Word: watermelon
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...white-faced cattle. Sam's favorite spot is the one-story ranch house, nestled in a grove of oak trees. Here is no telephone, no mail delivery; only a yawning fireplace, walnut beds, and electric stove for steak broiling and an old-fashioned icebox, usually filled with watermelons. Here, on the hot summer afternoons, Sam Rayburn lolls around, often in his shorts, letting the sweat roll down his bald head. Or fie inspects the solid fence-posts hewed out of bois d'arc (pronounced, in Texas, bo-dark), or sits popping huge chunks of red watermelon into...
Arresting. In Ephrata, Wash., police arrested for drunkenness one Reptile Red DeHorn Jersey Bull. In Danbury, Conn., arrested for the same reason was a man who was trying to hide a watermelon under his shirt but having some difficulty, because he was already loaded with a jar of cheese spread, several ears of corn, two jars of skin lotion, some parts for an automobile brake, a can of shoe polish, a dill pickle, and a rearview mirror...
Decline & Fall. Until this year, Ol' Gene never had much trouble getting reelected. His wild political rallies, with free fish fries and watermelon, panicked Georgia's rural voters. His traveling stooges, including the famed Tree-Climbing Haggards, yipped encouragement to his glowering, grammar-proof oratory. He showed his red galluses and his love for pore folks. The busy Palace Guard, working less spectacularly, machine-tooled many another vote. Ol' Gene rode high...
...automobile it was only a minute or two from the field to the wreck. Trip 6, burst asunder like a watermelon, lay not 200 feet away from a schoolhouse in the little village of Bridgeton. The plane was broken in two, the two parts nearly at right angles. Amazingly, ten of her passengers were alive. Among them worked Stewardess Mary T. Eshbach, shaken up, cut. but still on her feet. The eleventh passenger, a T. W. A. employe, lay dead near by, crushed by a telephone pole. Not far off was the body of Captain Scott. Somehow, it appeared...
...early to pick cotton or pull fodder, too late for plowing, the camp meeting gave Georgians a chance for chatting as well as churchgoing. Camp ers downed prodigious meals of fried chicken, country ham, barbecued beef, Brunswick stew, stuffed eggs, potato salad, corn on the cob, pie, watermelon, iced tea, lemonade, Coca-Cola. Even after such meals, old Dr. Bascom Anthony could stir his congregation...