Word: moonlighting
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Twice she circled the globe, and many times she wandered off into Arabia on a quest for pure joy. "Can you picture," she cries, "the singular beauty of these moonlight departures! The frail Arab tents falling one by one . . . dark masses of the kneeling camels . . . shrouded figures . . ." These things lured Gertrude Bell into desert lands and kept her prowling there, writing books on archeology, writing others on the land & people which British officers later conned furiously as they set sail to fight the Near Eastern campaigns of the World...
...whether the possessor of great wealth can, by use of legal talent, detective agencies, tampering with the jury and through the absence of important witnesses in Europe, defeat the aims of justice and keep out of the penitentiary. The whole sordid scandal is like a dead mackerel in the moonlight. It stinks and stinks...
Everybody knows the melody. Jessie Brown Pounds and John S. Pearis composed it in 1897, when Cardinal O'Connell was in Rome, domestic prelate to Pope Leo XIII. Voices welling with young love sang it from stoops to hollyhocks and sunflowers nodding in moonlight; voices welling with grief sang it at funeral services. It still draws applause at burlesque shows, and it still can soften the memory of clods plumping down on coffins. It is an accepted hymn in many a Christian church...
...exploits that made him the American counterpart of Francis Drake reached their heights in the moonlight encounter between his Bon Homme Richard and the British ship-of-war Serapis; an encounter which began when the British captain, Pearson, cried: " 'What ship is that?' From the Richard came the reply: 'I can't hear what you say.' 'Answer at once,' shouted Captain Pearson, 'or I shall fire.' . . . The Richard's bo'sun leaned out of a port. 'Fire, and be damned to you.' " For a long time guns...
...last year, when, after the Harvard supporters had listened patiently to songs for old Nassau, my boys, and were aching for a chance to show their contempt for the whole proceedings by singing of the things they were going to do to old Eli the Band, obligingly struck up "Moonlight and Roses." Its mournful notes may have been vaguely appropriate, but they did not seem so at the time. For the dulcet tones of popular melodies serve only to annoy the Stadium's frenzied occupants, whose demand will ever be for the trumpet's martial blare, and the cymbals' clash...