Word: silk
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...opposite Grand Central Station a crowd gathered in the magnificent Byzantine banking hall of the Bowery Savings Bank, largest private savings bank in the world, one of the oldest mutual savings banks in the U. S., famed for its conservatism and strength. Good natured but eager, bootblacks. Jewish matrons, silk-stockinged stenographers and shawled immigrants carried off cash from the paying windows. Three o'clock and the bank closed with a mob still at its doors. The banking disease had reached Manhattan, heart of the nation's banking system...
...Ickes live comfortably on a ten-acre place at Winnetka where the new Secretary of Interior putters among his dahlias, drives a Packard, collects stamps. For this week's inaugural he is buying and wearing his first high silk hat in 30 years...
Senator Borah would have thundered out those startling words in the Senate chamber last week if he had followed verbatim the advice he received in a letter from M. C. Migel, Providence, R. I. silk manufacturer. But no such utterance passed the lips of the ursine Idahoan. Instead, he replied to Mr. Migel's suggestion by mail as follows...
After his Manhattan silk house went to the wall in the panic of 1837, Lewis Tappan, casting around for a new deal, hit on the idea of selling his knowledge of other people's businesses. His Mercantile Agency grew into the largest credit rating firm in the world. Before the Civil War it was acquired by R. G. Dun who changed the official name to R. G. Dun & Co., The Mercantile Agency. He developed the art of dispassionate snooping & prying during the next 40 years until today R. G. Dara & Co. has nearly 200 offices...
...coward, a traitor, and a thief." Purple veins stood out large on Napoleon's bull-neck as he concluded his tirade. "You have never worthily performed a single duty. You have betrayed and deceived everybody. You would sell your own father. You are a mess of dung in a silk stocking." The Emperor stopped, red-faced; he was out of breath. For half an hour Talleyrand had leaned, graceful and impassive, against a small table by the fire. Now he moved. Slowly, easily, he limped across the great carpet and paused at the white paneled doors. "What a pity...