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Begbie, Harold, 1871-1929

"The Bed-Book of Happiness"

_"
I come now to a gem of purest ray serene. To me the monosyllable _gorp_
is a thing of beauty and a joy for ever. Take a youth, who has passed
his life as an underling on some secluded farm, to an exhibition of wax
figures, gorgeously attired, rolling their eyes and lifting up their
arms to slow music, and you shall see him _gorp_. Or go with that young
man to a display of fireworks, and when the first asteroid rocket sends
out its glowing stars you shall see that wide-mouthed, wobbling
agriculturist so gorp as to make it almost impossible for the descending
stick to go anywhere save down his throat.
But we are all of us naturally fond of gorping. We abstain in our
sensitive days, because somebody said it was vulgar; but, as we grow
older and wiser, and that bell-wether Fashion tinkles vainly in our
ears, we flatten our happy noses upon the shop-windows once again, and
thoroughly enjoy our _gorp_.
At Oxford, I remember, it was considered very low indeed to gorp. In
fact, we did not allow ourselves to be astonished at anything, unless it
was the audacity of trades-people with reference to the payment of their
little bills. Wherefore I the more honour the conduct and courage of a
college friend who, honest himself, and as free from humbug as any man I
know, was bored, especially in London, by the society of an affected
coxcomb, who persisted in attaching himself whenever they met, giving
himself all sorts of silly airs, enlarging upon his intimacy with titled
folks, and asserting himself to be, like Mrs.


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