Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 2/Letter 116
To MRS. EDGEWORTH.
January 2, 1841.
Thank you for your birthday good wishes. How many birthdays have brought me the same never-failing kindness.
A very pleasant meeting we had yesterday at your brother's.[1] Honora, dear Honora, was so nice and kind, nobody but ourselves. At second course appeared the essential trifle,[2] and, trifle as it was, it was quite delightful to me with Honora's smile.
Did you ever taste figs stuffed with almonds? I hope you never may taste them! very bad, I assure you, but how the almonds got in puzzled me; all tight and closed as the outer skin looks without ridge or joining.
Did you ever taste Imperial Tokay? Your brother gave me some of the best ever tasted, I am told; and what do you think I said?
"Why, this cannot be Tokay!"
"Did you ever taste Tokay before?" said he.
"O yes, very often; but this is not Tokay."
"Be pleased to tell us what it is then," quoth Lestock.
"I don't know; but not Tokay, or a different sort from what I ever tasted, for that was sour and always drunk in green glasses."
Suddenly I recollected that I meant Hock!
Do you recollect the history of the Irishman, who declared that he had seen anchovies growing on the walls at Gibraltar? Challenged a gentleman for doubting him, met, and fired, and hit his man, and when the man who was hit, sprang up as he received the shot, and the second observed—"How he capers!"
"By the powers! It was capers I meant 'stead of anchovies."
Footnotes[edit]
- ↑ Recently married to Honora Edgeworth.
- ↑ A trifle always appeared on Maria Edgeworth's birthday, because once on New Year's Day when a trifle had been ordered and the dish was placed on the table there was found under the flowers, not cake and cream, but a little story Maria had written, "A Trifle." The young folk had a real trifle afterwards.