# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1932_S30
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

30 THE LUTHERAN PIONEER

even when no word was spoken. In those warrens
of old streets that line both shores of the Golden
Horn, the memory of the blond stranger who gave
out “letters from God” will not soon be forgotten.

I remember a sunny morning when Anders had
been cajoled into joining a Bible-society picnic, and
we were leisurely dressing and enjoying that sense
of well-being which follows a dip and a sun-bath.
Three Turks, who had finished their swim, passed
the time of day with us as they went by.

“What are they?” asked Anders, hurrying into
his shirt.

I did not understand his question.

“What do they speak?” he repeated, almost
impatiently.

In a second he had taken three Turkish gospels
from his satchel and was running after the Turks,

A Bible Colporteur.

his long white legs making great play in the sun,
his untrammeled shirt-tails streaming in the wind
of his progress. It was a situation perilously near
to laughter, yet redeemed and transfigured by the
-white-hot spirit of the man, which made him more
concerned. about the spiritual welfare of passing
strangers than with his’ own want of trousers.

After some months the Constantinople police
picked him up and questioned him as to his work.
He had already informed them fully of what he
had proposed to do at the time of his arrival. One
of the three officers examining him began to use
rough methods and threatened him with immediate
expulsion from Turkey.

“J say that’s too bad,” interposed one of the
others with a smile. “This gentleman has just
been kind enough to bring me a letter from God.”

“And one to me,” said the third.

“The fact is;? they expostulated, “in the whole

of Turkey God has only one postman, and him you
are threatening to expel!”

Anders finally agreed not to give away Scrip-
tures, which was regarded as illegal “religious propa-
ganda,” but to sell them instead.

“As long as you sell your books, you are the
guest of Turkey and can go where you please and
remain as long as you like,” he was told.

Shortly after this he set out to see what could
be done since the American Bible Society colpor-
teur had left with the rest of the native Christian
population five years ago. He found that he could
easily sell quite a number of New Testaments every
day and that no one interfered. The door that
had appeared so fast shut had opened at his first
touch, and he entered unhesitatingly.

There came a day in December, 1926, when an
anxious friend showed me a letter in which Anders
stated that he was at death’s door with fever and
was writing in an interval of lucidity between spells
when the fever mounted to his brain. On coming
to, he found himself lying on a wet mattress spread
on the mud floor of some poor, ignorant folk with
whom he had taken lodging. He had asked for
some dry straw into which to crawl hoping that he
might recover. This alarming letter was then over
three weeks old, and no further word could be ob-
tained from him. Fortunately there is an Amer-
ican school for girls in that city, and the ladies in
charge were told about him. They found him in
the isolation ward of the Turkish hospital, recover-
ing from an attack of the deadly typhus, which was
so severe that the doctors were astonished that he
had not succumbed. In a short time he came out
and settled in a cheap rooming-house. He was very
much emaciated and weakened; but the desire to
be at work again drove him out into the streets
despite the pleadings of his new friends.

One day a messenger came to the school to say
that “Mr. Ohlsson was very ill. They found him
stretched on a springless sofa, breathing very hard
and plainly suffering with penumonia. Before ar-
rangements could be made for his admission to the
hospital, night had fallen, and his transfer had to
be postponed till the next day. But while the
teachers were still at breakfast, word came that he
was dead.

There is no Christian church nor pastor in that
city, and the ladies decided to ship the body to Con-
stantinople. As the coffin was about to be sealed,
the school servant said to the peering crowd of spec-
tators and officials who crowded the room, “Every-
body has his own customs at a time like this. Please