"
He went on, "Your lot to attract sincere souls is very good.
Everywhere you go, even in a wilderness, you will find friends."
Both of his blessings have been amply demonstrated. I came alone
to America, into a wilderness without a single friend, but there
I found thousands ready to receive the time-tested soul-teachings.
I left India in August, 1920, on THE CITY OF SPARTA, the first
passenger boat sailing for America after the close of World War
I. I had been able to book passage only after the removal, in ways
fairly miraculous, of many "red-tape" difficulties concerned with
the granting of my passport.
During the two-months' voyage a fellow passenger found out that I
was the Indian delegate to the Boston congress.
"Swami Yogananda," he said, with the first of many quaint
pronunciations by which I was later to hear my name spoken by the
Americans, "please favor the passengers with a lecture next Thursday
night. I think we would all benefit by a talk on 'The Battle of
Life and How to Fight It.'"
Alas! I had to fight the battle of my own life, I discovered on
Wednesday. Desperately trying to organize my ideas into a lecture
in English, I finally abandoned all preparations; my thoughts, like
a wild colt eyeing a saddle, refused any cooperation with the laws
of English grammar. Fully trusting in Master's past assurances,
however, I appeared before my Thursday audience in the saloon of
the steamer.
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