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...berth was a dark sodden pool of blood, upon it in terrible agony writhed Lieutenant-Commander Yeiji Kusakari. He had chosen the most painful and for a Samurai the most noble death: harakiri. With a short dagger which had belonged in medieval times to one of his ancestors he had slashed his abdomen through and through...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: JAPAN: Kato, Blood & | 6/2/1930 | See Source »

...keepers unlocked the door of Robber Spiers' cell. Still cringing he took a few steps between his guards, then with a sudden scream of terror, sprang away, vaulted over the pipe railing of the cell gallery, and plunged down three stories to crash, a sodden neck-broken corpse at the very feet of the assembled Justices of the Peace...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Foreign News: Wandsworth Walloper | 2/17/1930 | See Source »

...assigned Edward Foley, 64, trusted customs agent. Securing liquor elsewhere, he became staggering drunk on duty, flourished two revolvers at a curious crowd, fell to the ground breaking a bottle of whiskey in his pocket, rushed to a telephone to call "reinforcements" from Boston, ended his rampage in a sodden stupor...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: National Affairs: Black Duck Aftermath | 1/13/1930 | See Source »

...downpour engulfed them on the way down Pennsylvania Avenue. Sodden and drippy were bunting and flags. But spectators in the stands, huddling under newspapers and umbrellas, cheered plentifully nevertheless. From an upstairs window along the way, Dr. Arthur James Barton, southern Baptist, Chairman of the National Executive Committee of the Anti-Saloon League of America, and a band of prohibitors representing 29 other national organizations-the U. S. Drys, Consolidated (see p. 16)-looked down upon their Wet-Dry President with great satisfaction...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: THE PRESIDENCY: The Chief | 3/11/1929 | See Source »

...Only the most intrepid explorer would venture into labyrinthine Hell Passage, or attempt to thread the intricacies of Logic Lane. It is the open season for colds and chills, and everyone must take to the fields for games if he wishes to withstand the weather. The fields are a sodden green. Every afternoon hundreds come back from their Rugger games muddier and scarcely drier than the rowing men. It is not to be wondered at, then, that the weather forms the first staple of conversation at Oxford; that it is, in fact, the first of a number of interests which...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Harvard Rhodes Scholar Writes Contemporary Oxford Articles | 1/3/1929 | See Source »

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