Word: password
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Internationalism, since the war, has become an intellectual password, often-times of little meaning. There has been a great deal of romantic speculation about world brotherhood with lack of discrimination on the part of the individual in practical details. As a result foreign travel and education have developed rapidly, but frequently blindly...
Three Faces East (Warner). "Three Faces East" is the password of German spies operating in England, who answer when they hear it "Forward and Back." At the root of it all is the master spy, Erich Von Stroheim, whose allegiance to his Vaterland is not adulterated when the King of the Belgians decorates him for valor. The story is highly theatrical but, in view of what is known of the actualities of international espionage during the War, not excessively romanticized. It is good entertainment, smoothly built and wonderfully acted by Von Stroheim and Constance Bennett who make it convincing...
...Last week at Ivy Hall, home of William Grimsley Wood near Culpepper, Va., assembled 35 Confederate veterans for a reunion. They had no club, no ritual, but mint juleps in frosted silver mugs were served them generously. The password: "Where's Brandy Station?" Alexander Fontaine Rose, 84, of Mosby's Brigade, did some spirited dancing. Oldest veteran: John L. Poe, 92, 49th Virginia Cavalry. Honor guest: Mrs. Eliza ("Mother") Crim, famed Confederate nurse at the Battle of Newmarket...
Nevertheless, shoulder-slapping, grips and the password, "Howdy, Pap!" were not entirely laid aside before the Mooses sat down to discuss their concrete program. The word "pap" does not connote, to Mooses, a bland sort of mush or gruel fed to infants. When Moose greets Moose he merely pronounces the initials of "Purity, Aid, Progress." There was, of course, a gorgeous parade, which rain could not discourage, through streets which the Philadelphia Moose lodge (the largest, with 30,000 members) had spent some $35,000 to decorate becomingly with moose statues on pedestals, an arch of loyalty, flags, bunting...
Realism, so-called, is indeed the password and fetish of modernity. Realism, in painting, realism in literature, realism in music--and always this realism is atended by unpleasant noise whatever be the medium of expression, and rarely is it real. Yet cacaphony in music may, for all that, have more of a log to stand on so to speak, than disharmony in other branches of art, for only last night an article appeared in a metropolitan newspaper to the effect that music through its new mechanics will strengthen certain muscles in the ear that have become attrophied through disuse...