Word: tramp
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...final echo of the military tramp of last week's welcome visitors will be swallowed up this afternoon when the Dartmouth Indians' war whoop fills the Stadium. It is always a pleasant sight to find the men from New Hampshire again in town with their pipe of peace. The tradition of the Dartmouth game is not new; but it is still young enough to stimulate plenty of enthusiasm on both sides...
...final blow has been dealt, and by none other than the American Legion, which has a number of methods quite remarkably its own of coming before the public eye. In witness whereof Boston is at this very moment reverberating to the martial (albeit slightly unsteady and irregular) tramp of feet, the blat of tubas, the rattle of canes (in Heu of musketry) and the clash of an indescribable array of colors. Her citizenry has the opportunity of feasting its eyes upon an unparalleled collection of 100 per cent Americans and hats. Admittedly not as many of these ardent militarists have...
...Tramp, tramp, clump, clump?pure chance brought a marching column of revolutionary troops abreast of the wedding whoopee. Tousled and valiant, bridegroom and bride were standing off their tipsy tormentors. To one hilarious wedding guest, possessor of a seven-shot pistol, the glorious moment clearly demanded noise. Into the air he blazed what sounded like a fusillade?bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang...
Even the title of Robinson's latest poem has a tragic irony. Nightingale is the name of the piece's villain; the glory of the Nightingales comes to a sad end. As the poem opens, middleaged, destitute, half-starved Malory, onetime bacteriologist, now a tramp, is walking country roads towards the town of Sharon, on his way to an act he thinks Fate requires of him. In his pocket is the infinite wealth of a revolver. He is going to kill Nightingale, once his best friend, his onetime rival in love, his onetime benefactor, then his ruin...
...good "stiff" (man). Washington police prepared for an influx of hoboes at the funeral last week in All Souls' Unitarian Church (whence William Howard Taft was buried). After the services the body was to be cremated and sent on to the family home at St. Louis. Only one tramp, and he but a nominal one, was there-Harry W. Johannes Jr. of Baltimore, representing the idealistic International Brotherhood Welfare Association. He would not enter the church, remained outdoors, distributing copies of The Hobo News. The only funeral eulogy was a phrase from Matthew:-"I was an hungered...