Word: drunkards
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...This is the original.") The revival got under way. Striding excitedly around his congregation, and sweating with fervor, Evangelist Poole shouted and whispered into his microphone. "I used to be a drunkard," he would yell. "I used to curse and tell lies and all those things. But I've been saved! ... If you come, you can find God around this old bush arbor ... If you go home lost tonight, it's not my fault." His flock would begin to groan and shout, to shake and roll in the sawdust. Then a string quartet would take over...
Apostle in Disguise. "I dedicated myself," says Hecht, "to attacking prudes, piety-mongers and all apostles of virtue." The snag was that young Ben, raised by a good mother, was himself a disguised apostle of virtue. He would prance into a brothel "playing drunkard and whoremonger with all the vocabulary at my command"-only to find himself clutching the hand of a fallen sister and begging her to reform. He even took one young prostitute to live with him and "encouraged her to weep over her vile life." He "read books to her every night," while she "lay nude . . . listening...
Last week Madrid's large Monarchist daily A.B.C. was astir with feminine indignation over Spain's archaic laws on women. The indignation was set off by the account of a Madrid housewife who for years worked hard to support a drunkard husband and, though abused by him, could not leave him, having no money, no relatives, no place to go. In the end, the husband stabbed her to death. "This poor creature," cried an impassioned columnist in A.B.C., "paid with her life for the injustices of law made by man for men . . . Let her sacrifices bear the fruits...
Wagle, 31, was swamped with calls after he put ads in the Sun and the News: UNDEPENDABLE, SLOPPY, LIAR, CHEAT, DRUNKARD, ALLERGIC TO WORK; NEED...
...self-defense by disposing of the dead man's reputation. Margaret threatens to tell all; but even she is finally persuaded that her brother's neck is worth more than her father's name, remains silent when testimony paints the dead man as a brute and drunkard. Novelist Grierson's feeling: well might the ghost of Robert Anderson weep with Omar Khayyám, "Indeed the Idols I have loved so long / Have . . . sold my Reputation for a Song...