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Updated: May 2, 2025
They came to the evil-smelling tannery, and to the frog-pond just behind it, stretching cold and still in the moonlight, and covered with a noxious, slimy scum. It was horribly different from the Persian's usual baths, but, once in he forgot its chill in the lust of the hunt.
But Craig shook his head lazily, and Wade, cinching his loosened belt, limped with aching legs down the slope. The trainmen were already pulling the smouldering, evil-smelling waste from the box, and after watching a minute he loitered along the track beside the car. Several of the shades were raised and the sight of the gleaming white napery and silver brought a wistful gleam to his eyes.
It almost seemed that he loved wild beasts better than men, whose cloak of virtue he hated because it was woven out of evil-smelling hypocrisy and wickedness. They called him the herald. "We are surprised," they said, "that the Rabbis and High Priests in Capernaum, Tiberias, and Jerusalem should keep silent. They could put this man to death for his words." But the herald had no fear.
An anarchist, Pa dissatisfied with things as they were, but with no plan for improving them. His evil-smelling pipe between his lips, he would sit, stocking-footed, in silence, smoking and thinking vague, formless, surly thoughts.
Conroyal, "'tis but a holy cross I am cutting to scare the devils away from following us up that evil-smelling stream," and he pointed to the east fork of the little river, from which arose a faint odor. "Wal," grinned Ham, "I shore dew hope that you scare 'em away; for thar shore is devils a-follerin' us," and his grin broadened at sight of the startled look that came into Pedro's face.
Whether the city grew much sweeter is doubtful; certainly Paris in the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was as evil-smelling as ever.
Mutilated telegraph-poles and broken straggly wires, evil-smelling pools of water, scattered bricks, torn roadways, and walls blackened and scarred by bomb and shell, completed a scene of mournfulness and desolation. We passed one corner house on the shutters of which some "infanteers" had chalked the inviting saucy sign, "Ben Jonson's Café."
Catlike, he landed on his feet five yards below in the center of a great, hollow stub; and, cat-like, he almost immediately began to climb the circular wall that surrounded the damp, evil-smelling hole into which he had fallen. But the wood was decayed; it was so soft and spongy it would not support his weight.
There was a gentle murmuring sound as of a soft wind among trees and a gentle tinkling as of a running stream. Then my brain seemed to burst. I was dimly conscious that I was falling backward, and I knew no more. Where was I? What was this darksome, foul, and evil-smelling place?
She made some black coffee rank and evil-smelling it was and finally she set the strange meal before the old woman. Becky eyed the repast as one might who fancied that she dreamed. Cautiously she touched the food with her lean fingers, then she clutched it and ate ravenously, desperately fearing that it might disappear.
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