In France, we have men who swear and men who sing hymns. The Anglo-Saxon race alone furnishes men who do both with equal gusto.
In what other country than America could such an anecdote as the following be told? It is the most typical anecdote I heard in the United States. It came from Mr. Chauncey Depew, it is said. But, for that matter, when a good story goes the round of the States, it is always put down to Mr. Depew, Mark Twain, or the late Artemus Ward.
A new minister had been appointed in a little Kentucky town. No sooner had he taken possession of his cure, than he set about ornamenting the church with stained-glass windows of gorgeous hues. This proceeding aroused the suspicions of several parishioners, who imagined that their new pastor was inclined to lead them to Rome. A meeting was called, and it was decided to send a deputation to the minister to ask him to explain his conduct, and beg him to have the offending windows removed.
The head of the deputation was an old Presbyterian, whose austerity was well known in the town. He opened fire by addressing the reverend gentleman thus:
"We have waited upon you, sir, to beg that you will remove those painted windows from our church as soon as possible. We are simple folks. God's daylight is good enough for us, and we don't care to have it shut out by all those images——"
The worthy fellow had prepared a fine harangue, and was going to give the minister the benefit of it all; but the latter, losing patience, thus interrupted him:
"Excuse me, you seem to be taking high ground. Who are you, may I ask?"
"Who I am?" repeated the Presbyterian spokesman. "I'm a meek and humble follower of Jesus, and—d—n you, who are you?"
Without travelling very far, without even quitting the eastern coast of America, you will see a complete difference in the spirit of towns that are almost neighbours.