For all his rhapsodizings about the education of the soul through contact with nature, W. H. Cobb expected his ballplaying son to master lots of printed pages.
In the latest supernatural incident, the sky rained down frogs.
The information we received was, that as the roof has no gutters, the droppings of water from the roof are driven by the wind against the wall.
The old-fashioned pen spluttered and scratched as he wrote.
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