Word: roofed
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Court tennis is still played with a lopsided racquet, a low net, a court with a sloping roof. Each point is played twice. The spot where a player loses a point is marked and then the other player tries to beat this mark. On the net line sit individuals chanting in a monotonous voice. "Four-better than three-worse than three. . . ." The ball, harder and almost as heavy as a baseball, makes bulletlike noises as it hits the walls. Extra racquets are piled at the side of the court. Breaking one, a player grabs another, finishes the point. Sometimes...
...what," wondered Old Boys, "what is the old school like nowadays? Are boys what they were when we were there?" The Old Boys had been hearing rumors that "thundermugs" are never thundered on the Gym roof at The Hill nowadays; that "The Coffee-Colored Angel," "Doc" MacNooder and J. Humperdink Stover have no modern counterparts at Lawrenceville; that schoolboys today are Serious, Responsible, Self-governing, Mature...
Within, the sheetlet gloated. Columns aired triumphantly the doings of Photographer Richard Sarno in stealing the picture. Obtaining a top floor apartment next door he climbed out the skylight and crept to the roof edge. Patiently peering at the baby porch a floor below him, fortified with a roof repairman's tools and a bland air of industry in case he was surprised, the hours slipped by. Swaddled thickly the baby slept below. It was dusk, and no picture. The next day Sarno crept out on his roof again. Late in the morning Baby Vera stirred, tossed. The tiny...
Near the storied river Ganges, at flourishing Allahabad, Central India, stands a jail. Last week 100 Indians, incarcerated at hard labor, revolted, pinioned their native overseer and vengefully cut off his nose. Then, arming themselves with edged tools, they climbed to the roof of the jail and bade fanatical defiance to the British Empire as personified by additional warders who appeared armed with revolvers, dragging a machine...
Cincinnati, Queen City of the West, focus of seven trunk railroads, sent 1,000 of its leading citizens to the capacious roof garden of its Hotel Gibson last week to dine with George Dent Crabbs and to laud him with all their might for persuading the railroads to build a $40,000,000 freight terminal and a $35,000,000 union station. Other Cincinnatians had striven towards the same ends since 1899. Mr. Crabbs, president of the Cincinnati Railroad Terminal Development Co., after only four years of wise, eloquent persuasion, succeeded...