" "Gin-gulp! appropriate certainly, but
de-ci-ded-ly--low." "Will you please, Sir, to dine? dinner is on the
table." "Din_nar_! Crockford, be good to us!--Why--why--it is
scarcely more than noon, Crowns.--What would Lady Diana say?--But true! I
rose at eight--so, I think, I will patronize you, my good
fell_ar_--Long journey that from _Low_san--queer name for a
place so high;--Vastly bad country this of yours, Crowns.--What are all
those stunted poles, like _cerceau_ sticks, placed in the ground?
What do you cultivate, Crowns?" "The vine, Sir." "Wine! wine! dear me!
never knew wine grew before. In England it is a manufactory. One
moment--pardon--Mem:--Wine grows in--in--" "The Canton de Vaud, Sir." "In
the Canton de Vo,--Tell that to Carbonel and Charles Wright when I go
back. Is it Port, pray?" "No, Sir, a thin white wine." "Thin--white
--wine--runs up sticks in said Vo." "Will you permit me to help you, Sir?"
demanded Money, rather impatiently. "What have you, may I ask?"
"_Bouilli_, Sir." "Bull, what? have you no other beef?--Mem: people
living near punch-bowl eat bull beef," "There is a very nice
_culotte_, Sir, if you prefer it." "_Cu_--what, Three Crowns?
_Culotte_!--why, in France, that is--is--inexpressibles--Mem: eat
inexpressibles roasted--Breaches of taste, by Reay--the savages!--that
will do for the Bedford--mention it to Joy--the brutes!--Neither bull nor
breeches, thank you inexpressibly, Money.
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