He sat upright, almost imperceptibly but effectively bending his head in harmony with the curve of his horse's neck, and his baton swept the air low in proud submission to the honours cast on him by his acclaiming soldiery.

His three-cornered lace hat, curled wig, heavy-trimmed surcoat, and high boots, reminded me of Prince Eugene.

No Prince Eugene--nay, nor Marlborough, had such a martial figure, such an animated high old warrior's visage.

The bronze features reeked of battle.
Temple and I felt humiliated (without cause, I granted) at the success of a work of Art that struck us as a new military triumph of these Germans, and it was impossible not to admire it.

The little Princess Ottilia clapped hands by fits.