Word: river
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...failed to start. Prince Philip cracked: "Too bad we don't have a British car"-whereupon the royal couple transferred to a Cadillac. At week's end, the Queen and Prince Philip boarded the 5,769-ton royal yacht Britannia at Seven Islands on the St. Lawrence River, began a leisurely two-day voyage to Quebec City...
...Canadian Mounted Police, Hudson's Bay traders, and dog sled; to reach Eskimos in Canada's Western north, Inuktitut will print a separate edition in the Roman characters familiar to that region. The magazine must go out in spring before the Arctic thaw, in summer after the river ice has melted, in fall before the freeze, and in winter before the curtain of the Arctic night...
Watching from the river bank as Wisconsin breezed home was the Naval Academy's Rusty Callow, 68, dean of U.S. rowing coaches, whose Navy crews dominated the I.R.A. in 1952, 1953 and 1954. Developer of countless great oarsmen and rowing coaches in a 37-year career, Callow was forced to step down from active coaching a month ago because of failing health and eyesight. But at the finish of the race last week, Rusty Callow could feel satisfied. His Navy crew, only a mediocre outfit this season but revamped for the I.R.A., made a gallant closing spurt, finished...
Aroused Indians. But as long as there were French and Indians to fight, Rogers' stock was high. His most famous raid, which took him 150 miles into enemy territory, obliterated the troublesome Indian village at St. Francis, near the St. Lawrence River. The raiders had bad luck; the French discovered their cache of food and boats for the return voyage, and cut off all possibility of retreat. "This unlucky circumstance," Rogers recorded laconically, "put us in some consternation." But the Rangers pushed on, slogged for nine straight days through a vast spruce bog. Sacking the Indian town was comparatively...
Above the rushing green waters of the Drina River, a beautiful white stone bridge with eleven vaulting arches provided a meeting place for the lackadaisical citizens of Visegrad. On summer evenings the townsfolk strolled its length, bought melons and cherries from the peasants, sipped thick Turkish coffee. The town elders sat smoking in the middle of the bridge, looked with contentment on the Bosnian mountains ringing their valley, gravely discussed public matters. The young men came to sing and joke, to flirt with passing girls or lean dreaming on the parapet. On such soft nights, a man on the bridge...