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Word: whirring (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...parades are infinitely more amusing than a mere collection of well-worn jungle beasts. Elks, Eagles, Masons, Knights of Columbus, of the Fiery Circle, W. C. T. U. S. P. C. A., and other initialed and braided orders of butcher, baker, and candlestick maker fill the head with a whir at the complexity and beauty of American civilisation. And who would dim the lusty torchlights of Republicans and Democrats...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: ALAS! POOR BARNUM | 1/14/1925 | See Source »

...Whir of the Printing Press: What it means," will be the subject of the lecture this evening, by Mr. A. L. Blair of the Boston Journal, at the Prospect Union, 744 Mass. Ave., Cambridgeport. The lecture will be free...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: The Prospect Union. | 1/5/1898 | See Source »

...reader is at first attracted by the musical metre; but on closer examination the whole thing is seen to be affectation. No one ever yet saw a dead moon, or heard the midnight whir. The epithet windy is beautifully inappropriate for stars...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: The Monthly. | 2/19/1896 | See Source »

...only a sportsman knows, after snipe and ducks in the marsh, or among woody haunts of ruffled grouse. It is almost needless to mention the pleasures of wing shooting, to recall the never-to-be-forgotten thrill of excitement when a grouse or bunch of quail rises with its whir, or, if the gunner is new at his work to speak of the mortification which follows a poor shot. He who has been out, be it ever so little, will remember these sensations. Proficiency in shooting on the wing is, of course, only to be had through practice; which practice...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: COMMUNICATIONS. | 3/1/1884 | See Source »

...glimmer up the road, indistinguishable at first from that of a star in the horizon; now scintillating, now increasing. A faint hum ! a louder and a louder whir! A blaze of light, a screech, a stop, and I am conscious that the express is there, and has pulled up but for a moment. Blinded by the glare, still half in dreamland and wholly confused, I spring upon the train The wheels once more revolve, and I turn to go in, - no door! I rub my eyes, and discover, but too late, that I am between the tender and the baggage...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: A TENDER STORY. | 12/7/1877 | See Source »

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