Form Without Power

Representative Norris, of Nebraska, was on a streetcar one Sunday morning when there entered a white-haired woman, a man of about thirty and a well-dressed young woman. The conversation soon made it apparent that the young man and his mother were from a farm, and that they were visiting Washington for the first time. He was starting home, leaving her to visit longer with the young woman, who was her daughter. When the brother arose a little later to say goodbye at the point where he was to leave the car, his mother threw her arms around his neck, and stood for some moments delivering a motherly message, while the conductor waited patiently with his hand on the bell-cord. Embarrassed, the son still held his arm about his mother’s waist.
“Start the car!” called out a man in a silk hat. “It’s church-time now. Why can’t people do this sort of thing before they start for church?” he grumbled.
It had gone far enough for Mr. Norris. “Young man,” he said to the one who was now the center of all eyes, “you just take all the time you want to say goodbye to your mother. You don’t know when you will say it to her for the last time. And if any of these people are so worried over their sins that they must hurry to church, why, they might get down on their knees right here and pray.”