Word: boomings
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Since the closing of Memorial Hall, Harvard Square has been the scene of on unusual real, estate boom. Two large cafeterias have been built in the last two years; a third is now in process of construction. Lunch-rooms, delicatessens, and coffee-houses have sprung up with mushroom-like rapidity. The Square at luncheon hour teems with undergraduates in search of nutriment...
...region and the socalled Mosquito coast of Guatemala are of great interest both historically and archeologically. The entire region was claimed by England early in the seventeenth century as a protectorate and a colony was established at Black River. About 1820, a man named Gregor McGregor started a land boom there in an attempt to exploit the natural resources of the country. This aroused the diplomats of both the Latin-American republics and the United States, and forced the English to give up all but what is now British Honduras. The kingdom of the Mosquito Indians was recognized...
...Tarrytown, N. Y., where the Very Rev. Oscar F. R. Treder, dean of the Cathedral of the Incarnation, at Garden City, L. I., draped his coffin with the white lambskin apron of a Master Mason. As the frozen lumps of earth clumped down on his coffin they seemed to boom up a phrase he once cried: "I have almost had my very soul burned out in the trials of life." William Green, mine worker, Odd Fellow, Elk, Baptist, was at once chosen his successor as president...
...boom for Senator James A. Reed for President which is rumbling around Kansas City, Mo., caused Publisher William Randolph Hearst to pause in that city and say: "I will be glad to get back in line with the Democratic party if they will nominate a real Democrat like Reed." Senator Reed said nothing, remembered that Publisher Hearst's friendship had been poison to many another candidate...
Dying of cancer in her sixties in a Pacific coast boom town, with loutish roomers clumping overhead and with no love left for her patient, tender, ineffectual husband, Myra was bitter over her self-defeat, until the end. Passion had made her a lowly bed; she had writhed on it for years. She still could laugh at some of life's absurdities. Some of its beauty was still warm to her-Heine's poems, her own lovely hands. But her steely pride was turned upon itself, 'her mortal enemy. Not even religion could resign...