Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
If the great Republic of Mobland had been unable to make for its returned war-heroes the new world which it had promised them if it could not even give them back the jobs they had had before they left surely the least it could do was to get them drunk!
I won't work!" this being our Mobland nickname for the I.W.W. Some one had daubed the letters on the sides of the wagon, using the red paint; and a drunken fellow standing near me shook his clenched fist at the wretch on top and bellowed in a fog-horn voice: "Hey, there, you goddam Arnychist, if you're a prophet, come down from that there wagon and cure my venereal disease!"
"I ask, why do the police of Mobland put down the mobs of the poor, and not the mobs of the rich? I ask, who pays the police, and who pays the mobs." "I see! You are some kind of radical!" And with sickness of soul I saw another headline before my mind's eye: WEALTHY CLUBMAN AIDS BOLSHEVIK PROPHET I hastened to break in: "Mr. Carpenter is not a radical; he is a lover of man."
It was a company of ex-service men in uniform; one or two hundred, carrying rifles with fixed bayonets which gleamed in the sunshine. There were two fifers and two drummers at their head, and also two flags, one the flag of the Brigade, and the other the flag of Mobland.
"Oh God, my Father!" he whispered, and seemed to quiver with each thud of the tramping feet on the pavement. After the storm had passed, he stood motionless, the pain still in his face "It is Rome! It is Rome!" he murmured. "No," said I, "it is Mobland." He went on, as if he had not heard me. "Rome! Eternal Rome! Rome that never dies!" And he turned upon me his startled eyes. "Even the eagles!"
I bowed my head, prepared to take my punishment. But at once Carpenter's voice softened. "You are a part of Mobland," he said; "you cannot help yourself. In Mobland it is not possible for even a martyrdom to proceed in an orderly way." I gazed at him a moment, bewildered. "What's the good of a martyrdom?" I cried.
Now, I had been so much interested in Carpenter and his adventures that I had pretty well overlooked this matter of the Mobland Brigade and its convention. I belong to the Brigade myself, and ought to have been serving on the committee of arrangements; instead of which, here I was chasing around trying to save a prophet, who, it appeared, really wanted to get into trouble!
Was this the purpose for which they had shed their blood in a dreadful war that their country might be affronted by the ravings of an impious charlatan? What had the gold-star mothers of Western City to say to this? What did the local post of the Mobland Brigade propose to do to save the fair name of their city?
I stood timidly in the middle of the room, and began: "I realize, of course, Mr. Carpenter, that I have taken a very great liberty with you " "You have said it," he replied; and his eyes were awful. "But," I persisted, "if you knew what danger you were in " Said he: "Do you think that I came to Mobland to look for a comfortable life?" "But," I pleaded, "if you only knew that particular gang!
I found that he had achieved the front page, triple column, with streamer head all the way across the page: PROPHET IN TOWN, HEALS SICK, RAVES AT RICH AMERICA IS MOBLAND, ALLEGED IN RED RIOT OF TALK There followed a half page story about Carpenter's strenuous day in Western City, beginning with a "Bolshevik stump speech" to a mob of striking tailors.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking