Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
None of them, I am happy to say, were ever seen at our balls or our dinners. I nerved myself, and penetrated to that Ultima Thule where Mr. Bratley resides. His house already, at that early hour of two, smelt vigorously of dinner. Nothing but the urgency of my business could have induced me to brave these odors of plain roast and boiled.
A. Bratley, my grandfather, was indeed one of those rude, laborious, and serviceable persons whose office is to make money or perhaps I should say to accumulate the means of enjoyment for the upper classes of society. But my father, the late Mr. Harold Chylde, had gentlemanly tastes. How can I blame him? I have the same. He loved to guide the rapid steed along the avenue.
I have suppressed my first name as unmelodious and connecting me too much with a religious persuasion meritorious for its wealth alone. Need I say that I refer to the faith of the Rothschild? "All that I have is yours, my dear Bratley," continued my mother. Quite touching! was it not?
"Ah! a Southerner!" said I. "Pray, allow the harmless weed to serve as a token of amity between our respective sections." Mr. Mellasys grasped my hand. "Take a drink, Mr. ?" said he. "Bratley Chylde," rejoined I, filling the hiatus, "and I shall be most happy." The name evidently struck him. It was a combination of all aristocracy and all plutocracy.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking