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What if some of these wildings are acrid and puckery, genuine verjuice, do they not still belong to the Pomaceae, which are uniformly innocent and kind to our race? I still begrudge them to the cider-mill. Perhaps they are not fairly ripe yet. No wonder that these small and high-colored apples are thought to make the best cider.
"Dolly has to wear the issue goods, and she will not look pretty Christmas time! Her dress will be a kind that looks black, and Lucinda only knows a way to make it look like an Indian dress. She will wear cowskin shoes so much too large, and very ugly-colored stockings. If her dress gets torn before she comes, Lucinda will not mend it nice only draw it up so puckery.
"Mamma," said Dimple, with her elbows on the arm of her mother's chair, "what are you thinking about so hard? You have a little puckery frown between your eyes, whenever you look at Florence and me. What have we been doing?" "Nothing," replied Mrs. Dallas, smiling. "I was wondering if it would be wise to leave you two alone here with Bubbles for a day. Mrs.
It took me altogether by surprise; for I remembered the nectareousness of the new cider which I used to sip through a straw in my boyhood, and I never doubted that this would be as dulcet, but finer and more ethereal; as much more delectable, in short, as these grapes are better than puckery cider apples.
The Russian apple has a lovely complexion, smooth and transparent, but the Cossack is not yet all eliminated from it. The only one I have seen the Duchess of Oldenburg is as beautiful as a Tartar princess, with a distracting odor, but it is the least bit puckery to the taste.
My clerical friend who brought home the fairy tale about the red-bud, or Judas-tree, might well have based his story on the American persimmon, but for the fact that this puckery little globe, so brilliant and so deceptive before frost, loses both its beauty and its astringency when slightly frozen. Then its tender flesh is suave and delicious, and old Jove might well choose it for his own.
What if some of these wildings are acrid and puckery, genuine verjuice, do they not still belong to the Pomaceae, which are uniformly innocent and kind to our race? I still begrudge them to the cider-mill. Perhaps they are not fairly ripe yet. No wonder that these small and high-colored apples are thought to make the best cider.
The Russian apple has a lovely complexion, smooth and transparent, but the Cossack is not yet all eliminated from it. The only one I have seen the Duchess of Oldenburg is as beautiful as a Tartar princess, with a distracting odor, but it is the least bit puckery to the taste.
It took me altogether by surprise; for I remembered the nectareousness of the new cider which I used to sip through a straw in my boyhood, and I never doubted that this would be as dulcet, but finer and more ethereal; as much more delectable, in short, as these grapes are better than puckery cider apples.
He poked his rubicund face out from the shadow of the chaise's canopy and peered to right and to left. There was a smile in his puckery eyes. When there were trees ahead of him, trees behind him, and trees all about he pulled his old horse to a standstill. He listened, squinted quizzically through the glass of his chaise's rear curtain, and then climbed down.
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