sadder and a wiser man that night for that encounter with the
Connecticut Pilgrim.

But my allotted time is running away, and, preacher-like, I couldn't
begin without an introduction. I am afraid in this case the porch will
be bigger than the house. But now to my toast, "The Clergy." Surely, Mr.
President and gentlemen, you sons of the Pilgrims appreciate the debt
you owe the Puritan divines. What made your section great, dominant,
glorious in the history of our common country? To what class of your
citizens--more than to any other, I think--do you owe the proud memories
of your past, and your strength, achievements, and culture in the
present? Who had the first chance on your destiny, your character, your
development? Why, the Puritan preacher, of course; the man who in every
parish inculcated the fear of God in your fathers' souls, obedience to
law, civil and divine, the dignity of man, the worth of the soul and
right conduct in life. [Applause.] Believe me, gentlemen, the Puritan
clergy did a great work for New England. Our whole country feels yet the
impulse and movement given it by those stern preachers of righteousness,
who had Abrahamic eyes under their foreheads and the stuff of Elijah in
their souls. [Applause.] I know it's the fashion now to poke fun at the
Puritans, to use the "Blue Laws" as a weapon against them, to sneer at
them as hard, narrow, and intolerant. Yes, alas! we do not breathe
through their lungs any more. The wheel has gone round, and we have come
back to the very things the Puritans fled from in hatred and in horror.

We pride ourselves these days on our "sweetness and light," on our
culture and manners. The soul of the age is hospitable and entertains,
like an inn, "God or the devil on equal terms," as George Eliot says.
Alas! the Puritan chart has failed us in the sea through which we are
passing; the old stars have ceased to shine; too many of us know neither