With the instinctive reverence for aristocracy which is inherent in the citizens of a republic, 40,000 people at Franklin Field, Philadelphia, whispered and pointed. "Which is he?"
"Cheest!" "He ain't no chippy, yuh slant-head, he's a husk." They were referring to a beaming, brawny runner who was at that moment preparing to start in the 400-metre hurdle in the first day's games of the annual Penn Relays the Right Honorable David George Brownlow Cecil Lord Burghley. They sat gasping while that nobleman, dark horse of the event, hoisted himself into the air...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In