Loyal Watson stooping so far as to strike that beloved paragon of intellect, the inestimable Mr. Holmes? An utter travesty! Even a brief perusal threatens to rob me of my tenuous consciousness….

A minstrel show is a caper, or perhaps sometimes a folly, but NEVER does it rise to the status of a lark. It is a boorish product of the American colonies wherein the qualities of honest folk of African descent are mocked by slack-jawed, mincing hooligans.

Horrible seems an apt description. Also perplexing and troublesome, for what other actions have those responsible undertaken since, quite unobserved?

You are all much too kind.

Ah, is there nothing that does not cohere gracefully with that remarkable compound? Wait… by the powers! The good Reverend has only just now reminded me that my own medicinal supply grows as scanty as Irish largesse. I must procure more from that charming oriental tea-merchant without delay!

Actually, I agree with Thaifrio up above. The anachronistic language post gimmick is getting old. It was an interesting exercise for a while, but I can tell people are getting sick of it. Oh well, fun while it lasted. Farewell from Elegant Victorian Lady, everyone!

What is missing at the start of your sentence? Also, if you use an abbreviation, as in the second word, you must include an apostrophe.

And again, no upper case letter. Your difficulty with this very basic rule of grammar seems very consistent, but I do enjoy this new rivalry we have adopted, you and I, in a spirited critique of eachother's writing.

It is more correctly spelled: 'how is about', but I think you will find that the 'is' in the middle is not needful. Also, you have once again forgotten an upper-case letter at the start of your sentence. Tsk.

And yet, sir, your spelling of 'teahouse' is even more in error. Also you will find that sentences begin with an upper case letter, and when a phrase is contained in inverted commas, it must be identical to the original. Though I admire your scrupulous inspection of the writing of others, may I suggest your own…

Dreary rejection! Now I must confess a secret: my sole motive for this flurry of activity has been the curry the attention, (purely professional, you understand) of Mr. A.H., and instead find that I have only driven him away. To earn a critique from that sober Jew has been my first ambition, and now that I have,…

Thaifrio: It happens to us all, sir.

Oh, how wonderful! Another imagining of those bold champions of old, garbed all in cold, unyielding metal but armoured by peerless virtue! It was during my adolescence that my fervour for these tales grew, becoming, or so my family humourous maintained, a near-obsession. Something about these tales fired the…

"Hello, young lady. Did you know that when I was a child, a girl with red hair was thought to be irredeemably evil, and would be burned as a witch!"

The term you are searching for, in vain, apparently, is 'women of the night', a polite euphamism for those sad souls who, from poverty, sloth or wanting character, offer their indelicate enticements to dull-witted libertines. 'Twilight girls' on the other hand are found largely on the beaches of Ireland in areas…

Or cricket, perhaps? It calls for a not inconsiderable amount of prancing.

The eyes appear to move. There, did you see? One clearly regards me with an intent I can scarcely articulate. It is very troubling. I am not, as a modern woman married to a progressive and thoughtful man, given much to brooding on matters supernatural. But if I were of the Elizabethan era, I might call upon a…

I have seen both words spelled in that fashion many times by Welshmen. Also 'Inglouious', 'Inglowerus' and 'Inglish'. The second word has ranged from the most common 'Bistar' all the way to the nearly unrecognisable Bloustag, which cannot be pronounced correctly when sober. And these variations have occurred solely…

You are all far to indulgent of my tiresome narratives, for which I thank you, as would Winnifred, I am certain, had she not once again taken herself off to her favourite spa just outside the City of Lights. I am quite eager for her return, as, in error, she left certain small books in my keeping which I am certain…

A wanton? Why, I had occasion to call my adoring but sadly mischievous cousin Winnifred a wanton just recently. It is quite an amusing story, in fact. The silly little creature had burst into my powder-room quite unannounced, being excited by some trivial bit of gossip or another, as is her sad habit. On this…