Word: damping
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...probably got away into southern Maryland. Then, as troopers rode out along the Potomac (it took twelve days to corner and kill Booth), Stanton and Mrs. Lincoln entered the little bedroom where Lincoln lay on a cornhusk mattress. Outside, a throng of weeping people, mainly Negroes, waited in the damp street. Cavalry horses were tied four and five to a picket post along the block. Newsboys ran past, shouting: "Assassination!" At the Baltimore & Ohio terminal, all train traffic stopped as detectives searched passengers, trainmen, mail bags. It was 7:22 a.m. The surgeon general of the United States leaned across...
Hours later a teahouse-keeper on the mountaintop heard cries for help and called the detective. With only damp towels as protection against the sulphur fumes, Detective Tomosaburo Suzuki and seven police volunteers began the rescue. Roped together, choking and almost blinded by the fumes, they let themselves down some 600 feet to an outcropping of rock on the very edge of the crater. The rock had broken the young couple's fall. There, covered with blood and bruises, her ankle smashed, but still unromantically alive, lay the little waitress Setsumi. Beside her, uninjured, was her impulsive lover...
...centuries the Scots have been forced to be proud of their disadvantages -they have so many of them. There is their climate, whose rains make stone walls sweat with cold damp, and whose glinting sunlight fleetingly transforms forbidding rocks into some of the world's loveliest scenery. There are the English, who keep trying to treat Scotland as a conquered province instead of a proud nation. There is the grudging Scottish soil, whose bleak austerity breeds, by sheer force of survival, hardy sheep bearing wool that makes the world's finest tweeds. There is the Scottish economy, founded...
...elements, with all your senses alert . . . You have got to hold your nose against the smell of rotten fish, and you've got to have the creeps. You must learn to feel the pride of the Indian in his ancestors, and the pinch of the cold, raw damp of the West Coast, and the smell and flavor of the wood smoke, and the sting of it in your eyes...
...death-discolored and slashed and broken. No wonder at all that Dr. Sam cried. He could remember well, without looking. Her face was oval, her skin the very fair kind with fine pores. Where there were no wounds, it had a peach-like tint, faintly damp with the dewiness of the newly dead...