If he succeeded in this, the 'sconcer' had to pay for the drink.

Here he buried himself in a close-printed, thickish volume which had been his chosen browse for some time.

[…] from the hilltop were to be seen no cluttered barren lots sodden with spring rain and churned and torn by hoof of horse and cattle, no piles of winter ashes and rusting tin cans, no dingy hoardings covered with the tattered insanities of posted salacities and advertisements.

Rumors of Princess Diana's said-to-be-imminent decampment for Manhattan — beyond her scheduled glamourama visit this week — are driving New York's celebrity-mad, boldface residents into a frenzy.