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July 10, 1912] THE]
FIVE SUNDAYS IN EUROPE.
BY MRS. SUSAN LEUAND BAKER.
Five restful, peaceful days in which it was
,10 longer necessary to visit museums and art
galleries, hut just to enjoy life and decide in
which temple of the living God our praises
. ion Id ascend, and we give thanks for mercies
past.
As our first Sunday on land was spent in
Wome we determined to worship (?) in St.
Peters. Not being accustomed to the speech
and ways of Roman hackinen, we were not in
lime for the celebration of high mass, hut saw
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l'rom a hundred candles falling 011 red capes
and hanging rosaries. The high alter was dazling
with gold and jewels, and the richness of
ornaments was overpowering; but the modest
prayer benches scattered here and there
through the vast expanse, invited to prayer.
So kneeling on the stone pavement under the
mighty dome, a petition arose to "Our Father"
through the mediation of one "Great High
Priest,'' who ever livcth to make intercession
for us." My tirst prayer, in public, in Europe.
Ivising, I saw we were near the bronze statue
of St. Peter, and saw with a mixture of awe
and curiosity, the ceremony of kissing St. Peter's
toe, by four soldiers. This over, they
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teresting to watch the stream of people coming
ami going in this biggest church of the world.
Some stooped to pray, some looked at relics,
some stepped in the confessional boxes, but no
one interfered with auother. The tinkling of a
hell or the sound of distant music, would indicate
that service was going on in one of the
many chapels. Stop in if you wish, or pass
on; no one seemed to care. The priest still
swung his censor. So having followed the first
part of the injunction "say your prayers in
St. Peters, and meditate in the Coliseum," we
reluctantly left the grand church, the treasure
house of the genius of Michael Angclo.
In the afternoon we visited the Church of the
Capuchins, a gloomy pile, presided over by
gloomy priests and undermined by gloomy
vaults. With lighted lamps wc were guided
through dark chambers, receptacles of bones of
murdered priests and nuns. Tis the life work
of the monks to arrange the bones in fantastic
shapes and geometrical forms; wreaths of
skulls; star forms of arm-bones; flower arrangements
innumerable. What a shaking of
the dry bones will there be when the breath of
the Spirit moves over them, and "bone comes
to hone."
There was no service in this church, and on
returning to the upper regions, Sunday as it
was, a priest met us with a tray of relics for a
modest sum. A stroll through the gardens on
the Pincian closed the day, and under the blue
skies of free Italy, the shadows of medieval
Home were chased away.
Seven days more and we worshipped in a
temple not made with hands, for we were drivlllfy
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wildest scenery in Europe. We had spent the
night at Belluno in a picturesque medieval
"castelle" whose Very back touched the mountains.
Leaving early Sunday morning on a fine
road and under blue skies, the way wound
through mountains pink, blue, purple and
gray, rising ever higher and higher, Alps on
Alps. Little children ran down the mountain
sides, their hands full of the quaint little snow
flowers the Idelwiess, which they were delighted
to exchange for the small coins thrown
to them. Suddenly the notes of "Old Hundred"
was started by one of the travelers and
"Prais^ God from whom all blessings flow"
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PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SO
was heartily sung, on that Sabbath day iu that
grand natural cathedral. Then followed?
"How linn a foundation," and other church
hymns, and as the songs rolled up the mountain
sides, they were echoed back from peak
to peak. Mere words were powerless to express
feeling. Then he passed into the Tyrol, snow
capped mountains hemmed us in on every side,
and the songs died away in the effort to keep
warm. We had exchanged the sunny southern
skies for the glaciers and snow capped
mountain peaks, but that Sabbath day 's journey
is a grand memory picture never to be forgotten
this side of the great divide.
Another Sunday that stands out in bright,
glowing colors, was spent at the Falls of the
Rhine in the little Swiss town of Nenhausen.
Taking a carriage at Sehaft'hauseu, where we
had spent the night, we drove to the toot of a
llitrll. wooded hill. Then t.akimr rmr feet we
climbed terrace alter terrace through dense
foliage, searching for the English Chapel that
was at the top. Meeting a Swiss lady, who
eould "speak the English," she kindly took us
in charge, and showed us to a seat in the
chapel. The congregation seemed to be made
up of tourists like ourselves, and it was pleasant
to hear the mother tongue once more, in
this l'ar away foreign country. After service
the same kind friend directed us to the "Falls"
and "a Pension," she said "where you might
have dinner." Suddenly emerging from the
deeply shaded roads, a bold height rose before
us crowned by what seemed to be a "castle
on the Rhine," which was the hotel, and from
that prominence looking down upon the most
beautiful natural scenery that we had yet viewed,
my dream of seeing the Rhine River, its
castles and watch towers was fulfilled.
A Sunday in London, and we "went to
church*' in Westminster Abbey. We found a
seat in the nave and Air. Gladstone's statue
was in easy view. As the great congregation
rose to the opening words: "The Lord is in
his lloly Temple," a feeling of kinship took
possession of me for the service was the same
that we knew in old St. Alichiels, Charleston.
S. C., and the grand old chants are the same
the world over. The words of the Litany
seemed more solemn than usual surrounded as
we were by the echoes of the past, for we were
in the "Mausoleum of England's greatest
dead." The sermon was evangelical and was
preached with fervor by a clergyman of the
city, and as that day's offering were for the
puur, inc spiritual anu pnysicai needs ol iiondou's
thousands of suffering humanity were
urged. The congregation joined the choir in
singing well known hymns, then when the organ
had softened its thunder and the music
left you thinking of the quivering of angelic
wings, the sun burst through the gray cloudy
skies, and finding its way through some opening
in the upper regions of the Cathedral, be
came visible in one straight beam of light,
stained with the colors of the rainbow from
the art glass opening, and extending through
the vaulted ceiling to pavement floor. It was
like the descent of the Spirit on the multitude
bowed in prayer.
We reached St. Paul's in time to see the dispersion
of another great congregation, then we
lingered to wander around the great church,
and to be impressed with the vastness of the
dome, and the beauty of the windows.
In the late afternoon walking slowly along a
street, something familiar loomed in front of
me and again the feeling of being at home was
present. A closer look showed the legend?
"St. Martins in the Field," then I knew that 1
was looking at the original of which St.
Michiel's Church, Charleston, is a copy. The
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doors being open we walked in and saw the
counterpart of the home church, both designed
by the same architect. We also saw the four
tall Muses which are carried by the otlice bearers
before royalty, when the King worships
there.
So passed the lirst Sunday on British soil,
and as " London breathes history," so the iulluence
of the English Bible is lasting and far
reaching.
And last but not least, was the Sabbath in
Scotland, to which we had looked forward, and
the little, old-fashioned, primitive town of Melrose,
was selected for the stop over; whose
glory is its Abbey, and about which Sir Wal
"If you would see fair Melrose aright
Visit it by the pale moonlight."
A Scotch mist enveloped town and people
during our stay, hut even that added to the
romance of the ruins, and gave solemnity to
the great burial place of the heart of Bruce.
A spic and span American citizen from the
West and his bride, arrived at the Abbey Hotel
Saturday night, as we did, and being seated
at our table we heard his questions to the waiter
relative to electric lights, hells and other
necessary appointments of a modern hoteL
When he found that they were conspicuous by
their absence, and that candles were used in
the bed rooms, he left an order at the ofHce
that he was to he taken to the first train that
left in the morning for Edinburgh. Modern
comforts were more tn him than tlm
tin* old gray sermon in stone.
We found our way to the Presbyterian
church, in the mist Sunday morning, and here
it was that the spirit of a daughter of a long
line of Presbyterian ancestors find its true
home. Outside discomfort was forgotten in
the calm and quiet of the devout congregation.
The building was as an atom in space compared
to St. Peters, but here we fouud true worship
and I was glad that our last Sunday in Europe
was spent in Scotland.
THE WEAVING OF THE WEB.
"It is better to weave in the web of life a
bright and golden filling." The words rang out
with such cheerful decision that the teacher at
the school for the blind and 1 paused before the
open door. A young blind girl was reciting to a
group of companions. They were all so cheery
and optimistic, in spite of shadowed lives, that
I could not but express my surprise.
"Yes," answered the teacher, "you have there
a practical' illustration in 'the weaving of the
web; the bright and golden filling is certainly
being threaded in by my girls."
What sort of a filling are you and I weaving
into the web? Dark threads or bright? Many
of us grumble and fuss more over trifles than
others do over puzzling knots. Each weaver has
snarls to unravel, and the threads are often intripnto
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persistence accomplish much, and their possessor
is not apt to he of that kind that "blames
heaven for tangled ends."
The loom of life is steadily going on, and each
day's work adds threads to the web that will be
unrolled in eternity. See that many of them
are "bright and golden."?East and West.
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streets, ant1 sit with you in your offices, and be
with you in your homes, and teach you in your
churches, and abide with you as the living presence
in your hearts, you, too, shall know what
freedom is, and while you do your duties, be
above your duties; and while you own yourselves
the sons of men, know you are the sons of God.
?Phillips Brooks.