Word: grime
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...York established the first ambulance service in the U. S. Its building, for decades muggy and stuffy, is older. De Witt Clinton, onetime (1803-15) Mayor of New York, laid the cornerstone in 1811. Grass spread about it then; the East River was a pleasant prospect. Now all is grime and noise...
Accompanied by his wife, his daughter, Mr. Walton entered a kiosk. From the platform he surveyed with disfavor a gloomy pathway, splotched with grime and puddles, lined with tracks. "Whatever would they want tracks for?" he inquired of his wife as the three of them jumped down off the platform, paraded off into the dingy passage. Soon a train nosed around the curve, gathered speed, screamed toward Mr. Walton, his wife, his daughter, ground brakes, shivered, stopped. Passengers, lifting themselves from the floor where the abrupt halt had put them, watched Mr. Walton, his wife, his daughter clamber aboard, smiling...
Wall Street. For those who do not know it already and for those who like to hear it repeated, this play dilates upon the fact that in Wall Street there is little or no virtue. Take John H. Perry (Arthur Hohl) for instance. The grime of a Massachusetts truck farm is hardly off him, before he finds himself filthy with the lucre of the "street." It even gets into his blood. He says so himself. The next thing the audience knows, old John H.'s son is discovered hotly engaged in monkey business, for which tactics he is expelled...
...reads, in novels of travellers in far places--usually the South Seas--being approached by a ragged beachcomber with the request for the price of a drink, and recognizing, beneath the grime, a former class-mate of theirs. It is from the remainder that the beachcombers must be drawn. One can only wish that they had the courage to furnish their occupation to the class committee; so that their friends might look them up, on the veranda of some sinister hotel in the tropics and save them the embarrassment of asking for the drink...
...slow, yellow gas engulfed London, suddenly, one morning last week. It was not poisonous but it made eyes to smart and throats to tickle. Grime laden, it soiled. Dense, it blotted out objects within arm's reach. Translucent, it diffused broad daylight into a dull, enveloping bluish glow. As it must to London, "the worst fog in half a century" had come...