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Updated: June 23, 2025
The inferno continued around them, the air grew thicker with smoke, a barrel-organ began to play at the door, draughts and dominoes rattled against the long wooden tables.... Ah! this was, indeed, London. Peter was so greatly moved that his hunger left him and it was with difficulty that the meat-pie was finished.
He pulled out his chair and sat down, still looking for meat-pie. "Good afternoon!" cried an eager, feminine voice just across the table. Andy started guiltily. He had been dimly aware that some one was sitting there, but, being occupied with other things, had not given a thought to the sitter, or a glance. Now he did both while he said good afternoon with perfunctory politeness.
He would be mistaken: the analysis of the meat-pie has told us so. The shape does not make the real Dung-beetle. I have in my collection a magnificent insect from Cayenne, known to the nomenclators as Phanæus festivus, a brilliant Beetle in festive attire, charming, beautiful, glorious to behold. How well he deserves his name!
Master H. Frederic got behind a door and began performing the experiment of stopping and unstopping his ears in rapid alternation, greatly rejoicing in the singular effect of mixed conversation chopped very small, like the contents of a mince-pie, or meat-pie, as it is more forcibly called in the deep-rutted villages lying along the unsalted streams.
Herr Gottfried was indeed amazed at him he said very little but he was certainly amazed. Indeed, with the exception of the "meat-pie" interval he scarcely spoke throughout the day. Of London itself during these days Peter saw nothing. At eight o'clock in the evening the shutters were put up by the disobedient James and the shop retired for the night.
I was the chief mourner, and carried a very big candle through the village, in consideration of as fine a meat-pie, and as much lush as my grief permitted me to indulge in afterwards.
The sadness of the city, and the inexplicable sadness of June mornings, overwhelmed George as he munched at the meat-pie and drank the coffee, and reached over for the sugar and reached over for the mustard. And he kept saying to himself: "She doesn't see her father at all for nearly two years, and then she goes off to him like that in the middle of the night at a word."
Making our way in search of a resting-place, we perceive two little women wagging along. We follow them and offer to breakfast with them; they refuse; we insist; they answer no less gently; we insist again; they say yes. We go home with them, with a meat-pie, bottles of wine, eggs, and a cold chicken.
The troopers were valiant trencher-men, whatever else they were, and promptly assaulted the meat-pie fort, as from its size and shape it deserved to be called. "You know this Captain Villiers, I suppose?" said the dragoon subaltern at length; "I had particular instructions to secure his capture." "Oh yes! I know him very well," answered Kate. "He was here sick for three months last winter."
They say old Agassiz," Kinney went on, in that easy, familiar fondness with which our people like to speak of greatness that impresses their imagination, "they say old Agassiz recommended fish as the best food for the brain. Well, I don't suppose but what it is. But I don't know but what pie is more stimulating to the fancy. I never saw anything like meat-pie to make ye dream."
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