A long and shrill whistle shook the air of the cold January morning-I have never experienced a colder or a drearier dawn-in Fiume harbor; it was as if an otherwise brilliant Nature were shedding farewell tears. Certainly I never witnessed a more melancholy departure than that of those poor workmen who were leaving their old country.

As the chains were raised their rattle went through one's heart, as though all previous bonds were being severed. All memories of long ago, all recollections of childhood, seemed to have disappeared, as though forcibly destroyed. All that one loved vanished, and all the ambitions and hopes that had brightened one's youth seemed to be sucked down and drowned by the hungry waves, that tossed us about mercilessly, as we set forth on our way to our new destinies.

Two thousand four hundred workmen were leaving their own country to seek their daily bread in an unknown world. If every departure has its sadness, even if it is only for a short time, how very much harder must it be for those who leave their all, often for ever! I never witnessed a more desolate scene in the harbor of Quarnero, usually so bright, as if intended by Nature for holidaymakers and scenes of happiness only. Fiume is one of those charming cities, half mediæval, half modern, where the picturesqueness of the Middle Ages and the progress of modern times join hands, with their many contrasts of light and shade forming a delightful water-color picture. It is extraordinary to think how this part of the

Adriatic, formerly so utterly unknown and forlorn, should in fifteen or twenty years have become one of the centres of wealth and fashion, where magnificent hotels have sprung up in the midst of the olive groves, and where men and women from different parts of the world pass several weeks during the winter in the midst of a population of fishermen, who, undisturbed by exterior changes, continue to lead their strenuous lives of a hundred years ago.

During my stay at the Governor's palace, a splendid display of marble and bronze and the home of every luxury, I had opportunities, while waiting for the departure of my steamer, of strolling about in the poorer quarters and observing the wretched conditions of most of the population, the pomp of the official quarters making the general poverty seem all the more striking. But is it not a curious coincidence that generally in those countries where the conditions of the working classes are the gloomiest and darkest, the display made by the Government is all the more splendid?

On the same occasion I had an opportunity of getting acquainted with the general sentiments of the public. It was just the election time; the streets were crowded, and riots were of constant occurrence, as in the days when the Frangipanis were defending their turreted castle, which still crowns the heights, against the turbulent citizens. Every passer-by was recounting his grievances and his aspirations. However, I had no time to enter into the details of party interests

and the politics of the free town of Fiume, which has quite an exceptional constitution of its own, forming part of the Hungarian Crown and yet being autonomous under a Governor-General, which it would require volumes to explain, and one would very likely fail to make matters clear even then. Fortunately, I have little to do with politics. On this occasion my mission was simply to be ship's chaplain to a company of my poor compatriots on a long and mournful journey.

I had volunteered to do this work, having heard of the great need of spiritual help and moral support on emigrant boats. When we consider that each town and village of less population it may be than one of those large boats-nay, even men-of-war belonging to different navies, are provided with their own church or chaplain how much more necessary is it on these occasions, when depression is so great and after all danger so near, where old and young and people of both sexes are present, that spiritual help should be provided. Great attention is paid by all the leading companies to ensure for their passengers every physical or material advantage, such as wholesome food, good doctors, and a plentiful supply of medicine, but they do not seem yet to realize the importance of adequately providing for moral needs.

The necessity for such help was shown at the very outset of our jour ney in a tragic way. A sailor, while taking in a reef, fell into the hold and broke his spine, dying soon after, leaving a large family behind. An even sadder case that occurred shortly afterwards, was that of a poor woman who was on her way to join her husband, who was working in the mines of West Virginia. She had two children, but one had not been allowed to sail by the authorities on account of delicate health, and was therefore sent to the maternal relations in Hungary.

She had not, however, reached her destination at the time we started, and the mother's anxiety was so great that, on receiving a telegram brought by a steam launch to the effect that the child had not arrived, she fell down with a shriek and expired in a few minutes. Is it not natural in moments like these for those who remain behind to require moral support and to seek consolation in their faith?

The journey lasted nearly twenty days. There were hours of long and monotonous tossing on a dreary waste of waters. How different from my first journey to the United States on the floating palace, Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, in the beautiful midsummer of '90, when everything was bright and happy, and the boat crowded with people who seemed never to have known want and sorrow, while the universe seemed a magnificent background to their joyous lives! What a difference two or three generations can make, and what a change is often produced in the life even of an individual by well-directed energy! When reading the biography of one or the other citizen of the New Continent, it is hard to understand by what means it has been possible for men of mature age to adapt themselves to new conditions, and to develop themselves so as to be able to achieve works of universal importance in the short space of ten or twenty years.

Among the matters of interest which appeal to the scholars of the United States and of all new countries generally, the most essential questions are (1) What are the qualities necessary for success? and (2) What circumstances and factors develop these qualities? It is an inexhaustible subject of research to determine whence comes the bulk of the people that has settled down and populated new continents. To do this we must go back to the fountain-head and observe them in

their respective native lands, and understand, to a certain extent, their childhood, the conditions of their life and work, their social state and culture, in fact their whole material and moral existence. We must have a certain idea of their whole history.

During the long days of our journey I had ample opportunity of becoming acquainted with my fellow passengers in long conversations, when they spoke openly of their personal affairs. I had a chance of penetrating into their mode of thought. There were men from different parts of Eastern Europe, mostly Hungarians, some Slavs and a certain number of Teutons. In their external appearance naturally there was a great deal of difference: the Hungarians, who were most numerous, were dark, short, but well made; the Slavs, tall, slender, fair and extremely passive; the Teutons, of whom there were not many on board, seemed to be the point of union between the two; mentally too, they were less fiery than the Hungarians, and more so than the Slavs, unquestionably men of serious qualities, practical thinkers. They expressed their various grievances and aims in a different way, looked upon their past in a different light, and had forecasts of the future seen through different colored glasses. But their motives were always the same. Their reason for leaving their countries and breaking with the past was identical, that of primary necessity.

I was especially anxious to know why my own countrymen leave their homes in such numbers. The country is far from being over-populated, and there are whole districts which need double and treble the present number of souls. Even now huge areas are uncultivated, and the natural conditions of soil and climate are most favorable and capable of supplying all needs. Yet 100,000 workmen left Hungary two years ago, and 118,000 last year. How

to prevent and to improve this state of affairs is one of the burning questions of the day.

We must not forget that no people leaves its country easily and lightly. The Magyars are especially a patriotic race and devoted to their fatherland: it is only under pressure of great necessity that they can bring themselves to part from it. At the same time they know that they are not welcome in the new country. The Immigration Laws become harder every year, and are all directed against the admission of too many new-comers, and hundreds and thousands are rejected every month by the authorities on various reasons and pretexts. It is quite comprehensible that the men in possession should dislike too great an influx of strange elements and an undesired competition. Indeed, there is a great danger that these people, arriving in shiploads, will remain in the cities on the chance of dubious jobs, instead of travelling farther into more scantily populated districts. The American Government desires, as far as possible, to prevent agglomeration, and to facilitate settle ment inland. But the attractions of towns and the possibilities of eventual success in large centres are counterbalanced with difficulty. The great manufacturing cities and commercial towns offer wages of from two to three dollars a day to the humblest worker, and this is too great a temptation and deters men from looking ahead and from going farther afield. As I said before, all emigrants are actuated by primary motives. They want their daily bread first, clothing will come next, shelter third, and all the other requirements some time later. They are struggling for life, and all their ideas are dominated by the instinct of existence and self-support.

The early part of our journey was along the beautiful coast of Apuleia and Calabria. One of the most beau

tiful landscapes was spread before us-Monte Gargano towering above his evergreen slopes-all this land which played such a great part not only in Italian history, but also in the history of civilization.. Now there was a glimpse of a magnificent cathedral, built by the great Popes of the period; now a view of fortifications, crenellated bastions and watch towers erected by the mighty Hohenstauffen Emperors; but all these meant nothing to my simple travelling companions. Neither the beauty of nature nor the glories of the historic past appealed to them. Only one or two asked me if they were already the shores of America, and on receiving a negative answer, took no further notice, but turned away with indifference, as from something which was of no practical use to them. It is difficult to understand the train of thought of people who have never had any but elementary things to strive for. It would be even more difficult to know how much should be added, and in what way, to their knowledge, to improve the harmony of their inner life.

The third morning the first rays of the sun tinged the peak of Mount Etna with a rosy radiance against a cloudless sky, blue as it can only be in this most beautiful part of the world, only adequately depicted and sung by the greatest artists and poets of Hellas and Rome. The sea was blue too. Between Scylla and Charybdis, girdled with white villages, which were calmly reflected in the mirror of the waters, the whole scene was so beautiful, nature was so radiant, that a consciousness of love and hope penetrated even through the gloom overhanging the minds of those poor emigrants.

They

all came on deck, sat down in circles with their psalters, and sang those fine old melodies which took them back again to memories of their homes and childhood.

At Gibraltar we bade good-by to Eu

rope. We stopped in the harbor for several hours, and I had time to go. ashore and revisit this unique place. It is unique, indeed, this key of the Mediterranean, as it is called, one of the greatest strongholds of the world. And yet those invincible fortifications and huge guns, pyramids of bullets and other deadly weapons, are so artistically hidden by pleasure-grounds, mountain walks and flower gardens, that one would never guess their destructive object. And all the men onemeets look so smart in their fresh khaki, scarlet tunics, or other brilliant uniforms, walking up and down on the Promenade, amidst their happy families, that it is difficult to realize that the object of their life is after all war or destruction; but let us hope that the ambition of Gibraltar is even a higher one-the prevention of war and the maintenance of peace.

Opposite is the African coast, which is turbulent enough to need constant watching to suppress undesirable outbreaks. We passed Tetuan and Tangiers within gunshot; the former is certainly one of the most beautiful Oriental cities I ever visited; with its whitewashed streets and white-burnoused population, it reminds one of one of the fairy cities of the "Arabian Nights," and it is untouched by any kind of alien influence up to the present, and during my stay several years ago the knowledge that I was the only foreigner within its closed gates greatly added to its charm. Tetuan, like Fez and Morocco city, seemed to be the last vestige of the civilization of the Khalifa, and the last remains of the glory of the Abencerrages. With what different eyes one sees a country in which onehas lived and worked, where one knows the towns and the people, great and small-remembrances which may throw a light upon things that may make them become important and interesting, even if intrinsically insignificant.

The rest of the voyage was passed on the open sea. For over ten days we were tossed from side to side; the greater part of the time the weather was very bad indeed. We experienced two regular hurricanes, met icebergs, had gales and snowstorms. Poor emigrants! Is it not natural that people who have never been to sea before should lose heart and think they were going to be drowned? I don't want to give too gloomy a picture of the interior of an emigrant boat; but it is easy enough to imagine the hull of a ship full of thousands of human beings, where they are packed together day and night. Even with more civilized people, it would not be exactly desirable to crowd so many together, as far as pleasant companionship went. And yet I must speak most highly with regard to the

crew.

management of the

The boat was called the Pannonia, one of the newest types of twin screw, and everything was fitted up in accordance with the latest improvements. A portion of the hull was set apart for the women and children. The meals were served on tables, and the food was plentiful, and the best medical help was at hand. But who could eat or benefit by medicine when suffering agonies of sea-sickness? And it was interesting to see that those who, when starting, had been most anxious to be assured that there was a good cook on board and an experienced doctor, and who had not thought that a chaplain could be of any use, did not care for food and, seeing that medicine could not help, all came to me and wished to join in the service, that they might pray for fine weather, and that God would bring them safe to shore. In these moments of despair, there was not a man, however old and hardened, who did not recognize plainly his nonentity and the vanity of all earthly things, and who did not recognize the LIVING AGE. VOL. XXXIV.

1776

were all men of world-wide experience, who seemed to understand life and its sufferings, and were always ready to respond to my appeal for assistance for any of the steerage passengers. Long as was the voyage, I had no time to be bored, for with such a large number of "parishioners" my hands were quite full.

I wanted to enter as fully as possible into the psychological reasons for emigration having attained such colossal proportions in Hungary. The only means of doing this was to pass a great deal of time with the people and to hear the opinions of each one in turn, so as to get to the general sentiment. The summary of all the grievances and opinions that were related to me, always in very vivid language and sometimes not without a touch of humor, pointed to three principal causes. First, excessive taxation; secondly, inadequate local administration; thirdly, the heavy burden of a long compulsory service.

With regard to the taxation, the complaints were only too well founded. The burden of taxation weighs most heavily on the land, giving great advantages to all kinds of commercial enterprise, while the great capitalists and speculators go almost scot free. This antiquated system, which dates from olden times when land was the only asset, can still be borne by very large landowners; but as in Hungary nearly all the cultivators of the soil are peasant proprietors, a few consecutive bad years suffice to ruin them.

With regard to the local administra