Word: forester
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...which an exhibition distillery was humming. Most of last year's real fun was to be had in the ribald Streets of Paris and in the Belgian and Midget Villages. Last week's Fair vistors found no dearth of villages-American Colonial. Old English, Spanish, German Black Forest, Mexican, Dutch, Italian, Tunisian, Swiss, Irish, Oases, Shanghai. All Villages were run by U. S. citizens. The Midway had been moved to the Island. The side, peep-and girl-shows which opened many a rural eye last year were back in reduced numbers. Again the Fair tried to keep them...
Trudging home last week through a cool birch forest, peasants of the Polish town of Ciechanow heard for the eighth time a horrible sound-the agonized scream of a little girl. Seven times in the past three weeks little girls, all between 3 and 6, had been found in meadows and clumps of forest stabbed in the stomach and bleeding badly. A horrid boy, they said, who grunted like an animal had attacked them with a knife, sucked their blood and disappeared. Two of the little girls bled to death before they could be hospitalized...
Last week when the peasants heard the child screaming in the birch forest they paused in fright for a moment, then rushed bravely to the rescue. And they caught the vampire, a wild-eyed, tattered boy stabbing wildly at a little girl...
...unco-highbrows, should be grateful for the reassuringly human voice of Critic Van Wyck Brooks. He is known by the minority that reads him as a sound, tonic, unacademic observer whose interest in the tall trees of literary criticism has not blinded him to the more important U. S. forest. These Three Essays on America, originally published separately (1915, 1918, 1921), are as pertinent now as when they were first written...
...Yard comes a new denizen of field and forest, a beast long since missing from urban confines. The how and wherefore of its appearance will always remain hidden in the shrouds of mystery, but as to its disappearance no stately veil shall long hang heavy there. Complacent bovines were once, and perhaps still may be allowed to roam gracefully through the greensward, and unmolested give their milk for Harvard, but birds and even beasts of other colors are ruthlessly driven from the protecting shelter, not, alas, out merely into the humdrum whirl of exhaust-filled urbanity, but straightway to meet...