Turfy

Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,

The wind still sounds between the hills: and whistles through the grass of the rock. The firs fall from their place. The turfy hut is torn.

“Can you see many long weeds and nettles amongst the graves; or do they look turfy and flowery?”

[…] the fields […] were brown, turfy and stiff, these fields where battles of the Hundred Years’ War had been fought,

Good and fearless horse-women themselves, their whole delight seemed to be in the discussion of matters pertaining to the stable; and when meeting any young lady friend from a distance, the first questions were not enquiries after parents, sisters, brothers, or friends: no, nor even the lady-beloved talk of weddings and dress; but the discourse almost invariably took a “turfy” turn, that was, to say the least, unfeminine in the extreme.

Made up with curls, wreaths, wings, white bismuth, and carmine, this hopeful young person soared into so pleasing a Cupid as to constitute the chief delight of the maternal part of the spectators; but, in private, where his characteristics were a precocious cutaway coat and an extremely gruff voice, he became of the Turf, turfy.

When a Frenchman is horsey he never runs the risk of being mistaken for a groom or a jockey, as do his turfy compeers in England.