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“Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls, They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl of “the solitary rocks and promontories” by them only inhabited of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape. I returned to my book-Bewick’s History of British Birds: the letterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking and yet there were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast. At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. I mounted into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like a Turk and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement.įolds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. Be seated somewhere and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent.”Ī breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped in there. “Jane, I don’t like cavillers or questioners besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. “What does Bessie say I have done?” I asked. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group saying, “She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner-something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were-she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children.” The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mama in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning but since dinner (Mrs. I would not recommend it based on my experience and I wouldn't risk drinking it again if it meant having a similar experience.There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. The flavors were surprisingly good despite the utter lack of carbonation but it could not save this beer. Overall: The overall drinking experience on this dead beer was lackluster and uninteresting. The beer does have a nice tartness which livens up the otherwise lifeless presence on the palate.
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Mouthfeel: It feels very flat and insipid.
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It has a bit of a sweet tasting finish with just some of that lingering sourness. There is a bit of a cinnamon-like flavor and some very light brown sugar flavor. Taste: There is a fairly tart grape flavor that starts at the edges of the mouth and moves inward. I am getting a very light bit of alcohol. Zero retention or lacing.Īroma: There isn't much of an aroma. There is a very short fizzy light tan head that instantly fizzes out to nothing within seconds. From the side of the front label: "Date Bottled: 8.26.16" "Batch #1129"Īppearance: The body of the beer is a light tea color.
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