American literature -- Humor; American wit and humor
"Science! He doesn't know what Christianity is yet. I've entertained
many guests, but none--The whole secret," broke off Judge Henry, "lies
in the way you treat people. As soon as you treat men as your brothers,
they are ready to acknowledge you--if you deserve it--as their superior.
That's the whole bottom of Christianity, and that's what our missionary
will never know."
* * * * *
Thunder sat imminent upon the missionary's brow. Many were to be at his
mercy soon. But for us he had sunshine still. "I am truly sorry to be
turning you upside down," he said importantly. "But it seems the best
place for my service." He spoke of the table pushed back and the chairs
gathered in the hall, where the storm would presently break upon the
congregation. "Eight-thirty?" he inquired.
This was the hour appointed, and it was only twenty minutes off. We
threw the unsmoked fractions of our cigars away, and returned to offer
our services to the ladies. This amused the ladies. They had done
without us. All was ready in the hall.
"We got the cook to help us," Mrs. Ogden told me, "so as not to disturb
your cigars. In spite of the cow-boys, I still recognize my own
country."
"In the cook?" I rather densely asked.
"Oh, no! I don't have a Chinaman. It's in the length of after-dinner
cigars."
"Had you been smoking," I returned, "you would have found them short
this evening."
"You make it worse," said the lady; "we have had nothing but Dr.
MacBride."
"We'll share him with you now," I exclaimed.
"Has he announced his text? I've got one for him," said Molly Wood,
joining us. She stood on tiptoe and spoke it comically in our ears. "'I
said in my haste, All men are liars.'" This made us merry as we stood
among the chairs in the congested hall.
I left the ladies, and sought the bunk house. I had heard the cheers,
but I was curious also to see the men, and how they were taking it.
There was but little for the eye. There was much noise in the room. They
were getting ready to come to church,--brushing their hair, shaving, and
making themselves clean, amid talk occasionally profane and continuously
diverting.
"Well, I'm a Christian, anyway," one declared.
"I'm a Mormon, I guess," said another.
"I belong to the Knights of Pythias," said a third.
"I'm a Mohammedist," said a fourth; "I hope I ain't goin' to hear
nothin' to shock me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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