“Bro. H., I fear you have told the Lord a wrong story. You say I am proud. This I think is not true. But why tell this to the Lord? He knows more about me than you do. He does not need to be instructed in my case. But this was not your object. You wished to represent me before these brethren and sisters as proud, and have chosen to do so through the medium of prayer to God. Now, sir, if I am proud, so much so that you are able to give the Lord information on the subject, you can tell me before these present in what I am proud. Is it in my general appearance, or my manner of speaking, praying, or singing?”
“No, Bro. White, it is not in those things.”
“Well, is it manifested by these worn and soiled clothes? Please look me over. Is it in my patched boots? my rusty coat? this nearly worn-out vest? these soiled pants? or that old hat I wear?”
“No; I do not see pride in any of these things you mention. But, Bro. White, when I saw that starched collar on you, God only knows how I felt.”
And here the man wept as though his heart would break. This was for effect. It was his usual resort when he had points to carry in a difficult case. In an extremity, tears are not unfrequently woman’s closing and most powerful argument. In her, if her cause be just, they are excusable, and even appropriate and beautiful. But to see a coarse, hard-hearted man, possessing in his very nature but little more tenderness than a crocodile, and nearly as destitute of moral and religious training as a hyena, shedding hypocritical tears for effect, is enough to stir the mirthfulness of the gravest saint.
“But let me explain to you, Bro. H., about this starched collar. I may be able to help you. When I came to this conference, sister Rounds offered to do my washing, and as I had no clean change, she kindly lent me her husband’s shirt, which unfortunately has a starched collar. Mine have only a narrow binding round the neck. I wear no collars only in cases of necessity like the present. It is this, sir, that has given rise to all your ado this morning. I usually wear a black alpaca bosom, but am not the owner of a single collar. You have certainly told the Lord a wrong story about me, under circumstances the most inexcusable. And I think your first and most important work is to settle this matter with him.”
Elder H. dropped upon his knees, and said, in substance:
“O Lord, I have prayed for Bro. White, and he is displeased with me for it. Have mercy upon him! Have mercy! Mercy! Mercy!”
And seeing that none joined with him, not even so much as to kneel, he felt that his effort was proving a failure, and in a subdued tone came to me and said:
“Why did you not kneel with me? O Bro. White, I have felt for you, prayed for you, and have wept over you, and I hope you will not be offended.”