Word: dusts
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...wont to wander in, and at times lend color to, the pages of the CRIMSON last year has ceased his travels and so to speak, settled down to a peaceful old age and taken up house keeping where he will no longer be constrained to brush away the dust from the diamond--an occupation which at times brought him close to the verge of mental pneumonia. In fact, the Vagabond has become quite domestic, and as a result, his son will this year wander about upon the father's business...
...some acquired characteristics opposite to others, he could not say, but inferred that there were opposites, the positive and negative particles of that form of energy called electricity. Their high speed made mutual penetration difficult. Instead of destroying one another they agglomerated in clusters (atoms, molecules) masses (star dust, worlds, material universes...
...They battled with small rubber balls and tiny iron "jacks."- Under the fatherly eye of the New York World, which was also cocked toward circulation, metropolitan girlhood was summoned to a tournament for the jacks championship of the city. Some squatted, some kneeled, some sat tailor-fashion in the dust. Each one spread her ten jacks, bounced her rubber ball and snatched up one jack, caught her ball, bounced her ball, snatched up another, a third, until she had ten; again she spread (technical term "scrambled") her jacks and bounced her ball, snatching them up two at a time; three...
...Coolidge. At the butcher's, the baker's, the gift shop, they dallied; then they entered a jeweler's store. Mrs. Coolidge, peering through the glass counter at a darkly sparkling jumble of bracelets, brooches, silver chains, earrings and intricate pendants, spied a shiny ring, forged from the golden dust of the Black Hills. She turned to John Coolidge, said: "How would you like to have one of these?" John Coolidge was reported to have said: "I don't wear rings, thank...
...undergo operations that may save her sight. . . . Meanwhile the Manhattan hotel has a bill of $500 hanging over her head. The cafeteria refuses further credit. It is only too evident that the world knows her no longer as Dear Little Buttercup but sees in her broken body only the dust of a withered flower that has been inconveniently blown into its midst...