poem on which two such writers as Sir Theodore Martin and Professor Aytoun would have done well not to lay their sacrilegious hands.
He would have gone to the second-rate inn, which was very second-rate indeed, and have acquired a further insight into British manners and British prejudices. As it was, he made himself at home in the best upstairs sitting-room at the Bush, and was quite unaware of the indignity offered to him when Mr. Runciman refused to send him up the best sherry.
If you were a Royal Highness, and went to church in the most perfect health and comfort, the parson waiting to begin the service until your R. H. came in, would you believe yourself to be a miserable, etc.? You might when racked with gout, in solitude, the fear of death before your eyes, the doctor having cut off your bottle of claret, and ordered arrowroot and a little sherry, you might then be humiliated, and acknowledge your own shortcomings, and the vanity of things in general; but, in high health, sunshine, spirits, that word miserable is only a form.
"I suppose you never had a drink of champagne in your life afore you come here," said Mrs. Maper, beamingly. And she indicated the port glass. "No, no, Lucy, don't play pranks on a stranger," her husband put in tactfully. "It's this glass, Miss O'Keeffe." "Oh, thank you!" Eileen gushed. "And this is what? Sherry?" "No, port," replied Mr. Maper, scarcely able to repress a wink.
Even the dignity of Captain Walter Waters relaxed, to that degree, that he suffered himself to be prevailed upon by Mr. Joseph Tuggs, to partake of cold pigeon-pie and sherry, on deck; and a most delightful conversation, aided by these agreeable stimulants, was prolonged, until they ran alongside Ramsgate Pier. ‘Good-bye, dear!’ said Mrs.
I used to go about, sir, just as I did to the provinces, when I had the theatre Camberwell, Islington, Kennington, Clapton, all about, and hear the young chaps. Have a glass of sherry; and here's better luck to Honeyman. As for that Colonel, he's a trump, sir! I never see such a man.
Word Of The Day