Part 6 (1/2)

Part of the time Bayard Taylor was his traveling companion, and there grew up between these two kindred spirits an intimate friends.h.i.+p that lasted until Taylor's death.

All through the trip he carried books with him, and every minute not occupied in gathering material for his letters was pa.s.sed in reading the history of the scenes and the people he was among, in mastering their language. Such close application added an interesting background of historical information to his letters, a breadth and culture, that made them decidedly more valuable and entertaining than if confined strictly to what he saw and heard. It was on this journey that he heard the legend from which grew his famous lecture, ”Acres of Diamonds,” which has been given already three thousand four hundred and twenty times. It gave him an almost inexhaustible fund of material on which he has drawn for his lectures and books since.

During his absence his second child, a son, Leon, was born. He returned home for the briefest time, and then completed the tour by way of the West and the Pacific. He lectured through the Western States and Territories, for already his fame as a lecturer was spreading. He visited the Sandwich Islands, j.a.pan, China, Sumatra, Siam, Burmah, the Himalaya Mountains, India, returning home by way of Europe. His Hong Kong letter to ”The Tribune,” exposing the iniquities of the labor-contract system in Chinese emigration, created quite a stir in political and diplomatic circles. It was while on this trip he gathered the material for his first book, ”Why and How the Chinese Emigrate.” It was reviewed as the best book in the market of its kind.

The ”New York Herald” in writing of it said: ”There has been little given to the public which throws more timely and intelligent light upon the question of coolie emigration than the book written by Col.

Russell H. Conwell, of Boston.”

These travels were replete with thrilling adventures and strange coincidents. When he left Somerville after his brief visit, for his trip through the Western States, China and j.a.pan, a broken-hearted mother in Charlestown, Ma.s.s., asked him to find her wandering boy, whom she believed to be ”somewhere in China.” A big request, but Colonel Conwell, busy as he was, did not forget it. Searching for him in such places as he believed the boy would most likely frequent, Colonel Conwell accidentally entered, one night in Hong Kong, a den of gamblers. Writing of the event, he says:

”At one table sat an American, about twenty-five years old, playing with an old man. They had been betting and drinking. While the gray-haired man was shuffling the cards for a 'new deal' the young man, in a swaggering, careless way, sang, to a very pathetic tune, a verse of Phoebe Carey's beautiful hymn,

'One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er: I'm nearer home to-day Than e'er I've been before.'

Hearing the singing several gamblers looked up in surprise. The old man who was dealing the cards grew melancholy, stopped for a moment, gazed steadfastly at his partner in the game, and dashed the pack upon the floor under the table. Then said he, 'Where did you learn that tune?' The young man pretended that he did not know he had been singing. 'Well, no matter,' said the old man, I've played my last game, and that's the end of it. The cards may lie there till doomsday, and I will never pick them up,' The old man having won money from the other--about one hundred dollars--took it out of his pocket, and handing it to him said: 'Here, Harry, is your money; take it and do good with it; I shall with mine.' As the traveler followed them downstairs, he saw them conversing by the doorway, and overheard enough to know that the older man was saying something about the song which the young man had sung. It had, perhaps, been learned at a mother's knee, or in a Sunday-school, and may have been (indeed it was), the means of saving these gamblers, and of aiding others through their influence toward that n.o.bler life which alone is worth the living.”

The old man had come from Westfield, Ma.s.s. He died in 1888, at Salem, Oregon, having spent the last seven years of his life as a Christian Missionary among the sailors of the Pacific coast. He pa.s.sed away rejoicing in the faith that took him

”Nearer the Father's House, Where many mansions be, Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the jasper sea.”

The boy, Harry, utterly renounced gambling and kindred vices.

While coming from Bombay to Aden, cholera broke out on the s.h.i.+p and it was strictly quarantined. It was a s.h.i.+p of grief and terror.

Pa.s.sengers daily lost loved ones. New victims were stricken every hour. The slow days dragged away with death unceasingly busy among them. Burials were constant, and no man knew who would be the next victim. But Colonel Conwell escaped contagion.

On the trip home, across the Atlantic, the steamer in a fearful gale was so dismantled as to be helpless. The fires of the engine were out, and the boat for twenty-six days drifted at the mercy of the waves.

No one, not even the Captain, thought they could escape destruction.

Water-logged and unmanageable, during a second storm it was thought to be actually sinking. The Captain himself gave up hope, the women grew hysterical. But in the midst of it all, Colonel Conwell walked the deck, and to calm the pa.s.sengers sang ”Nearer my G.o.d to Thee,”

with such feeling, such calm a.s.surance in a higher power, that the pa.s.sengers and Captain once again took courage. But strangest of all, on this voyage, while sick, he was cared for by the very colored porter whose life he had saved on the Mississippi steamboat.

CHAPTER XIV

BUSY DAYS IN BOSTON

Editor of ”Boston Traveller.” Free Legal Advice for the Poor.

Temperance Work. Campaign Manager for General Nathaniel P. Banks.

Urged for Consuls.h.i.+p at Naples. His Work for the Widows and Orphans of Soldiers.

Returning to Somerville, Ma.s.s., the long journey ended, he found the editorial chair of the ”Boston Traveller” awaiting him. He plunged into work with his characteristic energy. The law, journalism, writing, lecturing, all claimed his attention. It is almost incredible how much he crowded into a day. Five o'clock in the morning found him at work, and midnight struck before he laid aside pen or book. Yet with all this rush of business, he did not forget those resolves he had made to lend a helping hand wherever he could to those needing it.

And his own bitter experiences in the hard school of poverty taught him how sorely at times help is needed. He made his work for others as much a part of his daily life as his work for himself. It was an integral part of it. Watching him work, one could hardly have distinguished when he was occupied with his own affairs, when with those of the poor. He did not separate the two, label one ”charity”

and attend to it in spare moments. One was as important to him as the other. He kept his law office open at night for those who could not come during the day and gave counsel and legal advice free to the poor. Often of an evening he had as many as a half hundred of these clients, too poor to pay for legal aid, yet sadly needing help to right their wrongs. So desirous was he of reaching and a.s.sisting those suffering from injustice, yet without money to pay for the help they needed, that he inserted the following notice in the Boston papers:

”Any deserving poor person wis.h.i.+ng legal advice or a.s.sistance will be given the same free of charge any evening except Sunday, at No. 10 Rialto Building, Devons.h.i.+re Street. None of these cases will be taken into the courts for pay.”

These cases he prepared as attentively and took into court with as eager determination to win, as those for which he received large fees.