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Updated: July 23, 2025
Now, when you have regained your good looks and strength, I will take you all home. Here is the key to my sweetmeat closet. Run off, now, and have a good time. "The sweetmeat closet was a large enclosure where grew sugar-almond trees, candied pears, candied plums, and where even the bark and twigs of trees and bushes were of chocolate. In the centre was a pond of quivering jelly.
Meanwhile I had looked round the room for the objects of my pursuit: to my great surprise I could not perceive them; they may be in the other room, thought I, and to the other room I went; the supper was laid out, and an old bonne was quietly helping herself to some sweetmeat.
Yes, my gorgeous angel, sit down by the poor bodies’ fire, and eat a sweetmeat. We want to ask you a question or two; only first put that serpent away. Myself. I can sit down, and bid the serpent go to sleep, that’s easy enough; but as for eating a sweetmeat, how can I do that? I have not got one, and where am I to get it? Woman.
Still, I shouldn't ha' picked out just that kind of a wife for him." "As I understand," the storekeeper began; but here he caught sight of Widow Seth Wray's boy, and asked, "What's wanted, Bub? Corn-ball?" and turning to take that sweetmeat from the shelf behind him he added the rest in the mouth of the hollowly reverberating jar, "She's got prop'ty."
There was one set of little glass dishes for one kind of sweetmeat, another set of ditto for another kind; an army of tiny plates to receive and shield the tablecloth from the dislodged cups of tea, saucers being the conventional drinking vessels; and there were the standard bread and butter plates, which, besides their proper charge of bread and butter, and beef, and cheese, were expected, Fleda knew, to receive a portion of every kind of cake that might happen to be on the table.
Time slipped on as I sat there making merry with little Katie, doing the dolly's leather breeches and jerkin off and on, blowing on the child's little shoulder when it smarted or giving her a sweetmeat to comfort her, and still Ann came not, albeit she had promised to join me so soon as her baggage was ready.
She was an extremely proud young sovereign, and never allowed caresses; yet she lingered by him, troubled, grave, with something intensely tender and pitiful in the musing look of her eyes. She had a perception that this calamity which smote him was one far beyond the ministering of her knowledge. He took the pretty Palais Royal gold-rimmed sweetmeat box, and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.
'Damask cheeks and dewy sister eyelids. Or else the Ercles vein 'God's in His Heaven, all's right with the world. No good, Mr. McCunn. All back numbers. Poetry's not a thing of pretty round phrases or noisy invocations. It's life itself, with the tang of the raw world in it not a sweetmeat for middle-class women in parlours." "Are you a poet, Mr. Heritage?" "No, Dogson, I'm a paper-maker."
Tarts made of any kind of jam are usually formed with a crust round the bottom of the dish, the sweetmeat is then put in, and little ornaments of crust placed over the top, made with a jagging iron. Sugar paste is suitable for these. Little tartlets are made in the same way, only baked in tins and turned out.
He resumed his gravity and his theme all in an instant. "White arsenic she won't look at for I've tried her; but they tell me there's another sweetmeat come up, which they call it striek nine" "Hets! let the poor beasty alone. Life's as sweet tit as tus." "If you was a gardener, you'd feel for the bulbs, not for the varmin," remonstrated Maxley rather arrogantly.
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