skilly

Having taken a cold bath on entering, I would be given for supper six ounces of bread and “three parts of skilly.”

I let go, and they looked reproachfully at me, as though I had imperilled their chance for a bed and three parts of skilly.

The pannikin contained skilly, three-quarters of a pint, a mixture of Indian corn and hot water.

I struggled manfully, but was mastered by my qualms, and half-a-dozen mouthfuls of skilly and bread was the measure of my success.

This bitterness which lingered persistently in the mouth after the skilly had passed on, I found especially repulsive.