Word: barne
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...October 1928 the ministry at Borley parish had stood vacant for some time. Borley Rectory, a rambling, ramshackle Victorian barn of a house, sprawled on an Essex hillside, had little to offer the wife of any rector. Its roof leaked; its plumbing was in hopeless disrepair; its corners and closets were cluttered with the detritus of ages; rats and mice infested its secret corridors; and many of its rooms were unfurnished. To the Rev. Guy Eric Smith, a man of middle age newly ordained to the ministry, all this was of little account-a parish was a parish. But what...
...Clairfield, Tenn., after he disappeared from the Army in 1942, Farmer Hubert Osborne dug a tunnel from his house to the barn to use as an escape route if the MPs ever showed up, panicked when they finally arrived, ran across the lawn dropping a telltale trail of bran from a sack he was carrying, was arrested, charged with desertion...
Both the Harvard and Radcliffe groups had excellent diction. I was able to understand almost every word they sang, despite the barn-like acoustics of the Union. A lovely French carol, Le Miracle de Saint Nicholas, was especially well articulated by the Radcliffe Chorus and six soloists. Among the modern pieces which Radcliffe performed were Britten's exquisite Balulalow, originally written for children's voices, and Christmas Bell by Thomas Beveridge '59. Beveridge combined modal harmony to a nicely vocal melody but, for the only time during the concert, the singers' intonation was somewhat faulty. Radcliffe sang Vaughan Williams' Winter...
...raccoons invaded the property, too, in search of winter provender. In the gracious house, the lamps were snapped on earlier each day in salute to the sudden evenings, and open fires on the hearth provided a warm welcome after a walk in the frosty outdoors. In the great stone barn there was a steamy, cozy air of expectancy; several of the cows were freshening, and soon the herd of Aberdeen Angus, Holsteins and Brown Swiss would be larger...
...barn one early evening last week, the Brown Swiss cow was calving for the first time. A small knot of anxious men stood near by. Farm Manager Ivan Feaster, becoming alarmed at the slow process of birth, raced off to call a veterinarian. He was stopped in his tracks by a shout from the barn: "It's all right, Ivan," yelled Farmer Dwight Eisenhower, "don't bother to call." In the stall, the mother cow licked the quivering body of her offspring, a fine bull calf, while the President of the U.S. looked on in beaming approval...