"It so happened," they said, "that we wished to erect a shrine to the President of our Republic while he was yet alive to be worshipped therein. The rich men gave the money and the poor men held their hats to receive it.
"When the money was gathered, the committee took it to our beloved President and asked him the manner of shrine he would have. And our President said: 'All that any man is, his mother made him—therefore I ask that the shrine shall consist of a great gallery, and in this gallery shall hang the portrait of my mother.'
"So our committee called upon all the artists and they selected the two best. One artist's name was Jake Smith, and he was born naked into the world amidst dire poverty and considerable adversity, but he had become a great artist for all that and had painted the portraits of many rich and be-jeweled ladies.
"And the other artist bore the name of Glengary Du Peyster, and he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth; but in spite of that he also learned to paint, and he had searched out all the poor and wretched old women of our slums and hovels and painted of them very great pictures.
"When these artists took samples of their work to show to our President, he said: 'You may both paint my mother, and then my mother shall decide which is the best painting.'
"'Very well,' said the artists, 'will you conduct us to her home?'
"So the President took them to a little flat in K Street where lived a poor, blind widow and he said: 'Artists, meet my mother!'
"Glengary Du Peyster was over-joyed, for this was the kind of a woman he could paint best, and he wished to send immediately for his canvas and brushes.
"But it was not to be so, for the President now conducted the artists to a mansion in D Street, and here in a great hall hung with tapestry and shaded lights was a fine old lady, and the president said again: 'Artists, meet my mother!'
"And now it was Jake Smith's time to rejoice; and he glared at Glengary Du Peyster, and neither of them durst speak their thoughts.