Rushing up to the bridge I greeted him "Bonjorno, mio fratello" shaking his hand at the same time, almost I cried out, this certainly is an artificial imitation of the entrance to Bosphorus, and if it were not for that great statue and mausoleum of Liberty, which I could see ahead of me, I would surely believe that I was dreaming, it is like entering the harbor of Constantinople, and just at this point, looking into the face of my esteemed friend, Dr. Lucretius, I said to him; let us hope that the day is not far distant when we shall salute the God-giving Liberty in the heart of the great city of Constantinople. That was six years ago and every word I said it came out of my mouth as a prayer of my heart in all my sincerity. Today I do thank God for it is a reality. Turkey is free! But she is like a child; she needs the guidance of a strong hand to guide her in the path of righteousness and love to God and bring her to Christ who is the only one to give Liberty and Freedom "For whom He made free, is free indeed." Turkey has accomplished the greatest part of her own salvation, yea, she has done more than many of the so-called Christian empires expected her to do. They are now rubbing their eyes, and of course it is their purpose in order to save their commercial interests, they are going to put in her way all the obstacles they can to overthrow the new Constitution, and if Turkey fails in her reformation this time, it would not be only her own fault. A great share of the responsibility rests upon the shoulders of every American man and woman who solemnly declares to stand by and be a protector of the principles laid down by Washington, the father not only of his own country, but most of the civilized world. Unless America arises equal to the occasion there is every reason to entertain all kinds of fears from the Middle and Western Europe's diplomats.
How many American active missionaries are there in Constantinople, Smyrna, Aidin, Saloniki, Adana, Ephesos and every city in Turkey today working for the regeneration of the people who dared and successfully broke down from his throne a Sultan? Wake up, my dear reader and gird yourself with the noble armor of your manhood and your womanhood and do the best, the very best of your ability to help the millions of mothers and children over in Turkey, they are starving for spiritual food, they are crying to you as your own brothers and sisters of the same family of humanity; will you close your ears and not listen to their cry? or will you open your heart, your sympathy and your pocket-book and send off all the missionaries you can to do the work? I pray that you will, and God will reward you in Heaven and down here He will keep the days of your life sweet in splendid memory that you have done your part in the salvation of all mankind.
The opportunity may occur again to discourse this very heart aching subject. Now, as we approach the colossus of Liberty, Miss Maria Rose made her morning appearance and before we all could exchange the "Bon Jour" salutations to her, she gracefully grasped the gentleman from Boston by the arm and walking up and down the bridge with soldierly step, began in an apparently joyful voice to sing, audibly "My Country 'tis of thee, sweet land of Liberty" and just as she was getting more enthusiastic in her song, the gentleman from Boston uttered a loud cry "Strawberries—fresh strawberries," and as by explosion a heartiest laughter went out of every mouth on the bridge, and the waves received on their wings that expression of our gratitude to carry it to the end of their destination, while the Germania drew us nearer and nearer to the land of the free and the home of the brave.
A call came to us all at this moment that the custom officers from New York were already in the reception room waiting for us to make our declarations in accordance with the customary law, and by the time I had complied with my duties, to that respect, I heard a stentorian voice "Cast Anchor" and turning around in a semi-circle, with center on my right toe I endeavored to unfold the meaning of the exciting motion. Sailors and officers of the boat rushing in all directions, it seemed as though they were preparing for a great battle, and determined to win. The big S. S. Germania was tied in the docks of Brooklyn and every voyager was ready to bid her farewell. The steward of my cabin, uncalled, he was on my side, and the thought came to me that it was his last chance for his gratuities from me anyway. He looked upon my face like a child expecting his Christmas presents, and said, with a fainting smile, Father, your trunk is on its way to your destination and here is your valise and I am awaiting your pleasure to direct you to the Sixth Avenue Elevated Station, which will take you to the 123rd Street and Seventh Avenue, Harlem, according to your wishes to reach your dwelling place. The bell of the Germania was ringing eight o'clock a. m., when I was bidding farewell to my steward with the instructions how to reach the Elevated Station, and turning to the first corner from the docks of Brooklyn, a familiar voice I heard behind me calling "Father," and instantly a hand took hold of the sleeve of my garment, and looking backward I saw Miss Maria Rose with her governess, Margaret, and the gentleman from Boston, who was still holding my garment, and in good humor said, he, in his broken French, Now Father, we could not tolerate to see you go all alone in the streets of New York dressed in these robes, because if you only attract the curiosity of some mischievous children there is no telling what may happen to you, if they mistake you as a carnival dressed this way just for sport; but, Miss Maria Rose, hastened to aid, interrupting the gentleman, Father, you have good luck, today is Sunday and early in the morning you will be saved from great things which might happen to you otherwise. Besides we are going as far as 59th Street and the gentleman from Boston, he is going to take the train at 125th Street, Harlem, and there you will be within a few blocks from the house you desire to go to.
They bought the ticket for me and soon the Elevated was crossing the Brooklyn bridge. The grand panorama on both sides of the bridge brought the thought into my mind that if the architects of America were able to accomplish such a wonder as this, they would certainly have easier times to build the Babel Tower without any confusion of tongues; but my breath went out of my breast and for a moment I thought that the beating of my heart stopped, when we reached that curving at 110th Street and 8th Avenue, New York. The magnificent sight from that tremendous height, looking to my left at the mammoth advertising boards, the velvety green fields and at the top of the hill that Episcopal church, which will be when finished another architectural wonder, and looking to my right at the Central Park which we just swiftly passed, now I see the flat roofs of the buildings and on many of them the washing of the family hanging, forgotten perhaps, from last Saturday, it is indeed a grand sight which the inhabitants of New York in that section, by being accustomed to it, very little appreciate.
9.30, my friend from Boston, said, as we were descending the stairways on the 125th Street and 8th Avenue, as he looked at his time-piece. If it were not for my train which I must take at 9.58 I would gladly accompany you to your place, yet, said he, you only have two blocks to walk southward and one eastward and you will see the number on the left hand side, and with a cordial hand shake he jumped on the electric car passing at the moment on 125th Street towards New York-Boston R. R. station, to board his train, and I started on my way to the place where I was going to make my temporary home.
CHAPTER III
First Day in New York
It is not my purpose in this little volume to make any boast of myself as an historian. Bookmaking is not my profession; neither do I propose to go into extensive details more than it is necessary to harmonize the coincidents of events as they occurred and the effect they produced in the development of an unusual Christian career, and God knows that my only desire is to reconcile the opposing privileges of a meek and lowly Christian worker, to be equal if not greater to those of a High Priest who in his fulness of life though one of the most active ecclesiastical officials in the highest circles of church and society, his firm belief in success, knowing of no fear, and daringly climbing up in higher ranks among philosophical societies, holding such an exalted position in the most ancient Christian church. The church that holds the undisputable proof as the first authentical apostolic establishment with founder the apostle of the Gentiles himself. And who is the student of the Scriptures, be he a Christian or philosopher of the Epicurean or the Stoic system that could reasonably argue that the oration on the Areopagus made by Paul to the Athenians being the masterpiece and model of the most convincing speeches ever made in the Christian era? That this High Priest, while enjoying all the comforts and privileges belonging to his high office, together with its honors and gorgeous trappings, does not attach any over-weening importance to ecclesiastical dignity, neither does he consider a "comedown" the step he has taken, but he gives the simple, yet convincing reason that he just follows the process of evolution in Christianity, doing the will of his Master who promised to all mankind one Lord—one Faith—one Baptism. And for the last six years he has proven that it is possible for a man to begin from the very bottom of life, his nearest and dearest relatives opposing him, with no friends to understand his desires and his ambitions, to be a wanderer in a great country like the United States, and travel from the Atlantic Coast to the Pacific Ocean, proud to always be able to support himself and also help someone on his way. Exercising the principle of the Apostle Paul, working hard for his living, stranger not only to the ethics and customs of the people whose sympathetic hearts he was coming to win, but unable to even put two sentences together in their own language, and today here he is to tell you the story, as true as your beautiful breath that keeps your soul and body alive, and the only favor he asks from you is that when you severely criticise the grammatical and syntactical site in the execution of this work, you may in your kindness, remember that his only resource to derive any philological assistance, was a twenty-five cent Webster's dictionary, bought from a second-hand book store.