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Billings the butterman; Sharwood, the turner and blacking-maker; and the Honourable Phelin O'Curragh, Lord Scullabogue's son, made speeches. That property is a paying one to the Incumbent, and to Sherrick over him. Charles's affairs are getting all right, sir.
He has mortgaged his chapel to Sherrick, I suppose you know, who is master of it, and could turn him out any day. I don't think Sherrick is a bad fellow. I think he's a good fellow; I have known him do many a good turn to a chap in misfortune. He wants to get into society: what more natural? That was why you were asked to meet him the other day, and why he asked you to dinner.
She is like a little songbird, sir, a tremulous, fluttering little linnet that you would take into your hand, pavidam quaerentem matrem, and smooth its little plumes, and let it perch on your finger and sing. The Sherrick creates quite a different sentiment the Sherrick is splendid, stately, sleepy " "Stupid," hints Clive's companion. "Stupid! Why not? Some women ought to be stupid.
Clive is in his uncle's fond embrace by this time, who rebukes him for not having called in Walpole Street. "Now, when will you two gents come up to my shop to 'ave a family dinner?" asks Sherrick. "Ah, Mr. Newcome, do come," says Julia in her deep rich voice, looking up to him with her great black eyes.
What a sermon! Me and Julia cried so up in the organ-loft; we thought you would have heard us. Didn't we, Julia?" "Oh, yes," says Julia, whose hand the pastor is now pressing. "When you described the young man, I thought of my poor boy, didn't I, Julia?" cries the mother, with tears streaming down her face. "We had a loss more than ten years ago," whispers Sherrick to Clive gravely.
Sherrick and his wife appeared at those parties, at which the proprietor of Lady Whittlesea's Chapel made himself perfectly familiar.
That miscreant Sherrick owns that he owes me a turn, and has sent me a few dozen of wine without any stamped paper on my part in return as an acknowledgment of my service. It chanced, sir, soon after your departure for Italy, that going to his private residence respecting a little bill to which a heedless friend had put his hand, Sherrick invited me to partake of tea in the bosom of his family.
Sherrick's ancestry, or what the occupation of his youth? Mr. Honeyman, a most respectable man surely, introduced Sherrick to the Colonel and Binnie. Mr. Sherrick stocked their cellar with some of the wine over which Honeyman preached such lovely sermons. It was not dear; it was not bad when you dealt with Mr. Sherrick for wine alone.
And, as all of us, in one way or another, are subject to this domestic criticism, from which not the most exalted can escape, I say, lucky is the man whose servants speak well of him. Sherrick lets his House in Fitzroy Square
Percy sings a Spanish seguidilla, or a German lied, or a French romance, or a Neapolitan canzonet, which, I am bound to say, excites very little attention. Mrs. Ridley is sending in coffee at this juncture, of which Mrs. Sherrick partakes, with lots of sugar, as she has partaken of numberless things before. Chicken, plovers' eggs, prawns, aspics, jellies, creams, grapes, and what-not. Mr.
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