Good Master Moody, my beard being cloudy, My cheeks, chin, and lips, like moon i' the 'clipse For want of a wipe— I send you a razor, if you'll be at leisure To grind her, and set her, and make her cut better, You'll e'en light my pipe.
— from The Newcastle Song Book; or, Tyne-Side Songster Being a Collection of Comic and Satirical Songs, Descriptive of Eccentric Characters, and the Manners and Customs of a Portion of the Labouring Population of Newcastle and the Neighbourhood by Various

My chief contributed a London letter to some Scottish paper—he came from the northern part of this island—and again my shorthand was required.
— from Far Off Things by Arthur Machen