An argument began as to whether the trap door would open on the first bong of eight or the eighth bong of eight. A man said he'd been told on the wireless that it was the first bong of Big Ben in London which told the time, […]
Indeed it is for the moſt part in our ſkill in manners, and in the obſervances of time and place, and of decency in general, which is only to be learned in thoſe ſchools to which Horace recommends us, that what is called Taſte by way of diſtinction, conſiſts; and which is in reality no other than a more refined judgment.
I think we may see the day. Can't you hear it . . . kill the umpress. — Dick Butler , American League supervisor of umpires.
Some ſay that Rauens foſter forlorne children, / The whilſt their owne birds famiſh in their neſts: / Oh be to me though thy hard hart ſay no, / Nothing ſo kinde but ſomething pittiful.
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