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Updated: June 13, 2025
It was an unusual sight: I never saw her do it before. Mrs. Gnu said to me: "Well, really, that's rather peculiar. I think people had better make love in private." "No, by Jove," whispered Mr. Boosey to me; and I am afraid he had drank freely, as I have once or twice before heard that he did; but the world is such a gossip! no, she doesn't let her good works of that kind shine before men."
Potiphar, "we are going to stay only a short time to be sure, but we should like very much to see a little good society." "Ah!" said Mr. Firkin. "Oh! yes, certainly," said Mr. Boosey; and the corners of his eyelids twitched. "Perhaps you might suggest that you have some friends staying in town," said Mrs. P. "You know we're all intimate enough for that." "Yes oh yes," said Mr.
I only hope no one else reads the papers here." "They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary character." "Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a reassuring tone of voice. "No you had better write about the cottage." "I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did.
And I mentioned to some of the most English of our young men, that there might be something to be done at Saratoga. But they shrugged their shoulders, especially Timon Croesus and Gauche Boosey, and said "Well, really, the fact is, Miss Tattle, all the Englishmen I have ever met are in fact a little snobbish. However." That was about what they said.
They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours" at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey, of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr.
"What does that mean?" demanded Mr. Potiphar. "Oh! ah! I remember now," said Mr. Boosey. "I saw the De Familles all getting into a carriage for a little drive, as Mr. De F., said, about two o'clock this afternoon." Mr. Potiphar looked like a thunder-storm.
One day, at dinner, that audacious wag, Boosey, asked him if the "many manthuns" mentioned in the Bible, were not as true of mortal as of immortal life. Mrs. Potiphar grew purple, and Mr. Cheese looked at Boosey in the most serious manner over the top of his champagne-glass.
Well, the next spring she went to a music store in Philadelphia, to buy some guitar strings for Claribel, and who should advance to sell them but the Russian Minister! Mrs. Gnu said she colored " "So I've always understood," said Gauche, laughing. "Fie! Mr. Boosey," continued Mrs. P. smiling. "But the music-seller didn't betray the slightest consciousness.
Abraham Boosey was the undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr.
"Ask Mr. Firkin," replied he. So when we saw them next, Mrs P. said, "Mr. Firkin, I remember you used to tell me of the pleasant circles in which you visited in Paris, and how much superior French society is to American." "Infinitely superior," replied Mr. Firkin. "Much more spirituel," said Mr. Boosey. "Well," said Mrs.
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