Word: roses
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Into the flag-decked station rolled the royal train. King George in the dress uniform of Admiral of the Fleet, with the green ribbon of the Order of the Thistle, stepped out followed by Queen Elizabeth in forget-me-not blue, his two excited little daughters. Elizabeth & Margaret Rose, in strawberry pink coats. Louis Stewart Gumley, Edinburgh's Lord Provost stepped forward, tendered the city's keys to King George on a red satin cushion, bade him welcome to his "ancient and hereditary kingdom of Scotland...
...seek our old lady, pensive and enduring as ever, we found her, even more shut in and solitary. Outside her cabin are the only garden flowers (everywhere a riot of wild flowers-even wild rhododendrons), against her house a clump of calla lilies and a fragrant pink cabbage rose. We took her into the sun and photographed her [see cut]. Who can name her? UNA JEFFERS...
...spread beneath the Washington Monument, over Potomac Park both north and south of the Tidal Basin, across the river on Columbia Island and into the fields below Arlington National Cemetery on the Virginia shore. Everywhere barekneed youngsters in khaki perambulated through the streets with cameras and autograph books. Everywhere rose a babel of youthful voices, in childish versions of the accents of Maine and California, of Wisconsin and Texas. No connoisseur of mob scenes had ever seen such a sight; never before had the Boy Scouts of America held a National Jamboree...
...comfort stations had already been erected. The arrivals scattered over 350 acres, erected bright-colored tents for themselves, pounded tent pegs and fingers. At 8:45 next morning a trench mortar boomed and 25,000 Boy Scouts stood at attention. It boomed again and the flags of 52 nations rose in an avenue of flags beneath the Washington Monument. It boomed a third time, up went 1,634 flags to 1,634 mastheads throughout the encampment. The ten-day Jamboree had opened...
...Rose Newell, a laundress who works for a girls' school in North Tarrytown, N. Y., was walking toward the school along a wooded stretch of road at nightfall one evening last week. Suddenly, from just over her head, she heard a weird, tremulous cry, half wail, half gibber. A hissing, feathered something struck her in the eye, raked her face with cruel talons. Frightened almost out of her wits, Mrs. Newell screamed and started to run. The screech owl followed her, clawed her again before flitting back to its tree. The laundress ran into the school, stammered...