Word: nosing
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...Greb. A round for Walker. Hardy Referee Purdy, still in the ring despite his pain, but tiring badly now, was knocked down again. He continued to hobble about in the 14th round when Greb beat Walker's face into the likeness of a suet pudding, flattened his nose, failed to knock him out only because his arms were tired-in the 15th, when Walker, with indomitable courage, exhaling a vapor of blood from his nose, staggered after Greb, backed him to the ropes, exchanged punches until the last bell rang. Then Referee Purdy, having seen the decision justly given...
...Chamber was in an uproar. Deputies and ushers rushed toward the struggling men. M. Franklin-Bouillon, Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, ran full tilt into Communist Deputy Bourlois, who struck him a resounding punch in the face. Staggered, M. Bouillon stepped back a pace, blood dripping from his nose, and in a second more he closed with the Communist and they rolled to the floor...
...like disheveled blinds; while his voice shrinks and becomes raucous, as if he contended for possession of it with an evil spirit. Little by little, as his body rots, an odor pervades it, more deathly and infinitely more revolting than that of the carnal house; the bones of his nose break off; toes, fingers, ears, drop away like dead hair. Insanity follows, terminated by death. In rare instances, the disease unaccountably vanishes, after eight years...
Johnson Expedition. Besides the Amundsen rescue parties, the schooner Zodiac, 130-foot yacht of Johnson & Johnson (Robert W. and J. Steward), manufacturers of surgical supplies at New Brunswick, N. J., was soon to nose into the north with both Johnson brothers aboard. Their destination was to be Newfoundland, where they would search the ice-bitten shores for traces of the 40-ft. sloop Leif Ericsson which sailed out of Reykjavik, Iceland, last August under an amateut Norwegian skipper with a party of artists to "follow the trail of the Vikings" to Nova Scotia. Last winter, the U. S. cruiser Trenton...
Nobody heard what was said, but the implication was patent. At the Polo Grounds, Manhattan, the referee, bending above Pugilist Tom Gibbons, had looked with shrewd and not unkindly eyes at his split mouth, puffed face, smashed nose, blotchy body, put a question to him. In 30 seconds more, the bell would start the twelfth round of Gibbons' battle against Eugene Tunney, a handsome fellow with a pompadour, a mild face, who sat facing him from the opposite corner of the ring. Tiered in darkness, 40,000 watchers perspired freely. They saw the solicitous referee bend above Gibbons. They...