Gazetteer
Housing Units (2000): 786
Land area (2000): 3.319592 sq. miles (8.597703 sq. km)
Water area (2000): 0.005209 sq. miles (0.013492 sq. km)
Total area (2000): 3.324801 sq. miles (8.611195 sq. km)
FIPS code: 80620
Located within: Tennessee (TN), FIPS 47
Location: 35.197570 N, 85.519082 W
ZIP Codes (1990): 37397
Note: some ZIP codes may be omitted esp. for suburbs.
Headwords:
Whitwell
Wikipedia
Whitwell may refer to:
Usage examples of "whitwell".
Two Juniors, coming from the gallery outside, went over to where Nandiharrow and Whitwell Simm sat, nearly invisible behind a mountain of ancient scrolls, to ask a question.
A small group of wizards and novices clustered behind Nandiharrow, those who had been awake at this hour and had come to investigate the commotion: by the flickering light of the sasenna's torches Antryg recognized Whitwell Simm, Q'iin and her student Gilda with robes pulled on over their nightdresses, Seldes Katne, Kyra the Red, and, with smoke almost visibly coming from his ears, Bentick the Steward.
He wore slung around his shoulders the tubes of the oxygen mask he'd left hidden on the first level, and Whitwell Simm, walking at the back of the party, had orders to stand ready with spells of wind and air at an instant's notice, but Antryg had studied in Joanna's world long enough now to know that this might not be enough.
Antryg swept his arm back at the nonplussed sasenna grouped behind the Witchfinder and the stunned Whitwell Simm.
Brunus, fat and deft and serious, was applying hot cloths to Whitwell Simm's ruined arm, steam from the basin beside him rising in wreaths around his kindly face.
That it will absorb whatever is used against it, whatever it touches, as poor Whitwell found.
Nandiharrow and the fat, good-natured Brunus rewrapping Whitwell Simm's arm.
In attendance, among others, the Right Honorable Rupert Devereaux, Angus Nash, Jessica Whitwell, Chloe Baskar, Tim Hildick, Sholto Pinn, and other members of the elite.
Elsewhere, I spied my erstwhile captor, Jessica Whitwell, riding a white mare.
It was Jessica Whitwell, all cadaverous cheeks and cropped white hair.
Even Jessica Whitwell, who was closest, still gazed at the ceiling with starry eyes.
My old friend Jessica Whitwell, rake-thin Minister for Security, head of the Tower of London, controller of the Mournful Orbs.
The members of the Council were admitted‑Salteris, of course, Lady Rosamund, Nandiharrow, Idrix of Thray, and Whitwell Simm, and you.