5.17 - LECTURE ON EUROPEAN COUNTRIES

LECTURE ON EUROPEAN COUNTRIES

Ladies and gentlemen, through a kind Providence that ever watches us, we are permitted to assemble tonight under conditions quite favorable, to enter into that which I trust may prove both interesting and profitable to everyone in this audience. There is no place that I have ever gone where I appreciate the privilege of a return more than to our capital city of Nashville. I never have been greeted by an audience so large as that which you have furnished, nor one before whom I would rather stand. Almost a hundred times I have appeared in your midst, and every time you have expressed such an interest that I have received the greatest encouragement and inspiration. I come to you tonight to try to tell some things regarding a recent trip I made across the great Atlantic, through the land of Europe, over the Mediterranean, into the country of the pyramids, and finally into the land of Palestine. I am not a professed lecturer, nor have I engaged in efforts of this kind, but in a very plain, simple way, I hope to interest you in some of the things observed and in some things experienced. I have been about quite a bit in life, but mostly about home, and those things that I did not know regarding this kind of a trip would, if written, make a volume so large, I presume, the world would hardly contain it. In the first part of the month of last June, preparations definite were made for the final departure from our own sacred land. I secured, first a passport from the Secretary of State, and next a ticket for the Steamship George Washington, which was to sail from Hobo ken, New Jersey, on June 23. I went in company with quite a large party, one that measured five feet and six inches in height and, if I am not mistaken, about six feet and five inches in circumference. He weighed on leaving home 284 pounds, but considerably less after we had been at sea a couple of days. I refer to Brother I. A. Douthitt, an old student and a fellow preacher, who lives in the town of Sedalia, Kentucky.

Through the assistance of Brother and Sister E. E. Shoulders of New York City, we were shown how to get around through the metropolis of our own land and finally through the big tube to the pier, from which we entered the great steamer. This steamship was quite a wonder within itself. The George Washington is one of our large American liners, being six hundred ninety-two feet long and ninety feet wide. She has eleven stories and three promenade decks. I had learned already by correspondence that there were three classes of passengers, but I did not know just what the difference was. I never did want to be on the extremes of life either way, and from that statement you can judge quite correctly that we secured second-class passage, for I was told by those who knew that it was good enough for a king, and I thought, therefore, good enough for us. I found it even as some had said and enjoyed every minute of the voyage. We had a splendid two-passenger cabin, in which there were all the conveniences necessary for our comfort. On Saturday, June 23, at exactly twelve o’clock, I felt the great boat ease out from the pier and saw her turn her bow down the river and toward the bay. Hundreds stood on deck with their faces bathed in tears, while thousands of handkerchiefs and flags from the pier waved them a farewell to parts unknown. I stepped to the stern of the ship and watched, as long as I possibly could, those whom we had left behind. In the course of time, we rounded the great statue and there gazed upon "Liberty" enlightening the world, but I am frank to say to you that I did not receive that especial thrill for which I had made abundant preparation. I do not know, and have never known, whether it was due to the very calm and quiet disposition that I may have been able to possess, or whether it was a lack of patriotism on my part. I watched the tall buildings as they began to fade away, until by and by all was lost in the distance. The ships, sailboats, and gasoline launches grew fewer and fewer, and finally we passed the lighthouse of St. Ambrose, at which place a number of guns were fired, indicative of the fact that we were indeed off to sea and fully committed to the dangers thereof. The afternoon passed and I was anxious to see the setting of the sun, but a cloud overcast the sky and hid his face from view. After the splendid dinner, which was served in the spacious dining had, where we were at liberty to take whatever chair we chose, there was an interesting program by the ship’s orchestra to the delight of all the passengers. This being over, we passed into our cabin, read some selections of Scripture, offered a fervent prayer, and committed ourselves to the care of him who rules both land and sea. I must say to you that I felt just a little bit peculiar while preparing to retire out upon an ocean which, so far as I could see, was without a shore. We passed the night in splendid sleep and awoke to look out upon a boundless sea. I might suggest just at this point that a ship has two kinds of motion—viz., that of a seesaw, up and down. As Mark Twain has well said at one moment the bow of the ship is taking deadly aim at the sun in the midst of the heaven, while the next moment it is trying to harpoon a shark at the bottom of the sea. In addition to that, there is a motion from side to side. Sometimes you can sit on deck with the rail as your guide and behold the water not more than twenty feet from the ship; and then it rocks to the other side until the sky greets your eye and all the water is invisible. It is these motions that cause seasickness. I expected such to be mine, but fortunately I missed it altogether and felt not the slightest symptom. I can say to you confidently, if there ever is a time when a man feels conceited and justly proud of himself, it is perhaps when his stomach behaves itself decorously for the first twenty-four hours out at sea. I was able to walk about with an air of triumph and dignity, and look with amusement upon my less fortunate fellows as they were belching forth like old Mount Vesuvius the various things that had been devoured. I remember that Brother Douthitt came to me on the afternoon of the second day, and said: "Brother Hardeman, how do you feel?" I said “I am all right" and passed it by thoughtlessly. In just a short while he came back and said: "You say you are feeling all right?" I said: "Why, certainly, feeling fine." "Well," he said, “I have thrown up everything I have eaten since I left Kentucky." I saw splendidly adorned women leaning over the railing, who looked as if they did not care whether they went forward, backward, or downward—any way that they might get relief seemed to be their choice. Perhaps those who experience no seasickness miss some of the most impressive memories of a voyage. Those who were accustomed to travel said that our passing was quite smooth and that the sea behaved itself well. A large ship like the George Washington draws a big volume of water, sends out immense waves that finally break and portray a thousand sparkles as they burst into the sunlight. Down underneath there is the color of a deep blue, over that a cover of light green, and then on top a white veil overspreads the whole. It was exceedingly interesting to me to stand on the deck and gaze out upon the bosom of an ocean surrounded by cloudless sky and see not a thing under the heaven except the waves and the whitecaps as they burst in the far distance. We had quite a number of amusements on board the ship. First of all a splendid German band gave entertainments three times a day, morning, afternoon, and night. At three o’clock in the afternoon, coffee, tea’ and cakes were served. Shuffleboard, hopscotch, and other simple games were on the decks, while inside of the smoking and the lounging rooms all kinds of card playing and various kinds of games entertained those interested. At night we had the usual picture show and at the same time a big dance going on in another part of the ship. Enchanting strains of the sweetest music poured forth from the splendid orchestra. I was on this journey to see and to learn all possible, so I took in both the pictures and the dance. I am not so very old and still am quite active, so I was invited by several welldressed and good-looking ladies to dance with them. Of course, they did not know I was a preacher and I never make it a point to let people know that I am. I knew I was among strangers and away from home. I have often wondered what some of my dear brethren would have done under circumstances similar. After the first day or two, a trip across the ocean grows somewhat monotonous, especially if the weather be calm and the sea smooth. Every day at twelve there is posted a bulletin that suggests these things. It gives the latitude and the longitude of the ship, the distance traveled from New York harbor, the distance traveled for the last twenty-four hours, and the rate per hour. The average liner goes about four hundred miles a day, at a rate of about eighteen or nineteen knots per hour. That bulletin also gives the character of the weather, the strength of the wind, and the condition of the sea. This entertained us day by day, for every passenger seemed anxious to know just where we were. A week passed with nothing unusual having happened, but on the morning of the eighth day—it being Sunday—we arose and looked out upon the land to our north which proved to be the great old country of England. We sailed along her shores and up the English Channel from early morning until something like nine o’clock. We passed the stately lighthouse, and were joined by sea gulls hundreds in number. These are beautiful white-winged birds with golden bills. They are quite tame and followed us all that day to the interest and delight of every passenger. They could dive underneath the water, sail upon its bosom, and then rise on their pinions and fly with ease. About nine o’clock, one week and a day after we had started, we were ready to stop in old Plymouth Rock harbor. The ship cast anchor and very soon a couple of smaller boats pulled up by the side, one to receive the mail, and the other to receive the baggage and the passengers, and thus we stood for more than an hour and watched hundreds and hundreds of bags of mail, and likewise hundreds of grips and trunks as they were transferred. I was interested, especially, while the ship there lay, to gaze upon old Plymouth Rock which stands out something like three hundred yards from the land, towering far above the water. I called to mind the incidents of the long ago. I thought of the old Mayflower which, in 1620, brought those characters who made their landing at our Plymouth Rock in Massachusetts, and became the great colony from which numbers and numbers have sprung throughout this broad land of ours. Governor Winthrop, Miles Standish, Priscilla Mullins, John Alden, et al., demanded a thought. We sailed on up and across the channel all during the day, until about four o’clock in the afternoon we passed to our right the Guernsey Islands, and then skirted the beautiful coast of France. Toward the setting of the sun our good ship pulled into the harbor of Cherbourg, at which we were to land. Having cast anchor again, smaller boats came to transport the passengers and baggage to the pier. French officers came and inspected our passports. We had purchased our railroad tickets to Paris from the ship’s purser. Our car and compartment were assigned and all was ready for the landing. With anxious eyes and with eager steps we moved down the stairway, boarded the smaller vessel, and were soon standing upon the sacred soil of France. I could not help but think of the wonderful contrast of our entrance with the boys who had preceded us during the world-wide war. They were there to stay the hand of German invasion, and we, to enjoy the beauties, the grandeurs and the historic scenes of a land now made sacred to us more than ever before, because beneath her bloodstained soil there sleeps hundreds and thousands of our own kindred and of our country’s contribution to the cause of liberty Passing through the customs was merely a matter of custom. Into the long, large building we went, threw our grips upon the counters, opened them wide, and were ready to answer any point. Only two or three questions were asked by those in charge. They asked us about liquor, firearms, tobacco, and cigarettes. Having none of these we were soon through and ordered on down the line to our waiting train. On board the ship, we had met a French lady, a very intelligent woman, who also was bound for Paris. She was very pleasant and assisted us in passing through the customs, entering the right car, and in such matters as were necessary. We started out from Cherbourg at Paris about ten o’clock at night. The moon was at the very zenith of its existence, and during the entire night we gazed upon the beautiful buildings, made of stone and of brick, with their tiled roofs and their peculiar style. We observed the large orchards of apples, the fields of wheat, oats and barley, the patches of various vegetables characteristic of that land. Their beautiful roads lined with trees on either side attracted our attention. The next morning at five o’clock we stepped off the train in the proud city of Paris, the fourth city of the world in size, but, perhaps, the first in artistic beauty. Very soon we had our place assigned at the Atlantic Hotel and were ready to tour the city, of which we had heard and read 90 much. I had, indeed, heard of this city. I had given some special time to its study, but after I had spent a period of five days in the capital city of France and had walked and traveled up and down its splendid boulevards, had gone amidst the palaces and viewed it from the various angles and points of interest, I am ready to announce that the half to me had scarcely been told. Even now, I am quite certain that I only gathered a smattering of that which really characterizes that historic city. The best view of the city is to be had from the Arch of Triumph; which stands in the northwestern part. This is an arch built by Napoleon 1, 1806-1836, commemorating the victories from 1792 to 1815. It stands in the midst of a circle about one-quarter of a mile in diameter, and is one hundred forty-seven feet long, seventy-three feet wide, one hundred sixty-two feet high. There is a driveway through the middle of it ninety feet high and forty-five feet wide. On each side there are fine bas-relief works, illustrating in sculpture the most prominent incidents and affairs in the life of Napoleon. On the walls are inscribed the names of three hundred eighty-four generals and ninety-sis victories by them achieved. At the base is the grave of the French unknown soldier, which grave, at the time of our visit was covered in beautiful flowers. A sentinel stood guard in acknowledgment of the reverence and the respect that France was paying to this unknown soldier. From the summit of the Arch of Triumph, you can get your finest view of the city of Paris. Some years ago all the crooked, narrow streets, emanating from it were converted into splendid boulevards and now there are twelve that radiate therefrom as spokes from a wheel. Those avenues are from one hundred to three hundred feet wide. There is a sidewalk from twenty-five to thirty feet wide and then a row of trees. In the center there is the splendid driveway. Numbers of those boulevards have a double row of trees on either side, with grass plats between them. The whole is kept absolutely clean. You can gaze far down the distant avenues and have pointed out to you the various places of interest, the magnificent palaces that decorate this, one of the finest cities of the world. Another great structure of interest stands just across the River Seine and is known as "the Eiffel Tower." The base of this tower covers a space of six acres. It is nine hundred eighty-five feet high and, therefore, towers above the Woolworth Building in New York City, two hundred feet. It is composed of twelve thousand pieces of metal, screwed together by two and one-half million screws. From its lofty summit, almost the whole of France seems spread out in full view. On the bank of the Seine is the beautiful tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte, the one time idol of France. On May 6,1821, he died in the midst of a severe storm on the island of St. Helena. He was buried near his favorite resort a fountain shaded by weeping willows. In his will he requested that his body be taken from the island and carried back that it might rest along the Seine in the city he loved so well. After nineteen years of undisturbed silence, his body was brought to its present place of rest. It was so well preserved that the features were as yet unchanged, and many old French soldiers once more gazed upon him whom they had followed through rivers of blood in the darkest and yet brightest days of French glory. I visited the old Madeline Cathedral and other similar structures and was impressed with the old Ionic form of architecture. But the most interesting place to me was the magnificent palace and gardens of Versailles, seven miles west of the city. Perhaps a more beautiful or more historic spot cannot be found in all the world. Louis XIV, who reigned at the latter part of the seventeenth century and who was the whole soul of French affairs for a period of a half century, undertook to build a palace and beautify grounds which would surpass anything that ever had been designed or undertaken before. He bought a section of country sixty miles in circumference and commenced the stupendous work which has perpetuated his memory. The palace itself cost eighty million dollars and the total expense was about two hundred million dollars. Thirty-seven thousand men were engaged, and the work was of such a hazardous nature that night after night great cartloads of those who had fallen under the burden of the day were dragged away, while their places were filled by others at his command. As you approach you look upon a great palace, frescoed and ornamented, stretching for blocks and blocks away, in front of which there is ample room for the parade of all the armies that France ever has had at any one time. Down to the left as you enter, there is quite an historic old building, in which Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and John Adams, members of the Peace Commission that concluded the Revolutionary War, signed the treaty on September 3,1783, that guaranteed our independence from the mother country. In the palace, stone and marble became an endless series of compliment and homage to the royal person. There are acres of elaborate ceiling painted by the artist Lebrun, representing as they do all that beauty and all that art could conceive. The garden, with its sixty and two long avenues bordered by alternating trees and statues; its colossal fountains, where bronze and marble nymphs and tritons play with water brought at immense cost from afar; its flowery beds, arranged with stately regularity—all seem an indefinite prolongation of an endless palace. Down one of the great walkways we passed and saw the splendid apartment in which President Wilson and the other members of the "Big Four" held their conference during the World War. We stood upon the very spot where, it is said, General Foch assumed command of all the allied forces. We saw also the buildings where representatives of other nations stayed, and their place of meeting for discussion with the great powers. The armistice was at last signed in this great palace, and the respective soldiers now turned their faces toward the land they loved. I visited two of Paris’ great theatres, not only because of the entertainment, but because of the anxiety to see the society and the attractions furnished. I need not tell you that I listened with delight to the rapturous strains of music that came forth from their finest orchestras. I gazed with admiration upon the splendid young men as they appeared upon the stage, and when those beauties rare and damsels fair appeared almost in their original attire, I was forced to glance upon them out of a corner of one eye. The city of Paris is visited by hundreds and thousands of tourists. I take it that the management of the theatrical performances gives to the world that which it delights to see. But I leave this splendid city with reluctance and pass on. Our journey then was eastward, across this great country. We were bound for Strasbourg, which lies just three miles this side of the German border. In passing through the country of France, we paralleled a number of canals on which boats were plying, some drawn by horses, some pushed by poles, and some propelled by gasoline. They were transporting the commerce of the great republic. France is a country cultivated to the very highest point. Its splendid lawns look as though they had been kept by an efficient barber. Forests of trees, set in the form of a checkerboard, are attractive. Plats of ground, hand-tilled and carefully tended, greet you on every side and add beauty to both hills and plains. The soil responds to their labors with a bountiful harvest, and by continuous rotation, they have been able to maintain its original fertility and even to enrich it as the years go by. Men and women, boys and girls, work with their hands and endure the hardships of the day. We passed over the southern section of the district of Verdun and saw evidences of battles on every hand. Monuments and tablets on the hillsides told the silent and yet sad story that thousands had fallen by the wayside. Old buildings with holes in their sides, in their gables, and in their roofs, evidenced the fact that wonderful warfare had raged over that part of the country. But we soon entered into the city of Strasbourg, and there spent a pleasant night at the Grand National Hotel. We were there on July 4, and appreciated the fact that, from some of their prominent buildings, the Stars and Stripes were proudly flying. I learned, while in foreign lands, to appreciate our country as never before. From there we journeyed southward along the German boundary until we came to the town of Basel on the border of France and Switzerland. We must go through customs again. When the officer saw that we were Americans, without examining our grips at all, he bade us a hearty welcome into the land of Switzerland. It was just about twelve o’clock when we boarded the train for Zurich, and I recognized full well we were in a land wonderful by nature. I soon found it beautifully kept by the artistic hand of man. We hadn’t passed out very far until I noticed the cuts along the railroad and the embankments were perfectly smooth, and roses of the sweetest fragrance were blooming upon their sides. As you pass over that part of the country, you behold the smiling valleys in which various and luscious fruits are growing, beautiful hills on whose sides brown Swiss cattle are feeding, and a land of such attractions as to verify your former impressions regarding it. At fourteen o’clock we entered the city of Zurich which has a population of about 200,000. It lies at the head of a beautiful valley and reaches far up into the hills on the east and south. On the west side is the Zurich Sea, a large body of water on which boats of various types seem busy in carrying on their trade. The appearance of their buildings, stores, dress, and bearings of the people are not especially unlike the city of Nashville. Their speech, however, betrayeth them and we found it difficult to communicate with them. By miracles, wonders, and signs, we managed to exchange some money, buy the few things needed, and purchase our tickets for Milan, Italy, whither we were bound.

I may here say that in these countries, they count the time a little different from us. Such a thing as "A.M. and P.M." is unknown. They begin at midnight, and run straight through for twenty-four hours. There is, therefore, no confusion. The schedule at the station will suggest, for instance, that a certain train is due at "15 :30." In a short time you become accustomed to such and really like it. Our next stop was to be at Milan. I knew full well that south of Zurich we would be amid the towering Alps. We hadn’t gone far until our engine of steam was exchanged for one of electricity, and then we dashed through the country at the rate of, perhaps, thirty or thirty-five miles an hour. Very soon we beheld the snow-clad mountains and gazed upon their lofty summits. We dived through tunnels long and dark and emerged only to behold again those scenes sublime. This was about the first really great thrill I had experienced thus far on the journey. From one side of the train we could see the top of those mountains kiss the skies, and from the other we could look upon great gorges far below, down which the wild splashing waters were hurrying on toward the sea. If anything had happened, our destiny would have been determined by the way we had been living and the respect we had shown to Jehovah. It is, indeed, a scene sublime to gaze upon those towering mountains whose summits are baptized in the very clouds of heaven, and perpetually clad in snow, and down whose sides volumes of raging waters come leaping and tumbling to depths below. Beautiful mirror lakes, whose waters are as still as a summer’s pond, He at the foot of these mountains. Perhaps Switzerland is the most scenic land in all the world. Late in the afternoon we stepped off the train into the city of Milan, Italy, and soon were in the Palace Hotel, which is true in every way to the name it bears. A fine night’s rest prepared us for the next day. There are many cars, trolley lines, etc., but the most prominent way of travel in these cities is the old-time carriage drawn by high-stepping horses. The driver, richly clad, assumes an air which makes common Americans realize their inferiority. Milan is a beautiful city, but has no special attractions. We visited their finest cathedral. Of course, it is magnificent. Hundreds of statues are around about it. There are one hundred thirtythree spirea towering high, and on the top of each there is a statue representing some conception of their fancy. We left the city of Milan and journeyed on southward, observing the fields of flowing grain. The silk tree, which here abounds, attracted special attention. Primitive means of cultivation, transportation, and of life itself still prevail in the country districts. For the first time we saw the ox and the ass treading out the grain. Late in the afternoon we emerged from a great tunnel and found ourselves in Genoa on the Mediterranean. We passed that night at the Royal Aquilla Hotel. Splendid accommodations at reasonable costs can be found in all these cities. Just in front of our hotel, there is a fine statue of him who braved the dangers of an unknown sea and gave to humanity a new world. This statue represents the great discoverer under the varied circumstances through which he had to pass. It is an everlasting regret to all Italians that their country refused Columbus the necessary equipment and allowed Spain to share a glory through her illustrious son. Genoa has some interesting places and, having secured a most excellent guide and a splendid means of travel, we toured the old city and tried to live in days forever gone. We were shown the palaces where President Wilson, Lloyd George, the Kaiser, et al., notables had been entertained. The old building where Napoleon one time imprisoned the pope was pointed out. We went into Genoa’s university, her magnificent post office, her leading bank, and other prominent and historic buildings. Then we went to the old home of Columbus. This is a small building, about twelve feet wide, something like fifteen feet high, and thirty feet long. It is built of stone, of course, and has but two entrances, one at the front and one at the back. It is now surrounded by a wall on top of which there is an iron picket fence. It is just inside the old wall of the city and close to the gate that leads down to the wharf on the great Mediterranean. I am certain that Columbus slipped away from his father on many occasions and gazed upon those mighty waters with the hope that someday he would sail upon them to distant lands. We then visited the old church of San Lorenzo, one of the most interesting of any seen. It was a pagan temple before the Christian era. There are columns out at the front said to have been brought back from Jerusalem by the Crusaders, and the columns on the interior still have their same old base on which are carved snake heads, bull heads, and various other animals by them worshiped in the days previous to the advent of the Christ upon the earth. We were shown a sacred box in this old chapel, in which are the remains of John the Baptist. This is the church to which Columbus used to go, and close by was the very spot at which he was baptized. Passing from this, the guide suggested that we must go amid the catacombs of Genoa, the greatest of the world. These are all above the ground and hence the fine view. For more than two and one-half hours we marched along and observed the most wonderful sculptures on earth. These are arranged in long rows, about :.. .’, feet wide, arched over at the top and made of the finest marble, in which recesses are made for the burial of those who were able to purchase a place therein. The likeness of the various members of the family is here chiseled out of solid marble, together with some angel representing a peculiar fancy. For instance, if a child in a home dies and is here buried, the father, if able, has the image of the entire family made in one great group. There is the picture of the father and of the mother, the brother and the sister, and of the infant whose body lies just inside the walls. These are so delicately finished and so artistically dressed that, unless you were aware of the fact, you would think that they were clad in the very finest of white silk. Three hundred thousand are here buried. The catacombs form a large square and in the open space, those unable to buy a special vault, He buried. But I must leave Genoa. We boarded a train bound for Rome and down the coast of the Mediterranean; for. more than two hours we passed through ninety-seven tunnels until finally we came out into a great open space where the smiling fields of Italy greeted us on every side. Here we beheld hundreds, yea thousands of acres of the finest wheat that I ever have seen. It looked as if it would yield fifty or seventy-five bushels per acre. The culture of the vine likewise has a prominent part. The people live in splendid houses, so far as their stability is concerned, but they are very simple in structure. In one end lives the family, in another department, separated only by a partition, is the place for the cow, in another close by, the donkey, and then the chickens, and then the place for the wagon. The Italian farmer seems to be well fixed if he has a two-wheel cart and a couple of heifers. Primitive customs prevail. Here, for the first time, we saw the old flail pole in use. Men, with shovel in hand, were separating the wheat from the chaff. People work hard. They have no machinery and, therefore, eke out a miserable existence in the hot sunshine that characterizes that cloudless land. On and on we journeyed, until by and by, toward the setting of the sun, we came to the proud city of Rome. We soon found a good hotel with all necessary conveniences and were located for our four days’ stay in this historic city. We had been to no place so interesting and sacred, for here we were to meet with Paul for the first time. I knew the story of Rome’s founding in 753 B.C. I reviewed in memory her early struggles, her victories, and her defeats. I called to mind the efforts of old Hannibal and his unsuccessful attempts. The story of Marius, Sulla, Cataline, Cicero, Pompey, Crassus, and Caesar demanded attention. I thought of the establishment of the empire and its wonderful history for more than four hundred years. During this time the Christ was born and Christianity had a formal recognition. We were really on historic grounds. We were anxious to see Rome as she is and to fancy her as in days of old. We reached there on Saturday night and Sunday morning we decided to attend the services of St. Peter’s, the largest and the greatest church in all the wide world. For more than two hours we sat and watched their peculiar service in which, perhaps, fifty or more priests had a part. These were clad in their richest garments of various colors, and attended by servants who do their bidding. The services consisted of singing, praying, reading selections in Latin, burning incense, counting their beads, and eating of the body and drinking of the blood of Christ. After all wee over, they formed in line and marched to the chamber where the bread and fruit of the vine are sacredly kept. In this march boys in front held up a life-size picture of Jesus on the cross. We passed the afternoon at our hotel and wrote a number of letters and cards to our loved ones and friends back at home. Monday morning we engaged a taxi and a guide and started out to see what we might see. Our first visit was to St. Peter’s, not to worship, but to gain a definite idea of this great structure. It occupies the largest square in Rome on the west side of the Tiber. As you enter that square you behold an obelisk one hundred thirty-four feet high, stolen from the dead empire of ancient Egypt. Two walkways, one to the right and the other to the left, circle this square. They are covered galleries supported by immense columns of Ionic style and lead to each end of the great portico of the building. To give you an idea of St. Peter’s, it is seven hundred thirty feet long and three hundred eighty-four feet wide. After entering through immense doors, you observe the great porphyry stone, made particularly sacred to them because of the fact that there is where the emperors used to stand when the pope placed upon their brow the crown and thus inducted them into office. Passing on a little bit farther to the right, there is the great big bronze statue of Peter, whom they consider the first pope. There Peter sits with his right foot extended. He holds some keys in his hand, and the crown is upon his head. I looked especially and saw that every sign of the toes from the right foot had been literally kissed away. But when you remember that hundreds and thousands, yea, millions, go annually to visit St. Peter’s, and those of that faith think they have missed the trip unless they kiss his foot, you can appreciate the wearing away, even of this great bronze statue. Going on toward the center of that great building, you behold four great square columns, upon which the roof of the building is suspended. That you may have an idea of these big supports, I give you their dimensions. These columns form a square of sixty-six feet, and are more than three stories high. The cross on the top of the dome is four hundred thirty-two feet from the ground—almost as high as the great Washington monument at our national capital. Directly underneath the dome is the sacred sarcophagus of St. Peter, whom the Catholics especially worship. A flight of fine marble steps lead down to it, and you gaze upon this sacred tomb covered with gold and lined with silver. This building is big enough to contain eighty thousand people. There is a life-size statue, yea, more than life size, of every pope and of every emperor that Rome ever has had. There is the burial place in the walls of this great cathedral of all the popes of Rome, and yet half of the space has not been taken. It is said that a general once gave privilege to ten thousand of his men to go and hear mass in St. Peter’s. After they had gone, he soon entered and looked round about, but failed to find them. They were in one of its transcripts. I cannot begin to tell you of the immensity, of the grandeur, and of the glory from a worldly point of view of this, the greatest of all church buildings There is a column that is said to have been brought by Titus from the temple of Herod upon the destruction of Jerusalem. There are also columns which, they claim, had formerly been in the temple of Solomon. St. Peter’s is big in every respect. But from this I must pass on to another of old Rome’s historic buildings. I refer to the Pantheon, which was a pagan temple before the Christian era. It is a vast circular structure whose walls are twenty feet thick. It is entered by a door fourteen feet wide and thirty-two feet high, closed by shutters twelve inches thick. It has not a single opening except the door, and upon the dome. Here is an opening in the form of a circle, thirty-seven feet in diameter. Down through this comes the light, and likewise the rain, but the floor is so arranged that a sewer pipe takes care of the same. Underneath the floor the bones of Raphael, the sculptor and artist repose. In a niche of the wall there He the remains of Italy’s great character, Victor Immanuel. But the various decorations have been taken away and now adorn St. Peter’s. From the Pantheon we went to climb the sacred stairway. This stairway, according to tradition, was brought from Jerusalem and is the one up which the Savior last walked into the presence of Pontius Pilate. It contains twenty-eight steps. They had been so worn away that, at present, boards from the cedars of Lebanon cover them. No one is allowed to ascend them only upon bended knees, and as you go up, you are supposed to pray unto the pope of Rome and to kiss the steps that you may receive the greatest blessings. I had learned that "when in Rome we ought to do as the Romans do," and so with my Brother Douthitt, and our guide, a devout Catholic, we bowed down and made ready. Up we went three abreast. Our guide was praying. I could but smile while Douthitt was puffing and sweating. Someone asked: "What kind of a blessing did you receive?" When I reached the top, the only experience I had was an exceedingly silly feeling and a pair of sore knees. Our next visit was to the great Forum Romanum. It lies in the valley between Capitoline and Palatine hills. Here was the great civil and legislative heart of the city in days of old. Here was the palace of the chief pontiff, with its adjoining basilicas; the temple of Vesta, on whose altar burned the sacred flame; the Senate House fronted by the old Rostra, which was about forty feet long, twenty feet wide, and eight feet high. Various temples, among which was the famous one of Castor and Pollus, together with many beautiful marble arches, columns’ and statues, once adorned this spot. It now lies in ruins and only a few columns, here and there, tell of the grandeur and glory of the historic past. I stood about where the great Caesar was slain, and where Mark Anthony preached his funeral and read his will in which every citizen had been given ten dollars. At the eastern side or entrance to the Forum stands the Arch of Titus in memory of his destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70. Underneath this arch, there is a beautiful carving representing the Levites bearing the table of shewbread. It tells in cold marble just the story as told in Exodus. The accuracy of sacred history is confirmed. A gradual incline leads from the Forum up to Palatine hill, from which a fine view of the hills and the entire city may be had. The once famous gardens can still be seen, but the fragrant odor of roses and violets no longer greet you. Interspersed among the ruins on Palatine hill are a number of ruins of isolated mansions, one time surrounded by beautiful gardens. Enough of the palace proper remains to give an idea of its bigness and its beauty. A peculiar feeling came over me as I thought that here once dwelt the old emperors of Rome. From this we went to the prison at the foot of the Capitoline hill, in which tradition says Paul was kept. This prison was built about 4 B.C. I see no reason to doubt its being as tradition suggests. It is a short distance from the Forum, in which courts were held and decisions rendered. It is a prison cut out of the solid stone, circular in form, and originally had only one opening in the center of the floor about two feet in diameter. Through this opening prisoners were let down to a room below, which is also circular in form, the diameter being about twelve feet. Here is a large stone to which the prisoners were chained. A spring comes up through the floor and a sewer carries the water to the Tiber. We entered the upper prison and passed down a stairway into the lower cell. This stairway is more recent. I drank of the spring and imagined the great apostle as there chained. It took more faith than I fear some of us have to say: “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day." It was here that he said: "The Lord stood by me, and strengthened me; . . . and I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion." Otherwise, Paul would have been sent to the arena of the Colosseum. In his hired house, which house was close by, but of which the guide seemed to know nothing, were penned the letters to the Philippians, the Colossians, and Ephesians, and others.

We were quite anxious to follow Paul in his last days, and so, getting in our taxi, we drove out the Ostium Way, a distance of some six or seven miles to another prison, said to be the one in which he was kept the night previous to his execution. Down in the basement of that was a dark dungeon not big enough for more than one or two men to be kept. About one hundred yards away, we followed with serious thoughts, the path which, tradition says, led to the block of execution. Here we beheld a stone’ something like two feet square and possibly a foot high. On top of this was a cylindrical stone about two feet above, making it about three feet from the ground. The top of that was oval, just so as to fit the neck of a human being. Just to the right of this stone or block is a statue of Paul, kneeling. His hands are tied behind him; his head is turned to the left; and his neck is on the block. A soldier stands behind with his left hand on Paul’s head, while in his right hand is an immense knife. All is ready to strike the fatal blow. Other soldiers stand guard to see that the atrocious deed is done. As Paul’s head was severed and dropped to the ground, it is said by tradition to have bounced twice, and from the very spot where it hit and bounced, three fountains have sprung up. One of them gives forth hot water, another tepid, and the last cold. These had been stopped at the time of our visit, and, upon asking about them, the guide said that by analysis the water was found to be impure, that Christian tourists persisted in drinking of it, and hence, as a matter of protection to health, the fountains were closed. But now, my friends, I have talked to you as long as I should tonight. I must leave you in the city of Rome. From here we will start tomorrow evening, go on down to Naples, visit old Vesuvius, walk amid the ruins of Pompeii, cross the Mediterranean, and tour the land of the Pharaohs, the home of Joseph, and the birthplace of Moses. I hope to be able to entertain you and to give you something worth your while. I thank you indeed, very, very kindly tonight for your attention and for the inspiration your presence gives.