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Updated: June 2, 2025
She pulled a large, elaborately cut glass scent-bottle out of the pocket of her cloak, and, unscrewing the gold top, applied it, not to her nose but her mouth. It contained neat Cognac and she drank a goodly gulp of it with evident relish, swallowing a scented bon-bon immediately afterwards to take away the suspicious odor. "Yes quite too awfully moral!" she repeated with a grin.
For it is impossible to suppose that Mr. Orchardson and Mr. Watts do not know that Mr. Leader's landscapes are like tea-trays, that Mr. Dicksee's figures are like bon-bon boxes, and that Mr. Herkomer's portraits are like German cigars. But apparently the R.A.'s are merely concerned to follow the market, and they elect the men whose pictures sell best in the City.
But, in order that the reader may understand what a monument of folly these frog-eaters have raised in their abattoirs and cattle- markets, and may compare it with what common counselling has done for us all these years, and would still do but for the innovating spirit of the times, here follows a short account of a recent visit to these places: It was as sharp a February morning as you would desire to feel at your fingers' ends when I turned out tumbling over a chiffonier with his little basket and rake, who was picking up the bits of coloured paper that had been swept out, over-night, from a Bon-Bon shop to take the Butchers' Train to Poissy.
By this I do not mean to insinuate a charge of gluttony, or indeed any other serious charge to the prejudice of the metaphysician. If Pierre Bon-Bon had his failings and what great man has not a thousand? if Pierre Bon-Bon, I say, had his failings, they were failings of very little importance faults indeed which, in other tempers, have often been looked upon rather in the light of virtues.
"Yes, dear," said my wife submissively, pushing away the bon-bon dish. "But has he?" "Are you trying to pump me?" "Oh, gracious, no! What would be the good? I only asked a plain question. You men are such creatures for screening each other, though, that it's never any use asking a man anything about another man." "True for you.
So the sentence now reads ‘ὁ νοῦς ἐστιν αύγος,’ and is, you perceive, the fundamental doctrine in his metaphysics.” “Were you ever at Rome?” asked the restaurateur, as he finished his second bottle of Mousseaux, and drew from the closet a larger supply of Chambertin. “But once, Monsieur Bon-Bon, but once.
Well, I'm going; we'll have a jolly lark with Linda. If for no other reason, I should be glad to go to upset her apple cart." "Dear me, Stephie! you are very coarse and vulgar," said Miss Truefitt. "Not a bit of it, auntie. Have a bon-bon, do." Stephanotie rushed across the room, opened a big box of bon-bons, and presented one, as if it were a pistol, full in Miss Truefitt's face.
“There was Plato, too,” continued his Majesty, modestly declining the snuff-box and the compliment it implied “there was Plato, too, for whom I, at one time, felt all the affection of a friend. You knew Plato, Bon-Bon? ah, no, I beg a thousand pardons. He met me at Athens, one day, in the Parthenon, and told me he was distressed for an idea.
“I mean taken out of the carcass.” “What do you think of a hiccup! physician?” “The hiccup! wretch!” ejaculated Bon-Bon, “the hiccup! abortion of a pill-box!” and the philosopher dropped a tear. “After all,” continued the visitor, “after all, if a dev if a gentleman wishes to live, he must have more talents than one or two; and with us a fat face is an evidence of diplomacy.” “How so?”
Bon-Bon had by this time made up his mind to the nil admirari, and endeavoured to hand down the bottles in question. He was, however, conscious of a strange sound in the room like the wagging of a tail. Of this, although extremely indecent in his Majesty, the philosopher took no notice: simply kicking the dog, and requesting him to be quiet.
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