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In no long time, however, I learned to imitate the prudence of boys who turn down the leaves of their books, or of Indians who break down the shrubs and twigs along a new path, by taking special note of my deviations,—a sort of mental dog’s-ear, or way-mark, interposed at the point of departure.

The ‘biceps’ should not do the work; for, if it does, either the hands are elevated or the level of the blade altered—if the elbows keep close to the side; or else, if the level of the hands is preserved, then the elbows dog’s-ear outwards.

It has many a dog’s-ear, but they are intentional, for each one marks a passage, and to every dog’s-ear a story is attached.

Was there not one dog's-ear upon another,–compound dog's-ears,–blot upon blot? were not the leaves regular proof-sheets,–and, in fact, speaking without metaphor?

Two thoughts jostled in my mind as he spoke; I seemed to see red-faced gentlemen in knee breeches, dog's-ear wigs askew over broad foreheads, reading out loud with unction the phrases, "inalienable rights ... pursuit of happiness," and to hear the cadence out of Meredith's The Day of the Daughter of Hades: Where the husbandman's toil and strife Little varies to strife and toil: But the milky kernel of life, With her numbered: corn, wine, fruit, oil!