from The Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia

  • n. A small jug or pitcher for holding cream at table.


Sorry, no etymologies found.


  • One night the late Mr. Sadleir took tea in that dining-room, and, to the surprise of his butler, went out, having put into his pocket his own cream-jug.

    Roundabout Papers

  • The next morning, you know, he was found dead on Hampstead Heath, with the cream-jug lying by him, into which he had poured the poison by which he died.

    Roundabout Papers

  • He empties that cream-jug and puts it in his pocket; and then he opens yonder door, through which he is never to pass again.

    Roundabout Papers

  • The fragments of the solid banquet had been removed, but no sacrilegious hand had been laid on the teapot and the cream-jug.

    Doctor Thorne

  • The tea-cups out of which they had been drinking were made of some elegant porcelain, the teapot and cream-jug were of chased silver and as delicate in their sway.

    The Small House at Allington

  • I have got a quantity of things already, and yesterday Mrs MacHugh sent me such a beautiful cream-jug.

    He Knew He Was Right

  • The same idea was carried out in the cups and saucers of thick homely delft, and in the cream-jug of similar kind.

    The Lair of the White Worm

  • The silver teapot and cream-jug were bright and shining, but they were rather small; and he could not help thinking that it would take a great many of those daintily-cut slices of bread and butter, to satisfy his appetite; so he was glad to see a good-sized loaf on a table near, and other more substantial things which had been added for the travellers.

    Left at Home or, The Heart's Resting Place

  • At five-and-twenty a night of wearisome and broken sleep makes small difference to the spirits, and when he had washed as well as he could by the aid of a cream-jug full of water and a saucer, and a towel handkerchief, and without the aid of soap, he dressed, and sallied out with the intent to lose himself in Paris.

    Despair's Last Journey

  • The young woman, after having wiped me dry, once more presents the cream-jug, this time with both hands, but I can only murmur faintly in my trouble, "Thanks, no -- no _more_ cream."

    Lippincott's Magazine, Vol. 22, August, 1878


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