Fresh Every Hour: Detailing the Adventures, Comic and Pathetic of One Jimmy Martin, Purveyor of Publicity, a Young Gentleman Possessing Sublime Nerve, Whimsical Imagination, Colossal Impudence, and, Withal, the Heart of a Child.Toohey, John Peter
General
Fresh Every Hour: Detailing the Adventures, Comic and Pathetic of One Jimmy Martin, Purveyor of Publicity, a Young Gentleman Possessing Sublime Nerve, Whimsical Imagination, Colossal Impudence, and, Withal, the Heart of a Child.
Toohey, John Peter
Press agents -- Fiction
He was a stockily built man with a rugged and rather rough-hewn face.
Blue eyes were set in it below bushy brows that gave him, in moods of
intense earnestness, a somewhat ferocious aspect. They were eyes that
now glowed with tender warmth, that grew hard or relentlessly cold next
moment or that would ever and anon gleam and glint with merriment. They
were the most expressive of his features. They mirrored his moods with
uncanny accuracy. The movements of his squat and chunky frame were quick
and darting when he was in action and even when he was in repose—which
was seldom—he seemed to be literally seething with energy beneath the
surface. When he permitted himself the luxury of letting down the
inhibitive barriers which ordinarily held this energy in check he became
a dynamic force that was almost irresistible in its onslaught on the
emotions.
The prayer over, another hymn was sung under the magnetic leadership of
the assistant, while “Billy” Williams pulled his chair over the edge of
the platform and fraternized with the reporters as was his custom. Jimmy
Martin, who was watching the proceedings circumspectly over the shoulder
of a prim looking maiden lady who stood next him and whose hymn book he
was sharing in a pretense of devotional interest, noticed that the curly
headed newsgatherer was whispering to the evangelist and directing the
latter’s attention to his charges in the front rows.
He saw “Billy” Williams look interestedly at the young women and then
smile. It was such a healthy, wholesome, frank smile that it was
instantly returned by the “Keep Moving” girls and Jimmy found himself
taking note of the fact that even the most utterly blase members of the
group seemed to drop their affected air of supreme world-weariness for a
moment and become human once more. He noticed the evangelist turn away
from the press table as the final chorus of the hymn was sung by
everyone in the auditorium and look up towards the flag-bedecked rafters
for a half minute or so as if pondering on an idea that had occurred to
him. As the great audience seated itself he sprang to his feet with an
air of decision.
“My friends,” he announced in a voice which swept to the farthest
corners of the vast building, “I have an announcement to make that may
disappoint some of you. I regret this but my duty is as clear to me as
the unclouded noon-day sky. A Divine opportunity for service presents
itself to me tonight and I would be recreant to my ideals if I did not
embrace it. I had intended to preach to you on some of the lessons which
I draw from the disgusting exhibition of prize-fighting which was
tolerated in this city during the past week and I had announced that I
would tan the hides of some of the city officials responsible for its
sanction, and that I would nail those hides on the door of the house
wherein abideth decency and honor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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