Word: steers
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...through. In a sketch of Henry Ford, Author Pitkin disclaims ambition to write the Ford biography-"the job would be too dull for us." Walt Whitman he calls a caution, but is forced to admit, "Not until introverts no longer read and write shall we be rid of the Steer that lived on Leaves of Grass." In spite of all, Author Pitkin remains incorrigibly optimistic. With not unheard-of scientific naivete he hopes to save mankind by mechanization of many of man's functions. In his age of Super-Sense, "A hay fever sufferer will . . . have a pocket sniffer...
...when Mr. Overman drags out a small, moony-eyed calf which he says will be Bullfighter Lahr's first victim. It is while the apish comedian is stamping around making chests and defiantly crying: "I'm a machador, I'm a machador!" that his real opponent, a large fat steer, cautiously muzzles...
...received by the following first year Law School students: J. P. Blaisdell, of Claremont, California; E. A. Haight, of Rockford, Illinois; J. F. Harding, of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; R. A. McLaughlin, of West Roxbury; J. M. Murtagh, of New York City; C. F. Steele, of Buffalo, New York; P. W. Steer, of Parkersburg, West Virginia; and Nolan Thorpe, of Brooklyn, New York...
...boys swarmed up the ladders of success, her girls skid softly down self-greased ways to hell. His boys could not tell sex from a horsecar, her girls know skyscrapers are phallic. Though writing in this general drift (Bad Girl, Loose Ladies, Kept Woman], Authoress Delmar manages to steer her novels into waters of some depth. She is serious, sincere, sympathetic. At her best she grants a novelist's final absolution to the world-she writes of her characters as they would write of themselves. In her latest novel Authoress Delmar writes of three women and takes pains...
...Bovril is distilled from meat is secret, Bovril, Ltd. has never attempted to conceal the fact that it takes 20 to 30 pounds of good lean beef to make one pound of Bovril. This circumstance is cunningly suggested by the Bovril poster, which shows a shaggy and slightly dilapidated steer staring at a bottle of Bovril with a wild surmise that is elucidated in the caption: "Alas! My poor brother." Bovril sales took a big jump during the influenza epidemic of 1918 when it became standard British hospital diet. Bovril profits - some $1,500,000 a year -have been built...