Literary Lapses by Stephen Leacock
page 57 of 192 (29%)
page 57 of 192 (29%)
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"But the most stupendous calculation of all, sir, is in regard to the distance from the earth to the sun. Positively, sir, a cannon-ball--er--fired at the sun..." "Fired at the sun," nodded the other, approvingly, as if he had often seen it done. "And travelling at the rate of...of..." "Of three cents a mile," hinted the listener. "No, no, you misunderstand me,--but travelling at a fearful rate, simply fearful, sir, would take a hundred million--no, a hundred billion--in short would take a scandalously long time in getting there--" At this point I could stand no more. I interrupted--"Provided it were fired from Philadelphia," I said, and passed into the smoking-car. Men Who have Shaved Me A barber is by nature and inclination a sport. He can tell you at what exact hour the ball game of the day is to begin, can foretell its issue without losing a stroke of the razor, and can explain the points of inferiority |
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