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Updated: May 28, 2025
Her unhurried movements had a certain grace that did not escape the man opposite her. She tossed the bruised leaves into a waste-basket and reached for her pencil. Her heart was pounding, but she faced Mr. Flint with a clear, direct gaze. "Miss Robson, of course you've heard all about the rumpus," Mr. Flint was saying. "I had to fire Miss Whitehead.... I think you can fill the bill."
"A nice reception you give a fellow when you invite him to dinner," was his only reply. "Why, what's up?" I asked. "That infernal lion of yours nearly did for me last night," said Whitehead. "Nonsense, you must have dreamed it!" I cried in astonishment. For answer he turned round and showed me his back. "That's not much of a dream, is it?" he asked.
On August 1, 1916, an Italian aerial squadron attacked with considerable success an Austro-Hungarian plant for making Whitehead torpedoes and submarine works located west of Fiume on one of the Croatian bays of the Adriatic.
Whitehead is but a little man to inscribe verses to players. 'Sir, I do not think Gray a first-rate poet. He has not a bold imagination, nor much command of words. The obscurity in which he has involved himself will not persuade us that he is sublime. His Elegy in a Church-yard has a happy selection of images, but I don't like what are called his great things. His Ode which begins
For in a science of this kind the universe in the sense propounded lately by Professor Whitehead and others appears as one integrated whole, whose parts must never be considered as independent entities unrelated to the whole. Seen thus, there is no mass in the universe of which one could say with truth that it is ever in a state of rest.
From the warm championship of his friends, and the commendations of Mason, the friend of Gray, we infer that Whitehead was not destitute of fine social qualities. His verse, which is of the only type current a century ago, is elegantly smooth, and wearisomely tame, nowhere rising into striking or original beauties. Among his merits as a poet modesty was not.
So saying, she sprang lightly through a hole in the paper window, which, alas! was too small and too far from the ground for the faithful dog to enter. A sad sight greeted the gaze of Whitehead.
With him I found dear John Whitehead, and between sixty and seventy more, being well nigh all the men Friends that were then in the county of Bucks; many of them were taken out of their houses by armed men, and sent to prison, as I had been, for refusing to swear.
As a result he conceived a small launch which was to carry the explosive without any navigators. Before he could carry his plans very far he died. A brother officer in the navy continued his work and finally interested the manager of an English engineering firm located at Fiume, Mr. Whitehead. The result of the collaboration of these two men was the Whitehead torpedo.
Thinking his mother had gone stark mad for want of food, Ming-li stared solemnly at her. Anything was preferable to this misery. Should he sell his last outer garment for a few pennies and buy millet for her? Blackfoot licked his hand comfortingly, as if to say, "Cheer up, master, fortune has turned in our favour." Whitehead leaped upon a bench, purring like a sawmill.
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