Word: freight
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...Bank of England and of the P. & O.: "1925 was the worst year for British shipping on record." Corroborative statistics released by the Cunard Line show a profit for that proverbially well managed concern of only $1,600,000 for 1925. The truth is that the supply of freight bottoms has so disastrously exceeded the demand that freight rates are no higher than in 1913, whereas freight costs have nearly doubled. A pound of meat may be shipped 6,000 miles from Argentina to England for one British penny (2c). Last week 85 British cargo companies with a total capital...
...First of all, Edsel Ford explained the ship† that is to be standardized and produced, en masse, at Detroit. No air "jitney," it is a large ship, designed for commercial uses. It is an all-metal monoplane with three Wright-Whirlwind motors. It can carry a ton of freight, operating at a cost of 13.8 cents a mile. Its cruising radius is 2,500 miles. New, it costs the purchaser $37,000. It is planned to build 100 of these planes forthwith. After these are sold the price may drop to $28,000. Eventually, "we hope...
...will corroborate the verdict of sixty years. . . ." Alert readers of the Saturday Evening Post, eager to applaud a "dentifrice fight," reflected ruefully that Forhan's cannot start rebuttal through the Saturday Evening Post for two months-the time consumed by the Post's pulp presses and slow freight distribution system in the preparation of each issue...
Some one had left a switch open. The train leaped up a siding and buried its snorting nose in a freight train. The flier's engineer was killed, his mates injured painfully. Back in the sleeper, the motherly woman awoke, thought she had heard a thunder clap, dropped off again. She was fatigued after her previous day's campaigning for renomination by the Democrats. When she heard what had happened, she proceeded to her home townlet of Temple right nearby, telephoned the executive mansion at Austin to say she was all right, and, when the sun shone once...
...world's lightheavyweight championship last year from that sly old Irish Reynard, Michael McTigue, were confident that he would not long retain it. He was no boxer, that was plain; his one weapon was a left hook that crippled metaphor, but looked as easy to dodge as a freight train. He was not pretty to look at either, being a somewhat scarred ex-taxi-driver with a thick nose, thick jaw, thick mouth and a pair of cold, slow, brutal eyes. He seemed a fighter without imagination, he ever comes up against a fast...