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Updated: June 19, 2025
There is barley-water, for instance, a beverage most harmless, yet most soothing; meet drink for the sick-room, and specially promotive of the secretions in patients whose disease is inflammatory, and who suffer from thirst.
If this is not rejected, a little isinglass may be dissolved in the water, which must still be given by a teaspoonful at a time, frequently repeated; or cold barley-water may be given in the same manner.
My care should be to give her her gruel as good as I might, and her beef-tea strong, with chicken-broth instead of barley-water and delusive jelly.
This makes an excellent fever drink, especially if the dog can be got to take decoction of barley barley-water instead of plain cold water, best made of Keen and Robinson's patent barley. If there be persistent sickness and vomiting, the medicine must be stopped for a time.
Emma wanted to go out; the crowd filled the corridors, and she fell back in her arm-chair with palpitations that choked her. Charles, fearing that she would faint, ran to the refreshment-room to get a glass of barley-water.
And now the rock had melted away and left him wallowing in a deep pool. He wallowed gratefully. It had only needed this to brace him to the point of declaring his love. His awe of this girl had momentarily vanished. He felt strong and dashing. He scrambled down the bed and peered over the foot of it at her huddled form. "Have some barley-water," he urged. "Try a little barley-water."
The Great Bear's Barley-Water Last night Jones was walking down with me from Staple Inn to Clifford's Inn, about 10 o'clock, and we saw the Great Bear standing upright on the tip of his tail which was coming out of a chimney pot. Jones said it wanted attending to. The Cock Tavern
"He has been sick, indeed!" I replied, as I laid my hand upon his white forehead. I found his skin cold and damp. The fever had nearly burned out the vital energy of his system. "Do you give him much nourishment?" "He takes a little barley-water." "Has not the doctor ordered wine?" "Yes, ma'am," replied Mrs. Ellis, but she spoke with an air of hesitation.
For many days now he had lain in bed in a room exuding silver, crimson, and electric light, smelling of opopanax and of cigars. The curtains were drawn, the firelight gleamed; on a table by his bed were a jug of barley-water and the Times. He made an attempt to read, failed, and fell again to thinking. His face with its square chin, looked like a block of pale leather bedded in the pillow.
Garth, "but that was wrong." "Wrong?" inquired the blacksmith. "Ey, it came out at the trial," muttered his mother. Garth seemed overcome by a fresh flood of feeling. Rotha lifted a basin of barley-water to his lips. "Yes, yes; but how was it done how?"
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