Word: contently
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Next Saturday the Harvard players are doomed to being outdressed by the visiting band, wearing full military regalia, and boasting a seven foot drum. Harvard is content to forego the brass buttons and gold braid now that its representatives have added the polish of courtesy to the tunes that they have always rendered faithfully...
There can be no rebuttal. There is merely opportunity for agreement. Technically Harvard is nothing more that an institution of learning. It never bas been more, nor does it ever wish to be. And if the members and alumni of the University are content with this restricted aim, all commentaries, either complimentary or double edged, fade into a deeper twilight than the twilight of the gods...
Reds. French Communists were content during the Paris excitement to demonstrate passively at Clichy, Soviet-infested suburb of Paris. But one midnight, as a trainload of legionaries rumbled along between Cannes and Nice, a considerable section of railroad track suddenly leaped and twisted upwards in the dark, wrenched out of place and heaped with rocky debris by a powerful explosive. The legionaries had escaped disaster by five minutes, owing to their
...sheep, from whose charge he derived a yearly income of $20,000, even now a generous stipend for any preacher. No doubt Henry Ward Beecher deserved such recompense for his services; he was called the most eloquent preacher since St. Paul; women fainted when he shouted and roared. Not content with the homage he had already received, he must enlarge his influence; with this in mind he began to publish in a religious weekly, the Inde-pendent,* containing sermons or other miscellaneous notions. Scandal. On the staff of the Independent was a young man, one Theodore Tilton, whose wife...
...that there was one undergraduate mood or type which was receiving no adequate expression. The answer would appear to be found in the Hound and Horn, whose bay is akin to a yelp from the Village and whose blast is more dulcet than shrill. Not a popular magazine in content, in fact apparently somewhat proud of its aloofness, its appeal is directed to the denizens of the candle-lit tea rooms, those flery spirits to whom James Joyce is an immortal and Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot minor prophets. The sincerity of this public compensates for its numerical insignificance...