Word: bushed
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...miles of snow-covered roads to Plymouth, where the snow now lies about four feet deep. Recently the Colonel arranged to lease his sugar lot, because he will be unable to harvest the maple sugar this year since he has lost the use of his legs. The sugar bush, known as "Lime Kiln Lot," because of an old lime kiln that stands on it, is really the property of the President, having been willed to him by his grandfather, Galuchia Coolidge...
...while Dreiser's sincere plodding and plodding sincerity irks us about as much as over-sophisticated brevity, we do not find it necessary to retire to the bush and there pounding a big tribal drum, gather cohorts to slay the Emperor Jones of American literature. We are not fanatical about Dreiser. As far as we are concerned, he can make his way through any jungle of Lethiopian illiteracy without wasting his silver bullet. All we care to do is to leap out on him at an unguarded moment and make him fire off one of his lead slugs in vain...
...snare cowered a furry creature, pressing its soft white belly against the ground, upturning stricken, opalescent eyes. Farmer De Mouche chuckled. He laid his long shotgun upon the ground and bent to secure his game. But suddenly there was a scuffle behind him; another rabbit leaped out of the bush, sprang upon the shotgun's trigger. "BANG!" Farmer De Mouche received both barrels in his back. Bloody, mangled, dripping, he crawled home. The snared rabbit remained in the snare...
Mencken and Nathan would probably be delighted to take part in the chase as beaters. These eminent sportsmen are thoroughly acquainted with the bush country and in addition they have gained quite a reputation as snipers. It is said that in their trophy room these worthies have several rare bigots and hypocrites with unusually large horns...
...side, slipped to the floor. Many hours later, footsteps rang on the stone stairway. The servant who entered found Flammarion where he had fallen. One arm was twisted under his body. His face, scribbled with an extraordinary network of fine lines, was curiously dis- ordered under the bush of his white hair. He was dead. When Camille Flammarion was 9, he saw an eclipse. It was not the spectacle of the little moon lying like a black penny in the huge dead eye of the sun that astounded him; that, he is said to have remarked, was "a simple piece...