So the Prior of Saint Botolph’s hobbled back again into the refectory, to preside over the stockfish and ale, which was just serving out for the friars’ breakfast.
No person could be more ready to discern and to praise its graces; but, from the commencement of the Botanic Garden, the jealous spirit of authorism darkened his candor.
Oi'd not loike to be in his place this noight!"
They filled up their glasses with the red wine from the tooth-bottle and they had other little glasses of brown wine as well.
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