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Updated: June 6, 2025
Brinley, on the other hand, professed to know no fear, but according to his theory that ways and means were his care, and that the domestic affairs of his household were his wife's, and beyond his jurisdiction, held himself aloof and said never a word to the recalcitrant servant, confining what upbraiding he did exclusively to Mrs. Brinley. "Why don't you scold Bridget?" cried Mrs.
This is your bailiwick, not mine, and until I ask you to scold my clerks you mustn't ask me to scold your servants." With this sage remark the valiant Brinley at once took his departure. Time passed, and it so happened one autumn that the once happy household found itself in the throes of a particularly aggravated case of cook.
Brinley, the carpenter's wife; and then never taking care of her clothes, always wearing the same things week-day or Sunday. A man has a poor look-out with a wife of that sort. Mr. Phipps, amiable and laconic, wondered how it was women were so fond of running each other down. Mr. Pratt having been called in provisionally to a patient of Mr.
Meals were never ready on time, and the dinner-hour, instead of being a fixed time beneath her sway, seemed to become a variable point, according to the lady's whim. In the observance of the breakfast-hour she was equally erratic, and on several trying occasions Brinley was on the verge of the dilemma of either failing to keep an appointment in town or going without his morning meal.
"I cut up the Silverton ball so," he said, as he addressed the tee, "that I'm ashamed of myself. I may not play any better with this doughnut, but it will never show the marks of the irons as a bit of mere gutta-percha would." "If you feel that way about Ellen," Mrs. Brinley observed, just as Brinley was about to drive off with a real ball, "I don't see why you don't discharge her."
Brinley, her eyes opening wide in a very natural astonishment. "Why, I thought you were going to discharge her?" "Well I was," he said, haltingly. "I was, of course. That's what I went down for but er you know, my dear, that there are two sides to every question." "Even to Ellen's biscuits?" Mrs. Brinley laughed. "Never mind that. She's going to do better," said Brinley.
The opening service was made a formal commemoration of the election of Bishop Seabury. Morning Prayer was begun by the Rev. Samuel Fermor Jarvis, Rector of Trinity Church, Brooklyn, grandson of the Rev. George Dowdall Johnson, of the Diocese of New York, great-grandson of the Rev. Dr. Thomas Brinley Fogg of Brooklyn, grandson of the Rev.
Brinley had parted a laundress armed with a flat-iron from a belligerent cook armed with an ice-pick, and twice the ministers of the law had carried certain irate women bodily forth with the direst of threats lest they should return later and remove the Brinley family from the list of the living. All of which contributed to Mrs.
Brinley gazed at him silently in open-mouthed wonder for a full half-minute. "You did what?" asked Mrs. Brinley. "I told her we'd give her twenty dollars a month instead of sixteen," said Brinley. "You needn't laugh," he added. "I began very severely. Asked her what she meant by ignoring our wishes as to hours.
John Brinley, "Gentleman," brought out in 1680 A Discovery of the Impostures of Witches and Astrologers. Portions of his book would pass for good thinking until one awakens to the feeling that he has read something like this before. A second edition of Brinley's work was issued in 1686.
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