Hitchcock

To Hitchcock, this is not a sweet wire from an old colleague but a condolence letter on the occasion of his own death.

Hitchcock's going on about English pork butchers and how best to prepare pork cracklings.

Hitchcock's drinking, a problem for some time, got seriously worse.

The whole thing's in Swedish and clearly not to Hitchcock's taste.

Hitchcock nodded and replied, “Call it Prosciutto and change the locale to Italy.”

A few moments afterward he was seen dragging his own trunk ashore, while Mr. Hitchcock finished his story on the boiler deck.

I'm sorry to say—glad in one sense of course—that Professor Hitchcock will be taking the class again next Friday.

Professor Hitchcock had, up to that time, observed footprints of thirty species of birds on these surfaces.

Dr. Hitchcock, in the fulness of his beautiful fame, in the ripeness of his years, confirms the truth of my principles.

On the subject of exchange, however, I differ from Gen. Hitchcock.