The wind blows stiffly from the nor'-east . . . and the shapeless passengers lie about in melancholy bundles—The Calais Night Mail
Then dropped upon her knees before us, with protestations that we were right—Some Recollections of Mortality
On the starboard side of the ship a grizzled man dictated a long letter to another grizzled man in an immense fur cap—Bound for the Great Salt Lake
Blinking old men who are let out of the workhouse by the hour have a tendency to sit on bits of coping stone in these churchyards . . . the more depressed class of beggars too bring hither broken meals, and munch—The City of the Absent