Word: frontierisms
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...known to have its spider on Swiss soil at Zurich in the person of a certain Captain Mayer. On the night of Feb. 24, 1917 Spy Master Mayer's safe was rifled by expert Italian cracksmen. For the next three days the Italian frontier was closed to keep Austrian spies from escaping from Italy. They were caught and shot in batches on the evidence provided by the spy data stolen in Zurich. Since Italians have always given credit to Baron Aloisi for this exploit, they relied on him in Geneva last week with serene confidence...
...Oslo, remarking, "I am going to picnic in the woods." All Norwegian radio stations then inquired for Midshipman Barr and helpful Norwegians responded by deluging the U. S. Consulate at Oslo with telegrams, notes and post cards conjecturing where he might be. Ultimately Picnicker Barr was arrested by Swedish frontier guards as he tried to leave Norway on foot. He had torn the buttons and identifying insignia off his uniform. "I am unable to produce my passport," said Midshipman Barr to the puzzled Swedes. "I have lived in the woods for nearly a week, eating berries." Since in such matters...
...YOUR CONDITIONS AND WE WILL ACCEPT YOU WITH PLEASURE. This stumped the Courier but in scores of darktowns persuasive Negroes set themselves up as recruiting agents, offered tempting terms in the name of Power of Trinity, asked from 25? to 50? as an enlistment fee. Meanwhile, on the vague frontier between many a U. S. Harlem and Little Italy, excited black curbstone orators brought scowls to swarthy brows by such appeals as: "Stop buying your gin from Italian saloonkeepers! Every shorty [nip] of gin you buy from an Italian means bullets bought by Mussolini to slaughter our brothers in Africa...
...Invasion of sovereign rights has been in progress for centuries!" blazed the Dictator. "Where is there a nation today which during its history has not invaded the sovereign rights of others? Take the United States! How did you push your frontier back...
Chief distinction of My Life on the Frontier is its spectacular version of an old Western childhood. When Miguel Antonio Otero was a boy his father was a commission merchant, following the Kansas-Pacific Railroad as it was being built into Denver. He moved his business and family from wild Ellsworth, Kans., to wilder Hays City, where little Miguel saw Wild Bill Hickok kill one man, heard stories of his killing three more. He moved them from wicked Sheridan to the hunters' paradise of Kit Carson, at a time when Indians harried construction crews, burned bridges, sometimes attacked trains...