Word: musics
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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After the track meet the fourth and last spring football meeting will be held in the Varsity Club, at 6.45 o'clock. Captain A. E. French will preside, and speakers and music will feature the assembly, which is open to all men interested in football...
Another nap and the New York Evening Post occupy him before supper, at which from four to a dozen guests are present. In the evening he listens to music (there is a magnificent pipe organ at Pocantico), and plays a game called Numerica. No card advocate, he enjoys Numerica with its 52 chips, numbered from 1 to 13, with four of each number. The object of the game is to build four stacks of numbers from 1 to 13. It requires no little mathematical skill in marshalling the right chips at the right moment. Seldom has Mr. Rockefeller faced opponents...
...more fun than Norman Douglas. In his version of the beginning, when "the thing called Sin had not yet been invented," there were gods in the Celestial Halls, and on earth Satyrs, serenely beautiful. These Satyrs were the first and best to cultivate the earth and the arts of music, weaving, medicine, meteorology. In fact they grew so wise that the Great Father (head god) in a fit of jealousy cursed them to infecundity. But gods thrive on the fear and flattery of mortals. So Great Father thought up subservient man for their entertainment, molded him of refuse. The dying...
...Author. Norman Douglas divides his life into mystic twelves. His first twelve years he spent growing up (with Latin and Greek and a daily column of the dictionary by heart); the second in devotion to music, of which he is an accomplished votary; the next twelve in British diplomatic service to many strange countries; the next in writing erudite tracts on geology and archeology; and the latest twelve in more artistic though no less studied writing. His South Wind, which the needy author sold outright for ?75, is an esoteric masterpiece of exotic beauties, which has nevertheless gained wide enough...
...flying taken for granted. Yet "The Machine Stops" (one of the stories) presupposes these for a subterranean segregated existence, predicates a punch of the button for mechanical medical service, punch of another for compound food tablets, another for a lecture, and yet another for a symphony. But gradually the music goes bad, the artificial air fouls, and the great god machine deteriorates quickly to utter non-function, vomiting its inhabitants up dark passages to death from unaccustomed contact with fellow creatures, or from the unexpurgated air of the earth's surface...