Word: tepidity
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...feels himself an Ishmael, is on his way to Cambodia, obsessed by dreams of Asia: "The marching forth of armies in the scented dusk loud with cicadas, the horses' hoofs stirring up dust-clouds dark with slowly veering columns of mosquitoes, shrill cries of caravans beside the tepid fords, envoys waiting for the tide by mudflats spangled with shoals of stranded fish, blued by a mist of butterflies above, and old kings rotten with caresses-and then that other dream, the dream that never left him. of shrines and gods of stone, mantled in green moss, frogs sprawling...
...price of gold to $34.01. To dampen persistent tales of a rift between the Treasury and the hard-money Federal Reserve Board, Governor Eugene Black, by all odds the funniest and funniest-looking man in the Administration, showed up at Warm Springs. While his chief was paddling about the tepid swimming pool, Governor Black stood nearby, sorrowfully rattled a copy of the Atlanta Constitution which headlined the recurrent story that he was about to resign. "It isn't so much that it's all wrong," he lamented. "But here [it] occurs in the paper on which...
...Some tepid discussion followed. Then, fortnight ago, a Protestant nunnery was described in America, urbane Jesuit weekly, by "The Pilgrim"-nom de plume for any staff member. Telling of tramping through Rhode Island, "The Pilgrim" said he came upon a convent, knocked at its door in hope of getting a cup of tea. The convent Portress gave him some. He inquired the name of the sisterhood...
Democrats took Baltimore away from the G. O. P. last week. In a tepid municipal election, Democrat Howard Wilkinson Jackson was chosen Mayor by a record-breaking majority of 63,000 votes, which sent Republican Nominee William Albrecht back to bookbinding. Mr. Jackson served as the city's chief executive from 1923 to 1927, was called the "best Mayor Baltimore ever had" by four-time Governor Albert Cabell Ritchie. A farm boy who went to Baltimore and built up a large insurance business, Mayor-elect Jackson, now 54, is a genial, handshaking politician who asks every stranger his first...
...with the word MOTHER embroidered in red across its bib. On a side table was a huge brown bottle of warm castor oil, which she had blessed, and a bowl of quartered lemons, "taste-killers." To each one with the "miseries," a saint gave a full tumbler of the tepid oil and a "taste-killer." Away each would prance, blubbering oil and lemon juice, shouting "bress sweet Jesus." Occasionally Mother Catherine conducted "Epsom Salts Sundays...