Word: vat
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...there are impressed with what they call the democracy of this great millionaire who was once a soap crutcher. In modern times soap is crutched or mixed by a machine but in the soap factory of William Wrigley Sr., opposite Wayne Junction, Philadelphia, the soap crutcher stood beside a vat of boiling soap and stirred it with a paddle. When Wrigley Jr.-young Wrigley then-tired of developing his muscles in this way he persuaded his father to let him sell scouring soap on the road and before long was driving through the high-grass towns of Pennsylvania, New York...
Last week royal favor descended once more upon the potent brewers of Burton-on-Trent when Edward of Wales flew down from London, visited the brewhouse, mixed for himself a special vat of extra strong mash to be known as ''Prince's Brew." Waiting at the flying field to greet him was the Chairman of the Company, Colonel the Right Honorable John Gret-ton. Conservative M. P. for the Burton Division of Staffordshire. Waving proudly over the old brewery was a great banner lettered GOOD HEALTH TO OUR PRINCE. Edward of Wales attended a special luncheon after which he sampled...
...brimmed with sentiment and sunshine. Peaceful was even the George ("Bugs") Moran booze-peddling depot on North Clark Street, masked as a garage of the S. M. C. Cartage Co., where lolled six underworldlings, waiting for their breakfast coffee to cook. A seventh, in overalls, tinkered with a beer vat on a truck. Two of the gang drifted aimlessly into the front office where ink wells stood dusty...
...nickname, "Paris of the East"? There you can sit at an iron café table, surrounded by boulevardiers who speak only French, for all the world as though the Place de l'Opera were around the corner, and Montmartre just up the hill. Nearby is the stupendous Angkor Vat, a temple which few globe circlers see, but which ranks easily with the Taj. Down such must-be-seen or at least must-be-known-about byways Author Kirtland leads, with many a picture quite different from the stereotyped "shots" that disgrace the usual travel book...
Opera singers die a thousand deaths. In almost every role, the last curtain finds them sprawled across a parapet, pierced by treacherous bullets, boiled in the oil-vat of some inquisitor or crumpled upon a doorstep with their throats, their canary throats, slit from ear to ear. But in life, as everyone knows, opera singers have to be careful of their health. This last reflection was one that occurred to Beniamino Gigli, celebrated tenor, as he sat in a Detroit hotel, one night last week, staring at a piece of paper. He read...