Word: tenderness
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...advertisements for a cigar which is, in appearance, somewhat squat, in odor, somewhat acrid, has been pictured a face known to all lovers of loud music-the face of John Philip Sousa. The famed bandmaster was depicted gazing in tender contemplation at the squat object or, with a presumably acristogy inserted between his crisp military mustache and his neat professional Van dyke, enjoying a happy solace while he listened, rapt, to some exalted strain. Last week Lieut. Commander Sousa began a Supreme Court action to re cover $100,000 damages from the P. Lorillard Co., which had thus, without...
...doors of the Manhattan Opera House, wherein Bernardo de Muro, famed Italian tenor, sang last week in Trovatorc. Next day, Manhattanites of other nationalities read with astonishment of the singing of this De Muro-how his allegro was as clear as the bells of- Capri, his pianissimo tender as the mandolins of Sorrento and how the great assembly of his countrymen in the galleries, pit and loges of the old opera house rose shouting, with cries of "Ancora," "Bravo" and "Yeah." De Muro, they read, is known as the greatest tenor in Italy. He lives in Milan, where he sings...
...Houghtons. It started by Ambassador and Mrs. Houghton being received in audience by Queen Mary. The U. S. Ambassador also attended the usual Pilgrims' dinner, where he did not make the usual speech. Said he: "Anglo-American friendship is not a tender plant. . . . I sometimes wonder if it were not well that it be spared the scorching winds of after-dinner oratory...
...nearly 32 years Bishop of Massachusetts, the Rt. Rev. William Lawrence, D.D., S.T.D., stated, last week, that the administration of his diocese had been placed in the hands of Bishop Coadjutor Slattery. Said he: "Those whom I have confirmed, and there have been some 60,000, I hold in tender memory. ... I shall, of course, still be moving in and out among you, worshiping with you, sometimes leading you in worship and preaching...
...over a cloud, but lightless in the glade he wanders; the forest talks to him in many voices; night presses her hands over his eyes. Ever lie hear.; in his heart the voice of the once happy squirrel, reproaching him for the hurt he did her furry side, her tender paw, and he weeps with regret in the sullen copice, uncomforted. The squirrel, unable to support any longer the pain of her wound, falls swooning at his feet. He picks her up. He bandages with fumbling care her paw in a silk ribbon. Ah, how they rejoice then, the creatures...