Word: gatherings
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...morning last week Professor James Harvey Rogers of Yale reached Singapore in the course of a world junket. Four months ago President Roosevelt sent this snaggle-toothed Brain Truster out to gather all possible facts about silver in the Orient. Professor Rogers had talked long and solemnly with Chinese bankers in Shanghai, Canton, Hongkong, had toured the Yangtze Valley, had written meaty reports back to the U. S. Treasury...
...reader suppose the prairie chicken dance to be a myth. It is a mating demonstration, performed in early Spring. The birds gather on an open grassy spot at early morning. The males strut back & forth, raising the tail and neck feathers, puffing the sides of the neck into little orange balloons. The beak is closed, but the air blown into the crop helps to produce a tooting noise...
...relief organizations function properly we won't have to watch the Communists. The reason why they gather a following is because they are the only ones who will listen to a man's story and try to do something about it. They're sympathetic. A crowd will gather around while one of them talks but just let a rumor get around that jobs can be had at some other place and pretty soon the crowd will be gone...
Editor Van Doren has tried to include big, smart or portentous figures of the last 20 years. Some of those present: Sherwood Anderson, James Branch Cabell, Willa Gather, John Dos Passos, Theodore Dreiser, T. S. Eliot, William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Ring Lardner, Sinclair Lewis, H. L. Mencken, Dorothy Parker, Evelyn Scott, Edith Wharton, Glenway Wescott, Thornton Wilder. Readers may raise puzzled eyebrows at lesser-known names: Carl Becker, Albert Halper, Eleanor Rowland Wembridge. Nowhere to be found are such names as Upton Sinclair, Conrad Allen, Hervey Allen, Louis Bromfield, Walter Lippmann, T. S. Stribling. Looking back...
Traveling in daylight and darkness he reached high, lonely Rongbuk Monastery in mid-April, beating by more than a week the time of the elaborate Ruttledge expedition. He rested one day, made a reconnaissance to Ruttledge's Camp No. 2, and returned to the monastery to gather strength for his supreme effort. The long-sleeved, yellow-hatted monks padding about in their cloth boots asked him no questions. Wilson drank their rancid butter-tea, watched the smoke of incense curling from bronze burners, rested. On May 17 he was at Camp No. 3 with his porters. He instructed them...