Word: ire
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Unless you continue to print more of Mary Elizabeth Robinn's letters and stop using the word "Manhattan" I will stop my subscription. . . . That disappointed virgin Robinn must need a mate to soften her perennial ire against the Prince of Wales. As far as I can remember (and that is some two years back) she has been scolding you about the Prince's baggy eyes, or is it trousers? You need no humorous column as long as you sow your LETTERS with such luscious tidbits of outraged virginity. If you stop my subscription because of the above...
...adored. One day she gave him a carnation. He wanted to pin it to his father's lapel, but Jacob told him to take it home, press it. When the boy left the store, he discovered that he had lost the flower. How meet his father's ire? At dinner that night he had a carnation in his buttonhole. It was the exact duplicate, in minute detail, of Mrs. McKinley's carnation, which Father Jacob had found. "Michael," said Jacob, who had the original in his pocket, "you're a good matcher." Michael...
...Parisian Ire. The semi-official Parisian journals fulminated last week against Signer Mussolini for having, in their opinion, deliberately caused his agents to egg on a plot which might well have embroiled France and Spain if it had gone much further...
Secessionist Hertzog. This diplomatic opening at once roused the ire of General Hertzog, fiery, secessionist Premier of the Union of South Africa. Said he: "I wish to say a few words as to South Africa's attitude in regard to the Empire or British Commonwealth of Nations.‡ It has our hearty support and will ever have our hearty support, irrespective of parties and races, as long as it is and shows the character of a commonwealth of free and independent nations, each free and striving to attain what is best for itself, yet in such a manner...
...alone in his ire. From public print to public print the story went and was made much of, fondled by those who see in college the best kind of news, flutor unfit to print. Last Sunday the trivial little editorial was used as the text for a sermon. Perhaps is was only asking sanctuary, like the hero of Galsworthy's new play. At all events it received little. The gentleman of the clergy was strong in his denunciation. And he was not completely wrong...