The pheasants, the wood-pigeons, or the coloured leaves were not worthy of a glance.

To see a gentleman up to his ankles in mud was quite an attraction.

The one stood with her lap half-full of acorns; the other with a basket on her arm.

The two urchins lay down on the ground, and peered from behind a thorn stole, their brown faces scarcely distinguishable from the brown leaves, except for their twinkling eyes.
The puddle was too wide to step across, as the women had said, nor was there any way round it.
The curate looked all round twice, but he was not the man to go back.

He tucked up his troupers nearly to the knee--he wore them short always--and stepped into the water.