Almost at the close of the year 1878 the loss of the S.S.  “Pomerania,” in collision in the English Channel, was a disaster of the sea that I denounced as nothing short of murder.  It was shown at the trial that there was no fog at the time, that the two vessels saw each other for ten minutes before the collision.  If such gross negligence as this was possible, I advised those people who bought a ticket for Europe on the White Star, the Cunard, the Hamburg, or other steamship lines, to secure at the same time a ticket for Heaven.  What a difference in the ocean ferry-boat of to-day!

Scarcely had the submarine telegraph closed this chapter of sea horror than it clicked the information that the beautiful Princess Alice had died in Germany.  Only a few days later, in America, we were in mood of mourning for Bayard Taylor, our Minister Plenipotentiary to Germany.  In the death of Princess Alice we felt chiefly a sympathy for Queen Victoria, who had not then, and never did, overcome her grief at the loss of Prince Albert.  In the decease of Bayard Taylor we remembered with pride that he was a self-made gentleman of a school for which there is no known system of education.  Regarded as a dreamy, unpractical boy, nothing much was ever expected of him.  When he was seventeen he set type in a printing office in Westchester.  It was Bayard Taylor who exploded the idea that only the rich could afford to go to Europe, when on less than a thousand dollars he spent two years amid the palaces and temples, telling of his adventures in a way that contributed classic literature to our book-shelves.  He worked hard—­wrote thirty-five books.  There is genius in hard work alone.  I have often thought that women pursue more of it than men.  They work night and day, year in and year out, from kitchen to parlour, from parlour to kitchen.

There was some strong legislative effort made in our country about this time to exclude the Chinese.  I opposed this legislation with all the voice and ability I had, because I felt not merely the injustice of such contradiction of all our national institutions, but I saw its political folly.  I saw that the nation that would be the most friendly to China, and could get on the inside track of her commerce, would be the first nation of the world.  The legislature seemed particularly angry with the Chinese immigrants in this country because they would not allow themselves to be buried here.  They were angry with the Chinese then because they would not intermarry.  They were angry with the Chinese because they invested their money in China.  They did not think they were handsome enough for this country.  We even wanted a monopoly of good looks in those days.

I was particularly friendly to the Chinese.  My brother, John Van Nest Talmage, devoted his life to them.  I believed, as my brother did, that they were a great nation.