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Updated: June 24, 2025
Izard did one day after a club-dinner." Miss Stead colored slightly as she said that the gentlemen all complained of the strength of the last box of claret received from Charleston before the club was broken up. "I hear that Colonel Washington is a fine swordsman," said Miss Elliott, "and that his troop are all bold riders.
Tom declined the proffered hospitality, bowing himself out, as befitted the occasion, with much ceremonious politeness, and leaving the other to proceed to his club-dinner in a frame of mind that considerably modified the healthy appetite he had brought with him half-an-hour ago. He congratulated himself, however, before his soup was done, that he had not sent Mr.
What would you think of the man who snatched the loaf from a hungry thief, threw it back into the baker's cart, and walked away to his club-dinner? Harsh words of rebuke, and the threat of severe punishment upon a second attempt what are they to the wretch weary of life? To some of them the kindest punishment would be to hang them for it. It is something else than punishment that they need.
'Oh, said Jane, hoping to make a diversion, 'Wat Greenwood came back about a quarter of an hour ago, and he Mr. Devereux proceeded without attending to her, 'As I came down the hill from the club-dinner, old Mrs.
But generally the feasts are falling into rapid disuse, and would perhaps have died away altogether had not the benefit societies often chosen that day for their annual club-dinner.
The colour rushed into Jane's cheeks, but she replied without hesitation, 'Oh! different things, La pluie et le beau temps, just as usual. 'Cannot you remember anything more distinctly? 'I always make a point of forgetting what I talk about, said Jane, trying to laugh. 'Now, Jane, let me tell you what has happened in the village as I came down the hill from the club-dinner
A famous duel was fought in 1765 between Lord Byron and Mr. Chaworth. The dispute arose at a club-dinner, and was relative to which of the two had the largest quantity of game on his estates. Infuriated by wine and passion, they retired instantly into an adjoining room, and fought with swords across a table, by the feeble glimmer of a tallow-candle. Mr.
Sachs' song is merrily trolled out, but underneath its joviality we feel the greatness of the man a man so great in character that no suits of shining armour, no heralds and no waving banners are needed to make him impressive: he remains, even while he works at his last and sings a sort of club-dinner song, the simple cobbler-poet, great by reason of his sincerity and his artist-soul.
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