I heard Red Barber one morning on the radio say the air was “chillsome.”

He is bradying down

Nature is not a wayless waste; it is a rich territory, divided, allotted, and fenced with alleys to walk in […]

Now for many days she has no rest at all With the solicitude of the mother hen for her chicks she watches over that group of sharklings, shepherded by the pilot whom they are rapidly outgrowing, sheltered in her bosom and fed, yes fed, though often the mother feels as if vultures were tearing at her liver.