Conspicuous among these latter, like an animated bit of the spiked wall of Newgate, Jerry stood: aiming at the prisoner the
beery breath of a whet he had taken as he came along, and discharging it to mingle with the waves of other beer, and gin, and tea, and coffee, and what not, that flowed at him, and already broke upon the great windows behind him in an impure mist and rain.
With their muscles and their
beery good temper, they were not the worst of undertakers for a house which had always been human, and had not mistaken culture for an end.
The relations between Durdles and Deputy are of a capricious kind; for, on Durdles's turning himself about with the slow gravity of
beery suddenness, Deputy makes a pretty wide circuit into the road and stands on the defensive.
At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it open, a red eye appeared, and a
beery voice said...
Bradley assenting, went with him into an early public-house, haunted by unsavoury smells of musty hay and stale straw, where returning carts, farmers' men, gaunt dogs, fowls of a
beery breed, and certain human nightbirds fluttering home to roost, were solacing themselves after their several manners; and where not one of the nightbirds hovering about the sloppy bar failed to discern at a glance in the passion-wasted nightbird with respectable feathers, the worst nightbird of all.
There was a fair proportion of kindness in Raveloe; but it was often of a
beery and bungling sort, and took the shape least allied to the complimentary and hypocritical.
The two tables put together in a corner, were, at length, converted into a very fair bed; and the stranger was left to the Windsor chairs, the presidential tribune, the
beery atmosphere, sawdust, pipe-lights, spittoons and repose.
"Ay, it's been a sore chance for you, young man, hasn't it,--this lawsuit turning out against him?" said the publican, with a confused,
beery idea of being good-natured.
Stumps, her husband, a short, easy-going shoemaker, with a
beery, humorous eye and ponderous calves, who lived mostly on his wife's earnings, stood in a corner of the room, exchanging shots of the roughest description of repartee with every boy in turn.
Emmy had passed blushing through the room anon, where all sorts of people were collected; Tyrolese glove-sellers and Danubian linen-merchants, with their packs; students recruiting themselves with butterbrods and meat; idlers, playing cards or dominoes on the sloppy,
beery tables; tumblers refreshing during the cessation of their performances--in a word, all the fumum and strepitus of a German inn in fair time.
Peering out of a belowground restaurant on Monday night, we could already hear the echoes of
beery voices in the distance.
Maybe, in these days of social media, there's less desire for physical contact, or singing lustily in the
beery charabanc returning from the seaside.