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Updated: May 25, 2025
She insisted even upon my preparing brouse for her luncheon." "Brouse?" The children were interested. They wanted to know what brouse was. The maid smiled. "Why brouse is just bread broken up into a bowl with hot water poured over it and lots of butter and salt and pepper added. One day when Mrs.
Bartlett was a little girl, her mother took her to the home of an old nurse, and there she had brouse to eat, and afterwards for one joyful hour she was allowed to wear the clogs belonging to the nurse's little granddaughter." "I know what clogs are," said Graham. "They're wooden shoes that make a lot of noise and have brass nails in them."
Or as the loving Mullet that true Fish, Her fellow lost, nor joy nor life do wish, But lanches on that shore there for to dye, Where she her captive husband doth espy, Mine being gone I lead a joyless life, I have a living sphere, yet seem no wife; But worst of all, to him can't steer my course, I here, he there, alas, both kept by force; Return, my Dear, my Joy, my only Love, Unto thy Hinde, thy Mullet and thy Dove, Who neither joys in pasture, house nor streams, The substance gone, O me, these are but dreams, Together at one Tree, O let us brouse, And like two Turtles roost within one house.
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