Word: donkeys
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...August, a hot summer sun beat down mercilessly upon white mud walls. Small boys ran about the wharves throwing hot stones into cool blue water. overloaded donkeys put tiny feet upon cobblestones leading to old docks. Tired drivers urged their charges on in guttural Spanish. All paths seemed to lead to the water, to the quay, where moored to the stones three small ships lay, taking on stores for a limitless voyage. Idle crowds milled about the blue Mediterranean shore. On board the vessels activity was intense. Men, who by their very dress, proved themselves to be no native mariners...
Fond friends and loving relations bade again a last farewell, a small, gray-haired priest took leave from the largest of the ships, bidding it god-speed with holy sanction. A last supply of provisions arrived, the staggering donkey unloaded, and his precious freight put aboard...
...long white road north, unescorted and unannounced. Citizens of the bustling little seaside town of Viareggio had no idea that their King and Queen were among them as the royal car slipped in with the blinds half drawn. Hucksters cursed the King's chauffeur when his tooting scared a donkey. Then serenely the big car shot between the gateposts of the historic Bourbon-Parma villa and Italian royalty alighted to make a match...
...never chooses a monosyllable when a polysyllable will do. To him lobbyists are "obscene harpies." Fellow-Senators settle back for a quarter-hour's solid amusement when he strikes such a forensic vein as inspired his essay on the Democratic Donkey: "He is a braying compendium of stately dignity, stanch endurance, fortitude and patience. ... In our quadrennial Presidential campaigns there is more music in his raucous hee-haw than in the midnight minstrelsy of a nightingale. The donkey is a serio-comic philosopher, whose stamina and stoicism conquered the wilderness . . . a sure-footed creature of epicurean taste and gargantuan appetite...
...farm on the Missouri River which he called Potato Hill. At Potato Hill he promptly resumed his marathon of printed discontent in E. W. Howe's Monthly. Ed Howe wrote his magazine in illegible longhand. One of its first advertisements, for a horse, mule and donkey liniment, appeared regularly for 22 years...