For instance, there was the case of O’Callaghan, for one, the half crazy faddist, respectably connected, though of inadequate means, with his mad vagaries, among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a nuisance to everybody all round he was in the habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper (a fact).
A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York Street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from the cradle by Speranza’s plaintive muse.
But it did not, at that time, seem to me doubtful that, if there are two patches of red in two different places, there are two particular reds. The necessity of thinking them two was bound up with the relativity of position: the two patches, I thought, differ only in position, and since position is not a quality (or so I thought), it presupposes diversity and cannot constitute it. With the recognition that position in space is absolute, the situation changed. A red patch on my right can be a complex of the two qualities redness and rightness; and a patch on my left can be a complex of the two qualities redness and leftness. Right and left, as well as up and down, have, in all their various degrees, the logical characteristics which are required for geometry, and it is their union with some one quality, such as redness, which gives plurality to two patches of redness seen simultaneously.
(Bertrand Russell, My Philosophical Development, ch. 14)
Parked in North Prince’s street His Majesty’s vermilion mailcars, bearing on their sides the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettecards, parcels, insured and paid, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery.