Word: ain
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Hardihood* "Realism Has Crossed the Potomac," by Ferry The Story. "Broom sedge," old Matthew Fairlamb used to say, "ain't jest wild stuff. It's a kind of fate." Opposed only by ignorance and indigence, it crowded Virginia farmlands, Pedlar's Mill in particular, into hopelessness. Men either subsided into ruts-like Dorinda Oakley's plodding father and slaving mother; or their lives straggled, grew weedy -like Dr. Graylock with his whiskey, yellow wench and brood of pickaninnies at dilapidated Five Oaks. Walking early and late to work at the store in Pedlar's Mill...
...Fontainebleau and Compiegne loaned specially by the Republic. These backgrounds and the costumes are extraordinary. The story cannot match them nor can the performance of the actress. The usually dependable Miss Swanson overplays the little laundress who rose to be a Duchess. She could not remember not to say "ain't" and got herself in trouble with the Princesses, Napoleon's sisters. A great many francs and a lot of actors from the Comedie Française went into the manufacture of all this. On its appearance it was, liberally judged, unworthy of the trouble...
...negro once declared, when told to get a job at the Eagle Laundry, 'Boss, Ah ain't had no 'sperience in washin' eagles.'" That is the way Mr. Stewart, himself a Yale graduate, felt about addressing Harvard audiences, he declared; but his present lecture tour with its attendant hardships has prepared him for the ordeal of disclosing to them the history of his life. His humor only came into its own, he said, when he left business as a profession some four years ago. Until then, his precocious wit was disparaged unanimously by neighbors, schoolmates, and employers. The first phase...
...several minutes, while those on the float held their breath. Finally he headed for the boat house. The spectators stood on tiptoe. As the boat drew hearer, a wide grin could be seen stretching Charlie's mouth from ear to ear, "Boss", he shouted, with a loud guffaw, "that ain't no body. That's a heap of ashes...
...hangs over Washington. The newly arrived stranger in the city reads gloom written all over the faces of the honest burghers. Perplexed to explain the general mourning, he asks a passer-by what great person is dead. Shaking his head, the honest, citizen sighs: "Nobody dead, worse luck. There ain't gonna be any circus at all." After months of feverish anticipation the great show has been canceled...