Word: clatterings
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...Louis Untermeyer, of William Rose Benet, of Edna St. Vincent Millay, of other poets who dine together from time to time, all sitting around a table in a Manhattan grill while the elbows of the knowing onlookers dig the ribs of the innocent ones and murmurs float above the clatter of the table d'hôte: "There's Oontermeyer!" "There's Bennett!" One afternoon, after the coffee, suggested Poet Markham, a joke went round the company; pencils flashed from waistcoat pockets, and the Child Genius, Nathalia Crane, was born upon the back of a menu-card...
...precise rectangular criss-cross of streets that is Mexico City popped myriads of firecrackers, detonated cannon crackers as bulkily potent as an elephant's wrist. From the oozy slums half sliming into Lake Texcoco rose a clatter of revelry that carried even to aristocratic patios of the Colonia Juarez. Mexico's 115th Independence Day (Sept. 16) had arrived with the dealth-dealing rejoicings that marked an early Rooseveltian U.S. Fourth of July...
...London Stock Exchange, Hungarian and Austrian crowns* were quoted at par for the first time since the clatter of Armageddon first disturbed the world. In Manhattan, Dr. Paul Hollos, Budapest banker, spoke at New York University, said that demands for U. S. capital would continue for a decade. He painted a rosy view of Hungary's financial reconstruction, concluded by saying that bank deposits had increased tenfold during the past year as a sign of domestic and foreign confidence in the country...
...success among cocktails and tea. This man and woman are not idly and stupidly rebellious, but they are part and parcel of the world in which they live, trying as any sane person must, to find common sense in the current confusion of ideas and the steel clatter of the machine age. They go out into the world at the very hour of the funeral of the girl's mother; after a few years of married life, the girl, freer and less muddle-headed than the man, realizes that she must fight her own battles alone. An exciting train wreck...
...Gorilla, by Ralph Spence, depends chiefly on the scenery. Trapdoors revolve and clatter, arms protrude from solid stone, panels slide and lights go black and green. While their surroundings are thus behaving queerly, the company unfolds a tale of horrid humors. It seems that the Gorilla was a monstrous criminal who advertised his criming and then fulfilled his promises. Murders and whatnot were his pastime. On this particular evening, he operates in the livingroom, the garage and the cellar of the Stevens mansion. A detailed report of the activity would sound very much like a 9-year-old child...