Word: tombs
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Unknown except to radicals, Professor Pokrovsky was mourned last week as "the leading historian of the Russian Revolution." Past an honor guard of Red cavalrymen with drawn sabres the professor's cremated ashes were borne to a niche cut in the Kremlin wall behind Lenin's Tomb, popped in and covered with a bronze tablet while Red soldiers fired a three-volley salute...
...Duchess who is 41. She sailed sedately into the Grand Ducal Mausoleum (where Poet Goethe lies buried near her husband) on the arm of no less a personage than the Chancellor of all Germany, pale, ascetic, thin-lipped Dr. Heinrich Bruning, 47. As Democracy thus squired Autocracy to the tomb of Genius, a witness was Comrade Anatoly Lunacharsky representing the Soviet Power. All over Russia on this day last week Soviet celebrations honored Goethe. Communism celebrated not because it approves Goethe's bourgeois works or his grand ducal associations, but because the Russian Government tries to keep on friendliest terms...
...Weimar the most striking floral tribute, everyone agreed last week, was an enormous sheaf of real Greek olive branches laid on Goethe's tomb by the representative of Greece. Ordinary flowers were bestowed in the name of India, Haiti, South Africa, Finland and 70 more nations. The U. S. wreath?not laid by Ambassador Sackett. who was in Paris-was deposited by a grave personage whose dry wit is concealed on public occasions by his Buddha-like mien. Councilor John Wiley, chief prop of Ambassador Willys in Poland. Read the wreath which Mr. Wiley deposited at the foot of Goethe...
...straight mile of tanbark along the southern edge of Hyde Park, is as sacred to British horsemen as Shakespeare's tomb is to poets, Westminster to statesmen. It is the King's Road (the name is a British attempt to pronounce Route du Rois), the path that ancient sovereigns took when they rode from Westminster to hunt in the royal forests. Here Queen Victoria used to drive in her barouche, smiling grimly under her swivel-topped black parasol. Here King George takes his genteel canters. Here the morning sun shines on the finest horses, the best cut breeches...
...attention as the Emperor walked slowly up the great steps of the Pantheon. He was going to visit the grave of the man that had made him possible. the Guard stood by eagerly waiting for the great epitaph which the Emperor would pronounce as he stood before the tomb of Rousseau. Marshalls leaned forward on their scabbards, courtiers strained unintelligent ears to catch a phrase they might repeat. All waited a trifle obviously. Napoleon in his favourite green stared down at the stone and murmured half to himself, "The world would be a better place if neither...