What is "chromos"

Usage examples of "chromos".

On the walls of the living room were hung highly colored advertising chromos of steamships and palaces of industry, and on the bureau Edith noticed two illustrated newspapers of the last year, a patent-medicine almanac, and a volume of Schiller.

The chromos hung lopsidedly where he'd left them, and the easel had Don's drip-dry socks hanging on it.

There were ten of the beautiful bonds of the Great Lakes and Canadian Southern Railroad Company with their miniature locomotives and fields of wheat, and ten equally lovely bits of engraving belonging to the long-since defunct Bluff Creek and Iowa Central, ten more superb lithographs issued by the Mohawk and Housatonic in 1867 and paid off in 1882, and a variety of gorgeous chromos of Indians and buffaloes, and of factories and steamships spouting clouds of soft-coal smoke.

She stood in the center of the big dingy parlor, gazing round at the grimed chromos until Mrs.

This central room was obviously the parlor--the calico-covered sofa, the center table, the two dingy chromos, and a battered cottage organ made that certain.

And the chromos sell better than the oil paintings--except the finest ones.

It's my chromos that have earned me the means and the leisure to try oils.

It may have taken me as long as a minute to realize what I was really seeing: wallpaper featuring red roses as big as cabbages against a field of black, babyshit-brown baseboards, trim and doors, and six chromos of little girls on swings, with mats of purple velvet, and with gilded frames which must have weighed as much as the limousine which had delivered me to this catastrophe.

They apologized effusively for not understanding the true import of the chromos, and said that, now that I had explained them, they were unanimous in agreeing that these were the most important pictures in the house.

The booth contained mainly a clutter of what Florian called "slum"—trumpery gimcracks and souvenirs—plaster Madonnas, cheap penknives, chromos of the Last Supper.

The band's cimbalist, Gombocz Elemér, after a hard day's practice, was one night strolling in the precincts of Notre-Dame, where there were always wandering street singers, barrel-organ grinders, stilt walkers, bawling peddlers of food, drink, plaster madonnas, glass-bead rosaries and chromos of the Last Supper.

I had been used to chromos for years, and I saw now that without my suspecting it a passion for art had got worked into the fabric of my being, and was become a part of me.