... when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander. Kicked out of there for something shady. A remittance man. A check arrives in Batavia every three months. He has a grand time. Then he goes stony, and beats his way around the islands for another three months. Retribution has a queer way of acting sometimes. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. ... — The Ragged Edge • Harold MacGrath
... our nineteen chartered banks and their one and twenty suburban branches going. Just beyant is one hundred million acres of it, and the dhirty stuff grows forty bushels of wheat to the acre. Don't be like the remittance man from England, sorr," with a quizzical look at the checked suit of his interlocutor, "shure they turn the bottom of their trowsies up so high that divil of the dhross sticks to them!" As Mulcahey winks the other eye, we drift out into ... — The New North • Agnes Deans Cameron
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