His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, several times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown, which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was so like smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked wall than a head of hair, that the best players of leap-frog might have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over.
Book One, Chapter 3: The Night Shadows, A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, published 1859.
I've always loved Charles Dickens' knack of giving comic relief, but this was a just wonderful. It was a much needed chuckle. I have a great respect for any writers who can write anything and still keep a spark of humour on the side. It must take a lot of effort.