Word: chilling
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...relics made holy by the previous Living Buddha. The child who touched a relic became the Dalai Lama. But no such method was used when, half a century ago, a Dalai Lama died. Instead, the abbot of the Golden Monastery picked a new one merely by beholding, in a chill Tibetan lake, a vision of the birthplace, parents and person of the child Ngag-Wang Lobsang Thubden Gya-Tsho. Taking office in 1893, this Dalai Lama distinguished himself in other ways. Previously all his predecessors in modern times had died mysteriously before reaching majority-a fact not surprising since...
...uncertain of show businesses are world's fairs because 1) they require huge investment, 2) they require huger ballyhoo, 3) their impresarios are generally businessmen, not trained showmen. Last week Chicago closed its second venture in this dangerous business-supposed to close Oct. 31 but prolonged through twelve chill and unprofitable November days-and began to take stock...
...other day, before the rainy season confined us to our rooms, we were walking with a friend on the banks of the Charles. It was about six in the evening, while there was a slight chill in the air, the evening stars were bright, and, if our intellectual almanac does not err, there was a bit of a moon. Dew was on the grass--at any rate, it was wet--and we were in tune with nature. Suddenly we saw ahead of us a couple. They were a plain, stubby couple, but they were arm in arm, and obviously...
Last week the first chill of the fifth Depression Winter hung in the air. While the Federal Government was preparing to bring relief to 3,253,000 jobless families (1,500,000 less than last year) on a scale unparalleled since hard times began, in Manhattan President Roosevelt made a speech which warned the nation that the Government could not possibly handle the job alone, that local governments and private charity would again have to do their share...
...Vagabond was sitting quietly last evening staring into the crackling hickory fire which drove the fall chill from his chimney corner, and thinking how the barbarian shriek of fire-engines would soon dispel the peace of his chambers under Memorial's clock. Suddenly there came a knocking from the depths, rap, rap, rap, thrice it came, and the distant corner of the room, illuminated only by the firelight, glowed with a greenish phosphorescence. Startled, the Vagabond discerned a figure standing there, limned in the faint, emerald light. Its coat was of gabardine, its trousers of flannel, from its eyes came...