W. Pett Ridge

Biographical details

W. Pett Ridge,  A Son of the State

“ A roaring noisy crowded gallery, like the side of a mountain going from the base with strong iron rods protecting up to the topmost point, where patrons had to bend their backs to escape the ceiling. General discardment of coats by men and boys, universal doffing of hats and bonnets, and loosening of blouses by ladies. Bobbie, perched on the rolled-up coats of the two men, saw at a distance of what seemed at first to be several miles below, the tightly-wedged people on the floor of the theatre packed closely to the very footlights, and leaving just sufficient room for a small orchestra. ”
Source: Gutenberg

W. Pett Ridge,  Mord Em'ly — Chapter 4 (1898)

“ There was the slight mist in the air that seems for ever floating about South London, ready, if joined by auxiliary forces, to become a fog; content, when alone, to remain reticent, and to mellow the tone of the evening. When a stretch of private houses, with long, stubbly lawns, came now and again, Mord Em'ly's eager interest relaxed, to become alive the moment that lighted shops appeared in view. ”
Source: Wikisource

W. Pett Ridge,  Mord Em'ly — Chapter 12 (1898)

“ You grunt loudly now, Wag Mills; you retire backward around the ring. You slip down, your opponent stands over you, and you refuse to get up, until the Arch screams insistently, and orders you to do so. There is blood on your nose, too, now, Wag Mills; you hiss through your teeth, as though imitating the music of the locomotives over head. You do not look so steadily as before into your opponent's eyes; but he still directs at you the same persistent stare as he gives you blow after blow. ”
Source: Wikisource

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