Word: slid
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...retreat of educators from an increasingly unmanageable mass of modern knowledge. Looked at historically, I think the hay-field episode is an accurate illustration of what has happened in our colleges during the last century. Overwhelmed by new facts that were coming faster than they could be managed, educators slid off the stack, stuck the pitchfork into the ground, and, turning to green freshmen, said, with the profanity deleted, "Stack it your-self...
...stack and began pitching in dead earnest. The man on the stack managed to keep his head above hay for a while, but before long he was up to his neck in hay that he could not handle. He managed to extricate himself from the mass of unstackable hay, slid off the stack, stuck his pitchfork in the ground, and said: "Damn it, stack it yourself...
...consider how much worse is taking pictures of Holden Chapel without Mazie. Two sleuths were doing that Sunday afternoon. They would sneak to one side and snap a picture, then sneak to the other side and snap another. And I then pulled up my coat and collar and slid by, for I remembered that it is very easy to get suppressed in this town. All of which reminds me that I wrote a version of the story in the last "Mercury" merely to prove that I had read it and lived--which is more than some have done. For instance...
...Eating places in Champaign are few. Some are mere "greasy spoons." No matter, men must eat. Every place was crammed with yammering students. Sweaty waitresses, coughing waiters sloshed their soup bowls down in the few table houses. Counter men yelled their orders through the aperture. Cooks slid steaks across the grill into plates, and called them done. Roasts were rare that day. No one was particular. Restaurateurs were happy, were economizing, were profiting...
...bartenders' sticky fingers lifting undue moneys from the till. On a trip to the old country he nosed around the ship's boiler room, noted the indicator that counted the propeller revolutions, bethought him of a machine full of cog wheels which his barkeeps would operate every time they slid a seidel of Extra Pale across the mahogany. His machine, when a proper key was depressed, clanged a bell and punched a hole in a roll of paper. On good business days the roll might run to a scroll of 20 ft. John Henry Patterson, then running some coal mine...