Word: ladens
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...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...
...city was reported to have emigrated to new hunting grounds to escape. It may be, however, that the present instance will have more far reaching effects than the former one. If it is seen that the Beaumes law is a force against crime, those cities who find themselves laden with the dregs of New York will be forced to take similar measures for self-preservation. The present disorder in Washington may be a blessing in disguise for that city...
...many types of musical comedy, ranging from the regal romance, laden with sobs, wishy-washy waltzes, and heavy footed comedians, through the blonde-chorused extravaganza with its endless array of stars, to the so-called "intimate" type, the last named is usually more dependable. Some pleasant tunes, a voice or two, a bit of fun, and a few good dancers, strung together on a thread of a plot, can fill an evening very happily. If the plot is stretched to an extreme fineness, almost all individuality removed from the music, and the good voice or two done away with, very...
...front-seat rivalry for two short weeks with the mythical tired business man; to others it means wandering home to pick up well-intentioned neck-ties and a little rest. For others, it is rumored, the Christmas Spirit hovers over the ice-caked board walks and the dust-laden air of Widener. The Christmas Spirit, though, is pagan-hard and Christoan-strong enough to disregard such unessential differences. We are all brothers, under the skin or in a shopping crowd. And so, to everyone, like this Christmas spirit and tuberculosis seals, go the sincere wishes of the CRIMSON...
Manhattan's Bowery is a slum of light and sweetness compared to London's drab East End. Mist from the Thames and smoke, soot-laden, wrap the long Limehouse streets in a depressing pall of grey. Vice in the East End is as commonplace as elsewhere, though perhaps a bit more furtively unclean. Yet East End squalor has its attractions for aristocrats. Smart Londoners go there occasionally, as do Manhattanites to Harlem's "Black Belt." Blue-blooded Socialists like Lady Cynthia Mosely, daughter of the late Marquess Curzon of Kedleston, dabble there in soapbox oratory.* Thither, for an escape from...