“We have room for but one soul loyalty and that is loyalty to the American people.”—Theodore Roosevelt. Copyright 1921 By W. H. Fawcett Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang employs no solicitors. Subscriptions may be received only at authorized news stands or by direct mail to Robbinsdale. We join in no clubbing offers, nor do we give premiums. Two-fifty a year in advance. Edited by a Spanish and World War Veteran and dedicated to the fighting forces of the United States _Drippings From the Fawcett_ The modern city can be likened to that grim monster of old dreams to whom a tribute of maidens was offered. The main difference between them lies in the fact that his appetite for girl-flesh had its limitations, but the appetite of the city had none. From this vast charnel house of hopes, beliefs and ideals files upward a steady stream of damned souls that once belonged to women-children, pure in thought and deed. The crushing of one or a thousand of these “wee modest crimson-tipped flowers” beneath the ploughshares of city life and temptation excites only passing remark. The girl of the city has much more actual animation than her sister of the country. This is due to the food that is eaten and the social conditions of excitement that surround her. The country girl lives upon plain food and has normal hours of rest and relaxation. She does not encounter the sights or sounds that would tend to divert her attention from high thoughts to matters forbidden. Such sights and sounds are never absent from the city girl. She cannot go into the business part of the city and walk two blocks without being reminded of her sex. Men eye her with glances of suggestion and invitation. * * * * * You don’t have to go to West Point for strategy. A negro preacher in his pulpit one Sunday said he had a few remarks to make before the collection basket made its peregrination. “Now, brethren and sisters,” he began, “there is just one brethren here that is untrue to his church, untrue to his Lord—and worst of all, untrue to his wife. Unless he puts a five dollar bill into the contribution box I will be compelled to call his name out.” When the basket had returned and a recount had been made, the books showed forty-two five dollar bills and a two dollar bill with a note pinned to it saying, “I will hand you the other three in the morning. Please don’t give me away.” * * * * * “Only a Mother Could Love a Prohibitionist’s Face.” That is the inscription which appeared on one of the banners in the Anti-Dry parade which I had the pleasure of witnessing in New York City while en-route back from the big fight which ye editor attended. * * * * *