Word: dogs
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...sections, the first reaching subscribers last April, the second, last week. Explained lively Publisher Carl L. Estes: "The second annual East Texas edition of last year . . . received much praise and only one complaint: that it was 'too big.' One subscriber, who had spent years training his dog to bring in the paper from the front porch, irrevocably canceled his subscription, saying that in a vain attempt to make good on the enormous issue the dog had torn it to ribbons and then died of a broken heart. Seriously, papers of 350 pages or more...
...Exciting event: someone spotted a guillemot, black-&-white seabird heretofore unknown so far north. Finally, with the base in perfect running order, the four planes took off together for the return to Rudolf Island 560 miles away. At the Pole for a year, they left four scientists and a dog. Since the gasoline supply was short, one of the planes sacrificed half its tankage for the others, came down halfway to wait until more fuel could be flown north. The rest reached Rudolf Island on schedule...
High in the backwoods 14 miles from the Tennessee River opposite Guntersville, Ala. lived 75-year-old Grandma Georgia LeMaster, a shrunken little woman writh a thin, still face and hands like corded leather. Mrs. LeMaster set great store by her grandson's shepherd dog, a big black mongrel named Nero. One day last week, Nero was disporting himself on the public highway. Along came Houston Sims, driving over Grassy Mountain in his car. There was a yelp, and when Mrs. LeMaster got to the road, Nero was dying in the dust...
Says Rosamund, the novelist who is the heroine of Deeping's story: "One must suffer in order to be able to say things, my dear." She is only talking to her faithful dog, being too shy to say it to anyone else, but she means it. Rosamund has suffered so much that she has been able to say a great deal, and has become a bestseller. Her shyness arises from the fact that she was born with a nevus (strawberry-mark) all over her left cheek, and at 35 she is a recluse. Except for her blemish...
Rosamund is not content. She has her friend, her work, her dog, her faithful retainers and a very nice place, as private as possible, overlooking the sea. But she sometimes considers throwing herself over the cliff. Then, one foggy day, a plane crashes in the woods above her house. Rosamund is the only one near; she runs for help, has the battered pilot carried to her house. The poor fellow is so badly smashed that at one point everybody but Rosamund and the reader give him up for dead. He comes around eventually, turns out to be 24, good-looking...