Word: goldens
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...open the Holy Door, while Cardinals do likewise at the basilicas of St. John Lateran, St. Mary Major, St. Paul-without-the-Walls. In solemn, robed procession the Pope will move from the Vatican to the front portico of St. Peter's. Thrice he will knock, with a golden hammer, on the Holy Door. Within, Sanpietrini (St. Peter's workmen) will lower the door away. The Pope will pray while prelates sprinkle the aperture with holy water. Then all will enter, kissing the jambs as they pass. Thereafter the public may enter all through the year. Calendar, Audiences...
Yesterday the beer problem was in little doubt; today with the final tabulation of the CRIMSON poll, the last flecks of confusion are dispelled. It is shown that most of the voters are beer drinkers, and that an even greater number favour the introduction of the golden beverage into the dining halls. The answers to the other questions indicate, in general, little beside a coyly wayward tendency to annoy waitresses, and an astounding ability to vanish under the table on slight provocation...
...lore which has grown up since 1839 around the hardest steeplechase in the world-four and one-half miles over 30 jumps at Aintree, England-is not to ride a favorite. Most Grand National winners have been outsiders. At Aintree this week the favorites-Miss Dorothy Paget's Golden Miller and Mrs. M. A. Gemmell's Gregalach, the winner at 100-to-1 in 1929-had a better chance than usual. Last week the entries were cut down to 34, smallest field since...
...Jock Whitney's excitement as he watches the field, cluttered at the start, narrow off toward Melling Road, will be evidence also of his faith in something even less tangible than Dusty Foot's chances in this year's Grand National. The owner of favored Golden Miller is his cousin. Like her, he will be upholding the tradition of a family which, for three generations, has made its name almost constantly the most important one in U. S. racing; a family which, for half a century, has been at the forefront of the U. S. sporting aristocracy...
...angry Mr. Curley has drawn the veil from the rusty joints of patronage, extremely disquieting to public confidence, exactly at the psychological moment. Before his next outburst, the mayor might profitably ponder the tale of the man who killed the goose, and learn what happened to the golden eggs...