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Updated: June 19, 2025
He always went to bed at ten, and had a tumbler of barley-water brought to him, a glass of barley-water with just a squeeze of lemon-juice. He saw ruin before him. No doubt she was a good manager, but she would be a good manager for herself. Would it not be better for him to stand the action for breach of promise, and betake himself to Miss Puffle?
Compare his letter on parting from his friends at Edinburgh, quoted by Lady Holland: "All adieus are melancholy; and principally, I believe, because they put us in mind of the last of all adieus, when the apothecary, and the heir-apparent, and the nurse who weeps for pay, surround the bed; when the curate, engaged to dine three miles off, mumbles hasty prayers; when the dim eye closes for ever in the midst of empty pillboxes, gallipots, phials, and jugs of barley-water."
In spite of remonstrances, she would have some iced barley-water; drank a big glass of it; and, some instants after, had great pain in her head; followed by other bad symptoms." Which brought the Doctor in again, several Doctors, hastily summoned; who, after difficulties, thought again that all was coming right.
Good God! had I not surprised her standing close by the table on which the night-drink was set? and had I not heard Doctor Dormann say, "That's unlucky," when he was told that the barley-water had been all drunk by the patient, and the jug and glass washed as usual?
"Do you perceive any load in your bowels?" "I would the apothecary's conscience was as clear." "Are you thirsty?" "Not thirsty enough to drink barley-water." "Be pleased to look into his fauces," said the apothecary; "he has got a rough tongue, and a very foul mouth, I'll assure you."
'And don't go a-droppin' none of your snuff in it, said Mrs Prig. 'In gruel, barley-water, apple-tea, mutton-broth, and that, it don't signify. It stimulates a patient. But I don't relish it myself. 'Why, Betsey Prig! cried Mrs Gamp, 'how CAN you talk so! 'Why, ain't your patients, wotever their diseases is, always asneezin' their wery heads off, along of your snuff? said Mrs Prig.
Catherine held barley-water to the parched lips, and Mary drank mechanically, her gaze still intently fixed on her nurse. When Catherine put down the glass the eyes followed her with a question which the lips had no power to frame. 'Leave her now a little, said Catherine to the others. 'The fewer people and the more air the better. And please let the door be open; the room is too hot.
He always drank whiskey-and-water himself, so he said, and filled for himself a glass in which he poured a very small allowance of alcohol. Major Moody asked for barley-water. As there was none, he contented himself with sipping Apollinaris. A close record of the events of that evening would make but a tedious tale for readers. Mountjoy of course lost his fifty pounds.
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