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Updated: June 27, 2025
For as a writer he had a command of a pure, lucid and noble English unequalled in his generation and equalled by Corbett alone. But for history the most important thing about the man is his creed.
Beyond the second Bison, beside the roadway that runs behind the Fine Arts Palace, is a model of the Kirkpatrick Monument, at Syracuse, New York, by Gail Sherman Corbett. The central figures represent an Indian discovering to a Jesuit priest the waters of an historic salt spring at Syracuse. In the circle at the south end of the peristyle are: 1. Seated Lincoln by Augustus St.
"You won't find him easy to convince, either." Tom didn't wait to discuss the matter. Instead, he signaled to Foreman Corbett to run the craft out again. "If you want to, Corbett," suggested Tom, with a laugh, as the boat moved over the salt waters again, "you might go ashore and go to bed.
"We won't," replied Jemmy Ducks. "No," replied Short. While the crew of the cutter were in this incipient state of mutiny, Vanslyperken bent his steps to deliver up to the authorities the despatches with which he was charged; and having so done, he then took out the letter entrusted to him by Nancy Corbett, and read the address. It was the same street in which lived the Frau Vandersloosh.
Eight hours later Tom rolled into Marsport, stopping the big truck at the first Solar Guard substation he could find. He raced inside without cutting the jets of the truck and reported to a sergeant seated behind the desk, reading. "I'm Cadet Tom Corbett!" he shouted. "I've got to get in touch with Commander Walters at the Academy right away."
"You three and Captain Strong have been selected to aid in screening the applicants." "Will there be any special tests, sir?" asked Strong. "I have to agree with Corbett that just about everyone will want to go." "Yes, Strong," said Hardy. "Everyone will want to go. In fact, we estimate that there will be literally millions of applicants!" Roger emitted a long, low whistle.
Mr. Corbett sent a messenger to London and elsewhere with the view of gathering information that would assist the carrying out of his scheme; but nothing could be found to meet exactly his conception of what a cooking depôt should be.
A few nights ago I happened to run into two newspaper men I used to know fairly well. That kept me going for a while. I introduced them to Aunt Isabel as David Belasco and Jim Corbett, and it went well. But the effect has worn off now, and she's beginning to wonder again.
"Come, Waddington, you know as well as I do that when a man's knocked about the world like you and me, he gets an instinct; he can tell pretty well by looking at her whether a woman's that sort or not." "My dear Corbett, my instinct is at least as good as yours. I've known Mrs. Levitt for three years, and I can assure she's as straight, as innocent, as your wife or mine."
Levitt's feelings had been roused; he acknowledged, handsomely, as male to male, the fascination that had roused them. He, Corbett, knew what he was talking about. He saw the whole possibility of romantic adventure with such flattering certitude that it was impossible to feel any resentment. At the same time his interference was a piece of abominable impertinence, and Mr. Waddington resented that.
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