Word: gays
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...Harvard 61a Th. at 11 Emerson D6a Th. at 10 Sever 357a Wed. at 10 Emerson F8 Wed. at 12 Sever 179b* Wed. at 12 Harvard 110a Wed. at 9 Widener U11* Wed. at 2 Emerson H14* Wed. at 11 Widener U15* Wed. at 4 Widener U24* Consult Professor Gay Widener 11731* Wed. at 10 Widener U33* Th. at 2 Emerson H34* Th. at 2 Widener U37* Th. at 9 Widener U38* Th. at 10 Emerson H41* Wed. at 9 Sever 20Seminary in Economics*Mon., Oct. 4, 7.45 P. M. Widener UEDUCATIONA Th. at 9 Lawrence...
...father, gay Seely Lord, who sang at the Metropolitan when Caruso was elsewhere, was delighted when John returned to New York to find himself the father of such a youth. There was something princely in the way he posed, astride an otherwise unmanageable black stallion, for Sculptor St. George; in the calmness with which he retrieved and accepted the handkerchief and door key dropped at his feet by his first woman, a reigning and inaccessible beauty...
...across the room to tell his secretary, found her tittering timorously and avoiding his look. Again he looked at his paper. Here was his name in print! What had he done? Dastardly impudence! Oh! . . . This was not the Wall Street Journal. He was reading the Bawl Street Journal, its gay, impish perfect imitation which the Manhattan Bond Club issues for its annual picnic. Now he could settle down to enjoy the neighborhood merriment...
...morning down Washington's broad, smug streets glide sleek gleaming Rolls-Royces, lean sport cars, great grey-lined limousines. Liveried chauffeurs pull up gracefully in front of buildings gay or sombre with grey, blue, green, yellow, black, purple, red-flags of varied designs. Out step pompous diplomats, flick imaginary dust from immaculate morning coats, stride self-conciously up their embassy walks with top-hats a-glinting in the morning sun. Ah!-to be a diplomat! Last week Don Juan Riano y Gayangos, dean* of all Washington diplomats, Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of His Most Catholic Majesty Alfonso XIII...
...they understand the beauty of our city Who are not connoisseurs of loveliness? For it is not the beauty of gay lights; Nor of swift moving crowds; nor quick young laughter ; Nor of shop-thronged streets; nor the sharp hard clink of money Passing from fist to fist. Rather it is the beauty Of an old, old woman in a black mantilla; Of an old, old woman with unutterable wisdom Behind her wordless reticence; who lights a candle In token of prayer before a faded picture of the Madonna. Or it is humble beauty- A flock of goats tumbling down...