Word: misting
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...about 11, something woke in the obscure night over their heads; at first no more than a drowsy, indistinguishable murmur, then a louder whine, like the nasal complaining of some fabulous insect; presently its eye became visible?a small inflamed pimple, swathed in huge bandages of mist. The more alert of the two campers nudged his companion...
...enemy was supposed to be slinking behind some innocent looking isle, hidden behind a veil of mist, when the fleet poured out of Pearl Harbor in a sortie. But there wasn't any enemy, and there wasn't any mist to hide him-it was a perfect day. The fleet was only partly in Pearl Harbor because the harbor needs dredging before the heavy battleships can enter...
Usually quite unconsciously to ourselves, for prejudice's that is conscious, like a mist at the rising of the sun, is likely to be about to dissipate. And herein lies one of the great difficulties in thinking aright, that we do not know when we are wrong, or we should not be wrong. The man who knows the right trail does not miss it. We go wrong because the moon has smittea our minds with error...
...fortify his health, he started on a walking tour through Scotland. There the mist wetted him, the food was bad, he met "a mahogany-faced old jackass who knew Burns." While he was tramping 30 miles a day in drenched clothes for the sake of his throat, certain sharp dolts in Edinburgh published a review of his poem Endynrion, called it "Cockney Poetry," advised him to go back "to plasters, pills and ointment boxes," prophesied that his bookseller would not a second time "venture �50 on anything he might write." These reviews were waiting for him when he returned...
...that code, the record of his life from the day when he, a waif as woebegone as Poor Tom on Lear's heath, was befriended by Quong Lee, Chinese storekeeper, to the day when his first short story was published. Calm faces of Canton and Malaya move through mist down a narrow London street; in bad doorways, sailors' knives flash; the rain beats a tattoo of talons on the windows of the house of Quong Lee; the wind sniffs under the door. Tom, the Hardcress Kid, is safe now, warm, dry, nor does he try to cast over...