Word: sweating
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That is why Defiant Doty shrugged his shoulders at the court, received the sentence with, "Well, that's tough." For eight years the handsome legionnaire will sweat at hard labor building roads through Africa, not at all resembling the reckless swashbuckler who once fought for France; unless, perhaps, the Legion feels another little tug from Tennessee...
...this is by way of extreme optimism. It is an open question whether it is at all valuable to the world to sweat that it may have the best that universal education and popular government have to offer. To many that best is a level of mediocrity; a level, moreover, to which brilliance must lower itself that dullness may prosper. These skeptics have their plausable case. Yet it may truly be said that society is confronted with a condition and not a theory. Democracy is in vogue; universal education in full swing. The improvements to be made must begin with...
...clean" baby. He felt the lump. The infant screamed. Contusion? There was no sign of bruising. Caput succedaneum, the deep bruising of the scalp layer immediately next to the bony skull? Probably not. Inflammation or abscess of the scalp? No. There were no signs of erysipelas, wounds, boils, suppurating sweat glands, and very little likelihood of any decay of a bone in the skull. Encephalocele, a tumor formed by the sticking out through the soft infantile skull of the membranes of the brain, with brain matter and cerebrospinal fluid? No. This bump was too firm. Meningocele, a tumor containing...
...into a taxi, leaped out again at the Seventh Regiment Armory, where he plunged into a dense crowd of humanity and was seen no more, until he emerged in tennis costume on a brilliantly illuminated court surrounded by a crowd. There, for three hours, pausing sometimes to wipe honest sweat and perhaps a few remaining traces of grease paint from his face, he labored to vanquish with sizzling drive and cannonading serve, a bounding little Basque called Jean Borotra. Eventually he did so, 6-4, 8-10, 11-13, 6-1, 6-3, thus atoning somewhat for the drubbing Borotra...
...over a six-mile trail for the hill-and-dale intercollegiate championship of the East. All the way the rangy man (James Loucks, Syracuse) had been pressing the runner in crimson (Willard L. Tibbets, Harvard). But now, as he turned his head, Tibbets saw Loucks blow a bead of sweat from the end of his nose, lift his chin and drink a great gulp of air. Yes, in another moment Loucks would sprint. Tibbets could see the finish, the crowd around the tape. It was just too far away; if he let himself out now, he could not make...