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Put the syrup in the preserving kettle; bring it to a boil and cook for about ten minutes, or until it begins to thicken. Add the berries; cook for ten minutes and pour them out in shallow dishes or meat platters. Cover with sheets of glass, allowing a little air for ventilation; place in the sun until the juice is thick and syrupy.

It was so impertinent, so much the sort of thing he most disliked, to be speculating, as he had suddenly found himself doing, on the nature of another person's private business. Had he come to that? It must be some emanation from that silly, syrupy article of Vyvian's; Vyvian, Peter felt sure, would have towards a private conversation just such an attitude that he had detected in himself.

His advice to me was to marry young and be happy. My persevering efforts of the last few months towards the acquisition of convivial habits appeared this evening to be receiving their reward. The O'Kelly's sweet champagne I had drunk with less dislike than hitherto; a white, syrupy sort of stuff, out of a fat and artistic-looking bottle, I had found distinctly grateful to the palate.

This conversation was at breakfast, and the Lamb had been beautifully good until every one was looking at the carpet, and then it was for him but the work of a moment to turn a glass dish of syrupy blackberry jam upside down on his young head.

"That's enough, greedy." "Now go away and gobble." But Kaviak daintily skimmed off the syrupy top, and left his mush almost as high a hill as before. It wasn't long after the dinner, things had been washed up, and the Colonel settled down to the magazines he was reading the advertisements now that Potts drew out his watch. "Golly! do you fellers know what o'clock it is?"

It had Magazine ways that smacked of Sylvanus Urban; leading articles with balanced paragraphs which recalled the marching tramp of Johnson; translations that might have been signed with the name of Creech, and Odes to Sensibility, and the like, which recalled the syrupy sweetness and languid trickle of Laura Matilda's sentimentalities.

It had Magazine ways that smacked of Sylvanus Urban; leading articles with balanced paragraphs which recalled the marching tramp of Johnson; translations that might have been signed with the name of Creech, and Odes to Sensibility, and the like, which recalled the syrupy sweetness and languid trickle of Laura Matilda's sentimentalities.

He wrote a poem with the title, "The Greater Love" and sold it, too, to a sensational periodical which circulated largely among sentimental shopgirls. It is but truthful to state that the editor of the magazine to which he first submitted it sent it back with the brief note "This is a trifle too syrupy for our use. Fear the pages might stick. Why not send us another war verse?"

To me she was a far more attractive sight than any view of the park. I barely looked out of the window. Imagine my surprise, then, at seeing her take advantage of the diversion to draw from the folds of her dress a little vial and pour a bit of yellowish, syrupy liquid into the cup of coffee which she was preparing for Whitney. I could not help looking at her quickly.

Boil one cup of wine, one cup of sugar and one-half cup of water together until syrupy and thick, pour it over the contents of the bowl, let this cool, then place a thick layer of thickly-whipped sweetened and flavored cream over all. Serve very cold. Take out the kernels of half a pound of pistachio nuts and pound them in a mortar with one tablespoon of brandy.