Chapter IV: "der Kaiser Wilhelm Der Zweite"

You have crossed the North Atlantic too often to be bothered with an account of our trip. We ate too much--indeed, I am told the temptation to do so is greater on these boats than on any except those of the French Line--and also we took too little exercise. And yet we seem none the worse for it! Possibly that was due, in my case, to the fact that I slept a great deal, and that when I was not sleeping or eating I lay in my deck-chair and wondered how any one could ever worry! Is it not surprising how the petty worries of life drop overboard at Sandy Hook? This cannot be true, I suppose, of the foolish men who keep in touch with the office by wireless, but it was true of us. Yet one day I was startled by hearing my name called by a page, who ran along the deck with a slip of paper in his hand. Fortunately, it was only a word of greeting from the Stoddards, who were returning on the _France_, and sent us a message of good-will.

I did, however, have certain experiences which were unusual. The first night out I was sitting in the drafty and fearfully decorated smoking-room when a man approached me and asked if I would take a hand at poker. I declined politely but he insisted, urging that it was "only a friendly game, twenty-five cents a point." I again declined, saying I did not play. He returned to his friend and remarked in a loud tone: "De trouble mit men who hafe lifed all der lives in a village is dat ven dey meet a stranger, dey tink he must be a con man."

On Sunday morning we were wakened by the band, which played, beautifully, "Ein Feste Burg." I supposed that would be the only Sunday observance, and was not a little surprised to receive a message from the captain, asking me to hold service in the Lounge. This I did, the full band assisting. There were a number of Americans aboard, and most of them attended. But what surprised me greatly was to notice a number of Jews, several of whom later spoke to me and expressed their satisfaction. They said that they did not know that we used the Old Testament in our service! I asked one of them, a cultivated man, if he attended the synagogue. He shook his head sadly and said, not since he was a boy, unless it were to go to a funeral, and added that this was true of thousands of cultivated Jews. I said it seemed to me a dreadful thing that the race which had given the greatest spiritual gifts to mankind should be losing interest in the highest ideals of life, and asked if it were not possible for them to find in some form of Christianity, which, after all, was an evolution of Judaism, the satisfaction their souls must crave. He looked at me for a moment, and then said bitterly: "If Christians began by treating us as if we were human, perhaps we might be willing to listen to their gospel of brotherhood." I wonder if, instead of a Society for the Conversion of the Jews, we do not need a Society for the Conversion of Christians!

This service was memorable for another reason. For the first time in my life I prayed for the Kaiser. Indeed, it was the first time I had ever heard him prayed for! This gave great satisfaction to the German-Americans, who, while they are glad to enjoy the liberty of the Republic, their hearts, without doubt, certainly many of them, are with the Fatherland. They may, some day, become a menace to us should we ever have trouble with Germany. But that is not likely in spite of our experience in Manila Bay! But, indeed, I do not see why we should complain of them when we think of the attitude of the English who make their homes with us. How many Englishmen of the better class do you know who have been naturalized? Not a score, I venture to say. They write letters to the English papers, and sometimes to our own, complaining of the iniquities of Tammany Hall, but do not lift the burden with one of their little fingers.

However, you will have had enough of this! How inevitably we parsons take to preaching when we are not fooling!

We reached Plymouth on a lovely evening and glided into the harbor as quietly as you bring your knockabout to its mooring. I was much impressed by the discipline of the crew. There was neither shouting nor confusion, and the great ship dropped anchor as quietly as a ferry-boat comes into its slip. One thing, however, surprised me. As soon as we entered the harbor a sound of firing was heard, and little water-spouts shot up all over the surface of the water. They were evidently harmless mines being exploded from the batteries on shore. Still I wondered they did not cease while the captain was engaged in such a delicate operation, and it did not seem in keeping with the English sporting spirit. I spoke to one of the officers about it, and he replied, with much dignity: "The English do this each time we enter one of their harbors. It does no harm, and is only a childish way of showing their hatred of our merchant marine, which is their only serious rival. But it is a mistake, as they will some day learn."

Of course there may be no truth in this, and the explosions at that particular time may have been only a coincidence, but it is sad that such bad feeling should exist between these two great nations as to make it possible for such things to be believed. The Germans are talking most foolishly about "Der Tag," but English plays and novels, and even such a paper as the _Spectator_, are helping to sow the seeds of suspicion. That in this day England and Germany will go to war is, I believe, thought possible only by the "retired admirals." But the mere suspicion leads to fear, and that, in turn, might lead to war.

Well, here I am talking politics, which is more tiresome than preaching!