"You have in America no really old stories and traditions?" said a
German lady to an American.
"We are too young for such things. But what does it matter? We enjoy
yours," was the civil response.
"But," the German continued, in a tone of commiseration, "no
fairy-stories like ours of the Black Forest, no legends like ours of the
Blockberg! Isn't everything very new and prosaic?"
This superiority is not to be endured. The American feels that her
country's honor is impeached.
"We have no such legends," she begins slowly, when a blessed inspiration
comes to her relief, and she goes on with dignity,--"we have no such
legends, to be sure; but then, you know, we have--_the Indians_."
"Ah, yes; that is true," said the German, respectfully, knowing as much
of the Indians as of the inhabitants of some remote planet, while the
American, trusting the vague, mysterious term will induce a change of
subject, yet not knowing what may come, rapidly revolves in her mind
every item of Indian lore she has ever known, from Pocahontas to
Young-Man-Afraid-of-his-Horses, determined, should she be called upon to
tell a wild Indian tale, to do it in a manner that will not disgrace the
stars and stripes.
But I grieve to say that America is not always victorious. Our
table-talk, upon whatever subject it may begin, invariably ends in a
controversy, more or less earnest, about the merits of the several
nations represented.
A Swiss student with strong French sympathies charges valiantly at three
Germans, and having routed their entire army, heaped all manner of abuse
upon Kaiser Wilhelm, reduced the crown prince to beggary, and beheaded
Bismarck, suddenly turns, elated with his victory, and hurls his
missiles at the American eagle.
O, how we suffer for our country!