Word: descent
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Pork Expended. Joe Martin was born 69 years ago in North Attleboro, Mass., across the street from the smithy where his father worked as long as 16 hours a day for $15 a week. Joseph Martin the elder was a Presbyterian of Scots descent; his wife, Catherine Katon Martin (now 93), an Irish Catholic. Some of their eight children were reared as Catholics, some as Presbyterians. Joe, the second child and eldest son, was one of the Presbyterians, but he belongs to no church...
...whose right to be called a marchioness was recently disputed when two Italian newsmen declared that her parents were a chauffeur and a janitor's daughter. At the newsmen's trial for slander, Irma's father had indignantly complained: "To doubt my daughter's aristocratic descent is to slander the father of the fiancee of Farouk, whose wedding is imminent." At week's end, however, Irma herself hastened to restore Farouk to full bachelor status. "I prefer not to marry," sighed she. "Farouk is sensible and tender, but marriage is the tomb of love...
Smug Little Incubus. Author Brophy is Londoner of Irish descent. At 24 she writes clean, cool English prose, shows a perceptive grasp of her material and has turned out a pointed and amusing little satire. Her last chapter, entitled "Soliloquy of an Embryo," follows the brief career of Edwina's "snug, smug self-sufficient little incubus." It is the kind of fantastic literary device that only a very competent and very serene writer could bring off. Author Brophy manages...
Technically-as the Soc. Rel. man himself well knew-a matriarchy is "a state or stage in social evolution in which descent is traced in the mother's line," or, more generally, "a society in which women exercise the main political power." In applying the term to Harvard, however, he was merely pointing out that the University is essentially run by its female employees...
...Gascon, though some say of Norman descent, When starved till faint gazed up at a trellis to which grapes were tied- Matured till they glowed with a purplish tint As though there were gems inside. Now grapes were what our adventurer on strained haunches chanced to crave, But because he could not reach the vine He said, "These grapes are sour, I'll leave them for some knave." Better, I think, than an embittered whine...