Word: heavenly
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Dates: during 1880-1889
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...resting place on a rugged couch behind the long, low window-and here we are on the other side of the window, gazing at it with a terrible feeling of sick fascination. Horrible! We turn away in unutterable disgust and with white lips seek the free air of Heaven once more...
...college life is not so quiet after all, and we ask Snodkins to tell us more about the subject. "Well," says he, "the drummer's chum played the fife before the procession, and that was excruciating, I admit; especially with a bones accompaniment. But that's over now, thank Heaven," and he sighs with relief. "Other noises," he continued, "are not so bad, nor so numerous. There's the Glee Club member, to whom it is quite a pleasure to listen, except when he has a friend who is learning to yodel; then there's the whistling freshman, always...
...tell you little except what happened to myself. I pulled my "plug" down over my ears and rushed in. At the first onset somebody knocked off my hat- I thought my head had gone too- I put my hands up, it is my head, still there, thank heaven! But I have no reason to rejoice, for when I left home that night as the last buckle of my armor was being girded on, I heard a voice as if from the depths of Thayer saying, "Return with our plug or without your skull." There was no mistaking...
...course of study takes three years to complete. The term opens in the middle of November and ends the first of August. The subjects taught are paleography, languages, bibliography, diplomacy, political, administrative and judiciary institutions; civil and canon law of the middle ages. Such a school is a heaven for the specialist in any of these subjects. The instructors are all eminent men, and the number of students is so limited that each and all of them come in direct contact with the lectures...
...would seem to be the only thing left for the unfortunate writer as "sorrows crowd upon him thickly," and his "life is like a gloomy night." Again we have the false ring, bringing with it as a matter of course, ridicule. Sincerity is of value in any thing under heaven, but nowhere more than in poetry of any decent kind. This is a point the "ridiculous poets" always forget...