Shell blab your most secret plans and theories to every one of her acq — Trumpery

"Old St. Pauls was one of the largest churches in Europe... The church in the fourteenth century was not regarded only as a place for public worship. Masses and services of all kinds were going on all day long: the place was bright, not only with the sunlight streaming through the painted glass, but with wax tapers burning before many a shrine—at some, all day and all night. People came to the church to walk about, for rest, for conversation, for the transaction of business—to make or receive payments: to hire servants. The middle aisle of the church where all this was done was called Pauls Walk or Duke Humphreys Walk. Here were tables where twelve licensed scribes sat writing letters for those who wanted their services. They would also prepare a lease, a deed, a conveyance—any legal document. The church was filled with tombs and monuments, some of these very ancient, some of the greatest interest. Here was one called the tomb of Duke Humphrey—, who was really buried at St. Albans. On May Day the watermen used to come to St. Pauls in order to sprinkle water and strew herbs upon this tomb—I know not why. Those who were out of work and went dinnerless were said to dine with Duke Humphrey: and there was a proverb—Trash and trumpery is the way to Duke Humphrey. Trumpery being used in its original meaning—tromperie—deceit."

"—an a dogs skin over be the table, an the floor was painted brown about three fut all round the walls. There was pieces o windy curtain over the backs o the chairs; there was a big fern growin in an ould drainpipe in the corner; there was an ould straw hat o Johns stuffed full o flowers an it hangin on the wall, an here an there, all round it an beside it were picters cut from the papers an then tacked on the plaster. Ye could hardly see the mantelshelf, Jane allowed, for all the trumpery was piled on it, dinglum-danglums of glass an chaney, an shells from the say, an a sampler stuck in a frame, an in the middle of all a picter of Hannah herself got up in all her finery."

"A concise sketch of the history of Perkinism, since its first introduction into this island, will render evident what has been the nature of the opposition to the Metallic Practice, inasmuch as it will show that it resolves itself into two heads, viz. Ridicule and Malicious Falsehood."

"Bring out a chair," he shouted, "bring out a basin. Tell them to come to me. Its bleedin she wants." He took from his carpet-bag a brass handled fleam, opened a blade and tried its edge with his thumb. "Hurry, hurry," he shouted, dancing towards the Master. "Man alive, stir yourself... Is it have me lose the baste ye would? Bring a basin quick, I tell ye... Look at her. Dont let her down—for Gods sake, dont let her down," shouted the man and, even as Spotty doubled her knees and sank moaning in the straw, rushed over and began pulling at her tail. "She mustnt lie," he shouted; "she mustnt lie. Gar up." He kicked brutally at her buttocks. "Gar up—gar up, ye divil!" Then the Master crossed, took him by the shoulders and sent him spinning against the wall. "Get back, you brute!" The Master was hoarse with anger, his eyes flashed red murder. "Get out o my sight," he shouted, "you ignorant brute! You a cattle doctor—you a Christian! Get out, I say; get out o my sight. Here, take your trumpery." Out went the carpet-bag, the coat, the fleam, into the yard; out came the Master raging and flaring. "Youd murder my beast—youd kick her to death—youd torture the life out of her! Im sick of the sight of you. Get out; get out!"

"TRUMPERY, adv. ...A corruption of temporary. He was only took on trumpery."

"And if Cow and Swine-dung were thus incorporated together with Horse-dung, and kept under Cover, they would be Cent. per Cent. the better for it, in Comparison of their lying all abroad exposed to the Weather. But, in Case there are not Conveniencies for laying such Dung under Cover, then, as the Beast Dungs are made, they should be lain in one great Heap or Dunghill... and as the black Water drains from it, it ought to be carefully preserved, by causing it to run into such a Receptacle or Reservoir, as will give the Farmer an Opportunity to carry it out in a Tub or Barrel, for throwing it over the Dunghill, or to scatter it... For, if Stable or other Dungs were laid thinly over the Farm-yard, the Rains would easily wash through them, and the Sun dry them, and that much more than when such Dungs are laid in a thick Substance. But, before I quit this Subject, I must observe, that I have seen a great Farmer lay his Stable-dung under a Granary built high from the Ground on Purpose to be a Shelter or Cover for something: Here I should think it improper to lay Dung, because the Steam of Dung is most apt to breed a Mould, that is pernicious to every thing it settles, or gets to. When Fowls-dungs are kept by themselves, as often as we have Dust, offal Chaff, or other Trumpery, fanned out of the Corn, we mix them with such Fowls-dung which, in Time, will lie, heat, rot and become an excellent Manure, to be sown as I said, out of the Hand Seed-cott, and harrowed in with your Barley, or otherwise applied."