Chasing the Sun. Robert Michael Ballantyne

so goot,” said one of the young ladies, handing Mr Sorrel a plate of smoked salmon.

      “Tak, tak,” (thanks, thanks), said our artist, accepting the salmon, and beginning to devour it.

      “I say, what d’ye mean by ‘ver so goot’? You’re never done saying it. What does it mean?”

      The fair waitress laughed, and bowed politely, as much as to say, “I don’t understand English.”

      “Can you explain it, Fred?” said Sam.

      “Well, yes, I can give you a sort of explanation,” replied Fred, “but it is not an easy sentence to translate. ‘Ver so goot’ (another claw of that lobster, please. Thanks),—‘ver so goot’ is an expression that seems to me capable of extension and distension. It is a comfortable, jovial, rollicking expression, if I may say so. I cannot think of a better way of conveying an idea of its meaning than saying that it is a compound of the phrases ‘be so good,’ ‘by your leave,’ ‘good luck to you,’ ‘go it, ye cripples,’ and ‘that’s your sort.’ The first of these, ‘be so good,’ is the literal translation. The others are more or less mixed up with it. You may rely on it, Sam, that when a Norwegian offers you anything and says ‘ver so goot,’ he means you well, and hopes that you will make yourself comfortable.”