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Any intense distraction, other than the one employed, would probably have served the same purpose. At the end of a year and a half the phenomenon entirely disappeared. The second case is that of a six-year-old girl, the daughter of highly educated parents. The phenomenon of mirror-writing here observed parallels that of many other cases in which the left-right direction is reversed.
That head of yours ain't thick enough to stop the crook of the hardest hitter in Bristol. 'He's a game cove, too, and he came for me like a bantam, said the other, still rubbing his knee. 'I got my old left-right in, and he went over as if he had been pole-axed. It wasn't my fault, mounseer. I told you you'd get pepper if you went on.
The two remaining targets swerved up in a mocking curve and shot back to their discharge huts. The girl bit her lip in moderate annoyance, safetied and holstered the gun and waved her hand left-right at the range attendant to indicate she was finished. Then she turned to face the aircar as it settled slowly to the ground twenty feet away. Her gray eyes studied its occupants critically.
We expressed our feelings toward her by giving her left-right every time she came into the ward and she would get mad at the second step. One day she called the matron, so we left-righted her as well.
It's a copy of the one I had; it must be!" They were too far away to be sure it was a duplicate, but It was coin-shaped and bone-white. And now the Wyvern swung it back and forth in a metronome sweep. Fork-tail skidded to a stop, its head beginning reluctantly at first, and then, with increasing speed to echo that left-right sweep.
Thus, a political taxonomy based on urbanization and industrialization may prove to be more powerful than the classic left-right dichotomy. The enmity between the urban and the bucolic has deep historical roots. Vassals pledged allegiance and subservience to local lords in return for protection against nomads and marauders. Trading was confined to fortified medieval cities.
Counting left-right, and keeping elbow-touch with the next man, W. Keyse got in a whisper: "I say, Sergeant, am I in for it as well as Ole Bulgy Weskit? You might as well let me know and charnce it!" The Sergeant answered with unfeeling indifference: "Since you ask, I should say you was." "That's a bit 'ard! Wot'll I git?" "Ten to one, your skater." "Wot is my skater?"
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