Word: torrent
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Actually one Domingo Masachs Torrent, 34, Communist, day laborer, had sharpened a sleek knife wherewith to welcome Primo de Rivera...
...room catapulted from their beds. The wireless operator pressed his key frenziedly. Water, heavy and pitiless, swung open doors, sloughed about carelessly. "For God's sake, throw a line to us!" Six men on duty in the engine room reached for levers, were whirled away by the inrushing torrent. In the choppy waves struggled sailors knocked overboard by the impact. Sinking fast into the ocean were the men caught below, clambering frantically up onto the pipes as the black water pursued. Deadly chlorine gas swirled from the battery compartment. With a swish the glistening submarine sank beneath the moonlit...
Amid virtually continuous cheering, Deputies representing all parties rose to thank Mr. Smith with similar warmth. The occasion marked the termination of League control over Hungarian state finance. Stenographers raced to catch every word of the torrent of laudation. Typesetters, printers, binders, rushed these heartfelt phrases into a vellum-bound volume. It was dedicated and presented to Jeremiah Smith, Esq. After a sumptuous banquet in his honor he quitted Hungary last week...
Events poured like a torrent from that decision.* Within a few hours the Marshal's throaty telephone commands brought regiment after regiment at the double. As Pilsudski, eyes aflame, tugging at his drooping mustache, neared Warsaw, President Wojciechowski, personally commanding a troop of soldiers still loyal to the Government, barred his way at the entrance to a long bridge. Imperious Pilsudski demanded the resignation of the Witos Cabinet, the formation of a Cabinet largely Socialist. Since the President's troops were outnumbered, he could offer no more defiance than to refuse the demand, hastily retreat to the Belnedere...
...Orchestra La Garde Passe, from "Les Deux Avares" Gretry Hymn to Indra, from the Rig-Veda Holst Love Songs Brahms Seat thyself, my dearest heart, not so close to me! A tremor's in the branches. Nightingale, thy sweetest song sounds when night is darkling. From you hills the torrent speeds, and the rain ne'er ceases. Secret nook in shady spot mong the waving grasses Drake's Drum Coleridge-Tayler The Glee Club Symphonic Poem, "Danse Macabre" Saint-Saens Volga Bargemen's Song Arranged by Jacchia March, "Veritas" Densmore The Orchestra