'Just a few heads of ideas.

When the wind puffs down a sooty chimney the air is filled with little blacks that settle pretty much like the notes in this book of mine.

There they wait for another puff, or my fingers to stamp them.' 'I could tell you were the owner of that book,' said Lord Fleetwood.
He swept his forehead feverishly.

'What a power it is to relieve one's brain by writing! May I ask you, which one of the Universities... ?' The burden of this question had a ring of irony to one whom it taught to feel rather defiantly, that he carried the blazon of a reeking tramp.
'My University,' Woodseer replied, 'was a merchant's office in Bremen for some months.

I learnt more Greek and Latin in Bremen than business.
I was invalided home, and then tried a merchant's office in London.