One limped across the floor like a gouty grandfather; one set a pair of spectacles astride of his nose and pretended to pore over the black-letter pages of the book of magic; a third seated himself in an arm-chair and strove to imitate the venerable dignity of Dr. Heidegger.
— from Twice Told Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Among them were artisans of every kind in the attitudes of their toil, and a group of fair ladies and gay gentlemen standing ready for the dance; a company of foot-soldiers formed a line across the stage, looking stern, grim and terrible enough to make it a pleasant consideration that they were but three inches high; and conspicuous above the whole was seen a Merry Andrew in the pointed cap and motley coat of his profession.
— from Twice Told Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The forest looked a great gulf all around, And on the rock of Corbus there were found Secret and blood-stained precipices tall.
— from Poems by Victor Hugo

Indeed, so kind is Providence, that the huge brick mass of the Ely water-tower, like an overgrown Temple of Vesta, blends itself pleasantly with the cathedral, projecting from the western front like a great Galilee.
— from At Large by Arthur Christopher Benson

"I feel like a 'goosey gander,' sure enough," said Allison presently.
— from The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation by Annie F. (Annie Fellows) Johnston

Put them in the fire, like a good girl, and go on with your dinner.'
— from The Talking Horse, and Other Tales by F. Anstey

But her lips showed on her pale face like a geranium growing alone and looking westward in the twilight.
— from Bog-Myrtle and Peat Tales Chiefly of Galloway Gathered from the Years 1889 to 1895 by S. R. (Samuel Rutherford) Crockett

There were four windows in a row, and six beds, three occupied by the Rovers and the others by Fred, Larry, and George Granbury.
— from The Rover Boys In The Mountains; Or, A Hunt for Fun and Fortune by Edward Stratemeyer

A moment after a lithe and eager boy has gathered up fleece number one, and tossed it into the train-basket, the shearer is halfway down the sheep's side, the wool hanging in one fleece like a great glossy mat, before you have done wondering whether he did really shear the first sheep, or whether he had not a ready-shorn one in his coat-sleeve—like a conjuror.
— from Shearing in the Riverina, New South Wales by Rolf Boldrewood