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...thousand Hindu shrines, and today the only recurring evocation of its stirring last days is the curse which may sometimes be heard on Indian lips: "By the sin of the sack of Chitor." The Rajput armorers became a tribe of wandering blacksmiths called the Gadia Lohars, big, fork-bearded men in pink turbans, women wearing silver bangles and big silver nose rings, and untouchables worshiping the smallpox goddess, Sheetala. Without quite knowing why, they still observe their ancient vow: never do they sleep under a roof, but live in carts, wherein children are born and the old die, in which...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: INDIA: The Reconquest of Chitor | 4/18/1955 | See Source »

...party to a Thanksgiving holiday* at the Augusta, Ga. National Golf Club. Before takeoff, Mamie Eisenhower christened the new Super-Constellation in a brief ceremony at Washington's National Airport, using, instead of the traditional champagne, a soda bottle full of water from Colorado's north fork of the South Platte River (a favorite presidential trout stream...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: National Affairs: Duffer's Holiday | 12/6/1954 | See Source »

Among Shapley's interests are his ant theories--"I've picked the creatures off stone walls in dozens of counties"--and his debunking of pseudo-science. At a faculty gathering, for example, a fellow professor recalls Shapley's pacing about the lawn with a divining fork, "only to reveal a Princeton instructor's hidden bottle...

Author: By Cliff F. Thompson, | Title: The Star Wizard | 12/3/1954 | See Source »

...watch him broil a dozen thick steaks on an outdoor grill. Hoover ambled up to the grill. As usual, he was grimly hanging onto his snap-brim hat. Ike invited Hoover to help with the steaks. Hoover seemed reluctant but finally complied when Ike gave him a long-handled fork and suggested: "Here, turn that fella over...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: THE PRESIDENCY: 5,294-Mile Work Week | 9/13/1954 | See Source »

...test my friend. The conditions: he could introduce me to the most 'exquisite' dish of my career and if my palate agreed, I would pay the bill. We stopped at a restaurant where my friend whispered some hasty instructions to the waiter. Minutes later came wooden forks and an earthenware crock full of hundreds of steaming, crackling, silvery creatures. And I had my first taste of baby eels (angulas), shiny and tiny as pins. They are boiled in a brew of black sauce and garlic, then fried in sizzling olive oil with garlic and red peppers, and must...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: A Letter From The Publisher, Aug. 9, 1954 | 8/9/1954 | See Source »

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