In July, 1892,1 went to Russia.  It was summer in the land of snow and ice, so that we saw it in the glow of sunny days, in the long gold-tipped twilights of balmy air.  In America we still regarded Russia as a land of cruel mystery and imperial oppression.  There was as much ignorance about the Russians, their Government, their country, as there was about the Fiji Islands.  Americans had been taught that Siberia was Russia, that Russia and Siberia were the same, one vast infinite waste of misery and cruelty.  Granted that I went to Russia on an errand of mercy, and as a representative of the most powerful nation in the world, nevertheless I contend that the Russian people and their Government were hugely misrepresented.  There was no need for the Emperor of Russia to give audience to so humble a representative as a minister of the Gospel unless he had been sincerely touched by the evidence of American generosity and mercy for his starving peasants in Central Russia.  His courtesy and reception of me was a complete contradiction of his reported arrogance and hard-heartedness.  There was no need for the Town Council of St. Petersburg to honour myself and my party with receptions and dinners, and there was no reason for the enthusiasm and cheers of the Russian people in the streets unless they were intensely kind and enthusiastic in nature.  When the famine conditions occurred in the ten provinces of Russia a relief committee was formed in St. Petersburg, with the Grand Duke himself at the head of it, and such men as Count Tolstoi and Count Bobrinsky in active assistance.  America answered the appeal for food, but their was sincere sympathy and compassion for their compatriots in the imperial circles of Russia.

In the famine districts, which were vast enough to hold several nations, a drought that had lasted for six consecutive years had devastated the country.  According to the estimate of the Russian Famine Relief Committee we saved the lives of 125,000 Russians.

As at the hunger relief stations the bread was handed out—­for it was made into loaves and distributed—­many people would halt before taking it and religiously cross themselves and utter a prayer for the donors.  Some of them would come staggering back and say:—­

“Please tell us who sent this bread to us?” And when told it came from America, they would say:  “What part of America?  Please give us the names of those who sent it.”

My visit to the Czar of Russia, Alexander iii., was made at the Imperial Palace.  I was ushered into a small, very plain apartment, in which I found the Emperor seated alone, quietly engaged with his official cares.  He immediately arose, extended his hand with hearty cordiality, and said in the purest English, as he himself placed a chair for me beside his table, “Doctor Talmage, I am very happy to meet you.”