Now the reason why this gentleman got the
title of "the Parson" was not from his reading, his gravity or want of
gravity, but from the fact of his having been educated for the
ministry, which in those days required a great deal more preaching
damnation to sinners than now. His unwillingness to do so was the means
of his leaving the pulpit, and this gave the pith of the toast or
sentiment offered.
Parson Capen's speech was sharp. He did not spill over on every
occasion. He had no little spurts of wit like a spatter of water on a
hot stove, but when he let out his joke it went off like a percussion
cap. The attention of the company being secured, he alluded to his
present position as a change, he believed, for the better--from his
former relation to society when he was preaching against, to the
present time when he was working for, humanity; and gave as a toast,
"Ephraim Capen--_thrust into_ the pulpit to _damn_ mankind,
_thrust out_ of the pulpit to _bless_ mankind."
Laughter followed this sharp witticism, and the hours passed quickly on
until it was near midnight, when it was suggested that "Old Hundred" be
sung, and all joined in the anthem. As the last note died away, the
stroke of the clock announced the hour of twelve, and all departed to
their houses to sleep, and dream of the pleasant time they had enjoyed.
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