Word: ll
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1870-1879
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Then came a fat man, smelling of tobacco. He had several volumes of Bohn's works under his arm. This one was a Bummer, and spoke as follows: "Old man, I admire your pluck. If you'll only pitch into the Faculty heavy, we'll all buy your paper. You see, the Advocate and Crimson haven't got backbone enough. You just publish these complaints about janitors and short vacations, and these suggestions about a lower grade of degrees and abolishing prayers, and I tell you what, the fellows will back...
Then the Editor danced round his sanctum, and laughed right merrily. "Aha! aha!" cried he. "I'll please them all." So he wrote an editorial on Harvard Indifference, cut down the articles and the poem, and threw the correspondence on janitors into the waste-basket; and yet the paper was full, while the other college editors had to write their papers themselves that week. The next morning there was a poster on the front of University Hall, and great was the sensation in the college...
Ferdy began to feel better when they started, his long legs taking him along with the head men across the Common. "Ah," thought Ferdy, "now they'll see 'the telegraph poles' ain't so bad," and Ferdy "hitted 'er up" across the fences, and was soon at the head of the line, and the "whipper in" crying to him not to go so blankety fast or he'll tire out the crowd. As they run up the street Ferdy begins to have, oh, such a pain in his side, and you can hear his heart go thumpety-thump against...
Nevertheless Ferdy plods on, rubbing the afflicted part with one hand, while the muckers scream at him to "hurry up, daddy-long-legs, you'll get left," but Ferdy is too wretched to mind such sarcasm. At last his wind is gone, his legs feel like lumps of iron, and there is a ploughed field and a brook between him and the hounds. Ferdy stumbles and tumbles over the ploughed furrows, and nerves himself to jump the brook - vain attempt! splash he strikes in the water and sinks to his waist in the slimy refrigerator. It is too much...
...aunt, a sweet old lady - come round to tea some Sunday evening, and I'll introduce you - composed this...