contemptuosity

The state of being contemptuous.

That the said Mr. Cornelius Dalton persisted, notwithstanding this great act of contemptuosity and discouragement to his creditable and industrious endeavours, to expend, upon the aforesaid farm, in solid and valuable improvements, a sum of seven hundred pounds and upwards, in building, draining enclosing, and manuring—all of which improvements transcendantly elevated the value of the farm in question, as the whole rational population of the country could depose to—me ipso teste quoque.

Tony. And so I was Bessy, I was quarrelling with myself, I assure you it takes a deal of powerful language to make any impression on me, I’m obliged to come it very strong to do myself any good, but I think I have at last lashed myself into a determination not to stand it as I have done. Bessy. [r.] To stand what Tony. Tony. Why your uncle’s contemptuosity and opposition to our union; I suppose because my cousin won’t marry him—he likes to make every body as miserable as himself.

Someone or something that is contemptuous.

And now, if all the devices made use of on the occasion we have suggested—scowls, contemptuosities, cries of “humbug,” “devil in’t,“ charlatanry, and the hue and cry of editors, D. D.’s, M. D.’s, priests, lawyers, fashionability of churches, etc., put into grand action for reversing the mighty current of the Mrs. Scip., would prove a non sequitur, you can judge of the result of similar action upon the great “humbug,” Spiritualism; for, be it known to the sagacity of the corps editorial of The Winona Republican, that the said “humbug” is just as surely the mighty flow of Life’s unfoldings as the flowing waters of that great river are the results of gravitation. But, gentlemen, editors, and scientists, you must hurry up if you expect to kill Spiritualism with sneers, jibes, jokes, contemptuosities, scowls, inuendoes, or anything on that line, for you’ll find it a full Summer’s work. It has got to be a mighty hum—or rather snapping—bug.

A contemptuosity writes:⁠—“The League of Victorian Wheelmen allow their racing men to ride in anything, from a nightshirt to a potato sack. When Crisp won the Austral he rode in a sleeveless football or rowing guernsey, and looked so nice, as you may imagine.”