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"Scavenger" Quotes from Famous Books

... Josh had paid no attention to such posted notices. The work of gathering drift-logs he considered beneath the dignity of an old sea-captain. "I'm not a scavenger," he had often told people, when they had asked him why he didn't collect the logs which always floated near his shore, and into the little cove just below his house. "If I can't make a livin' without doin' sich work, ...

— Rod of the Lone Patrol • H. A. Cody

... as for the provisions, such as got not too high, were so swathed in layers of questionable dust and grit as to be repulsive. Keeping even passably tidy was impossible, and in personal cleanliness a London scavenger could give a traveller by rail from Cairo to Assouan many points. It was at Wady Halfa that I got booked in the way-bill for Dakhala, or Atbara Camp, 390 miles away. The construction of the Halfa-Atbara line was, as I have said before, a masterpiece of military strategy, ...

— Khartoum Campaign, 1898 - or the Re-Conquest of the Soudan • Bennet Burleigh

... was no hour for finding cabs; it was the hour of the scavenger and no other being; and Rachel walked into broad sunlight before she spied a solitary hansom. It was then she did the strangest thing; instead of driving straight back for her trunk, when near the house she gave the cabman other directions, subsequently ...

— The Shadow of the Rope • E. W. Hornung

... Watchman, the record of which will afford us a good opportunity of learning something of what the duties of the office were. The Beadle combined in his office a number of duties, including one which he must have felt a little infra dig—I mean the office of scavenger! The following ...

— Fragments of Two Centuries - Glimpses of Country Life when George III. was King • Alfred Kingston

... tombed at rest, Sweat odours dank with Torpor's cold; Infernal paeons shake the busts Of idols planted in the light. And, ere immewed gyres froth black mists Unto all ghauts and splinter'd domes That cypher signs of dungeoned dell, A turgid dawn arrays this vale, Each dysodile scavenger sits On a tomb and fondles gray bones; An eyeless toad croaks from a well. Then cosmic force forsakes each dale: 'Mis Cyclopean pulse of hell Giant cauldrons vomit vapours green And skirr thro' bristling lanes and halls: Whilst beacons die and shrood each soul, Dank tears drop on a fatal bell, Wrought ...

— Betelguese - A Trip Through Hell • Jean Louis de Esque

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