They Call Me Carpenter: A Tale of the Second ComingSinclair, Upton
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They Call Me Carpenter: A Tale of the Second Coming
Sinclair, Upton
Hollywood (Los Angeles, Calif.) -- Fiction; Jesus Christ -- Fiction
The company laughed, and I subsided, and let the wave of
conversation roll by. It was only later that I realized the part I
had just been playing. It had been easy for me to recognize T-S as
St. Peter, but I had not known myself as that rich young man who had
asked for advice, and then rejected it. “When he heard this, he was
very sorrowful; for he was very rich.” Yes, I had found my place in
the story!
XLIII
You may believe that next morning my first thought was to get hold
of the “Times” and see what they had done to my prophet. Sure
enough, there he was on the front page, three columns wide, with the
customary streamer head:
MOB OF ANARCHISTS RAID ST. BARTHOLMEW'S
PROPHET AND RAGGED HORDE BREAK UP CHURCH SERVICES
I skimmed over the story quickly; I noted that Carpenter was
represented as having tried to knock down the Reverend Mr.
Simpkinson, and that the prophet's followers had assaulted members
of the congregation. I confess to some relief upon discovering that
my own humble part in the adventure had not been mentioned. I
suspected that my Uncle Timothy must have been busy at the telephone
on Sunday evening! But then I turned to the “Examiner,” and alas,
there I was! “A certain rich young man,” rising up to protect an
incendiary prophet! I remembered that my Uncle Timothy had had a
violent row with the publisher of the “Examiner” a year or two ago,
over some political appointment!
The “Times” had another editorial, two columns, double leaded.
Yesterday the paper had warned the public what to expect; today it
saw the prophecies justified, and what it now wished to know was,
had Western City a police department, or had it not? “How much
longer do our authorities propose to give rein to this fire-brand
imposter? This prophet of God who rides about town in a broken-down
express-wagon, and consorts with movie actresses and red agitators!
Must the police wait until his seditious doctrines have fanned the
flames of mob violence beyond control? Must they wait until he has
gathered all the others of his ilk, the advocates of lunacy and
assassination about him, and caused an insurrection of class envy
and hate? We call upon the authorities of our city to act and act at
once; to put this wretched mountebank behind bars where he belongs,
and keep him there.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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