Word: humid
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Pigmy hippopotamuses, red pigmy buffaloes, pigmy elephants, swift little hairy-horned okapi all lurk in the tangled, humid fastness of the Belgian Congo's deep Itura Forest. By few white men's eyes have these curious creatures ever been seen. Mr. & Mrs. Martin E. Johnson, famed intrepid jungleers, set off last week from Manhattan with eight motor cars, many tons of camp & photographic supplies, two batteries of sound-cinema equipment, two dozen automatic cameras, cinema cameras so that U. S. movie audiences may buzz with wonder at the sound and sight of the Congo's animal wonders...
...plant, and after a slight delay caused by New Englanders "Maine" and "Vermont" oversleeping, the papers were passed out. The hush that marked the first glance at the examination was gradually broken as the "brightest boys" began writing. A morning that had started cool grew increasingly hot and humid. Coats came off and sleeves were rolled up as the "49ers" worked in silence, five proctors quietly pacing between the desks. With tense expressions the boys labored over questions demanding exact, accurate answers, with puzzled, dreamy glances at the ceiling they tried to answer problems involving such ethical things as "truth...
...most. This plateau, sloping to the southeastern angle of the Black Sea, is cut off from the rest of Asia Minor by a barrier of rugged mountains, blessing it with political and climatic isolation. Rarely above 88° in summer or below 10° in winter, the weather, humid, temperate, contrasts with that of not distant inland regions where great extremes of heat and cold are common...
...humid, but happy Houston. Discord waned. Celebrities furnished the atmosphere of a glorified picnic instead of a political dogfight...
Purple Approach: "More jungle-humid, reeking. A soldier plucks twenty dollars' worth of purple orchids (New York quotation) and sticks them in the band of his sombrero. Troops of screaming monkeys swing past, stopping occasionally to grimace at us. From the depths of the forest, mountain lions roar. Huge macaws wing across the sky, crying hoarsely and flashing crimson. We ford and re-ford the north-flowing tributary, for endless hours we toil across the Yali range, and finally drop down near Jinotega in another night of driving rain over a road where the horses roll pitifully...