Best broadcasts of 1938-39 (1939)

Record Details:

Title:
Best broadcasts of 1938-39
Date:
1939
Publisher:
New York : Whittlesey House
Volume:
Best broadcasts of 1938-39
Leaf #:
000598
Language:
English
Collection:
Books and Broadcasting & Recorded Sound
Format:
Books
Contributor:
Media History Digital Library
Sponsor:
Media History Digital Library
Coordinator:
Media History Digital Library
Description:
Date Added:
May 30, 2024
Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

BEST BROADCASTS OF 1938-39 mother of ten thousand triumphs won, it too shall have its wreath of honor. Undying it will lie beside the dead. Woman 5. — You, O child, our bitter sorrow, earth will now receive. Mourn, O mother. Hecuba. — Mourn, indeed. Music. — Ends here. Woman 3. — Weeping for all the dead . . . Hecuba. — Bitter tears. Woman 4. — Your sorrows that can never be forgotten . . . Hecuba. — I heal your wounds; with linen I bind them. Ah, in words only, not in truth, a poor physician. But soon among the dead your father will care for you. Go : lay our dead in his poor grave with these last gifts of death given to him. I think those that are gone care little how they are buried. It is we, the living, our vanity. Woman 4. — Poor mother . . . her high hopes were stayed on you, and they are broken. They called you happy at your birth, a good man’s son. Your death was miserable exceedingly. Sound. — Low rumble of fire . . . start fire music. Woman 2. — Oh, see, see . . . On the crested height of Troy fiery hands. They are flinging torches. Can it be some new evil ? Something still unknown ? Sound. — Shouts off stage. Talthybius. — Captains, attention. You have been given charge to bum this city. Do not let your torches sleep. Hurry the fire on. S74