Word: manned
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Dates: during 1870-1879
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LOUIS JOHN RUDOLPH AGASSIZ died Sunday evening, December 14, 1873, and there is no one in this country whose death will be more deeply mourned, either as that of a private citizen or of a man of science. Professor Agassiz, of Huguenot descent, was born in the parish of Mottier, near Lake Neufchatel, Switzerland, on May 28, 1807. His lineal ancestors, for six generations, were clergymen; his mother was the daughter of a physician, and to her his early education is due. While quite young he evinced a taste for scientific study, which he developed by attending the College...
...regret to say that our remembrance of the scenes in the Massasoit House on the night after the last regatta pictures anything but a condition of "communion and fellowship" between some of the principal contestants. And is that ambition a laudable one, which allows a Princeton or a Harvard man to be careless of distinction in the sight of his Alma Mater alone, but would spur him on, with the pleasing hope of reading in the various journals of the country, that Smith of Princeton or Harvard took a Greek prize at the intercollegiate contest? We think not, decidedly...
...Meet Freshman at station. Observe foreign-looking man in sombrero. Freshman suggests spy. We suggest brakeman. Take compartment car. Freshman, ourself, and mysterious stranger, locked in together, go madly rushing through the night. Have observed stranger handing papers, doubtless important, to villanous-looking man in station. Certainly not brakeman, possibly spy. Do not have a good night's rest. Stranger refuses a pull at our flask. Suspicious...
...steamer, English bottom, long, low, rakish hull, B. No. 3. Interrupted by pistol-boom from quarter-deck, we weigh anchor (4000 lbs., more or less). We lend a hand, which is blistered. Observe mysterious stranger sorting papers in the shadow of a warehouse. Freshman fires, does not drop his man, - no cap, and proper position of cartridge reversed. Our native land, good night! (Byron...
Last Morning. - Band of Imperialists in the distance. Man with sombrero advances, apparently waving flag of truce. On his approach - can it be? - we recognize our ancient enemy of New York. He carries papers in his hand. We are scared, but unintimidated. Get him inside the intrenchment; stamp on him. Examine his papers, - O shame! they are tracts. Swear thus to treat all invaders of the free soil of Cuba. Mysterious stranger says it is n't Cuba, it's Patchoughe, Long Island, and he 's a colporteur, and we are children of wrath. Band (three men and a reporter...