Word: thread
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...Swiss frontier nips off a bit of Lago Maggiore, famed azure cradle of les Isles Borromees lies the little town of Lacarno, at what is said to be the lowest spot in Switzerland. To harassed negotiators, what could be a fairer haven? Locarno boasts but a single copper thread of telegraph wire to connect it with the outside world. Its atmosphere is not Swiss but Italian. Its climate has not the smart alpine tang of St. Moritz, but the balmy southern lambency of Italian Stresa, just across the lake...
...Jackson Mills (Ocean Co.), N. J., one George W. Perry, geologist of Los Angeles, Calif., reluctantly demonstrated to incredulous newspaper reporters the "Perry Mineral Indicator," a tripod apparatus fitted with compass, dials and a brass cylinder like the weight from a grandfather clock, suspended by a silken, tubular thread. Perry claimed that the cylinder contained secret ingredients which caused it to oscillate, gyrate, agitate when in the vicinity of subterraneau oil, even thousands of feet in the earth. He, Perry, was the only living soul that could operate the marvelous machine, which he did by bringing a small container filled...
...Western oil fields, there is a type of itinerant genius who roams about with an ivory ball on a silk thread, by means of which he assures the gullible that he can divine buried fortunes in oil. He is known as a "doodlebug" and laughed at. Inventor Perry's reluctance to have his Indicator given publicity arose from fear lest he be thought one of these...
THUNDERSTORM-G. B. Stern-Knopf ($2.50). Mistress of many moods, the author of Debatable Ground and The Matriarch (Mrs. Geoffrey Holdsworth of England) well merits the distinction of her pseudonymous initials (G. B. S.) Few writers of equal taste can so deftly thread the fine needle of discernment with the wiry fibres of reality. Thunderstorm begins as an idyll-an intelligent young English couple basking beneath the comic benevolence of their Italian servants, emotional 'Vanna and heroic Ettore. Basking with them are semi-permanent guests, a durable male friend, a spirited girl cousin. To the baskers blows a breeze...
...were passing. In the writing, there was a rich personal flavor, informal yet dignified, unhurried but never verbose. Each issue was a monolog by an unprejudiced ruminative man who was as likely to weave into his discourse some bright strand of slang as some fibrous or silken or homespun thread from Montaigne, La Rochefoucauld, Mark Rutherford, Andrew Marvell...