Door-post

[…] if the conſperſion and waſhing the door-poſts with the blood of a Lamb, did ſacramentally preſerve all the firſt-born of Goſhen, […]

In all my shopping chaperonings, I do not remember to have leant against the door-post, or stood with my back to the fire-place, or sat half on half off that anomaly in household furniture, the shop-chair, of a single house in this whole line of street.

The residence which Mr. Prodgers shared with several of his fellow-pupils, was situated in a small street lying somewhere between Burton Crescent and Gray’s Inn Road, of a modest and unassuming appearance, with a triad of names upon the door-post, surmounted by bell-knobs, and a scutcheonless hole for a latch-key in the door, which bespoke, by its worn and dilated aperture, the late hours kept out of the house by the inmates.

The blood of the passover was sprinkled on the lintels and the door-posts, and was God’s token of their safety amidst surrounding dangers.

They deemed it little scathe indeed / That her coarse homespun ragged weed / Fell off from her round arms and lithe / Laid on the door-post, that a withe / Of willows was her only belt; / And each as he gazed at her felt / As some gift had been given him.

A lot of young men in long frock-coats glued to the door-posts, so limp, poor things, and all the women drinking tea by themselves and longing for the young men.

This entrance is through a little courtyard, in which is the stable and coach-house combined, where Madame Perinère, a lady who paints the magic word ‘Modes’ beneath her name on the door-post of number seventeen, keeps the dapper little cart and pony which carry her bonnets to the farthest corner of Paris.