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Updated: June 15, 2025
Expecting a kind of torture-house wherein he would be starved, sweated, thrashed by brutal kourbash-wielding overseers, he found the most palatial and comfortable of clubs, a place of perfect peace, safety, and ease, where one was kindly treated by those in authority, sumptuously fed, luxuriously lodged, and provided with pleasant occupation, attractive amusements and reasonable leisure.
His going was marked by a constant shower of stones, sometimes behind him, as the wiry cayuse climbed like a mountain goat; but as often in front, as horse and rider coasted perilously down some declivity. The horse sweated and trembled with nervousness, as a frightened child might, but never refused to attempt what its master demanded of it.
"Of course, the prisoner can't be Whitmore. He's dead. There's no doubt of that." "Not the slightest," acquiesced Britz. "Yet Whitmore and Travis were one and the same person. Now what do you think occurred?" "A substitution of prisoners," guessed the chief. "Precisely," said Britz. "I sweated a confession out of the substitute. He's a poor, sorrowful creature, named Timson.
Men who could stand more travelling were hurried to the hospital ships. Stretcher-bearers toiled and sweated. The steamers, laden to their utmost capacity, slipped from the quay side and crept out into the Channel. One hospital was filled and cleared three times in twenty-four hours. The strain on doctors and nurses must have been terrific.
"Oh, I sweated the beef off 'em, and then I sweated some muscle on to 'em. It was rather a lark." "If that's your way of lookin' at it, we can give you all the larks you want. Young Davies isn't feelin' quite fit, and he's next for detachment duty. Care to go for him?" "'Sure he wouldn't mind? I don't want to shove myself forward, you know." "You needn't bother on Davies's account.
Wilson's only rival, a gynecologist named O'Hara, got results, too; but he sweated and swore through his operations, was not too careful as to asepsis, and looked like a gorilla. The day had been a hard one. The operating room nurses were fagged. Two or three probationers had been sent to help cleanup, and a senior nurse. Wilson's eyes caught the nurse's eyes as she passed him.
I believe I sweated a double handful of sweat -I know I did because it got in my eyes, and it was running down over my nose all the time; and you know my pants are tighter than any body else's Paris foolishness and the buckskin seat of them got wet with sweat, and then got dry again and began to draw up and pinch and tear loose it was awful but I never heard him sing.
The heat was intense, and the horses that stood waiting in the avenue, sweated in the sun as they fought the flies, and pawed the hard road in an agony of impatience. Sybil was exquisitely lovely as she went by on old Mr. Sherwood's arm.
The old steward, who, in steel cap and jack-boots, led forth her array, had, as he said, sweated blood and water in his efforts to overcome the scruples and evasions of the moorland farmers, who ought to have furnished men, horse, and harness, on these occasions.
On the evening when the Bovarys were to arrive at Yonville, Widow Lefrançois, the landlady of this inn, was so very busy that she sweated great drops as she moved her saucepans. Tomorrow was market-day. The meat had to be cut beforehand, the fowls drawn, the soup and coffee made.
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