“Meanwhile the hounds were giving vent to voices of every conceivable kind. One, his head tossed back, was, drawling so protractedly and zealously that God knows what fee he was getting for it; another was snapping it out as briskly as a sexton; among them rang a tireless treble, probably a young puppy’s, like the bell of a mail-coach; and all this with a robust canine nature, because he wheezed the way a vocalizing basso wheezes when a concert is in full swing, when the tenors rise on tiptoe in their burning desire to hit a high note, and all strive upwards, heads thrown back, while he alone, his unshaven chin tucked into his cravat crouching and sinking almost to the floor, lets out a note from down there that makes the window panes rattle and tinkle.”
Nikolay Gogol, “Dead Souls”, 1842.
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