Word: litters
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...litter of empty Coca Cola bottles strewn around Landon headquarters. . . . Widow [Benjamin] Harrison entering a broadcasting booth, chatting carelessly, being told she was on the air and exclaiming, "Oh, that's very mean of you! ..." Knox supporters looking gloomily about their camp in Hotel Cleveland's ballroom after Landon's nomination and saying "Well, this is the 8-ball room, all right. . . ." John Hamilton sitting on a hotel breakfast table, white napery included, to interview the press. . . . The orchestra in Hotel Hollenden's cocktail room playing Happy Days Are Here Again at the instigation...
...Coolidgeana offered would be accompanied by a certificate of authenticity. Only 400 bidders showed up for the auction. Dampened, Auctioneer Bean clambered to his dais, banged a gavel, stuck out a brawny arm holding a letter franked by Mrs. Coolidge, yelled for bids. It went for $3. Followed a litter of glassware, vases, pitchers, jars, hot plates, which excited little interest. Then up came a famed old bookcase used by Calvin Coolidge at Amherst. "Who'll give me $50?" boomed Bean. "Five dollars," said a voice. It went for $33. Wiping his brow, Auctioneer Bean grumbled...
Stages, scaffolding, a litter of broken plaster and a husky ex-cowboy occupied the small, tall Gallery of Contemporary American Art in the Detroit Arts Institute last week. Occasionally letting out a hearty "goddam" when something went wrong, the ex-cowboy was delicately daubing soft hues on the wet plaster walls, shaping dreamy, feminine figures...
...Harvard's Physiologist Gregory Goodwin Pincus placed a rabbit's ova in a bottle with a rabbit's sperm, shook them together for 20 minutes. Next he placed the fertilized ova in the fallopian tube of a rabbit doe who 33 days later bore a litter of six healthy bunnies. They were no kin to her. She was simply their host-mother (TIME, March...
...Cape country Author Harriss writes about was a fox country. Bears still snuffled through the woods, and otter and coon and deer were plentiful, but the only enemy foxes had to fear was man. In the swamp where the Vixen bore her litter lived one of them, an Indian trapper. No sport, he killed for his living. But he accounted for fewer foxes than the local hunt, whose master was the hard-drinking widower Cap'n, squire of a plantation falling to seed almost as swiftly as himself. Of the Vixen's litter, two died in traps...