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Updated: May 8, 2025
In the stillness of the night the brigades moved steadily forward, and only the regular scrunching of the hard sand betrayed the advance of an overwhelming force upon their enemies. No operation of a war is more critical than a night-march. Over and over again in every country frightful disaster has overtaken the rash or daring force that has attempted it.
The person was walking in the middle of the road and his progress was uneven, stopping sometimes altogether, then going forward. Abreast the house the sound of heels grinding in the snow that was dry as powder was like the scrunching and squealing of the steel tire of a wagon in bitter weather. They passed, grew fainter, finally stopped altogether. Mrs. Toomey moved closer to her husband.
Pedestrians began to appear; handsomely dressed ladies were more frequently encountered; the men had otter skin collars to their coats; shabby sleigh-men with their wooden, railed sledges stuck over with brass-headed nails, became rarer; whilst on the other hand, more and more drivers in red velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bear-skin coats began to appear, and carriages with rich hammer-cloths flew swiftly through the streets, their wheels scrunching the snow.
"The housekeeping was left to her, and as we all share alike it ought to have been a matter of honour with her " "But Lady Caroline housekeeping for the party here? A party which includes my wife? My dear lady, you render me speechless. Do you not know she is the daughter of the Droitwiches?" "Oh, is that who she is," said Mrs. Fisher, scrunching heavily over the pebbles towards the hidden corner.
When he reached the street he walked along humming to himself until he came to the Luxembourg. He lay down on a seat in the shade, and closed his eyes. The air was still and heavy: there were only a few passers-by. Very faintly he could hear the irregular trickling of the fountain, and every now and then the scrunching of the gravel as footsteps passed him by.
Sometimes she would run home alone through the twilight, her heels scrunching the snow, her whole being filled with a vague and unchildish sadness and disquiet as she faced the tender rose, and orange, and mauve, and pale lemon of the winter sunset.
Watching my chance, soon after we came out of church on this eventful occasion, I dexterously managed to fasten the fish-hooks with the crackers attached not only to different points of the master's garments, but also to his hat; and, the scrunching of our feet on the gravel pathway from the village deadening the sound I made in scratching the match I used, I contrived to light the crackers before any one, save the boys immediately alongside of me, perceived what I was doing.
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