Word: inches
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...caught two armed Rightist trawlers. Commander Castro put their crews of 24 men in chains in the destroyer's bow and sank the trawlers. Ten miles east of British-owned Gibraltar, at 2:15 a.m., just when Commander Castro thought he had successfully eluded his enemies, the 8-inch guns of the Rightist cruiser Canarias began to boom out of the dark. Soon three Rightist destroyers joined the attack...
Last week, it appeared that Harper's was about to yield an inch. Beginning with the October issue, its deep orange cover is to be replaced with covers of varying hues. At the same time, it will begin a new department to be known as "One Man's Meat," to be written by a melancholy meat-eater, Elwyn Brooks White, famed among U. S. journalists as E. B. W. of The New Yorker. A year ago, "Andy" White retired as the chief author of The New Yorker's gently philosophical "Notes and Comment," left his Manhattan haunts...
Associated Pressman James D. White cabled that he had a "ringside seat" from which he watched one of the concluding Soviet bombardments: "It was warfare in dead earnest. . . . Six-inch projectiles came over at the rate of at least six a minute. Today's cannonade removed all doubt in the minds of observers as to the accuracy of Soviet artillery. Invariably one or two sighting shots were followed by a series of direct hits. . . . At the foot of Changku-feng Hill a village blazed fiercely. Hundreds of shells had scored direct hits...
Although Roman Catholic monasteries in Hollister, Calif. and Paterson, N. J. possess what they believe are relics of the True Cross, the most remarkable one in the U. S. is in private hands. A two-inch fragment in a silver reliquary, it long belonged to the House of Habsburg, was given by Joseph II to an Austrian family named Wurschinger. In 1927, Alfred Wurschinger, an importer, brought the relic to the U. S., was offered $65,000 for it when news of it got into the press. Unwilling to sell, Owner Wurschinger insured the fragment...
Police ordered him in but he threatened to jump if they touched him. "I've got to work this out for myself," he cried. All afternoon, on his twelve-inch-wide perch, he argued with his sister, a priest, a doctor, a minister. He drank a dozen glasses of water, lit countless cigarets, pondered his problem. Should he finish the act the audience of 10,000 was waiting for, or return ignominiously to safety? The afternoon wore on, evening came. Still John Warde had not solved his problem. At 10:38 he heard the rustle of a rope...