The driver […] neither knew any thing, said any thing, or did any thing but watch a dozen equine ears, and keep six reins taut in his hands, and coax the off wheel[-]horse with the belly of his whip-lash every two minutes, invariably accompanying the stroke with a tremendous solitary cluck.

She lazily scrubbed the pot, but without some real elbow grease it wasn't going to get clean.

“Well,” he said, “that fellow talked kind of rough to me, and I thought I might have something done to him for insultry.”

For Heaven still guards the right.