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Updated: June 15, 2025
"You shall see a dapper Jacke, that hath beene but over at Deepe, wring his face round about, as a man would stir up a mustard-pot, and talke English through the teeth, like ... Monsieur Mingo de Moustrap."
I preserved my gravity, and followed the imaginary line with my eye, bounding from the mustard-pot along the carving-knife to the salt-cellar and back in a loop to the cheese, and then asked if the Big Tench could not be crossed higher up, and if so why was it necessary to build twelve additional miles of road. "To reach Carter Hall," said Fitz quietly. "Any advantage?"
I had just had the breast and wing of a chicken and a slice of ham placed on my plate, and was running over to get the mustard-pot, when to my surprise it became covered with feathers, and off it flew.
This he has to a fault, making parts of his figures look like red chalk drawings, but the sunny and dazzling effect of the whole may be attributed to this artifice. If we look for a prevalent tone in Turner's pictures though a prevalent tone is always a vice in a painter, nature being without bias in the question of hue we shall find it to be yellow, which he himself declared to be his favourite colour, and which occasioned those jokes about the 'mustard-pot' as a source of inspiration, to which art-students were at one time addicted.
A knife and fork, which had not been worn out by overcleaning, flanked a cracked delf plate; a nearly empty mustard-pot, placed on one side of the table, balanced a salt- cellar, containing an article of a greyish, or rather a blackish, mixture, upon the other, both of stoneware, and bearing too obvious marks of recent service.
That's why I always carry a cruet-stand about with me. I'm so fond of salads." And to the amazement of the two men he took a pepper-pot out of his waistcoat pocket and put it on the table. "I wonder why the burglar wanted mustard, too," he went on, taking a mustard-pot from another pocket. "A mustard plaster, I suppose.
First, all the salt-cellars had been upset into the middle of the table, then the bits of bread left beside the plates had been crumbled in, then the joys of wickedness growing the mustard-pot had been emptied over the heap, some bananas had been stuck unsteadily here and there to give it feature, and finally, in a last orgie of crime, a cruet of vinegar had been discharged on the whole, and the brown streams were now meandering across the clean tablecloth.
He found Miss Alsen, her eyes sparkling, with the mustard-pot in her left hand and the spoon in her right, executing a war-dance in front of the second portrait. "Don't do it," said the mate, in alarm. "Why not?" she inquired, going within an inch of it. "He'll think it's me," said the mate. "That's why I called you down here," said she; "you don't think I wanted you, do you?"
Run for God's sake, and fetch something to pry open the door the axe! the axe! he's had a stroke; depend upon it!" and so saying I was unmethodically rushing up stairs again empty-handed, when Mrs. Hussey interposed the mustard-pot and vinegar-cruet, and the entire castor of her countenance. "What's the matter with you, young man?" "Get the axe!
"It behoves us seein' as how a tempory cloud has descended between these two establishments it behoves us, I say, to watch out for its silver lining in one form or another. Which talking of silver reminds me of electro, and I'll ask you, Palmerston, if that's the way to leave a mustard-pot and call yourself an indoor male?"
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