Word: forehead
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...much interested in the school. Among them are many very curious things which would fill the soul of a dime museum propritor with envy. As, for instance, a cast of the skull of the horned woman, who had ragged pieces of horns six inches long protruding from her forehead, and the skull of a man who was cured after having an iron tamping bar pass through his head. Such are few of the wonders of the museum...
...dressed and armed in an adjoining room in the following fashion: All the body is protected with thick leather plastrons, and heavy gauntlets cover the hands and arms. Their eyes and nose are protected by gauze goggles so that no slip of the sword can injure them. The forehead, chin and cheeks are left exposed. The dueling weapon is somewhat like a rapier, but longer and flatter and quite dull with the exception of three inches at the point. This part of the sword is shaped like a razor and has as keen an edge. The great object...
Only twenty-four ! I should have thought her at least forty. Pale and sallow, lanky and awkward, with straight hair cut short and put back from a high forehead on which there were already many wrinkles, she looked a plain, unhealthy woman, her shoulders had the student's stoop, and her movements were constrained and full of gaucherie. She was careless, almost slovenly in her dress; but I mentally excused all this in her feeling sure that her concersation would be brilliant enough to make amends for all her other shortcomings. But what was my surprise when I found that...
...probably give the "Jesus" giants seventy-five in one hundred and beat them, especially when we remember that the curriculum now at an English university is athletic sports, and the rest nowhere, and that consequently the breadth across the chest is perhaps of more consequence than across the forehead...
...mouth shows decision and determination. She's rather opinionative. There's a deal of individuality about that forehead; and I war-want that beneath that depth of dark-brown hair there are some terrific uprisings of combativeness. That nose, too, just the least bit on the ascendency, bespeaks a fond relish for logomachy; it starts up just a little as if it sniffed the air for scents of strife and combat." Thus spoke my reflective, phrenological self. But my unphrenological, my natural self, exclaimed, "By the six consumptive sons of my goodie, this girl has a pretty face! Wonderfully pretty...