Landlord Edmund was seen and felt by all men to have done verily a man's part in this life-pilgrimage of his; and benedictions, and outflowing love and admiration from the universal heart, were his meed.
1855, Thomas Carlyle, Fraser's magazine, Volume 52[1], Digitized edition, published 2005, page 345:
Word-warriors and wit-wantons would waste their breath upon one whose book-hunger has won him so rich a meed, …
1926, T. E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom
To man-rational, wars of nationality were as much a cheat as religious wars, and nothing was worth fighting for: nor could fighting, the act of fighting, hold any meed of intrinsic virtue.
