Gill (Mrs. Peter). Bustling matron with a genius for innovation. She conducts her household affairs according to sanitary and sanatory principles; discovers that condiments are pernicious and that beans are excellent for the complexion; is bent upon a water-cure, and finds out and invents so many “must bes” and “don’ts” as to ruin the comfort of husband and children.—Robert B. Roosevelt, Progressive Petticoats (1874).
Gil´lamore (3 syl.) or Guillamur, king of Ireland, being slain in battle by Arthur, Ireland was added by the conqueror to his own dominions.
How Gillamore again to Ireland he pursued ...
And having slain the king, the country waste he laid.
Drayton, Polyolbion, iv. (1612).
Gil´lian, landlady of Don John and Don Frederic.—Beaumont and Fletcher, The Chances (1620).
Gillian (Dame), tirewoman to Lady Eveline, and wife of Raoul the huntsman.—Sir W. Scott, The Betrothed (time, Henry II.).
Gilliflowers. A nosegay of these flowers was given by the fairy Amazo´na to Carpil´lona in her flight. The virtue of this nosegay was, that so long as the princess had it about her person, those who knew her before would not recognize her.—Comtesse D’Aunoy, Fairy Tales (“Princess Carpillona,” 1682).
Gills (Solomon), ship’s instrument maker. A slow, thoughtful old man, uncle of Walter Gay, who was in the house of Mr. Dombey, merchant. Gills was very proud of his stock-in-trade, but never seemed to sell anything.—C. Dickens, Dombey and Son (1846).
Gilpin (John), a linen-draper and train-band captain, living in London. His wife said to him, “Though we have been married twenty years, we have taken no holiday;” and at her advice the well-to-do linen-draper agreed to make a family party, and dine at the Bell, at Edmonton. Mrs. Gilpin, her sister, and four children went in the chaise, and Gilpin promised to follow on horseback. As madam had left the wine behind, Gilpin girded it in two stone bottles to his belt, and started on his way. The horse, being fresh, began to trot, and then to gallop; and John, being a bad rider, grasped the mane with both his hands. On went the horse, off flew John Gilpin’s cloak, together with his hat and wig. The dogs barked, the children screamed, the turnpike men (thinking he was riding for a wager) flung open their gates. He flew through Edmonton, and never stopped till he reached Ware, when his friend the calender gave him welcome, and asked him to dismount. Gilpin, however, declined, saying his wife would be expecting him. So the calender furnished him with another hat and wig, and Gilpin harked back again, when similar disasters occurred, till the horse stopped at his house in London.—W. Cowper, John Gilpin (1786).