Word: confession
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Dates: during 1880-1889
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...confess to having used our scissors rather freely in making up the article entitled, "Philadelphia's Provincialism," which appears on another page. But the subject is so ably presented by the writer to the Nation that it had been folly for us to attempt to better it. Of course to college men the subject has interest chiefly because of its relations to college life and influence, for Philadelphia's provincialism seems to be attributed in a very large measure to the policy of the University of Pennsylvania, the chief educational institution in that district. The name "University" is made...
...recent game on Jarvis Field, but that our outside readers in particular are all too likely and ready to assign to it far too much significance in regard to the tone and character of our foot-ball team, is quite as undeniable. The evil, we have to confess, does, does exist in a noticeable degree, and being interested in the reputation and welfare of the college we trust the reminder, given by our correspondent, will not go unnoticed. Profanity is quite as out of place on the foot-ball field as in the parlor...
...article from the pen of some prominent alumnus, and common report assigned to Mr. Wendell the honor of contributing the first of this series. Such proves to be the case. The Monthly opens with a sketch by the author of the Duchess Emilia, entitled "Draper." We must confess to a little disappointment in reading it, and dared we say it, we would remark that this article is not the feature of the magazine. C. O. Hurd, '86, has a critical article on Poe's "Murders in the Rue Morgue," in which Poe is called to task for want of logic...
Accustomed as we have grown by sad experience to the utter disregard of fair dealing usually shown by Yale freshman nines, we must confess that the assurance of the present demand is little less than appalling. In reply to the claim filed by the enterprising manager of the New Haven freshmen, we will simply quote the Boston Herald, which expresses our sentiments exactly. From its base-ball columns we clip the following...
...envied Coleridge, who at his will, could conjure up airy domes and pleasure houses for Kubla Khan and Abyssinian maids, to solace his night solitudes, while he, Lamb, could not muster a fiddle. And so he concludes that there was nothing inspired in his own poetry. I must confess to having felt the same mortification. There is my friend C., who has wonderful visions in his sleep; and when in a tone of conscious superiority, he tells me of them, I become so jealous as almost to grow to hate him. Why, a short time ago he dreamed...