Word: maile
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...probably know, New York apartment houses are designed by architects who never read magazines and thus aren't interested in installing mail boxes of proper size; so magazines are dumped into a common basket or spread upon a lobby table...
...that the stars and the balls of tinfoil we delightedly rolled up would have impressed us much if other leftovers hadn't followed us all through our school days. Cannon on the courthouse lawn; a mail-order catalog soldier-with-bayonet in every public park; red paper poppies for sale in the streets; yearly "Conventions" with men in uniforms bowling down Main Street, slapping each other on the back, singing rowdy songs, drunk at the intersection trying to direct traffic with a cardboard whistle. Later, war movies, R. O. T. C. parades, University Gothic towers with memorial plaques, billboards plastered...
Neatly sorted into files are newspaper stories and photographs of the Foreign Secretary which he constantly collects, aided by friends all over the world who snip and mail anything they see about "Flying Sam." These remind 55-year-old Sir Samuel that he is an expert fancy skater, that he was Charles Augustus Lindbergh's host in London after the Spirit of St. Louis flight, that he won a socialite tennis championship last year at Dinard, and that he painstakingly answered as Secretary of State for India over 15,000 questions asked him by the Joint Select Committee...
Green came back for a first in the broad jump with a leap of 23 feet, 11 inches, and later avenged his hurdles defeat when he led Philbrow to the tape in the last event of the meet, the 220-yard hurdles. Quoting the "Daily Mail" for what it is worth. "It was a thousand pities that a bad start prevented Pilbrow from winning the last event--the low hurdles--and so giving victory to Oxford and Cambridge. Green, however, got a 'filer.' Although Pilbrow sprinted wonderfully well, he could not get on terms...
...told her he was going to Ethiopia, and left her to take care of the children in his Amroth Castle, South Wales. This was once the country seat of Lord Kylsant, also a beefy John Bull, who went to jail for his irregularities as chairman of the Royal Mail (TIME, Nov. 16, 1931 et ante). There today Fat Chaps is respected as Mr. Francis M. Rickett, velvet-capped Master of Foxhounds of the swank Craven Hunt in Berkshire. The local lords and squires who hunt with him know nothing about oil, and little about Mr. Rickett. In Irak sheiks know...