Word: jails
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...aware your magazine (TIME, Aug. 4), is the first in America to give full credit to that wonderful runner, A. F. Newton of South Africa. Better late than never. Newton was born within a mile or two of Bedford, England, famous because it was whilst in jail in that town that John Bunyan wrote his Pilgrim's Progress. New to a left England when a youth of 15 to study and take up farming in Rhodesia, South Africa, and as stated never took up running seriously until near 40 years old, yet at 44 and 45 he had smashed...
...inside. A cry went up. About 75 Fairmounters and Marionites, apparently equipped for the purpose, started a two-sided, business-like assault on the gaol. They battered down door after door, arrived at the bullpen where many Negroes huddled, praying. They stripped Thomas Shipp, dragged him out to the jail yard, strung him to a windowbar until he was dead, lynchee No. 10 of the year. They bashed Abe Smith unconscious with a sledgehammer, let women trample & scratch him, carried him a block away and hung him to a maple in the Courthouse yard, lynchee...
...story would not hush. In Parahyba city enraged Liberals burned Republican homes, wrecked Republican stores. Parahyba's police were all inland, fighting Independent José Pereira; 1,000 Federal troops finally were called out to do police duty. In Parahyba gaol 187 convicts banged on the jail doors, begged that they might be released to slit the throats of the murderers of State President Pessoa...
...wine. ''After our experiences in that war . . . it seemed funny to us." he said. "But now (hat I am last I see no humor in it." He filled his glass, held it aloft and recited as the Club had specified long ago: The camp fire smoulders-ashes jail; The clouds are black athwart the sky; No tap of drums, no bugle call; My comrades, all, Goodbye! He sipped the wine, set down his glass. The Burgundy had turned sour. Mused Last Man Lockwood: "We should have saved ourselves a bottle of old Irish whiskey instead. It would have...
...silent picture made from this story. It was a good silent picture by the standards of its time, but its revival as a talkie seems unnecessary. Oldfashioned, stagey, sentimental, it deals heavily with one or two remote social problems and, more immediately, with a young woman who goes to jail for having caused the death of a policeman who was chasing her automobile on his motorcycle. Her conviction is obtained, with patent suffering, by a prosecutor who has fallen in love with her. The absurdities involved in these events are made more obvious by jerky and tasteless direction...