Word: smelts
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...received the pregnant reply: ' 'Cos one does the same thing every day'; and at the age of 23 Mary was still resenting repetition. Only more so, because life had become more busily full of dreary tidyings and cleanlinesses, of washings up and washings down, of moments that smelt of yellow soap, and tea leaves and paraffin...
Long, long before we reached the camel compound we smelt not All that Mr. Kipling said regarding the festive "Oont" is quite true, but he didn't say half enough; he was writing for publication. Any animal that crunches the tough, green, desert, cactus, which bears hard, white spines two inches long, and enjoys it, doesn't deserve to be classed as an animal...
...spirit control. Although "Walter" died without leaving any finger prints to use as comparison the marks are undoubtedly authentic, according to Dr. Crandon, the husband of the psychic lady. At the same time, he says, was heard the ticking of a celestial clock, and perfume, from heavenly sources, was smelt...
...Plymouth Bay, the sandy islands beyond, the white dories at anchor. He was planning to go into fishing himself in partnership with a man who owned some dories. About three hundred years before, men from the west of England had first sailed into the grey shimmering bay that smelt of woods and wild grape, looking for something; liberty . . . freedom to worship God in their own manner . . . space to breathe. Thinking of these things, worrying as he pushed the little cart loaded with eels, haddock, cod, halibut, swordfish, Vanzetti spent his mornings . . . weighting-out fish...." The fish peddler worried because...
...atmosphere and personnel of Boston, 1850, and in the full flood of life anywhere, at any time? If so, let a specimen of the descriptive prose be here entered: "The March wind staggered about the Concord house, striking at doors, shaking shutters. By its sound you knew that it smelt of melting earth and sticky buds. Inside was a dingy, not unpleasant taint of coke burning in the Franklin grate, and a lingering fragrance of dinner . . . ticking clocks, the reptilian hiss of fire, and without, the scampering wind...