Word: moaned
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...shouted, she flapped the floor with a map of Africa, her right ear. For violins and cellos, ehe rolled her small bright eye. Then, when the crazy, jazzy saxophone blew a blue note, Poetre filled the geyser-ish trumpet of her nose with air and water, blew out a moan more liquid than the trombone's. In wet clothes and a panic the minstrels scurried off. Squirrels. On the roof of a house in Canandaigua, N. Y., there stood a fat squirrel who looked like "Babe" Ruth. On the limb of an oak tree not far off, stood another...
Inside a Pullman a girl awoke with a scream, rolled over with a moan, exclaiming, "I'm shot!" She was Miss Florence M. Anderson, Los Angeles schoolteacher, returning home from a summer course at the National University, Mexico City. Her friend, Miss Louise Rider, also of Los Angeles, summoned help and administered first aid. It was found that Miss Anderson had been shot in the left side toward the back, the slug piercing her intestines...
...been made in spirit communication since the Fox sisters first mystified the world by snapping the joints in their toes? Radio broadcasting, in the last twenty years, has advanced to the stage of a loudspeaker in every home; but spirits are still forced to knock timidly on tables and moan through tin trumpets as they have always done. The interest of such clever men as Lodge and Conan-Doyle has been useless. Something must be done about it. The American people will not stand for poor service and antiquated equipment...
...goes the drum, "De-de-Bom, de-de-Bom!" Strong, bearded men quiver as their fingernails are extracted. "Bom!" goes the drum. Grotesquely scalpless women shriek, moan. "Bom!" goes the drum. Half-clad dancers leap in the fire's garish flicker. Seventy-five years ago such a picture was common around Cheyenne, Wyoming, which was later named for these super-redskins. Last week, U. S. Senator Francis Emroy Warren, 82, Chairman of the Appropriations Committee, last governor of Wyoming territory, first governor of Wyoming state, rancher, realtor, arose from his Cheyenne verandah, strode down the asphalt street. White-haired...
...icebergs. On April 15 she, or her alternate iceberg scout, the Modoc, will heave to at latitude 41° 46' north, longitude 50° 14' west. Her crew, except for the ever present watch in crow's-nest and bridge, will fire three volleys, will moan "taps" in lament for the sinking of the Titanic on that spot 14 years before...