Word: throng
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Meanwhile thousands of Milanese, touched by His Majesty's bravery and tenderness, had gathered in a packed and wildly cheering throng before the Royal Palace. When King Vittorio Emanuele finally slipped out upon a balcony and saluted, the ovation rose like the roar of sea surf, wave on wave. Again and again His Majesty saluted, but more than half an hour passed before the cheers died down sufficiently for him to retire within...
...lanky fop, carrying a pair of lemon-kid gloves, his hair falling about his ears like a hermit's, attended an ironic ceremony in a London church. The occasion was the unveiling of a bust of John Keats; after it was over, Aubrey Beardsley ". . . broke away from the throng, and, hurrying across the graveyard, stumbled and lurched awkwardly over the green mounds of the sleeping dead." It was an ironic ceremony because Artist Beardsley, as Poet Keats had done, was to go southward and die of consumption before he was 26 years old. It is easy to remember...
Spencer and Winter, young ones, were adequately worshiped by the throng. The firmest favorite was "Iron Man" Reggie McNamara, rider in 54 six-day races, ending in 4th place. Just behind was one Debaets, Belgian, who seasoned the monotony of sprintless stretches by pedaling around (without his handlebars) squeezing tunes from an accordion...
...thumb & forefinger. The day of his death, like most of the days of his life, found Griffo without a dime. Money was minted to his memory. In an imposing white metal casket, gift of Tex Rickard, Griffo was buried from the consequential Madison Avenue Baptist Church. The funeral throng was mixed from the brave days of old; tottering gray figures forgotten by the sport world, women who remembered, fighters he had knocked senseless. A newspaperman reported James J. Corbett, onetime heavyweight champion of the world, as having said, kneeling beside the casket: "The zephyr of all ring-time! The only...
...returning from the Christmas Vacation the crews settle down in earnest to prepare for the Torpids. At this time the river is a pleasant sight, though as it can only be observed from the towingpath, and this is infested by innumerable coaches on bicycles, the uninitiate throng might think them homicidal lunatics, it is doubtful if anyone hitherto has lived to describe its beauties. There are some 40 crews to go out and each makes two journeys to Iffley, Lock in an afternoon. A the distance is not more than a mile and a quarter the river is not without...