Chapter XX · Chapter 20

used before a singular noun to mean one of a group, when it is not a particular one

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

anew

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

(quantifier) used with either mass or count nouns to indicate the whole number or amount of or every one of a class

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

in addition

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the form of “be” used with “I”

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the form of “a” used before a word that begins with a vowel sound

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

used to join words or parts of a sentence that go together

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

at the same time that; because; in the way that

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

the season when the leaves fall from the trees

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

used with a past participle to form the passive, or with -ing for continuous tenses

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the past participle of “be”

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

at or toward the back of something

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

being of the achromatic color of maximum darkness; having little or no hue owing to absorption of almost all incident light

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

an informal term for a British policeman

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

inflected form of “bring” — take something or somebody with oneself somewhere

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

an orange of low brightness and saturation

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

placed in a grave

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

used to introduce something that contrasts with what came before

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

plural of “cap” — a tight-fitting headdress

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

definitely or positively (“sure” is sometimes used informally for “surely”)

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

a subdivision of a written work; usually numbered and titled

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

providing or experiencing physical well-being or relief (“comfy” is informal)

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

inflected form of “cry” — utter a sudden loud cry

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

a table linen made from linen with a damask pattern

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

no longer having or seeming to have or expecting to have life

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

the event of dying or departure from life

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the past form of “do”, used in questions and negatives

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

-ing form of “do” — engage in

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

swelling from excessive accumulation of watery fluid in cells, tissues, or serous cavities

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

in a serious manner

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

one or the other of two

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

(of persons) excessively affected by emotion

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

an abrupt excited utterance

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

-ing form of “explain” — make plain and comprehensible

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

opinion or judgment

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

past form of “fail” — fail to do something; leave something undone

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

having an (over)abundance of flesh

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

a male parent (also used as a term of address to your father)

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

preceding all others in time or space or degree

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

past form of “follow” — to travel behind, go after, come after

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

devoid of good sense or judgment

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

intended to be given to, or used by, somebody

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

a ceremony at which a dead person is buried or cremated

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

change location; move, travel, or proceed, also metaphorically

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the supernatural being conceived as the perfect and omnipotent and omniscient originator and ruler of the universe; the object of worship in monotheistic religions

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

green color or pigment; resembling the color of growing grass

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

of an achromatic color of any lightness intermediate between the extremes of white and black

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the past form of “have”, used to form the past perfect

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

used with a past participle to form the perfect tenses

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

a man, boy, or male animal already mentioned, as the subject

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the upper part of the human body or the front part of the body in animals; contains the face and brains

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

belonging to a woman, girl, or female animal already mentioned

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

in or at this place; where the speaker or writer is

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

used when the woman or girl doing the action is also its object

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used when the man or boy doing the action is also its object

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

a specific instance of feeling hopeful

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

inflected form of “hang” — be suspended or hanging

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the person speaking or writing, as the subject of the verb

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the content of cognition; the main thing you are thinking about

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

plural of “imperfection” — the state or an instance of being imperfect

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

inside something, or within a place, period, or state

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

a message (spoken or written) that is introduced or inserted

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

moving to the inside of something

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

the form of “be” used with he, she, it, or a singular noun

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

a thing, animal, or idea already mentioned

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

belonging to the thing or animal already mentioned

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

(especially of promises or contracts) not violated or disregarded

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

a room equipped for preparing meals

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

location near or direction toward the left side; i.e. the side to the north when a person or object faces east

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

English empiricist philosopher who believed that all knowledge is derived from sensory experience (1632-1704)

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the capital and largest city of England; located on the Thames in southeastern England; financial and industrial and cultural center

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

perceive with attention; direct one's gaze towards

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

produced by a manufacturing process

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

an artist of consummate skill

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

used to say something is possible but not certain

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

an adulterous woman; a woman who has an ongoing extramarital sexual relationship with a man

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

possessive form of “mother” — a woman who has given birth to a child (also used as a term of address to your mother)

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

state of sorrow over the death or departure of a loved one

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used to say something is necessary, or almost certainly true

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

belonging to the person speaking

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

not ever; at no time in the past or future

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

information about recent and important events

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

not any; not one

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

used to make a word, phrase, or sentence negative

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

a brief written record

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

despite anything to the contrary (usually preceding a concession)

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

a nonmetallic bivalent element that is normally a colorless odorless tasteless nonflammable diatomic gas; constitutes 21 percent of the atmosphere by volume; the most abundant element in the earth's crust

From this reading —O!

a Hebrew minor prophet

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

belonging to, or connected with, somebody or something

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

place of business where professional or clerical duties are performed

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used to mean any person in general, including the speaker

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used to join alternatives or possibilities

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

round yellow to orange fruit of any of several citrus trees

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

deserving or inciting pity

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

(theology) the origination of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

a small piece of cloth or paper

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

inflected form of “run” — move fast by using one's feet, with one foot off the ground at any given time

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

red color or pigment; the chromatic color resembling the hue of blood

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

1/60 of a minute; the basic unit of time adopted under the Systeme International d'Unites

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

experiencing or showing sorrow or unhappiness

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

being the one previously mentioned or spoken of

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

worn away as by water or ice or wind

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

a kitchen servant employed to do menial tasks (especially washing)

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

1/60 of a minute; the basic unit of time adopted under the Systeme International d'Unites

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used with I and we for the future, or to offer and suggest

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

a woman, girl, or female animal already mentioned, as the subject

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the quality of being simple or uncompounded

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

being or characteristic of a single thing or person

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

for that reason; with the result that

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

not in physical motion

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

engaged in a struggle to overcome especially poverty or obscurity

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

English economist remembered for his studies of the development of capitalism (1880-1962)

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

used before a noun that is already known, already mentioned, or the only one of its kind

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

subsequently or soon afterward (often used as sentence connectors)

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

in or at that place or location

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

judge or regard; look upon; judge

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

an instance or single occasion for some event

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

past form of “tinge” — affect as in thought or feeling

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used before the base form of a verb to make the infinitive

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

remove the edges from and cut down to the desired size

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

consistent with fact or reality; not false

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

two times

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

a weave used to produce the effect of parallel diagonal ribs

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

Dictionary entry pending editorial verification. Tap Listen to hear the word.

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

being or moving higher in position or greater in some value; being above a former position or level

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

a formal word for “on”

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the act of using

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

a tall piece of furniture that provides storage space for clothes; has a door and rails or hooks for hanging clothes

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the past form of “be” used with I, he, she, it, or a singular noun

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

the speaker together with one or more other people

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

(often used as a combining form) in a good or proper or satisfactory manner or to a high standard (“good” is a nonstandard dialectal variant for “well”)

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

used to ask for information about something

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

any or all of a kind, it does not matter which

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

used to introduce a clause giving more about a thing just mentioned

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.

a Caucasian

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

including all components without exception; being one unit or constituting the full amount or extent or duration; complete

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

used to talk about the future, or about willingness

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

-ing form of “wipe” — rub with a circular motion

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

in the company of; together with

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

a unit of language that native speakers can identify

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

the words that are spoken

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

produce a literary work

From this reading —Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfections of words.—Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning.—But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself—failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black,—all was green.——The green sattin night-gown hung there still.

of the color intermediate between green and orange in the color spectrum; of something resembling the color of an egg yolk

From this reading ’twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah._—My mother’s whole wardrobe followed.—What a procession! her red damask,—her orange tawney,—her white and yellow lutestrings,—her brown taffata,—her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.—Not a rag was left behind.—“_No,—she will never look up again_,” said _Susannah._ We had a fat, foolish scullion—my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity;—she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.—He is dead, said _Obadiah_,—he is certainly dead!—So am not I, said the foolish scullion.

the person or people being spoken to

From this reading ——Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp’d into the kitchen,—master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_—the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah_’s—we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah._ I hope not, said _Trim._—You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly.—The mourning ran not in _Trim_’s head, whatever it did in _Susannah_’s.—I hope—said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true.

(used of living things especially persons) in an early period of life or development or growth

From this reading ——My young master in London is dead? said _Obadiah._— ——A green sattin night-gown of my mother’s, which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah_’s exclamation brought into _Susannah_’s head.