An American was riding in a cab through the streets of Vienna, some years before the war, reading his mail. As he finished with certain letters, he tore them up and threw the fragments out of the cab-window. The driver soon began to notice what was going on, left his box and picked up the torn papers. Then he put his head in at the window, and cried, with a passion which seemed to the careless and untidy American quite uncalled-for, "What do you mean by littering up our beautiful streets in this way? Where do you come from? Have your people no pride in their country? Do they wish it to look all over like a slum?"
He actually reported the matter to the police. The man was thereupon haled to court and had to pay a considerable fine.
Although some of our cities, as well as foreign ones, carry civic pride to an almost ridiculous extent, it is a good fault. Children should early be taught to regard the neatness and beauty of their town.
If they complain that these matters are hard to remember and to do, give them to understand that patriotism is not easy. Few virtues are easy to practice, and perhaps unselfish patriotism is the hardest of all.
A young man graduated from that great American university where it is said that citizenship is most strenuously taught, and where he had certainly imbibed a lofty desire to do his duty by his country. He lived in a great city and presented himself in due time after his graduation at the door of his ward political organization. There he met with an experience something like this:
A gentleman, plethoric and red-faced, welcomed him, asked his name and address, and gave him "the glad hand." At the same time, he showed a spice of suspicion.
"Are you a Republican?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I suppose you have always voted the straight ticket?"
"Well,—I have been voting only a year or two. I think I have voted the straight ticket so far."