She would sit down by the door and look at the praying people-the churches were thronged to-night-and dreamily wander into hazy speculations, soothed by the chanting voices and the sweet, heavy air, till she woke with a start, and so out again into the dim city, where the ashes came riding on the east wind like rain.
"The Furnace"
Rose Macaulay
The Eskimos, chanting songs, loomed ahead, their forms magnified in the unearthly light.
"My Attainment of the Pole"
Frederick A. Cook
The young Eskimos, chanting songs of love, followed with easy, swinging steps.
"My Attainment of the Pole"
Frederick A. Cook