Bellefonte, Pa., May 13, 1927.
Pleasures of Homecoming.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
By Rev. L. M. Colfelt D. D.
After a six months sojourn in Eu-
rope and in spite of the constant
change from one interesting country to
another we must confess an attack of
homesickness. And this we found to
be a common malady amongst all the
Americans we met in Switzerland on
the Reviera and throughout Italy
who were exiles because of business
engagements or in search of health.
They were afflicted with the intoler-
able tedium of life and its infinite
ennui. They had seemed to contract
a mournful cadence of speech and
air of sadness. Better for a hope-
less invalid to remain at home amid
familiar faces and scenes than vain-
ly search for health amid strange
peoples and unfamiliar surroundings
thus adding to the discomfort of sick-
ness the pangs of homesickness. For
there is no illusion so potent as ones
native land. All nations may shelter
you under their roof tree but none
can offer you the home where you re-
ceived the benediction of your moth-
er. Heaven is great and extended
over all but not the heaven under
which you dreamed of felicity and
were happy with smiling phantasies.
Any part of the earth may conceal
your body but alas! your bones will
be more isolated in a foreign grave
that contains not the remains of your
father. Not in vain are we born in our
Motherland. Our hearts are mould-
ed of her clay, our ideals mingle with
the words our country has put upon
our lips. One may look upon earth’s
grandest spectacles, may visit its
most illustrious cities and sublime
monuments, may look upon the Ses-
sions of Parliament in London and
Paris, High Mass at St. Peters, Sun-
set on the Bay of Naples; one may
climb Alpine peaks among the eter-
nal snows and hear glaciers grind,
cascades fall roaring down the moun-
tain sides and watch eagles mount
among the heights, but we still turn
our eyes to the distant land which
was our birth place and feel that our
utmost ambition is to be the least of
her children, the most obscure of her
citizens and to possess a home among
our friends and families today, and
tomorrow a quiet resting place in the
earth of our fathers. It was with a
glad heart therefore that leaving
Rome, stopping a few days at Naples
to view the wonders of vision, Sun-
set on the Bay, Herculaneous and
Pompeii we took a ship for the voy-
ages across the Mediterranean, coal-
ed at Gibraltar, loaded up with
oranges at Valencia, Spain, and thence
followed the southern route to New
York. Having often wondered what
a storm at sea was like I was grati-
fied to the full upon this voyage upon
one of the Henderson line of steam-
ers aboard which I was the sole pass-
enger. The young Captain for the
first time serving in that capacity re-
lated that he had experienced a thrill-
ing outward voyage overloaded as his
vessel was with wheat and sewing
machines. Crossing the bay of Bis-
cay in a violent tempest the Cargo
shifted and his vessel was submerged
Aft below the water line, but he
reached his distination, an Italian
port, in safety. Homeward bound
from Valencia with his cargo of or-
anges, a more frightful tempest swept
down upon us. At first knowing that
‘this young Scotch Captain and his
crew were men one could trust utter-
ly I was not in the slightest trepida-
tion but even requested the privilege
of climbing up the central mast where
for hours I watched the’ billows cer-
tainly 50 feet high rolling up in end-
less succession toward the vessel's
stern threatening to engulf her,
while the roaring waves made a pan-
demonium and the spray was filling
the air and showering the topmost
masts. It was quite the most fearful
yet thrilling scene I eyér beheld. The
storm waxed more furious rendering
it too dangerous to go upon the deck.
Finally towering waves that rolled
behind us began to overtake us and
break over the vessels’ stern, smash-
ing the skylight of the dining: saloon
pouring down into it until it was sub-
merged several feet deep. The next
morning on putting my head out of
my birth I was saluted with the crash
of a wave breaking over the ship, the
sound of splintered glass and a show-
er bath. Stepping down on the floor
I saw my effects floating about in the
swishing water. Leaving my com-
partment for the saloon it was water
everywhere. In deed so saturated
was every thing and se impossible
was it to dry anything that I slept
under damp bed clothes, the remaind-
ed of the voyage and would have suf-
ferd mightily but for the mildness of
the temperature. Finally the captain
decided that these pursuing billows
would sink the ship with their moun-
tain weight and he must needs turn
the vessel completely around so that
his ships prow could meet and cut
them perpendicularly. He said that
to turn the vessel round in a semicir-
cle in such a sea was an exceedingly
dangerous performance liable as it
was at any moment to be smashed by
a wave striking amidships broadside
on. Happily he made the manoeuver
safely and we steamed for three days
on the backward course till the storm
abated and we could resume the voy-
age homeward. My yearning for the
sight of a storm at sea was complete-
ly satisfied. On reaching the Amer-
ican side of the Atlantic on the lati-
tude of Florida we steamed up the
coast following the Gulf stream
which on account of its being winter
and the air colder than the water,
smoked like a caldron. A most wierd
sight, savoring of a voyage over an
inferno or some boiling lake. One
day standing by the captain and
looking back along the vessel’s foam-
ing “wake I exclaimed “what is that?”
pointing to an apparition precisely
like a gigantic old fashioned hour
glass, with a widely expanded and
circular top tapering down to the cen-
ter and gradually expanding in the
same rounded form to its base on the
water. He replied with astonishment
“why as I live that is a tremendous
water spout!” It was directly in the
course which the ship had traversed
and but a couple of minutes time pre-
served us from being enveloped and
wrecked by the suction that lifted
hundreds of tons of water 200 feet in
the air. Perhaps this is the secret of
the disappearance of many vessels
never heard from. In the steerage
were several hundred immigrants
from Southern Italy. Seated on the
lower deck when the weather permit-
ted they gave us nightly serenades.
Very wonderful it was to hear one of
their number break the silence and
set the key while one another chimed
in with perfect rythm until several
hundred voices made the night melod-
ious with one improvization succeed-
ing another. Up to this time the
weather was summery though it was
mid winter and many of the immi-
grants were barefooted doubtless ex-
pecting the same climate to which
they were accustomed. But when we
weighed anchor in New York harbor
it was to be greeted with zero atmos-
phere. Truly a cool reception these
barefooted strangers received that
January morning from the land of
their hopes and their dreams. As for
myself nothing could chill my happi-
ness that I was home at last. Of a
truth there’s no place like home!
After returning from my extend-
ed trip abroad I resumed my pulpit
duties at Washington square which
were continued some two years al-
most rounding out a cycle of ten
years service. But during the last four
years of my pastorate was greatly
weakened by an attack of meningitis
conjestion induced by a spinal shock
brought about by my riding a horse,
falling with me on the Winchester
pike near my Virginia home. Finally
the torture became unbearable and I
was compelled to resign, hoping a
year’s cessation of pulpit demands
might restore accustomed vigor. Re-
turning to the country and engaging
in agricultural labors proved a rap-
id panacea and in six months I was
in condition to return to my favorite
work. At this time a “call” was giv-
en me by the 1st. Church of Indian-
apolis with president Harrison’s name
appearing as one of the signers.
Coincidently another “call” was for-
warded me from the Brown memorial
church of Baltimore to succeed the
very brilliant preacher, Rev. John
Sparhawk Jones. This was the posi-
tion I would have chosen as being
nearest the home of my parents at
Winchester but the reluctance of my
wife to part from her parents led me
to accept a call from the Oxford Pres-
byteian church, Philadelphia, tender-
ed at the same time. Many ministers
seeking a change for the better and
higher emolument preach frequently
in other pulpits make cavalry charges
hither and thither, figure at no end
of conventions and councils but I nev-
er stirred out of my pulpit but sought
‘to make it my throne esteeming that
my utmost powers were due to the
people who honored me with their
choice as their pastor. Yet I can re-
cord without disposition to be boast-
ful but merely for the edification of
my brethren of the ministry that I
have been honored with more calls
than any minister with whose history
I have knowledge, having been for-
mally called by the First church of
Rochester, the First church of Phila-
delphia the First church of Indianap-
olis, the Brown memorial church of
Baltimore, twice by the Oxford
church,
church of Cambridge, Boston, West
Green, of Philadelphia. I have receiv-
ed proffers of calls from the four
points of the compass but refused to
permit them to be issued formally
from the 1st. church of Allegheny
city, the Cathedral of St. Augustine,
from Memphis, Tenn., Los Angeles,
California, Portland, Oregon, Seattle,
Washington, Walnut Hills, Cincinnati,
and Albany, New York. Some of
these tempted me with nearly twice
the salary I was receiving but I was
content to spend my ministerial life
in Philadelphia.
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