United States or Åland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


More food is taken than can be digested. A part of it ferments and gas is a product of fermentation. A very small amount of gas in the alimentary tract is natural, but when there is belching or rumbling of gas in the intestines it is a sign of indigestion, which may be so mild that the individual is not aware of it, or it may be so bad that he can think of little else.

This remarkable man was absolutely correct. There was an interval of about five minutes, during which another boat, evidently successfully lowered from the other side, came round her stern, picked up one or two men from the water and also collected the survivors in the hanging boat; then the steamer suddenly sank another two feet, there was a dull rumbling, as of heavy machinery falling from a height, a muffled report, a cloud of steam and smoke, a sucking noise and then a pool in the water, in the middle of which odd bits of wood and other buoyant debris kept on bobbing up.

It is a spring or well, which in general flows or runs underground imperceptibly, and then all at once rushes forth with a mighty rumbling or subterranean noise, which is said to have something musical in it, and overflows its banks; lastly Chatsworth, a palace or seat belonging to the Dukes of Devonshire, at the foot of a mountain whose summit is covered with eternal snow, and therefore always gives one the idea of winter, at the same time that the most delightful spring blooms at its foot.

Esmeralda had aimed at nothing less ambitious than a Watteau costume, and the rumbling of the machine was accounted for by one glance at the elaborately quilted petticoat. She had folded a blanket between the double sheet, so as to give the effect of wadding, and an ancient crinoline held out the folds with old-world effect.

The boy screamed once more.... I tried to seize hold of my comrades, but we, all of us, were already crushed, buried, drowned, swept away by that icy, rumbling flood, as black as ink. Darkness ... eternal darkness! Gasping for breath, I awoke. March, 1878. When I was living in Petersburg, many years ago, whenever I had occasion to hire a public cabman I entered into conversation with him.

The noise of the rumbling wheels penetrated the besotted intelligence of the struggling men; they scrambled to their feet, looked wildly about them, and set off in pursuit. But they had no command of their limbs; they staggered clumsily this way and that, and finally found their level in the slimy ditch that flanked the road. Desmond whipped up the horses in the highest spirits.

Suddenly he remembered the cave. It was the cave of the Carasdhoo men. He éould hear the voice of Pete in its rumbling depths; he could hear and see himself. "Shall we save the women, Pete? we always do." "Aw, yes, the women and the boys." The tenderness of that memory was too much for Philip. He came out of the cave, and walked back over the shore.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, he pulled it toward him. The next instant he uttered a cry of horror, for the immense stone altar, with a dull rumbling, rolled back as though on wheels, and there, over where it had stood was a hole of yawning blackness, with a flight of stone steps leading down into it. And Tom stood so near the edge that he almost toppled in. "Look!

A heavy evening breeze swept along the surface of the river, and seemed to drive the roar of the falls into the recesses of their own cavern, whence it issued heavily and constant, like thunder rumbling beyond the distant hills. The moon had risen, and its light was already glancing here and there on the waters above them; but the extremity of the rock where they stood still lay in shadow.

About noon, a heavy rumbling and rattling attracted his attention, and, going to the door, he saw the slowly approaching team, winding from side to side of the steep, canyon road, the powerful horses straining and panting under the heavy load.