The [Cross of Gold] speech immediately transformed [William Jennings] Bryan from a presumptuous youngster in the rear ranks of the peripheral candidates into a top contender for the nomination. His performance became the standard example of the ability of an orator to sway a convention. In 1953, a poll of 277 professors of American history or government ranked the "Cross of Gold" speech among the fifty most significant documents in American history.
(from A Righteous Cause, by Robert W. Cherny)
"This is not a contest between persons. The humblest citizen in all the land, when clad in the armor of righteous cause, is stronger than all the hosts of error." (William Jennings Bryan)
"I must continue to fight the battles of the people, for what I think is right and just, if I have to do so single-handed and alone. I care naught whether I am ever elected to an office or not." (William Jennings Bryan, 1894)
A waiter brought roast beef, underdone, and she took a thin slice. Jerry took two slices, with potatoes, and Gloria in her austere way advised him to be very careful how he tucked into those things, because that had made Sir Gregory Parsloe the man he was . . . or, rather, she added, for she was a girl who liked exactness, the two men he was.
(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"So here you are," said Sir Gregory, having completed his tale. "What do you make of it?"
George Cyril Wellbeloved was a man who went in for a certain verbal polish in his conversation. "To speak expleasantly, sir," he said, "I think the old ___ meant to do the dirty on us."
It would perhaps have been more fitting had Sir Gregory at this point said, "Come, come, my man, be more careful with your language," but the noun ___ expressed so exactly what he himself was thinking of the Hon. Galahad Threepwood that he could not bring himself to chide and rebuke. As a matter of fact, though ___ is admittedly strong stuff, he had gone even further than his companion, labelling Gally in his mind as a ***** and a !!!!!.
(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"Bertie," said Aunt Dahlia, "I am only a weak woman, but if you won't tread on this insect and throw the remains outside, I shall have to see what I can do. The most tremendous issues hanging in the balance - out plan of action still to be decided on - every second of priceless importance - and he comes in here, telling us the story of his life. Spink-Bottle, you ghastly goggle-eyed piece of gorgonzola, will you hop it or will you not?"
There is a compelling force about the old flesh-and-blood, when stirred, which generally gets her listened to. People have told me that in her hunting days she could make her wishes respected across two ploughed fields and a couple of spinneys. The word "not" had left her lips like a high-powered shell, and Gussie, taking it between the eyes, rose some six inches into the air.
(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"You aren't going to do a bolt?"
"Of course, I'm going to do a bolt. Immediately. You heard what Spode said."
"You aren't afraid of Spode?"
"Yes, I am."
"But you were saying yourself that he's a mere mass of beef and brawn, obviously slow on his feet."
"I know. I remember. But that was when I thought he was after you. One's views change."
(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
I had watched Harold Pinker through the formative years of his life, and I knew him for what he was - a large, lumbering, Newfoundland puppy of a chap - full of zeal, yes - always doing his best, true; but never quite able to make the grade; a man, in short, who is there was a chance of bungling an enterprise and landing himself in the soup, would snatch at it. At the idea of him being turned on to perform the extraordinarily delicate task of swiping Constable Oates's helmet, the blood froze. He hadn't a chance of getting away with it.
I thought of Stinker, the youth. Built rather on the lines of Roderick Spode, he had played Rugby football not only for his university but also for England, and at the art of hurling an opponent into a mud puddle and jumping on his neck with cleated boots had had few, if any, superiors. If I had wanted someone to help me out with a mad bull, he would have been my first choice. If by some mischance I had found myself trapped in the underground den of the Secret Nine, there was nobody I would rather have seen coming down the chimney than the Rev. Harold Pinker.
But mere thews and sinews do not qualify a man to pinch policemen's helmets. You need finesse.
(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
The constable, I say, was riding without his hands; and but for this the disaster, when it occurred, might not have been so complete. I was a bit of a cyclist myself in my youth - I think I have mentioned that I once won a Choir Boys handicap at some village sports - and I can testify that when you are riding without your hands, privacy and a complete freedom from interruption are of the essence. The merest suggestion of an unexpected Scottie connecting with the ankle-bone at such a time, and you swoop into a sudden swerve. And, as everybody knows, if the hands are not firmly on the handle-bars, a sudden swerve spells a smeller.
And so it happened now. A smeller - and among the finest I have ever been privileged to witness - was what this officer of the law came. One moment he was with us, all merry and bright; the next, he was in the ditch, a sort of macedoine of arms and legs and wheels, with the terrier standing on the edge, looking down at him with that rather offensive expression of virtuous smugness which I have often noticed on the faces of Aberdeen terriers in their clashes with humanity.
(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
Even to an unobservant eye it would have been apparent that he was not one of Joe's admirers. In the look he gave him as he entered there was something of the open dislike which a resident of India exhibits when he comes to take his morning bath and finds a cobra in the bathtub.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
Mr. Trout's voice was the voice of one who, putting his fate to the touch to win or lose it all, has found himself a winner. Its volume made that plain. No man, Joe felt, to whom the adored object had handed the pink cashier's slip could so nearly have fractured his eardrum, and forgetting his own troubles for the moment he rejoiced in the other's good fortune. Mr. Trout might be the sort of man whose morning post was never without its quota of attractive offers from lunatic asylums, but he wished him well.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"Are we not forgetting something?" he said.
Joe started violently. He had had no notion that Mr. Trout was among those present. He had supposed that on seeing Sally he would have realized that his company was not desired. But, as has been shown, it would have come as a surprise to Mr. Trout to learn that his company was ever not desired. He was as difficult to dislodge as a family specter.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"So you think everything's all right?"
"Everything is perfect. True, she is engaged to be married to somebody else, but she is extremely fond of you. It showed clearly in her manner."
The effect of these words on Joe was somewhat similar to that which would have been produced by a blow on the bridge of the nose by a wet fish. His jaw fell. His eyes bulged. He tottered and might have fallen had he not clutched at the umbrella stand.
"Engaged to someone else?" he quavered.
"Yes. Owing, I gathered, to a regrettable misunderstanding. You asked her to lunch, and she was prevented by circumstances over which she had no control from putting in an appearance. When subsequently you asked her to dinner, and in your turn did not put in an appearance, she assumed that you had done it to punish her, and being a girl of spirit she resented it. So when this man asked her to marry him, she accepted him by way of evening the score. The whole affair had in it something of the inevitability of Greek tragedy."
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"I wish I could ask you to have dinner with me, but unfortunately I've come out without my money and they don't know me here, so I can't sign the bill."
"I don't want any dinner. You can see me home if you like. Not Laburnham Road. Fountain Court, Park Lane."
"Yes, somebody told me you had moved."
"I'm living there with another girl."
"So whoever it was who told me said. Was it her you were waiting for?"
"No, she's gone to a dinner. Something to do with her old school."
Jaklyn was relieved. He would have found a meeting with Daphne Dolby embarrassing. It is never agreeable for a man who is engaged to one girl and has just proposed to another to find himself in the company of both of them.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
+++
There is, of course, a grammatical error in this passage. It should have been, "Was it she you were waiting for?" It is interesting that a writer of Sir Pelham's eminence, who grew up hearing the King's English and whose publisher no doubt had a small army of proofreaders available would have made that mistake. UNLESS, of course, it was not a mistake and that he was of the (correct) opinion that the distinction in the case of the pronouns is a purely arbitrary one that serves no useful purpose.
This reminds me of Churchill's famous barb at needless grammatical conventions: “From now on, ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I will not put.”
And he disappeared through the door like a diving duck, while Joe proceeded to follow his instructions with something of the emotions of a young lion tamer about to enter the lion's cage and nervously conscious that he has only got as far as lesson three of the correspondence course that has been teaching him lion taming.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"How long have you known Miss Dalrymple?" he inquired.
"A couple of weeks. Why?"
"Because you seem to have got an erroneous grasp of her personality. You appear to think she will accept your abrupt disappearance from her life as just one of those things, perhaps dropping a silent tear but taking no further steps. Have you considered the possibility of her calling on you and setting about you with her umbrella? She may not be my dream girl, but she is a fine upstanding woman, fully capable of beating the tar out of you before you could say, 'Hello there, good afternoon, lovely day, is it not?' It is a point to which I think you should give some attention."
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
With those who had known them both it was a constant source of debate as to whether Jaklyn was or was not a more slippery character than his late father. Some said yes, some said no, but it was agreed that it was a close thing, and the opinion of those who had suffered at their hands that the crookedness of each was such as to enable him to hide at will behind a spiral staircase was universally held. The only difference between the two was that the sixth baronet had been bluff and hearty and had furthered his ends by slapping people on the back, while the seventh achieved his by looking wistful and pathetic.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
"You may have asked yourself why I, though working in the heart of Hollywood for more than twenty years, have never married."
It had not occurred to Mr. Llewellyn to ask himself this. Had he done so, he would have replied to himself that the solution of the mystery was that his old friend, though highly skilled in the practice of law, was short on fascination. Mr. Trout, in addition to being thin, had that dried-up look which so often comes to middle-aged lawyers. There was nothing dashing about him. He might have appealed to the comfortable, motherly type of woman, but these are rare in Hollywood.
(from Bachelors Anonymous, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
And Cappy knew skippers. He could get more loyalty out of them with a mere pat on the back and a kindly word than could Mr. Skinner, with all his threats, nagging and driving, yet he was an employer who demanded a full measure of service and never permitted sentiment to plead for an incompetent.
(from Cappy Ricks, by Peter B. Ryne)
In a way he was beginning to detest John Gaspar as he had never detested any human being before or since. To him no sin was so great as the sin of weakness in a man, and certainly Gaspar was superlatively weak. He had something in place of courage, but just what that thing was, Sinclair could not tell. Curiosity drew him toward the fellow; and these weaknesses repulsed him.
(from The Rangeland Avenger, by Max Brand)
