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London, England.
June Time of 1910.
N my last letter I think I left you in
Switzerland, the enchanting land of
lakes, and mountains, snow and flow
ers, beauty and grandeur.
After three weeks spent amidst those
delightful surroundings we went via of
southern Germany to Belgium.
I must have you stop over on the way
for a short time, at least, and lose your-
ra
j/jd
I
self amidst the shady nooks, streams, and rocky cliffs
of the Black Forest. This is so called because of the
dark, dense foliage of the trees and the sombre shad
ows they make.
Friberg is a quiet little village, right in the heart
of the woods, nestling close up to the mountains,
surrounding it on all sides. We arrived there late
one afternoon just as a dark threatening cloud was
rising. The lightning flashed through the trees, and
the thunder boomed, and rolled off among the hills.
Somehow I liked it for it all seemed so in keeping
with the wild, rugged beauty of the place.
The next morning we went out to explore, and
found such rare, and undreamed-of scenery that I
both laughed and cried, exhausted my list of super
latives, and finally just stood in helpless admiration,
and said nothing. There were moss-covered rocks
of all shapes and sizes, tumbled, hurled, thrown in
wild beautiful confusion all over those mountains.
Soft, dark, green, velvety, drapery-like firs and pines
grow all over everywhere. A path winds up and
around, over and back again, across bridges, span
ning a great waterfall, which begins at the top of the
mountain, and tumbles in reckless glee down, down
the many feet into the valley below.
It seemed to me tnat God must have taken a
mighty big armful of rocks, and thrown them down
all over those hills, letting them fall where they
would and then turned an ocean of water loose to
laugh and frolic its way down among them.
With reluctance we left this beautiful retreat, and
after a day’s journeying, arrived within the borders
of the country of Belgium.
We found Brussels to be rather a pretty city, and
Antwerp a busy port, though neither was especially
individual or interesting.
More than any other place in Belgium 1 enjoyed
the day we spent out on the wide open plains of the
battlefield of Waterloo, which is about a forty-min
utes’ run from the city of Brussels. It was indeed a
rare privilege, which brought with it a strange feel
ing of melancholy to stand upon the scene of this
great battle in history, where Napoleon, the world’s
conqueror, was conquered. At the point, on the field
where the battle was decided the English and allied
forces have built a monument, and placed a huge
statue of a lion upon it in commemoration of their
victory. Some distance away standing in pathetic
solitude can be seen the French monument, on the
HE emancipation of woman, like the in
stitution of all great moral and religious
reforms, has come slowly.
Civilization, with its leveling influences,
did wonders in promoting womanhood
to an estate of dignity, influence and
honor in all the countries where its
wings have cast a beneficent shadow,
and Christianity following in the orbit
T
of material advancement, lent a golden link to the
chain of woman's destiny, and gave her escape from
the caprice of vicious and untamed men. But Chris
tianity has found it hard work to abolish old cus
toms, eradicate old traditions, and supplant the old
prejudices that came down as jealously guarded
heirloons through our Puritanic Fore-Parents.
Because of these mental fossils of a dead past,
women, even the freeborn daughters of American in-
TRAVEL NOTES IRON ABROAD
"WOMEN IN THE
Dr. J. B. Moody Launches Second Edition of His Peerless ’Book.
'Rebielved by Margaret Heberly Upshalv
The Golden Age for November 10, 1910.
top of which is carved an eagle shot by a ball.
In contrast to Beligum we found Holland intensely
interesting, with her many canals, and broad level
plains, made picturesque by the great herds of graz
ing cattle, and numbers of wind-mills. Many of the
roads are hedged in for miles, with rows of trees,
whose large trunks and small feathery leaves make
a beautiful growth. The people of Holland, with
their very odd customs and costumes, are the queer
est specimens of humanity I ever saw, and judging
by the way they stared at us they seemed to con
sider us equally queer.
At Dordrecht, our first stop in Holland, they even
followed us from the depot to our hotel, chattering
in their strange language, and their wooden shoes
clattering on the pavement at every step.
Although we didn’t enjoy being the objects of curi
osity in such a parade, yet it gave us opportunity to
observe in detail the strange headdress, wooden
shoes, and peculiar style of their many colored
clothes which were most “fearfully and wonderfully
made.’’
Upon arriving at Rotterdam the city appeared to
us like a second Venice, being so cut up by canals.
All up and down those waterways could be seen
small boats, and men loading and unloading them.
We learned that whole families live in these boats
and spend their lives carrying freight from one town
to another. We gained admission into one of these
little floating homes, and the lady showed us over
her small and tidy apartments with such an air of
pride that I felt sure the old sentiment, “Be it ever
so humble, there is no place like home” had reached
even to that land beyond the sea.
The Hague, our next stop, we found to be more
cosmopolitan, and not so typical of Hollandish life.
The main point of interest was the “House in the
Woods,” a building located in the suburbs of the
city, and the place where The World’s Peace Con
ference has held its meetings.
We found Amsterdam gaily bedecked in both
Dutch, and American flags, in honor of the birthday
of the little one-year-old Princess Juliana, and of
Roosevelt, who arrived in that city at the same hour
we did.
The people followed him in great throngs, shout
ing and waving flags as he was driven from the depot
to his hotel, from the summit of which the stars and
stripes floated out as if proud to show themselves
in that capital city of the Dutch.
After a few days there we went out to the Isle
of Marken, north of Holland. We found the people
on that cold, barren isle of the North Sea fishing
their lives away, and living in perfect contentment,
with the thoughts, manners, and dress of the Dutch
folk of hundreds of years ago. I felt as if we must
have been transported into another world where
there existed another species of humanity so unlike
were they to anything I had ever seen.
Returning to Amsterdam we took. a day’s excur-
dependence, have never been allowed to enter fully
into their lawful Christian sphere.
Dr. J. B. Moody. Dean of Hall-Moody Institute, Mar
tin, Tenn., a Christian scholar and teacher of rare
acumen, has given much thought, and more profound
study to this long existing ban under ■which Chris
tian women have lived. As a result of his research,
the world is blessed by a treatise from his gifted
pen in which he sets up and right royally defends
the rights of Christian womanhood.
Dr. Moody is not a radical, neither is he a “long
haired apostle of Woman’s Suffrage.” • But he man
fully declares that as a fundamental proposition
women are entitled to the same privileges and pow
ers as men in the administration of affairs pertaining
to the body and functions of the Church militant. He
sustains the proposition with ample Scripture texts
and, strange to say, he proves his argument by quot-
sion out through the flower fields of Holland. We
seemed to be in a world of flowers. For miles we
traveled through fields of many-colored tulips, hya
cinths and narcissus. Those great spread-out car
pets of red, white, blue and yellow were perfectly
gorgeous, and filled the air with their rich, rare per
fume.
Bidding good-bye to Holland, the land of water,
windmills, and wooden shoes, we went to the city
of Cologne on the banks of the Rhine, and began
our sail down that much-famed river.
We took three days for this, stopping at the most
picturesque places and enjoying them leisurely. We
made our first stop at Bonn, a beautiful town abloom
with lilacs, and many flowering trees.
Here once lived the great musician Beethoven,
who, deaf to his own melodies, heard within his soul
those divine strains of harmony with which he has
blessed a World of discord.
The further down the river we went the more I
began to realize the poetic meaning attached to a
sail down the Rhine. It was just at that season
when Spring had left her most beautiful robe on the
trees, and sprinkled the hills with her newest ami
daintiest blossoms.
This added much to the ancient grandeur of the
old castles, overlooking the river, and seeming to
form a part of the mountains which they crowned.
During the years through which they have stood there
in their lofty majesty, the inmates of those turrets,
and domes have come and gone, each playing his
little part in life’s drama and then making his exit
into “that undiscovered country from whose bourne
no traveler returns.” Notwithstanding this the river
flows on silent, resistless, heedless alike of the joys
and sorrows of those dwellers upon its banks.
Continuing our sail southward we passed the little
village of “Calm Bengen,” the home for which that
soldier boy so longed, who lay dying in Algiers,
where “There was dearth of woman’s weeping, and
dearth of womans’ tears.” After two more stops at
Coblenz and Mayence, we left the scenes of the
Rhine, and went next to Frankfort, the birthplace of
Goethe, and the city of the famous palm garden, next
to Heidelberg, with its noted university, then via
Karlsrue to Baden-Baden, one of Germany’s famous
summer resorts.
There we saw the German’s innate love for flow
ers, and their artistic skill in arranging them, mani
fested as never before.
The whole town seemed to be one huge bouquet.
I think they must have searched the world over for
the choicest trees, shrubs, and flowers and gathered
them together there so as to transform the place
into a veritable fairy garden spot. Leaving this
pleasure resort and pleasure seekers, we set our
faces toward the East, and with hearts full of antici
pation started for Oberammergau, the home of the
Passion Play.
i ELIZABETH PURSER.
ing the same Scripture that has heretofore been
used, by less studious and fair-minded Christian men,
as a cudgel with which to debar the “Sisterin” from
participation in public worship.
Dr. Moody makes no attempt to be sensational, but
he has convictions and knows how to express them
graphically and convincingly.
His book ought to be iu the hands of every pastor;
in the library of every woman’s society, and included
as a text-book to be studied by our young people in
their Christian Culture courses.
A phenomenal demand for the publication has made
it necessary to bring out the second edition, which
has been revised and enlarged. The book sells, pre
paid, in cloth binding for 50 cents, and in paper
binding for 25 cents, and can be ordered direct from
Dr. J. B. Moody, Martin, Tenn,
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