forlorn

On the brilliantly lighted avenue he perceived the forlorn woman dodging about like a scout.

Meeting with Hodgkiss Misfortunes of the Nez Perces Schemes of Kosato, the renegado His foray into the Horse Prairie- Invasion of Black feet Blue John and his forlorn hope Their generous enterprise-Their fate-Consternation and despair of the village- Solemn obsequies -Attempt at Indian trade -Hudson's Bay Company's monopoly-Arrangements for autumn- Breaking up of an encampment.

I was received by a solemn man-servant out of livery, was informed that the family had retired for the night, and was then led into a large and lofty room where my supper was awaiting me, in a forlorn manner, at one extremity of a lonesome mahogany wilderness of dining-table.

We find him next, or rather get back to him, standing forlorn in the cold autumn rain at a suburban street corner in Blackburg; and it seems right to explain now that the raindrops falling upon him there were really not dark and gummy; they only failed to make his face and hands less so.

Meanwhile she lay on her bed with old Joanna at her side, for even in her wanderings she did not forget her forlorn protege.

By the involuntary effect of a genial temperament, Phoebe soon grew to be absolutely essential to the daily comfort, if not the daily life, of her two forlorn companions.

Wilson was elected, the twins were defeated--crushed, in fact, and left forlorn and substantially friendless.

He treated me, in my forlorn situation, with a delicacy and respect which I shall remember gratefully long after he has himself perhaps forgotten our meeting altogether.

Such of them as still possess horses, and occasionally figure as hunters, are called Shoshonies; but there is another class, the most abject and forlorn, who are called Shuckers, or more commonly Diggers and Root Eaters.

He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.

They have been scorched, it is true; like the survivors of forlorn hopes, they have by unthinkably miraculous ways come through the fight to marvel at the tally of the slain.

Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing a tall straight jet of misty spray, and these words underneath -- The Spouter-Inn: --Peter Coffin.