Word: lit
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Near Peebles, Ohio, one Perry Stansberry, weary after a raccoon hunt, slumped down beside his fireplace, filled his corncob pipe with loose tobacco from his pocket, lit, puffed, ruminated, fell back bruised and stunned by the explosion in his pipe-bowl of a .22-calibre rifle cartridge...
...much celebrated literary exodus to Chicago never came off. The western city, not long ago, was looked upon as the intellectual center of the United States. But in spite of the fact that several famous writers claim it as their birthplace the actual percentage of the American lit Mr. Mencken says that the dial is turnerary world living in Chicago is smalling toward the south and quotes names to prove it. But Mr. Hansen's argument remains invincible in at least one point--publishers cheques are drawn on New York banks. Other delights may pass from Manhattan life but this...
...Rushdi Bey gone, M. Tchitcherin, still less communicative, tarried not in Odessa. Bundled up as usual because of his uncertain health, he hurried with his bustling undersecretaries to catch the regular 6:40 p.m. through express to Moscow. Behind the puffing locomotive M. Tchitcherin's first class wagon-lit rumbled smoothly. Then came a jangling, second class car, a rattlety-bang third class coach and seven careening fast freight vans. Speeding northwestward to Schmerinka, northeastward to Kiew and Kursk, and finally due north to Moscow (900 miles), the train drew in on the morning of the third...
Painter Scott told stories about the institution's first "undergraduate body" of 40 students; how there was no room for them at the college to study, but only to recite; how they went to their classrooms, which were lit by tallow dips, bearing pieces of wood picked up on the way to put in the stoves; how they went "downtown" to beer parlors of an evening, until the University president (of a staff of three), John W. Johnson,* caught them and made a "fine talk" in class...
...have always taken sufficient interest in politics to march, in processions with red fire, horns, and other means of attracting public attention, all, supposedly, for the greater glory of the Eagle or the Star. In the past these parades have been things almost to be feared; the march was lit with red torch-flares and the marchers with hard cider or good Sandy McDonald supplied by the eager campaign managers, and the combination often went to the heads of the participants and led them to unlawful acts...