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poplars. It is hard to say what there was about them that made them so
beautiful to Mr. Polly; but they seemed to him to touch a pleasant
scene to a distinction almost divine. He remained admiring them for a
long time. At last the need for coarser aesthetic satisfactions arose
in him.
"Provinder," he whispered, drawing near to the Inn. "Cold sirlion for
choice. And nut-brown brew and wheaten bread."
The nearer he came to the place the more he liked it. The windows on
the ground floor were long and low, and they had pleasing red blinds.
The green tables outside were agreeably ringed with memories of former
drinks, and an extensive grape vine spread level branches across the
whole front of the place. Against the wall was a broken oar, two
boat-hooks and the stained and faded red cushions of a pleasure boat.
One went up three steps to the glass-panelled door and peeped into a
broad, low room with a bar and beer engine, behind which were many
bright and helpful looking bottles against mirrors, and great and
little pewter measures, and bottles fastened in brass wire upside down
with their corks replaced by taps, and a white china cask labelled
"Shrub," and cigar boxes and boxes of cigarettes, and a couple of Toby
jugs and a beautifully coloured hunting scene framed and glazed,
showing the most elegant and beautiful people taking Piper's Cherry
Brandy, and cards such as the law requires about the dilution of
spirits and the illegality of bringing children into bars, and
satirical verses about swearing and asking for credit, and three very
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