In my summers at Cape Cod I had learned some- t hing about sailors. I knew that in the inprepos- s essing congregation before me there were many boys who had run away from home, and men who had left home because of family troubles. I talked to the young men first, to those who had forgotten their mothers and thought their mothers had for- g otten them, and I told of my experiences with waiting, heavy-hearted mothers who had sons at sea. Some heads went down at that, and here and there I saw a boy gulp, but the old fellow I was par- t icularly anxious to move still grinned up at me like a malicious monkey. Then I talked of the sailor's wife, and of her double burden of home****** and anxiety, and soon I could pick out some of the hus- b ands by their softened faces. But still my old man grinned and squinted. Last of all I described the whalers who were absent from home for years, and who came back to find their children and their grandchildren waiting for them. I told how I had seen them, in our New England coast towns, covered, as a ship is covered with barnacles, by grandchildren who rode on their shoulders and sat astride of their necks as they walked down the village streets. And now at last the sneer left my old man's loose lips.
He had grandchildren somewhere. He twisted un- e asily in his seat, coughed, and finally took out a big red handkerchief and wiped his eyes. The episode encouraged me.
``When I came here,'' I added, ``I intended to preach a sermon on `The Heavenly Vision.' Now I w ant to give you a glimpse of that in addition to the vision we have had of home.''
I ended with a bit of the sermon and a prayer, and when I raised my head the old man of the sar- d onic grin was standing before me.
``Missus,'' he said in a husky whisper, ``I'd like to shake your hand.''
I took his hard old fist, and then, seeing that many of the other sailors were beginning to move hospitably but shyly toward me, I said:
``I would like to shake hands with every man here.''
At the words they surged forward, and the affair became a reception, during which I shook hands with every sailor of my congregation. The next day my hand was swollen out of shape, for the sailors had gripped it as if they were hauling on a hawser; but the experience was worth the discomfort. The best moment of the morning came, however, when the pastor of the ship faced me, goggle-eyed and mar- v eling.
``I wouldn't have believed it,'' was all he could say. ``I thought the men would mob you.''
``Why should they mob me?'' I wanted to know.
``Why,'' he stammered, ``because the thing is so --so--unnatural.''
``Well,'' I said, ``if it is unnatural for women to talk to men, we have been living in an unnatural world for a long time. Moreover, if it is unnatural, why did Jesus send a woman out as the first preach- e r?''
He waived a discussion of that question by invit- i ng us all to his cabin to drink wine with him--and as we were ``total abstainers,'' it seemed as un- n atural to us to have him offer us wine as a woman's preaching had seemed to him.
The next European incident on which memory throws a high-light was our audience with Pope Leo XIII. As there were several distinguished Americans in our party, a private audience was ar- r anged for us, and for days before the time appointed we nervously rehearsed the etiquette of the oc- c asion. When we reached the Vatican we were marched between rows of Swiss Guards to the Throne Room, only to learn there that we were to be received in the Tapestry Room. Here we found a very impressive assemblage of cardinals and Vatican officials, and while we were still lost in the beauty of the picture they made against the room's superb background, the approach of the Pope was announced. Every one immediately knelt, except a few persons who tried to show their democracy by standing; but I am sure that even these individuals felt a thrill when the slight, exquisite figure appeared at the door and gave us a general benediction. Then the Pope passed slowly down the line, offering his hand to each of us, and radiating a charm so gracious and so human that few failed to respond to the appeal of his engaging personality. There was nothing fleshly about Leo XIII. His body was so frail, so wraithlike, that one almost expected to see through it the magnificent tapestries on the walls.
But from the moment he appeared every eye clung to him, every thought was concentrated upon him.
This effect I think he would have produced even if he had come among us unrecognized, for through the thin shell that housed it shone the steady flame of a wonderful spirit.
