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Cholmondeley boldly, I say: not with an air of reluctant shame, but in this strain: "My darling Mrs. C., I have nothing in the world fit to wear for your party next week; you must give me a book-muslin dress, and then a ceinture bleu celeste: do there's an angel! will you?" The "darling Mrs.
It's a habit that dates back to the era when women wore ringlets and white book-muslin, and men sported shaggy white beaver hats and pegtop trousers, and all the world read the novels of Lever and Dickens." "Have Lever and Boz gone out?" asked Beauvayse, pocketing his pyramid ball. "I play at Blue." He hit Blue scientifically off the cushion and went on.
At the same end of the room were seated the soberly clad members of the sect the men on one side of the apartment, with their broad-brimmed hats removed; on the other side the sisters, with their extremely plain book-muslin caps and otherwise sober attire. A portion of the services was in English. Dr. , a practitioner of medicine and a bishop in this Church, spoke extemporaneously in our language.
Having beaten the eggs well, add to them two table-spoonfuls of cold milk, and pour them into the boiling milk. Let them simmer two or three minutes, stirring them all the time. Then take the mixture off the fire and strain it through book-muslin into a pan.
They got half a yard of pink silk, as much of blue, ditto of lilac and black, a yard of every kind of narrow ribbon in the store, a remnant of book-muslin, three yards in all, about six dollars' worth of "scraps," and then asked me if I wasn't going to give a box of raisins and the coffee for the table. I said I would. "And you'll come, Mr. Flutter, won't you?
Ballister's back, and upset his saucer of ice-cream over Ada's sweet new book-muslin. Why, girls, just as sure as I am standing here, I saw him cram the saucer into his pocket when Belle came up to speak with him! I tell you, I was glad to get home that night without any more accidents." "They say he always puts the tea-napkins into his pocket when he takes tea away from home.
I want a white book-muslin dress; I want a pair of thin shoes with buckles; I want a white hat with a wreath of yellow roses; I want a volume of Byron's poems; and oh! nobody knows nobody but the Lord could understand how I want a string of gold beads." "Patty, Patty! To hear you chatter anybody would imagine you thought of nothing but frivolities.
"At long intervals in what most would call our drudgery," she says, "there came a day devoted to amusement. Once we had a masquerade picnic in the woods, where we were thrown into convulsions of laughter at the sight of George W. Curtis dressed as Fanny Ellsler, in a low-necked, short-sleeved, book-muslin dress and a tiny ruffled apron, making courtesies and pirouetting down the path.
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