Sewery

I will only add here one word of advice to my readers: never tolerate a sewery smell in any part of your house: you know not to what it may lead.

Also how he saw a “brooke,” which was doubtless in his time a pretty little river, but which is now a sewery looking stream that tries to atone for its shallowness and narrowness by its thickness.

The litter-strewn mud when the tide was out somehow offended them much less than the sewery water when it was up.

Once King James risked the crown on a voyage beneath the sewery river.

He woke outside on the grass, on his stomach, his nostrils filled with an acid, sewery smell, and something was on top of him, crushing him, being lifted off for a second, then crushing him again.

“These aren’t sewer-pipes, anyway,” Stan said from behind them. “You can tell by that smell. It’s bad, but it’s not a sewery smell.”

Grandma’s was crowded and smelled of potpourri sachets and Christmassy dusting powder and the faint sewery smell from the bathroom it led to.