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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

"
"Yes, of course," I replied--and meantime I was racking my poor wits
figuring out how to present this strange acquaintance of mine most
tactfully to the world. I knew the reporter would not tarry long; he
would grab a few sentences, and rush away to telephone them in.
"I'll tell you what I'm free to tell," I began. "This gentleman is a
healer, a man of very remarkable gifts. Mental healing, you
understand."
"I get you," said the reporter. "Some religion?"
"Mr. Carpenter teaches a new religion."
"I see. A sort of prophet! And where does he come from?"
I tried to evade. "He has just arrived--"
But the blood-hound of the press was not going to be evaded. "Where
do you come from, sir?" he demanded, of Carpenter.
To which Carpenter answered, promptly: "From God."
"From God? Er--oh, I see. From God! Most interesting! How long ago,
may I ask?"
"Yesterday."
"Oh! That is indeed extraordinary! And this mob that you've just
been addressing--did you use some kind of mind cure on them?"
I could see the story taking shape; the headlines flamed before my
mind's eye--streamer heads, all the way across the sheet, after the
fashion of our evening papers:
PROPHET FRESH FROM GOD QUELLS MOB

XXVI

I came to a sudden decision in this crisis.


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