Word: belling
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Author White, oldest living native of U. S. parentage in El Paso, Tex., pours gentle, drawling scorn upon the romanticism with which Zane Greys and Harold Bell Wrights have invested the early inhabitants of the Southwest, and upon the paunchy, pasty-faced commercialism of the present inhabitants. Mock modest, feignedly casual, like a hoary old hell-raiser talking to his grandchildren, he draws upon his indiscriminate youth for gory chunks of six-gun realism quite as studied as that of the Covered Wagon or U. P. Trails he so vigorously denies. He explains the Jehovah complex of a gunman like...
...gown and slippers, decorated her face, wrists and ankles with luminous paint, and placed her hands in those of an observer in the darkened room. An electric current was passed through the bodies of all the observers so that if any one broke his neighbor's grip, a bell would ring. Despite these and other "laboratory test" conditions, Margery was able to summon "Walter" (her brother, killed in an accident), who whistled, cracked jokes, pulled the professors by their forelocks, bantered them, played checkers with (and beat) one of them, lifted weights (a corresponding increase in Margery...
Following their victory yesterday, the Freshmen elected O. P. Jackson captain. In the Senior backfield Wells Fay '26, and Clyde Smith '26, stood out both as bell carriers and defensive backs. A large and enthusiastic crowd withnessed the two games...
...dumb-bell weighed 280 pounds. He hoisted it high over head with one hand, lay down on the stage with it, cuddled and caressed it and rose again while the Aquarium rocked with cheers. He fastened chains around his arms, lifted that beloved titanic dumb-bell and burst every chain before putting it down. Samson refused to proceed any further...
Near Syracuse, along the tracks of the New York Central, a night flyer sped westward. No whistles blew. No bell sounded. Faster and faster it glided, past green lights at little stations, red lights at crossings; and the clicking of the ties became a dreamy foxtrot drumming in the ears of people who twisted on lumpy mattresses in small green coffins in its shadowy Pullman cars. A suddenly frightened fireman stared out at the flying night, then made his way forward and peered into the engine cab. At the throttle was a hand- the steady hand of Engineer William Vanbergen...