Word: leggedly
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...sneakers. While Dr. Sweet scrubbed up, Warden Lawes was wheeled into the operating room, laid out on the operating table by prisoner-nurses who are paid 5? a day. Sheets were spread over him so as to cover the scar of his old rupture operation, expose only his left leg. Just above the knee of that leg was an exceedingly painful lump the size of a lemon...
...Hospital for the Ruptured and Crippled six years ago. To stitch up a hernia which Warden Lawes had incurred two years before while wrestling at New Orleans with Chaplain Robert Booth of Clinton Prison, the doctor had cleverly taken a strip of muscle from the patient's leg. The rupture incision healed quickly. The leg wound, on the contrary, took three months to close and ever since had given Warden Lawes trouble. Surgeon Sweet recently diagnosed the growth as a tumor which he was last week ready to excise...
Perhaps Mr. Sliver was attempting to pull TIME's leg, or had had his pulled so realistically that he actually believed such deliveries take place. The impossibility of such a thing is seen upon analysis. Mr. Stiver states that there were no copies [of TIME] in Seattle, as none had been printed while he was en route from Chicago. That being the case, how could copies not printed at the time sail ahead of him, presumably on one of the C.P.R. ships, be dumped off in the north Pacific, and be awaiting the arrival of the President Cleveland...
Mussolini strode up to the wheat with leg-stretching strides, threw off his coat and hat, seized a pitchfork and began heaving wheat into the maw of the thresher. There was no need for the photographers to hurry. Sweating mightily, Thresher Mussolini pitched wheat into the machine for one full hour while the peasants of Sabaudia, hoarse from their usual heavy doses of quinine, sang folk songs to him. An official called time and then handed him a pay ticket for 2 lire, 10 centesimi (18?), the usual wage for an Italian farm laborer's hour of work. Puffing...
...East Prussia nothing is so unlucky for a great landed Junker as to lose his stork. "Take care of Oscar" the President benignly commands when leaving Neudeck, and Oscar, so peasants think, takes care of Old Paul. Last week Oscar, dozing on the President's roof with one leg tucked under his wing, straightened up with a jerk and a squawk as a roaring Mercedes sped up the long white road and out jumped Adolf Hitler...