Word: mads
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...last fall was quickly decided. Lewis appeared, his back well bandaged; soon he was lying limp on those bandages. The heavyweight title had passed to Wayne Munn. The crowd went "mad-dog," scrambled on its seats, shook the rafters of Convention Hall as it screeched, boomed, barked salvos of shouts for the victor. Many sportsmen caterwauled at the dejected figure with the bowed head in the centre of the ring. A yokel was heard to shout: "You big bum, I hope you're hurt...
...doing had added 30 minutes a day to a life which he appears to relish keenly. At one time, he had felt it incumbent upon him, as a well-informed man, to consume one entire newspaper both morning and evening-glutting up all the stories about box victims, drink-mad stabbers, love-cult brides, modern Bluebeards, poisoned toadstools ,and incendiary spinsters together with more important social and political items. Then a flurry of circumstances had caused him to cease buying newspapers; he had found he got on comfortably without them and his answer to his own question was implied...
...LETTERS OF FREDERIKA BREMER- Edited by Adolf B. Bronson- The American-Scandinavian Foundation ($2.00). In roaring, lynching, razzle-dazzle, hell-for-leather '49, when men went mad for gold in California, when Longfellow wrote poetry in Cambridge and carpenters got 16 dollars a day; when Choctaw Indians came to Christ and dying John Calhoun, his eyes like fetch candles, stood up to speak in the U. S. Senate, there came to these shores a middle-aged Swedish spinster who had written novels. Her friend Hawthorne said that she was worthy of being the maiden aunt of the whole human...
Even a casual saunter along the Square betrays the progress of some untoward migration. The restless mien of the Massachusetts Avenue flaneurs, the noisy preoccupation of last classes, the impatience of packers, the mad impetuosity of the Subway rush all give witness to the universal urge to departure. And what varied attractions the holiday holds...
...Metropolitan Opera House, Manhattan, Mme. Toti dal Monte, Venetian soprano, made her debut. Because of the liberal praise accorded her when, with the Chicago Opera Company, she made her first U. S. appearance a month ago, critics regarded her interestedly. As Lucia di Lammermoor, ever-distressed lady who goes mad in her attempt to sound like a flute, Mme. Dal Monte cadenzaed, bravuraed, languished, trilled, palpitated. Her hands were expressive, her figure squat, her voice limpid. Loud, long was the applause. "Cordial," the critics termed it, reserving their other adjective, "unprecedented," for dead debuts, for debuts to come...