There was no chirp in him when the bottle went round.

He had never one hour of a humane mood to be reckoned on now.

The day, indeed, is sad when we see the skeleton of the mistress by whom we suffer, but cannot abandon her.

The squire drank, knowing that the issue would be the terrific, curse-begetting twinge in his foot; but, as he said, he was a man who stuck to his habits.

It was over his Port that he had quarrelled with his rector on the subject of hopeful Algernon, and the system he adopted with that young man.