This it would be necessary to bring home to the railway companies, and for the execution of this part of my Scheme I must wait till I get some manager sufficiently public-spirited to try the experiment. When such a man is found, I purpose to set at once about my Sea-Side Establishment. This will present the following special advantages, which I am quite certain will be duly appreciated by the very poorest of the London population: —

An estate of some three hundred acres would be purchased on which buildings would be erected, calculated to meet the wants of this class of excursionists.

Refreshments would be provided at rates very similar to those charged at our London Food Depots. There would, of course, be greater facilities in the way of rooms and accommodation generally.

Lodgings for invalids, children, and those requiring to make a short stay in the place would be supplied at the lowest prices. Beds for single men and single women could be charged at the low rate of sixpence a night, and children in proportion, while accommodation of a suitable character, on very moderate terms, could be arranged for married people.

No public-houses would be allowed within the precincts of the settlement.

A park, playground, music, boats, covered conveniences for bathing, without the expense of hiring a machine, and other arrangements for the comfort and enjoyment of the people would be provided.

The estate would form one of the Colonies of the general enterprise, and on it would be grown fruit, vegetables, flowers, and other produce for the use of the visitors, and sold at the lowest remunerative rates. One of the first provisions for the comfort of the excursionists would be the erection of a large hall, affording ample shelter in case of unfavourable weather, and in this and other parts of the place there would be the fullest opportunity for ministers of all denominations to hold religious services in connection with any excursionists they might bring with them.

There would be shops for tradesmen, houses for residets, a museum with a panorama and stuffed whale; boats would be let out at moderate prices, and a steamer to carry people so many miles out to sea, and so many miles back for a penny, with a possible bout of sickness, for which no extra charge would be made.

In fact the railway fares and refreshment arrangements would be on such a scale, that a husband and wife could have a 70-mile ride through the green fields, the new-mown hay, the waving grain or fruit laden orchards; could wander for hours on the seashore, have comforting and nourishing refreshment, and be landed back at home sober, cheered and invigorated for the small sum of 3s. A couple of children under 12 might be added at 1s. 6d.—nay, a whole family, husband, wife and four children, supposing one is in arms, could have a day at the seaside, without obligation or charity, for 5s.

The gaunt, hungry inhabitants of the Slums would save up their halfpence, and come by thousands; clergymen would find it possible to bring half the poor and needy occupants of their parishes; schools, mothers' meetings, and philanthropic societies of all descriptions would come down wholesale; in short, what Brighton is to the West End and middle classes, this place would be to the East End poor, nay, to the poor of the Metropolis generally, a Whitechapel-by-the-Sea.

Now this ought to be done apart from my Scheme altogether. The rich corporations which have the charge of the affairs of this great City, and the millionaires, who would never have amassed their fortunes but by the assistance of the masses, ought to say it shall be done. Suppose the Railway Companies refused to lend the great highways of which they have become the monopolists for such an undertaking without a subvention, then the necessary subvention should be forthcoming. If it could be made possible for the joyless toilers to come out of the sweater's den, or the stifling factory; if the seamstress could leave her needle, and the mother get away from the weary round of babydom and household drudgery for a day now and then, to the cooling, invigorating, heart-stirring influences of the sea, it should be done, even if it did cost a few paltry thousands. Let the men and women who spend a little fortune every year in Continental tours, Alpine climbings, yacht excursions, and many another form of luxurious wanderings, come forward and say that it shall be possible for these crowds of their less fortunate brethren to have the opportunity of spending one day at least in the year by the sea.

CHAPTER VII.

CAN IT BE DONE, AND HOW?

SECTION 1.—THE CREDENTIALS OF THE SALVATION ARMY.

Can this great work be done? I believe it can. And I believe that it can be done by the Salvation Army, because it has ready to hand an organisation of men and women, numerous enough and zealous enough to grapple with the enormous undertaking. The work may prove beyond our powers. But this is not so manifest as to preclude us from wishing to make the attempt. That in itself is a qualification which is shared by no other organisation—at present. If we can do it we have the field entirely to ourselves. The wealthy churches show no inclination to compete for the onerous privilege of making the experiment in this definite and practical form. Whether we have the power or not, we have, at least, the will, the ambition to do this great thing for the sake of our brethren, and therein lies our first credential for being entrusted with the enterprise.

The second credential is the fact that, while using all material means, our reliance is on the co-working power of God. We keep our powder dry, but we trust in Jehovah. We go not forth in our own strength to this battle, our dependence is upon Him who can influence the heart of man. There is no doubt that the most satisfactory method of raising a man must be to effect such a change in his views and feelings that he shall voluntarily abandon his evil ways, give himself to industry and goodness in the midst of the very temptations and companionships that before led him astray, and live a Christian life, an example in himself of what can be done by the power of God in the very face of the most impossible circumstances.

But herein lies the great difficulty again and again referred to, men have not that force of character which will constrain them to avail themselves of the methods of deliverance. Now our Scheme is based on the necessity of helping such.

Our third credential is the fact that we have already out of practically nothing achieved so great a measure of success that we think we may reasonably be entrusted with this further duty. The ordinary operations of the Army have already effected most wonderful changes in the conditions of the poorest and worst. Multitudes of slaves of vice in every form have been delivered not only from these habits, but from the destitution and misery which they even produce. Instances have been given. Any number more can be produced. Our experience, which has been almost world-wide, has ever shown that not only does the criminal become honest, the drunkard sober, the harlot chaste, but that poverty of the most abject and helpless type vanishes away. Our fourth credential is that our Organisation alone of England's religious bodies is founded upon the principle of implicit obedience.

For Discipline I can answer. The Salvation Army, largely recruited from among the poorest of the poor, is often reproached by its enemies on account of the severity of its rule. It is the only religious body founded in our time that is based upon the principle of voluntary subjection to an absolute authority. No one is bound to remain in the Army a day longer than he pleases. While he remains there he is bound by the conditions of the Service. The first condition of that Service is implicit, unquestioning obedience. The Salvationist is taught to obey as is the soldier on the field of battle.

From the time when the Salvation Army began to acquire strength and to grow from the grain of mustard seed until now, when its branches overshadow the whole earth, we have been constantly warned against the evils which this autocratic system would entail. Especially were we told that in a democratic age the people would never stand the establishment of what was described as a spiritual despotism. It was contrary to the spirit of the times, it would be a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence to the masses to whom we appeal, and so forth and so forth.

But what has been the answer of accomplished facts to these predictions of theorists? Despite the alleged unpopularity of our discipline, perhaps because of the rigour of military authority upon which we have insisted, the Salvation Army has grown from year to year with a rapidity to which nothing in modern Christendom affords any parallel. It is only twenty-five years since it was born. It is now the largest Home and Foreign Missionary Society in the Protestant world. We have nearly 10,000 officers under our orders, a number increasing every day, every one of whom has taken service on the express condition that he or she will obey without questioning or gainsaying the orders from Headquarters. Of these, 4,600 are in Great Britain. The greatest number outside these islands, in any one country, are in the American Republic, where we have 1,018 officers, and democratic Australia, where we have 800.

Nor is the submission to our discipline a mere paper loyalty. These officers are in the field, constantly exposed to privation and ill-treatment of all kinds. A telegram from me will send any of them to the uttermost parts of the earth, will transfer them from the Slums of London to San Francisco, or despatch them to assist in opening missions in Holland, Zululand, Sweden, or South America. So far from resenting the exercise of authority, the Salvation Army rejoices to recognise it as one great secret of its success, a pillar of strength upon which all its soldiers can rely, a principle which stamps it as being different from all other religious organisations founded in our day.

With ten thousand officers, trained to obey, and trained equally to command, I do not feel that the organisation even of the disorganised, sweated, hopeless, drink-sodden denizens of darkest England is impossible. It is possible, because it has already been accomplished in the case of thousands who, before they were saved, were even such as those whose evil lot we are now attempting to deal with.

Our fifth credential is the extent and universality of the Army. What a mighty agency for working out the Scheme is found in the Army in this respect! This will be apparent when we consider that it has already stretched itself through over thirty different Countries and Colonies, with a permanent location in something like 4,000 different places, that it has either soldiers or friends sufficiently in sympathy with it to render assistance in almost every considerable population in the civilised world, and in much of the uncivilised, that it has nearly 10,000 separated officers whose training, and leisure, and history qualify them to become its enthusiastic and earnest co-workers. In fact, our whole people will hail it as the missing link in the great Scheme for the regeneration of mankind, enabling them to act out those impulses of their hearts which are ever prompting them to do good to the bodies as well as to the souls of men.

Take the meetings. With few exceptions, every one of these four thousand centres has a Hall in which, on every evening in the week and from early morning until nearly midnight on every Sabbath, services are being held; that nearly every service held indoors is preceded by one out of doors, the special purport of every one being the saving of these wretched crowds. Indeed, when this Scheme is perfected and fairly at work, every meeting and every procession will be looked upon as an advertisement of the earthly as well as the heavenly conditions of happiness. And every Barracks and Officer's quarters will become a centre where poor sinful suffering men and women may find sympathy, counsel, and practical assistance in every sorrow that can possibly come upon them, and every Officer throughout our ranks in every quarter of the globe will become a co-worker.

See how useful our people will be in the gathering in of this class. They are in touch with them. They live in the same street, work in the same shops and factories, and come in contact with them at every turn and corner of life. If they don't live amongst them, they formerly did. They know where to find them; they are their old chums, pot-house companions, and pals in crime and mischief. This class is the perpetual difficulty of a Salvationist's life. He feels that there is no help for them in the conditions in which they are at present found. They are so hopelessly weak, and their temptations are so terribly strong, that they go down before them. The Salvationist feels this when he attacks them in the tap-rooms, in the low lodging houses, or in their own desolate homes. Hence, with many, the Crusader has lost all heart. He has tried them so often. But this Scheme of taking them right away from their old haunts and temptations will put new life into him and he will gather up the poor social wrecks wholesale, pass them along, and then go and hunt for more.

Then see how useful this army of Officers and Soldiers will be for the regeneration of this festering mass of vice and crime when it is, so to speak, in our possession. All the thousands of drunkards, and harlots, and blasphemers, and idlers have to be made over again, to be renewed in the spirit of their minds, that is—made good. What a host of moral workers will be required to accomplish such a gigantic transformation. In the Army we have a few thousands ready, anyway we have as many as can be used at the outset, and the Scheme itself will go on manufacturing more. Look at the qualifications of these warriors for the work!

They have been trained themselves, brought into line and are examples of the characters we want to produce.

They understand their pupils—having been dug out of the same pit. Set a rogue to catch a rogue, they say, that is, we suppose, are formed rogue. Anyway, it is so with us. These rough-and-ready warriors will work shoulder to shoulder with them in the same manual employment. They will engage in the task for love. This is a substantial part of their religion, the moving instinct of the new heavenly nature that has come upon them. They want to spend their lives in doing good. Here will be an opportunity.

Then see how useful these Soldiers will be for distribution! Every Salvation Officer and Soldier in every one of these 4,000 centres, scattered through these thirty odd countries and colonies, with all their correspondents and friends and comrades living elsewhere, will be ever on the watch-tower looking out for homes and employments where these rescued men and women can be fixed up to advantage, nursed into moral vigour, picked up again on stumbling, and watched over generally until able to travel the rough and slippery paths of life alone.

I am, therefore, not without warrant for my confidence in the possibility of doing great things, if the problem so long deemed hopeless be approached with intelligence and determination on a scale corresponding to the magnitude of the evil with which we have to cope.

SECTION 2.—HOW MUCH WILL IT COST?

A considerable amount of money will be required to fairly launch this Scheme, and some income may be necessary to sustain it for a season, but, once fairly afloat, we think there is good reason to believe that in all its branches it will be self-supporting, unless its area of operation is largely extended, on which we fully rely. Of course, the cost of the effort must depend very much upon its magnitude. If anything is to be done commensurate with the extent of the evil, it will necessarily require a proportionate outlay. If it is only the drainage of a garden that is undertaken, a few pounds will meet the cost, but if it is a great dismal swamp of many miles in area, harbouring all manner of vermin, and breeding all kinds of deadly malaria, that has to be reclaimed and cultivated, a very different sum will not only be found necessary, but be deemed an economic investment.

Seeing that the country pays out something like Ten Millions per annum in Poor Law and Charitable Relief without securing any real abatement of the evil, I cannot doubt that the public will hasten to supply one-tenth of that sum. If you reckon that of the submerged tenth we have one million to deal with, this will only be one pound per head for each of those whom it is sought to benefit, or say ONE MILLION STERLING to give the present Scheme a fair chance of getting into practical operation.

According to the amount furnished, must necessarily be the extent of our operations. We have carefully calculated that with one hundred thousand pounds the scheme can be successfully set in motion, and that it can be kept going on an annual income of #30,000 which is about three and a-quarter per cent. on the balance of the million sterling, for which I ask as an earnest that the public intend to put its hand to this business with serious resolution; and our judgment is based, not on any mere imaginings, but upon the actual result of the experiments already made. Still it must be remembered that so vast and desirable an end cannot be even practically contemplated without a proportionate financial outlay. Supposing, however, by the subscription of this amount the undertaking is fairly set afloat. The question may be asked, "What further funds will be required for its efficient maintenance?" This question we proceed to answer. Let us look at the three Colonies apart, and then at some of the circumstances which apply to the whole. To begin with, there is

THE FINANCIAL ASPECT OF THE CITY COLONY.

Here there will be, of course, a considerable outlay required for the purchasing and fitting up of property, the acquisition of machinery, furniture, tools, and the necessary plant for carrying forward all these varied operations. These once acquired, no further outlay will be needed except for the necessary reparations.

The Homes for the Destitute will be nearly, if not quite, self-sustaining. The Superior Homes for both Single and Married people will not only pay for themselves, but return some interest on the amount invested, which would be devoted to the futherance of other parts of the Scheme.

The Refuges for Fallen Girls would require considerable funds to keep them going. But the public has never been slow to practically express its sympathy with this class of work.

The Criminal Homes and Prison Gate Operations would require continued help, but not a very great deal. Then, the work in the Slums is somewhat expensive. The eighty young women at present engaged in it cost on an average 12s. per week each for personal maintenance, inclusive of clothes and other little matters, and there are expenses for Halls and some little relief which cannot in anyway be avoided, bringing our present annual Slum outlay to over #4,000. But the poor people amongst whom they work notwithstanding their extreme poverty, are already contributing over #1,000 per annum towards this amount, which income will increase. Still as by this Scheme we propose to add at once a hundred to the number already engaged, money will be required to keep th is department going.

The Inebriate Home, I calculate, will maintain itself. All its inmates will have to engage in some kind of remunerative labour, and we calculate, in addition, upon receiving money with a considerable number of those availing themselves of its benefits. But to practically assist the half-million slaves of the cup we must have money not only to launch out but to keep our operations going.

The Food Depots, once fitted up, pay their own working expenses.

The Emigration, Advice, and Inquiry Bureaux must maintain themselves or nearly so. The Labour Shops, Anti-Sweating, and other similar operations will without question require money to make ends meet. But on the whole, a very small sum of money, in proportion to the immense amount of work done, will enable us to accomplish a vast deal of good.

THE FARM COLONY FROM A FINANCIAL POINT OF VIEW.

Let us now turn to the Farm Colony, and consider it from a monetary standpoint. Here also a certain amount of money will have to be expended at the outset; some of the chief items of which will be the purchase of land, the erection of buildings, the supply of stock, and the production of first crops. There is an abundance of land in the market, at the present time, at very low prices. It is rather important for the initial experiment that an estate should be obtained not too far from London, with land suitable for immediate cultivation. Such an estate would beyond question be expensive. After a time, I have no doubt, we shall be able to deal with land of almost any quality (and that in almost any part of the country), in consequence of the superabundance of labour we shall possess. There is no question if the scheme goes forward, but that estates will be required in connection with all our large towns and cities. I am not without hope that a sufficient quantity of land will be given, or, in any way, sold to us on very favourable terms.

When acquired and stocked, it is calculated that this land, if cultivated by spade husbandry, will support at least two persons per acre. The ordinary reckoning of those who have had experience with allotments gives five persons to three acres. But, even supposing that this calculation is a little too sanguine, we can still reckon a farm of 500 acres supporting, without any outside assistance, say, 750 persons. But, in this Scheme, we should have many advantages not possessed by the simple peasant, such as those resulting from combination, market gardening, and the other forms of cultivation already referred to, and thus we should want to place two or three times this number on that quantity of land.

By a combination of City and Town Colonies, there will be a market for at least a large portion of the products. At the rate of our present consumption in the London Food Depots and Homes for the Destitute alone, at least 50 acres would be required for potatoes alone, and every additional Colonist would be an additional consumer.

There will be no rent to pay, as it is proposed to buy the land right out. In the event of a great rush being made for the allotment's spoken of, further land might be rented, with option of purchase.

Of course, the continuous change of labourers would tell against the profitableness of the undertaking. But this would be proportionally beneficial to the country, seeing that everyone who passes through the institution with credit makes one less in the helpless crowd.

The rent of Cottages and Allotments would constitute a small return, and at least pay interest on the money invested in them.

The labour spent upon the Colony would be constantly increasing its money value. Cottages would be built, orchards planted, land enriched, factories run up, warehouses erected, while other improvements would be continually going forward. All the labour and a large part of the material would be provided by the Colonists themselves.

It may be suggested that the worker would nave to be maintained during the progress of these erections and manufactures, the cost of which would in itself amount to a considerable sum. Truer and for this the first outlay would be required. But after this every cottage erected, every road made, in short every structure and improvement, would be a means of carrying forward the regenerating process, and in many cases it is expected will become a source of income.

As the Scheme progresses, it is not irrational to expect that Government, or some of the varied Local Authorities, will assist in the working out of a plan which, in so marked a manner, will relieve the rates and taxes or the country.

The salaries of Officers would be in keeping with those given in the Salvation Army, which are very low.

No wages would be paid to Colonists, as has been described, beyond pocket money and a trifle for extra service.

Although no permanent invalid would be knowingly taken into the Colonies, it is fair to assume that there will be a certain number, and also a considerable residuum of naturally indolent, half-witted people, incapable of improvement, left upon our hands. Still, it is thought that with reformed habits, variety of employment, and careful oversight, such may be made to earn their own maintenance, at least, especially when it is borne in mind that unless they work, so far as they have ability, they cannot remain in the Colony.

If the Household Salvage Scheme which has been explained in Chapter II. proves the success we anticipate, there can be no question that great financial assistance will be rendered by it to the entire scheme when once the whole thing has been brought into working order.

THE FINANCIAL ASPECT OF THE COLONY OVER-SEA.

Let us now turn to the Colony Over-Sea, and regard it also from the financial standpoint. Here we must occupy ourselves chiefly with the preliminary outlay, as we could not for a moment contemplate having to find money to assist it when once fairly established. The initial expense will, no doubt, be somewhat heavy, but not beyond a reasonable amount.

The land required would probably be given, whether we go to Africa, Canada, or elsewhere; anyway, it would be acquired on such easy terms as would be a near approach to a gift.

A considerable sum would certainly be necessary for effecting the first settlements. There would be temporary buildings to erect, land to break up and crop; stock, farm implements, and furniture to purchase, and other similar expenses. But this would not be undertaken on a large scale, as we should rely, to some extent, on the successive batches of Colonists more or less providing for themselves, and in this respect working out their own salvation.

The amount advanced for passages, outfit money, and settlement would be repaid by instalments by the Colonists, which would in turn serve to pay the cost of conveying others to the same destination.

Passage and outfit money would, no doubt, continue to be some difficulty. #8 per head, say to Africa—#5 passage money, and #3 for the journey across the country—is a large sum when a considerable number are involved; and I am afraid no Colony would be reached at a much lower rate. But I am not without hope that the Government might assist us in this direction.

Taking up the entire question, that is of the three Colonies, we are satisfied that the sum named will suffice to set to work an agency which will probably rescue from lives of degradation and immorality an immense number of people, and that an income of something like #30,000 will keep it afloat. But supposing that a much larger amount should be required, by operations greatly in advance of those here spoken of, which we think exceedingly probable, it is not unreasonable to expect that it will be forthcoming, seeing that caring for the poor is not only a duty of universal obligation, a root principle of all religion, but an instinct of humanity not likely to be abolished in our time. We are not opposed to charity as such, but to the mode of its administration, which, instead of permanently relieving, only demoralises and plunges the recipients lower in the mire, and so defeats its own purpose.

"What!" I think I hear some say, "a million sterling! how can any man out of Bedlam dream of raising such a sum?" Stop a little! A million may be a great deal to pay for a diamond or a palace, but it is a mere trifle compared with the sums which Britain lavishes whenever Britons are in need of deliverance if they happen to be imprisoned abroad. The King of Ashantee had captive some British subjects—not even of English birth—in 1869. John Bull despatched General Wolseley with the pick of the British army, who smashed Koffee Kalkallee, liberated the captives, and burnt Coomassie, and never winced when the bill came in for #750,000. But that was a mere trifle. When King Theodore, of Abyssinia, made captives of a couple of British representatives, Lord Napier was despatched to rescue. He marched his army to Magdala, brought back the prisoners, and left King Theodore dead. The cost of that expedition was over nine millions sterling. The Egyptian Campaign, that smashed Arabi, cost nearly five millions. The rush to Khartoum, that arrived too late to rescue General Gordon, cost at least as much. The Afghan war cost twenty-one millions sterling. Who dares then to say that Britain cannot provide a million sterling to rescue, not one or two captives, but a million, whose lot is quite as doleful as that of the prisoners of savage kings, but who are to be found, not in the land of the Soudan, or in the swamps of Ashantee, or in the Mountains of the Moon, but here at our very doors? Don't talk to me about the impossibility of raising the million. Nothing is impossible when Britain is in earnest. All talk of impossibility only means that you don't believe that the nation cares to enter upon a serious campaign against the enemy at our gates. When John Bull goes to the wars he does not count the cost. And who dare deny that the time has fully come for a declaration of war against the Social Evils which seem to shut out God from this our world?

SECTION 3.—SOME ADVANTAGES STATED.

This Scheme takes into its embrace all kinds and classes of men who may be in destitute circumstances, irrespective of their character or conduct, and charges itself with supplying at once their temporal needs; and then aims at placing them in a permanent position of comparative comfort, the only stipulation made being a willingness to work and to conform to discipline on the part of those receiving its benefit.

While at the commencement, we must impose some limits with respect to age and sickness, we hope, when fairly at work, to be able to dispense with even these restrictions, and to receive any unfortunate individual who has only his misery to recommend him and an honest desire to get out of it.

It will be seen that, in this respect, the Scheme stands head and shoulders above any plan that has ever been mooted before, seeing that nearly all the other charitable and remedial proposals more or less confess their utter inability to benefit any but what they term the "decent" working man.

This Scheme seeks out by all manner of agencies, marvellously adapted for the task, the classes whose welfare it contemplates, and, by varied measures and motives adapted to their circumstances, compels them to accept its benefits.

Our Plan contemplates nothing short of revolutionising the character of those whose faults are the reason for their destitution. We have seen that with fully fifty per cent. of these their own evil conduct is the cause of their wretchedness. To stop short with them of anything less than a real change of heart will be to invite and ensure failure. But this we are confident of effecting—anyway, in the great majority of cases, by reasonings and persuasions, concerning both earthly and heavenly advantages, by the power of man, and by the power of God.

By this Scheme any man, no matter how deeply he may have fallen in self-respect and the esteem of all about him, may re-enter life afresh, with the prospect of re-establishing his character when lost, or perhaps of establishing a character for the first time, and so obtaining an introduction to decent employment, and a claim for admission into Society as a good citizen. While many of this crowd are absolutely without a decent friend, others will have, on that higher level of respectability they once occupied, some relative, or friend, or employer, who occasionally thinks of them, and who, if only satisfied that a real change has taken place in the prodigal, will not only be willing, but delighted, to help them once more.

By this Scheme, we believe we shall be able to teach habits of economy, household management, thrift, and the like. There are numbers of men who, although suffering the direst pangs of poverty, know little or nothing about the value of money, or the prudent use of it; and there are hundreds of poor women who do not know what a decently-managed home is, and who could not make one if they had the most ample means and tried ever so hard to accomplish it, having never seen anything but dirt, disorder, and misery in their domestic history. They could not cook a dinner or prepare a meal decently if their lives were dependent on it, never having had a chance of learning how to do it. But by this Scheme hope to teach these things.

By this Plan, habits of cleanliness will be created, and some knowledge of sanitary questions in general will be imparted. This Scheme changes the circumstances of those whose poverty is caused by their misfortune. To begin with, it finds work for the unemployed. This is the chief need. The great problem that has for ages been puzzling the brains of the political economist and philanthropist has been "How can we find these people work?" No matter what other helps are discovered, without work there is no real ground for hope. Charity and all the other ten thousand devices are only temporary expedients, altogether insufficient to meet the necessity. Work, apart from the fact that it is God's method of supplying the wants of man's composite nature, is an essential to his well-being in every way— and on this Plan there is work, honourable work—none of your demoralising stone-breaking, or oakum-picking business, which tantalises and insults poverty, Every worker will feel that he is not only occupied for his own benefit, but that any advantage reaped over and above that which he gains himself will serve to lift some other poor wretch out of the gutter.

There would be work within the capacity of all. Every gift could be employed. For instance, take five persons on the Farm—a baker, a tailor, a shoemaker, a cook, and an agriculturist. The baker would make bread for all, the tailor garments for all, the shoemaker shoes for all, the cook would cook for all, and the agriculturist dig for all. Those who know anything which would be useful to the inhabitants of the Colony will be set to do it, and those who are ignorant of any trade or profession will be taught one.

This Scheme removes the vicious and criminal classes out of the sphere of those temptations before which they have invariably fallen in the past. Our experience goes to show that when you have, by Divine grace, or by any consideration of the advantages of a good life, or the disadvantages of a bad one, produced in a man circumstanced as those whom we have been describing, the resolution to turn over a new leaf, the temptations and difficulties he has to encounter will ordinarily master him, and undo all that has been done, if he still continues to be surrounded by old companions and allurements to sin.

Now, look at the force of the temptations this class has to fight against. What is it that leads people to do wrong—people of all classes, rich as well as poor? Not the desire to sin. They do not want to sin; many of them do not know what sin is, but they have certain appetites or natural likings, the indulgence of which is pleasant to them, and when the desire for their unlawful gratification is aroused, regardless of the claims of God, their own highest interests, or the well-being of their fellows, they are carried away by them; and thus all the good resolutions they have made in the past come to grief.

For instance, take the temptation which comes through the natural appetite, hunger. Here is a man who has been at a religious meeting, or received some good advice, or, perhaps, just come out of prison, with the memories of the hardships he has suffered fresh upon him, or the advice of the chaplain ringing in his ears. He has made up his mind to steal no more, but he has no means of earning a livelihood. He becomes hungry. What is he to do? A loaf of bread tempts him, or, more likely, a gold chain which he can turn into bread. An inward struggle commences, he tries to stick to his bargain, but the hunger goes on gnawing within, and it may be there is a wife and children hungry as well as himself; so he yields to the temptation, takes the chain, and in turn the policeman takes him.

Now this man does not want to do wrong, and still less does he want to go to prison. In a sincere, dreamy way he desires to be good, and if the path were easier for him he would probably walk in it.

Again, there is the appetite for drink. That man has no thought of sinning when he takes his first glass. Much less does he want to get drunk. He may have still a vivid recollection of the unpleasant consequences that followed his last spree, but the craving is on him; the public-house is there handy; his companions press him; he yields, and falls, and, perhaps, falls to rise no more.

We might amplify, but our Scheme proposes to take the poor slave right away from the public-houses, the drink, and the companions that allure him to it, and therefore we think the chances of reformation in him are far greater.

Then think of the great boon this Scheme will be to the children, bringing them out of the slums, wretched hovels, and filthy surroundings in which they are being reared for lives of abomination of every description, into the fields, amongst the green trees and cottage homes, where they can grow up with a chance of saving both body and soul.

Think again of the change this Scheme will make for these poor creatures from the depressing, demoralising surroundings, of the unsightly, filthy quarters in which they are huddled together, to the pure air and sights and sounds of the country. There is much talk about the beneficial influence of pictures, music and literature upon the multitudes. Money, like water, is being poured forth to supply such attractions in Museums, People's Palaces, and the like, for the edification and amelioration of the social condition of the masses. But "God made the country, man made the town," and if we take the people to the pictures of divine manufacture, that must be the superior plan.

Again, the Scheme is capable of illimitable application. The plaister can be made as large as the wound. The wound is certainly a very extensive one, and it seems at first sight almost ridiculous for any private enterprise to attempt dealing with it. Three millions of people, living in little short of perpetual misery have to be reached and rescued out of this terrible condition. But it can be done, and this Scheme will do it, if it is allowed a fair chance. Not all at once? True! It will take time, but it will begin to tell on the restering mass straight away. Within a measurable distance we ought to be able to take out of this black sea at least a hundred individuals a week, and there is no reason why this number should not go on increasing.

An appreciable impression on this gulf of misery would be immediately made, not only for those who are rescued from its dark waters, but for those who are left behind, seeing that for every hundred individuals removed, there is just the additional work which they performed for those who remain. It might not be much, but still it would soon count up. Supposing three carpenters are starving on employment which covered one-third of their time, if you take two away, the one left will have full employment. But it will be for the public to fix, by their contributions, the extent of our operations.

The benefits bestowed by this Scheme will be permanent in duration. It will be seen that this is no temporary expedient, such as, alas! nearly every effort hitherto made on behalf of these classes has been. Relief Works, Soup Kitchens, Enquiries into Character, Emigration Schemes, of which none will avail themselves, Charity in its hundred forms, Casual Wards, the Union, and a hundred other Nostrums may serve for the hour, but they are only at the best palliations. But this Scheme, I am bold to say, offers a substantial and permanent remedy.

In relieving one section of the community, our plan involves no interference with the well-being of any other. (See Chapter VII. Section 4, "Objections.")

This Scheme removes the all but insuperable barrier to an industrious and godly life. It means not only the leading of these lost multitudes out of the "City of Destruction" into the Canaan of plenty, but the lifting of them up to the same level of advantage with the more favoured of mankind for securing the salvation of their souls.

Look at the circumstances of hundreds and thousands of the classes of whom we are speaking. From the cradle to the grave, might not their influence in the direction of Religious Belief be summarised in one sentence, "Atheism made easy." Let my readers imagine theirs to have been a similar lot. Is it not possible that, under such circumstances, they might have entertained some serious doubts as to the existence of a benevolent God who would thus allow His creatures to starve, or that they would have been so preoccupied with their temporal miseries as to have no heart for any concern about the next life?

Take a man, hungry and cold, who does not know where his next meal is coming from; nay, who thinks it problematical whether it will come at all. We know his thoughts will be taken up entirely with the bread he needs for his body. What he wants is a dinner. The interests of his soul must wait.

Take a woman with a starving family, who knows that as soon as Monday comes round the rent must be paid, or else she and her children must go into the street, and her little belongings be impounded. At the present moment she is without it. Are not her thoughts likely to wander in that direction if she slips into a Church or Mission Hall, or Salvation Army Barracks?

I have had some experience on this subject, and have been making observations with respect to it ever since the day I made my first attempt to reach these starving, hungry, crowds—just over forty-five years ago—and I am quite satisfied that these multitudes will not be saved in their present circumstances. All the Clergymen. Home Missionaries, Tract Distributors, Sick Visitors, and everyone else who care about the Salvation of the poor, may make up their minds as to that. If these people are to believe in Jesus Christ, become the Servants of God, and escape the miseries of the wrath to come, they must be helped out of their present social miseries. They must be put into a position in which they can work and eat, and have a decent room to live and sleep in, and see something before them besides a long, weary, monotonous, grinding round of toil, and anxious care to keep themselves and those they love barely alive, with nothing at the further end but the Hospital, the Union, or the Madhouse. If Christian Workers and Philanthropists will join hands to effect this change it will be accomplished, and the people will rise up and bless them, and be saved; if they will not, the people will curse them and perish.

SECTION 4.—SOME OBJECTIONS MET.

Objections must be expected. They are a necessity with regard to any Scheme that has not yet been reduced to practice, and simply signify foreseen difficulties in the working of it. We freely admit that there are abundance of difficulties in the way of working out the plan smoothly and successfully that has been laid down. But many of these we imagine will vanish when we come to close quarters, and the remainder will be surmounted by courage and patience. Should, however, this plan prove the success we predict, it must eventually revolutionise the condition of the starving sections of Society, not only in this great metropolis, but throughout the whole range of civilisation. It must therefore be worthy not only of a careful consideration but of persevering trial.

Some of these difficulties at first sight appear rather serious. Let us look at them.

Objection I.—It is suggested that the class of people for whose benefit the Scheme is designed would not avail themselves of it.

When the feast was prepared and the invitation had gone forth, it is said that the starving multitudes would not come; that though labour was offered them in the City, or prepared for them on the Farm, they would prefer to rot in their present miseries rather than avail themselves of the benefit provided.

In order to gather the opinions of those most concerned, we consulted one evening, by a Census in our London Shelters, two hundred and fifty men out of work, and all suffering severely in consequence. We furnished a set of questions, and obtained answers from the whole. Now, it must be borne in mind that these men were under no obligation whatever to make any reply to our enquiries, much less to answer them favourably to our plan, of which they knew next to nothing.

These two hundred and fifty men were mostly in the prime of life, the greater portion of them being skilled workmen; an examination of the return papers showing that out of the entire number two hundred and seven were able to work at their trades had they the opportunity.

The number of trades naturally varied. There were some of all kinds: Engineers, Custom House Officers, Schoolmasters, Watch and Clockmakers, Sailors, and men of the different branches of the Building trade; also a number of men who have been in business on their own account.

The average amount of wages earned by the skilled mechanics when regularly employed was 33s. per week; the money earned by the unskilled averaged 22s. per week.

They could not be accounted lazy, as most of them; when not employed at their own trade or occupation, had proved their willingness to work by getting jobs at anything that turned up. On looking over the list we saw that one who had been a Custom House Officer had recently acted as Carpenter's Labourer; a Type-founder had been glad to work at Chimney Sweeping; the Schoolmaster, able to speak five languages, who in his prosperous days had owned a farm, was glad to do odd jobs as a Bricklayer's Labourer; a Gentleman's Valet, who once earned #5 a week, had come so low down in the world that he was glad to act as Sandwich man for the magnificent sum of fourteenpence a day, and that, only as an occasional affair.

In the list was a dyer and cleaner, married, with a wife and nine children, who had been able to earn 40s. a week, but had done no regular work for three years out of the last ten.

We put the following question to the entire number: — "If you were put on a farm, and set to work at anything you could do, and supplied with food, lodging, and clothing, with a view to getting you on to your feet, would you be willing to do all you could?"

In response, the whole 250 replied in the affirmative, with one exception, and on enquiry we elicited that, being a sailor, the man was afraid he would not know how to do the work.

On being interrogated as to their willingness to grapple with the hard labour on the land, they said: "Why should we not? Look at us. Can any plight be more miserable than ours?" Why not, indeed? A glance at them would certainly make it impossible for any thoughtful person to assign a rational reason for their refusal—in rags, swarming with vermin, hungry, many of them living on scraps of food, begged or earned in the most haphazard fashion, without sufficient clothing to cover their poor gaunt limbs, most of them without a shirt. They had to start out the next morning, uncertain which way to turn to earn a crust for dinner, or the fourpence necessary to supply them again with the humble shelter they had enjoyed that night. The idea of their refusing employment which would supply abundantly the necessaries of life, and give the prospect of becoming, in process of time, the owner of a home, with its comforts and companionships, is beyond conception. There is not much question that this class will not only accept the Scheme we want to set before them, but gratefully do all in their power to make it a success.

II.—Too many would come. This would be very probable. There would certainly be too many apply. But we should be under no obligation to take more than was convenient. The larger the number of applications the wider the field for selection, and the greater the necessity for the enlargement of our operations.

III.—They would run away. It is further objected that if they did come, the monotony of the life, the strangeness of the work, together with the absence of the excitements and amusements with which they had been entertained in the cities and towns, would render their existence unbearable. Even when left to the streets, there is an amount of life and action in the city which is very attractive. Doubtless some would run away, but I don't think this would be a large proportion. The change would be so great, and so palpably advantageous, that I think they would find in it ample compensation for the deprivation of any little pleasureable excitement they had left behind them in the city. For instance, there would be—

A Sufficiency of Food.

The friendliness and sympathy of their new associates. There would be abundance of companions of similar tastes and circumstances— not all pious. It would be quite another matter to going single-handed on to a farm, or into a melancholy family.

Then there would be the prospect of doing well for themselves in the future, together with all the religious life, meetings, music, and freedom of the Salvation Army.

But what says our experience?

If there be one class which is the despair of the social reformer, it is that which is variously described, but which we may term the lost women of our streets. From the point of view of the industrial organiser, they suffer from almost every fault that human material can possess. They are, with some exceptions, untrained to labour, demoralised by a life of debauchery, accustomed to the wildest license, emancipated from all discipline but that of starvation, given to drink, and, for the most part, impaired in health. If, therefore, any considerable number of this class can be shown to be ready to submit themselves voluntarily to discipline, to endure deprivation of drink, and to apply themselves steadily to industry, then example will go a long way towards proving that even the worst description of humanity, when intelligently, thoroughly handled, is amenable to discipline and willing to work. In our British Rescue Homes we receive considerably over a thousand unfortunates every year; while all over the world, our annual average is two thousand. The work has been in progress for three years—long enough to enable us to test very fully the capacity of the class in question to reform.

With us there is no compulsion. If any girl wishes to remain, she remains. If she wishes to go, she goes. No one is detained a day or an hour longer than they choose to stay. Yet our experience shows that, as a rule, they do not run away. Much more restless and thoughtless and given to change, as a class, than men, the girls do not, in any considerable numbers, desert. The average of our London Homes, for the last three years, gives only 14 per cent. as leaving on their own account, while for the year 1889 only 5 per cent. And the entire number, who have either left or been dismissed during that year, amounts only to 13 per cent. on the whole.

IV.—They would not work. Of course, to such as had for years been leading idle lives, anything like work and exhaustive labour would be very trying and wearisome, and a little patience and coaxing might be required to get them into the way of it. Perhaps some would be hopelessly beyond salvation in this respect, and, until the time comes, if it ever does arrive, when the Government will make it a crime for an abled-bodied man to beg when there is an opportunity for him to engage in remunerative work, this class will wander abroad preying upon a generous public. It will, however, only need to be known that any man can obtain work if he wants it, for those who have by their liberality maintained men and women in idleness to cease doing so. And when it comes to this pass, that a man cannot eat without working, of the two evils he will choose the latter, preferring labour, however unpleasant it may be to his tastes, to actual starvation.

It must be borne in mind that the penalty of certain expulsion, which all would be given to understand would be strictly enforced would have a good influence in inducing the idlest to give work a fair trial, and once at it should not despair of conquering the aversion altogether, and eventually being able to transform and pass these once lazy loafers as real industrious members of Society.

Again, any who have fears on this point may be encouraged by contrasting the varied and ever-changing methods of labour we should pursue, with the monotonous and uninteresting grind of many of the ordinary employments of the poor, and the circumstances by which they are surrounded.

Here, again, we fall back upon our actual experience in reclamation work. In our Homes for Saving the Lost Women we have no difficulty of getting them to work. The idleness of this section of the social strata has been before referred to; it is not for a moment denied, and there can be no question, as to its being the cause of much of their poverty and distress. But from early morn until the lights are out at night, all is a round of busy, and, to a great extent, very uninteresting labour; while the girls have, as a human inducement, only domestic service to look forward to—of which they are in no way particularly enamoured—and yet here is no mutiny, no objection, no unwillingness to work; in fact they appear well pleased to be kept continually at it. Here is a report that teaches the same lesson.

A small Bookbinding Factory is worked in connection with the Rescue Homes in London. The folders and stitchers are girls saved from the streets, but who, for various reasons, were found unsuitable for domestic service. The Factory has solved the problem of employment for some of the most difficult cases. Two of the girls at present employed there are crippled, while one is supporting herself and two young children.

While learning the work they live in the Rescue Homes, and the few shillings they are able to earn are paid into the Home funds. As soon as they are able to earn 12s. a week, a lodging is found for them (with Salvationists, if possible), and they are placed entirely upon their own resources. The majority of girls working at this trade in London are living in the family, and 6s., 7s., and 8s. a week make an acceptable addition to the Home income; but our girls who are entirely dependent upon their own earnings must make an average wage of 12s. a week at least. In order that they may do this we are obliged to pay higher wages than other employers. For instance, we give from 2 1/2d. to 3d. a thousand more than the trade for binding small pamphlets; nevertheless, after the Manager, a married man, is paid, and a man for the superintendence of the machines, a profit of about #500 has been made, and the work is improving. They are all paid piecework.

Eighteen women are supporting themselves in this way at present, and conducting themselves most admirably. One of their number acts as forewoman, and conducts the Prayer Meeting at 12.30, the Two-minutes' Prayer after meals, etc. Their continuance in the factory is subject to their good behaviour—both at home as well as at work. In one instance only have we had any trouble at all, and in this solitary case the girl was so penitent she was forgiven, and has done well ever since. I think that, without exception, they are Salvation Soldiers, and will be found at nearly every meeting on the Sabbath, etc. The binding of Salvation Army publications— "The Deliverer," "All the World," the Penny Song Books, etc., almost keep us going. A little outside work for the end of the months is taken, but we are not able to make any profit generally, it is so badly paid.

It will be seen that this is a miniature factory, but still it is a factory, and worked on principles that will admit of illimitable extension, and may, I think, be justly regarded as an encouragement and an exemplification of what may be accomplished in endless variations.

V.—Again, it is objected that the class whose benefit we contemplate would not have physical ability to work on a farm, or in the open air.

How, it is asked, would tailors, clerks, weavers, seamstresses, and the destitute people, born and reared in the slums and poverty-hovels of the towns and cities, do farm or any other work that has to do with the land? The employment in the open air, with exposure to every kind of weather which accompanies it, would, it is said, kill them off right away.

We reply, that the division of labour before described would render it as unnecessary as it would be undesirable and uneconomical, to put many of these people to dig or to plant. Neither is it any part of our plan to do so. On our Scheme we have shown how each one would be appointed to that kind of work for which his previous knowledge and experience and strength best adapted him. Moreover, there can be no possible comparison between the conditions of health enjoyed by men and women wandering about homeless, sleeping in the streets or in the fever-haunted lodging-houses, or living huddled up in a single room, and toiling twelve and fourteen hours in a sweater's den, and living in comparative comfort in well-warmed and ventilated houses, situated in the open country, with abundance of good, healthy food.

Take a man or a woman out into the fresh air, give them proper exercise, and substantial food. Supply them with a comfortable home, cheerful companions, and a fair prospect of reaching a position of independence in this or some other land, and a complete renewal of health and careful increase of vigour will, we expect, be one of the first great benefits that will ensue.

VI.—It is objected that we should be left with a considerable residuum of half-witted, helpless people.

Doubtless this would be a real difficulty, and we should have to prepare for it. We certainly, at the outset, should have to guard against too many of this class being left upon our hands, although we should not be compelled to keep anyone. It would, how ever, be painful to have to send them back to the dreadful life from which we had rescued them. Still, however, this would not be so ruinous a risk, looked at financially, as some would imagine. We could, we think, maintain them for 4s. per week, and they would be very weak indeed in body, and very wanting in mental, strength if they were not able to earn that amount in some one of the many forms of employment which the Colony would open up.

VII.—Again, it will be objected that some efforts of a similar character have failed. For instance, co-operative enterprises in farming have not succeeded.

True, but so far as I can ascertain, nothing of the character I am describing has ever been attempted. A large number of Socialistic communities have been established and come to grief in the United States, in Germany, and elsewhere, but they have all, both in principle and practice, strikingly differed from what we are proposing here: Take one particular alone, the great bulk of these societies have not only been fashioned without any regard to the principles of Christianity, but, in the vast majority of instances, have been in direct opposition to them; and the only communities based on co-operative principles that have survived the first few months of their existence have been based upon Christian truth. If not absolute successes, there have been some very remarkable results obtained by efforts partaking somewhat of the nature of the one I am setting forth. (See that of Ralahine, described in Appendix.)

VIII.—It is further objected that it would be impossible to maintain order and enforce good discipline amongst this class of people.

We are of just the opposite opinion. We think that it would —nay, we are certain of it, and we speak as those who have had considerable experience in dealing with the lower classes of Society. We have already dealt with this difficulty. We may say further—

That we do not propose to commence with a thousand people in a wild, untamed state, either at home or abroad. To the Colony Over-Sea we should send none but those who have had a long period of training in this country. The bulk of those sent to the Provincial Farm would have had some sort of trial in the different City Establishments. We should only draft them on to the Estate in small numbers, as we were prepared to deal with them, and I am quite satisfied that without the legal methods of maintaining order that are acted upon so freely in workhouses and other similar institutions, we should have as perfect obedience to Law, as great respect for authority, and as strong a spirit of kindness pervading all ranks throughout the whole of the community as could be found in any other institution in the land.

It will be borne in mind that our Army system of government largely prepares us, if it does not qualify us, for this task. Anyway, it gives us a good start. All our people are trained in habits of obedience, and all our Officers are educated in the exercise of authority. The Officers throughout the Colony would be almost exclusively recruited from the ranks of the Army, and everyone of them would go to the work, both theoretically and practically, familiar with those principles which are the essence of good discipline.

Then we can argue, and that very forcibly, from the actual experience we have already had in dealing with this class. Take our experience in the Army itself. Look at the order of our Soldiers. Here are men and women, who have no temporal interest whatever at stake, receiving no remuneration, often sacrificing their earthly interests by their union with us, and yet see how they fall into line, and obey orders in the promptest manner, even when such orders go right in the teeth of their temporal interests.

"Yes," it will be replied by some, "this is all very excellent so far as it relates to those who are altogether of your own way of thinking. You can command them as you please, and they will obey, but what proof have you given of your ability to control and discipline those who are not of your way of thinking?

"You can do that with your Salvationists because they are saved, as you call it. When men are born again you can do anything with them. But unless you convert all the denizens of Darkest England, what chance is there that they will be docile to your discipline? If they were soundly saved no doubt something might be done. But they are not saved, soundly or otherwise; they are lost. What reason have you for believing that they will be amenable to discipline?"

I admit the force of this objection; but I have an answer, and an answer which seems to me complete. Discipline, and that of the most merciless description, is enforced upon multitudes of these people even now. Nothing that the most authoritative organisation of industry could devise in the excess of absolute power, could for a moment compare with the slavery enforced to-day in the dens of the sweater. It is not a choice between liberty and discipline that confronts these unfortunates, but between discipline mercilessly enforced by starvation and inspired by futile greed, and discipline accompanied with regular rations and administered solely for their own benefit. What liberty is there for the tailors who have to sew for sixteen to twenty hours a day, in a pest-hole, in order to earn ten shillings a week? There is no discipline so brutal as that of the sweater; there is no slavery so relentless as that from which we seek to deliver the victims. Compared with their normal condition of existence, the most rigorous discipline which would be needed to secure the complete success of any new individual organisation would be an escape from slavery into freedom.

You may reply, "that it might be so, if people understood their own interest. But as a matter of fact they do not understand it, and that they will never have sufficient far-sightedness to appreciate the advantages that are offered them."

To this I answer, that here also I do not speak from theory. I lay before you the ascertained results of years of experience. More than two years ago, moved by the misery and despair of the unemployed, I opened the Food and Shelter Depots in London already described. Here are a large number of men every night, many of them of the lowest type of casuals who crawl about the streets, a certain proportion criminals, and about as difficult a class to manage as I should think could be got together, and while there will be 200 of them in a single building night after night, from the first opening of the doors in the evening until the last man has departed in the morning, there shall scarcely be a word of dissatisfaction; anyway, nothing in the shape of angry temper or bad language. No policemen are required; indeed two or three nights' experience will be sufficient to turn the regular frequenters of the place of their own free will into Officers of Order, glad not only to keep the regulations of the place, but to enforce its discipline upon others.

Again, every Colonist, whether in the City or elsewhere, would know that those who took the interests of the Colony to heart, were loyal to its authority and principles, and laboured industriously in promoting its interests, would be rewarded accordingly by promotion to positions of influence and authority, which would also carry with them temporal advantages, present and prospective.

But one of our main hopes would be in the apprehension by the Colonists of the fact that all our efforts were put forth on their behalf. Every man and woman on the place would know that this enterprise was begun and carried on solely for their benefit, and that of the other members of their class, and that only their own good behaviour and co-operation would ensure their reaping a personal share in such benefit. Still our expectations would be largely based on the creation of a spirit of unselfish interest in the community.

IX. Again, it is objected that the Scheme is too vast to be attempted by voluntary enterprise; it ought to be taken up and carried out by the Government itself.

Perhaps so, but there is no very near probability of Government undertaking it, and we are not quite sure whether such an attempt would prove a success if it were made. But seeing that neither Governments, nor Society, nor individuals have stood forward to undertake what God has made appear to us to be so vitally important a work, and as He has given us the willingness, and in many important senses the ability, we are prepared, if the financial help is furnished, to make a determined effort, not only to undertake but to carry it forward to a triumphant success.

X.—It is objected that the classes we seek to benefit are too ignorant and depraved for Christian effort, or for effort of any kind, to reach and reform.—

Look at the tramps, the drunkards, the harlots, the criminals. How confirmed they are in their idle and vicious habits. It will be said, indeed has been already said by those with whom I have conversed, that I don't know them; which statement cannot, I think, be maintained, for if I don't know them, who does?

I admit, however, that thousands of this class are very far gone from every sentiment, principle and practice of right conduct. But I argue that these poor people cannot be much more unfavourable subjects for the work of regeneration than are many of the savages and heathen tribes, in the conversion of whom Christians universally believe; for whom they beg large sums of money, and to whom they send their best and bravest people.

These poor people are certainly embraced in the Divine plan of mercy. To their class, the Saviour especially gave His attention when he was on the earth, and for them He most certainly died on the Cross.

Some of the best examples of Christian faith and practice, and some of the most successful workers for the benefit of mankind, have sprung from this class, of which we have instances recorded in the Bible, and any number in the history of the Church and of the Salvation Army.

It may be objected that while this Scheme would undoubtedly assist one class of the community by making steady, industrious workmen, it must thereby injure another class by introducing so many new hands into the labour market, already so seriously overstocked.

To this we reply that there is certainly an appearance of force in this objection; but it has, I think, been already answered in the foregoing pages. Further, if the increase of workers, which this Scheme will certainly bring about, was the beginning and the end of it, it would certainly present a somewhat serious aspect. But, even on that supposition, I don't see how the skilled worker could leave his brothers to rot in their present wretchedness, though their rescue should involve the sharing of a portion of his wages.

(1) But there is no such danger, seeing that the number of extra hands thrown on the British Labour Market must be necessarily inconsiderable.

(2) The increased production of food in our Farm and Colonial operations must indirectly benefit the working man.

(3) The taking out of the labour market of a large number of individuals who at present have only partial work, while benefiting them, must of necessity afford increased labour to those left behind.

(4) While every poor workless individual made into a wage earner will of necessity have increased requirements in proportion. For instance, the drunkard who has had to manage with a few bricks, a soap box, and a bundle of rags, will want a chair, a table, a bed, and at least the other necessary adjuncts to a furnished home, however sparely fitted up it may be.

There is no question but that when our Colonisation Scheme is fairly afloat it will drain off, not only many of those who are in the morass, but a large number who are on the verge of it. Nay, even artisans, earning what are considered good wages, will be drawn by the desire to improve their circumstances, or to raise their children under more favourable surroundings, or from still nobler motives, to leave the old country. Then it is expected that the agricultural labourer and the village artisan, who are ever migrating to the great towns and cities, will give the preference to the Colony Over-Sea, and so prevent that accumulation of cheap labour which is considered to interfere so materially with the maintenance of a high wages standard.

SECTION 5. RECAPITULATION.

I have now passed in review the leading features of the Scheme, which I put forward as one that is calculated to considerably contribute to the amelioration of the condition of the lowest stratum of our Society. It in no way professes to be complete in all its details. Anyone may at any point lay his finger on this, that, or the other feature of the Scheme, and show some void that must be filled in if it is to work with effect. There is one thing, however, that can be safely said in excuse for the short comings of the Scheme, and that is that if you wait until you get an ideally perfect plan you will have to wait until the Millennium, and then you will not need it. My suggestions, crude though they may be, have, nevertheless, one element that will in time supply all deficiencies. There is life in them, with life there is the promise and power of adaptation to all the innumerable and varying circumstances of the class with which we have to deal. Where there is life there is infinite power of adjustment. This is no cast-iron Scheme, forged in a single brain and then set up as a standard to which all must conform. It is a sturdy plant, which has its roots deep down in the nature and circumstances of men. Nay, I believe in the very heart of God Himself. It has already grown much, and will, if duly nurtured and tended, grow still further, until from it, as from the grain of mustard-seed in the parable, there shall spring up a great tree whose branches shall overshadow all the earth.

Once more let me say, I claim no patent rights in any part of this Scheme. Indeed, I do not know what in it is original and what is not. Since formulating some of the plans, which I had thought were new under the sun, I have discovered that they have been already tried in different parts of the world, and that with great promise. It may be so with others, and in this I rejoice. I plead for no exclusiveness. The question is much too serious for such fooling as that. Here are millions of our fellow-creatures perishing amidst the breakers of the sea of life, dashed to pieces on sharp rocks, sucked under by eddying whirlpools, suffocated even when they think they have reached land by treacherous quicksands; to save them from this imminent destruction I suggest that these things should be done. If you have any better plan than mine for effecting this purpose, in God's name bring it to the light and get it carried out quickly. If you have not, then lend me a hand with mine, as I would be only too glad to lend you a hand with yours if it had in it greater promise of successful action than mine.

In a Scheme for the working out of social salvation the great, the only, test that is worth anything is the success with which they attain the object for which they are devised. An ugly old tub of a boat that will land a shipwrecked sailor safe on the beach is worth more to him than the finest yacht that ever left a slip-way incapable of effecting the same object. The superfine votaries of culture may recoil in disgust from the rough-and-ready suggestions which I have made for dealing with the Sunken Tenth, but mere recoiling is no solution. If the cultured and the respectable and the orthodox and the established dignitaries and conventionalities of Society pass by on the other side we cannot follow their example.

We may not be priests and Levites, but we can at least play the part of the Good Samaritan. The man who went down to Jericho and fell among thieves was probably a very improvident, reckless individual, who ought to have known better than to go roaming alone through defiles haunted by banditti, whom he even led into temptation by the careless way in which he exposed himself and his goods to their avaricious gaze. It was, no doubt, largely his own fault that he lay there bruised and senseless, and ready to perish, just as it is largely the fault of those whom we seek to help that they lie in the helpless plight in which we find them. But for all that, let us bind up their wounds with such balm as we can procure, and, setting them on our ass, let us take them to our Colony, where they may have time to recover, and once more set forth on the journey of life.

And now, having said this much by way of reply to some of my critics, I will recapitulate the salient features of the Scheme. I laid down at the beginning certain points to be kept in view as embodying those invariable laws or principles of political economy, without due regard to which no Scheme can hope for even a chance of success. Subject to these conditions, I think my Scheme will pass muster. It is large enough to cope with the evils that will confront us; it is practicable, for it is already in course of application, and it is capable of indefinite expansion. But it would be better to pass the whole Scheme in its more salient features in review once more.

The Scheme will seek to convey benefit to the destitute classes in various ways altogether apart from their entering the Colonies. Men and women maybe very poor and in very great sorrow, nay, on the verge of actual starvation, and yet be so circumstanced as to be unable to enrol themselves in the Colonial ranks. To these our cheap Food Depots, our Advice Bureau, Labour Shops, and other agencies will prove an unspeakable boon, and will be likely by such temporary assistance to help them out of the deep gulf in which they are struggling. Those who need permanent assistance will be passed on to the City Colony, and taken directly under our control. Here they will be employed as before described. Many will be sent off to friends; work will be found for others in the City or elsewhere, while the great bulk, after reasonable testing as to their sincerity and willingness to assist in their own salvation, will be sent on to the Farm Colonies, where the same process of reformation and training will be continued, and unless employment is otherwise obtained they will then be passed on to the Over-Sea Colony.

All in circumstances of destitution, vice, or criminality will receive casual assistance or be taken into the Colony, on the sole conditions of their being anxious for deliverance, and willing to work for it, and to conform to discipline, altogether irrespective of character, ability, religious opinions, or anything else.

No benefit will be conferred upon any individual except under extraordinary circumstances, without some return being made in labour. Even where relatives and friends supply money to the Colonists, the latter must take their share of work with their comrades. We shall not have room for a single idler throughout all our borders.

The labour allotted to each individual will be chosen in view of his past employment or ability. Those who have any knowledge of agriculture will naturally be put to work on the land; the shoemaker will make shoes, the weaver cloth, and so on. And when there is no knowledge of any handicraft, the aptitude of the individual and the necessities of the hour will suggest the sort of work it would be most profitable for such an one to learn.

Work of all descriptions will be executed as far as possible by hand labour. The present rage for machinery has tended to produce much destitution by supplanting hand labour so exclusively that the rush has been from the human to the machine. We want, as far as is practicable, to travel back from the machine to the human.

Each member of the Colony would receive food, clothing, lodging, medicine, and all necessary care in case of sickness.

No wages would be paid, except a trifle by way of encouragement for good behaviour and industry, or to those occupying positions of trust, part of which will be saved in view of exigencies in our Colonial Bank, and the remainder used for pocket money.

The whole Scheme of the three Colonies will for all practical purposes be regarded as one; hence the training will have in view the qualification of the Colonists for ultimately earning their livelihood in the world altogether independently of our assistance, or, failing this, fit them for taking some permanent work within our borders either at home or abroad.

Another result of this unity of the Town and Country Colonies will be the removal of one of the difficulties ever connected with the disposal of the products of unemployed labour. The food from the Farm would be consumed by the City, while many of the things manufactured in the City would be consumed on the Farm.

The continued effort of all concerned in the reformation of these people will be to inspire and cultivate those habits, the want of which has been so largely the cause of the destitution and vice of the past.

Strict discipline, involving careful and continuous oversight, would be necessary to the maintenance of order amongst so large a number of people, many of whom had hitherto lived a wild and licentious life. Our chief reliance in this respect would be upon the spirit of mutual interest that would prevail.

The entire Colony would probably be divided into sections, each under the supervision of a sergeant—one of themselves—working side by side with them, yet responsible for the behaviour of all.

The chief Officers of the Colony would be individuals who had given themselves to the work, not for a livelihood, but from a desire to be useful to the suffering poor. They would be selected at the outset from the Army, and that on the ground of their possessing certain capabilities for the position, such as knowledge of the particular kind of work they had to superintend, or their being good disciplinarians and having the faculty for controlling men and being themselves influenced by a spirit of love. Ultimately the Officers, we have no doubt, would be, as is the case in all our other operations, men and women raised up from the Colonists themselves, and who will consequently, possess some special qualifications for dealing with those they have to superintend. The Colonists will be divided into two classes: the 1st, the class which receives no wages will consist of: —

(a) The new arrivals, whose ability, character, and habits are as yet unknown. (b) The less capable in strength, mental calibre, or other capacity. (c) The indolent, and those whose conduct and character appeared doubtful. These would remain in this class, until sufficiently improved for advancement, or are pronounced so hopeless as to justify expulsion.

The 2nd class would have a small extra allowance, a part of which would be given to the workers for private use, and a part reserved for future contingencies, the payment of travelling expenses, etc. From this class we should obtain our petty officers, send out hired labourers, emigrants, etc., etc.

Such is the Scheme as I have conceived it. Intelligently applied, and resolutely persevered in, I cannot doubt that it will produce a great and salutary change in the condition of many of the most hopeless of our fellow countrymen. Nor is it only our fellow countrymen to whom it is capable of application. In its salient features, with such alterations as are necessary, owing to differences of climate and of race, it is capable of adoption in every city in the world, for it is an attempt to restore to the masses of humanity that are crowded together in cities, the human and natural elements of life which they possessed when they lived in the smaller unit of the village or the market town. Of the extent of the need there can be no question. It is, perhaps, greatest in London, where the masses of population are denser than those of any other city; but it exists equally in the chief centres of population in the new Englands that have sprung up beyond the sea, as well as in the larger cities of Europe. It is a remarkable fact that up to the present moment the most eager welcome that has been extended to this Scheme reaches us from Melbourne, where our officers have been compelled to begin operations by the pressure of public opinion and in compliance with the urgent entreaties of the Government on one side and the leaders of the working classes on the other before the plan had been elaborated, or instructions could be sent out for their guidance.

It is rather strange to hear of distress reaching starvation point in a city like Melbourne, the capital of a great new country which teems with natural wealth of every kind. But Melbourne, too, has its unemployed, and in no city in the Empire have we been more successful in dealing with the social problem than in the capital of Victoria. The Australian papers for some weeks back have been filled with reports of the dealings of the Salvation Army with the unemployed of Melbourne. This was before the great Strike. The Government of Victoria practically threw upon our officers the task of dealing with the unemployed. The subject was debated in the House of Assembly, and at the close of the debate a subscription was taken up by one of those who had been our most strenuous opponents, and a sum of #400 was handed over to our officers to dispense in keeping the starving from perishing. Our people have found situations for no fewer than 1,776 persons, and are dispensing meals at the rate of 700 a day. The Government of Victoria has long been taking the lead in recognising the secular uses of the Salvation Army. The following letter addressed by the Minister of the Interior to the Officer charged with the oversight of this part of our operations, indicates the estimation in which we are held: —

Government of Victoria, Chief Secretary's Office, Melbourne.

July 4th, 1889.

Superintendent Salvation Army Rescue Work.

Sir,—in compliance with your request for a letter of introduction which may be of use to you in England, I have much pleasure in stating from reports furnished by Officers of my Department, I am convinced that the work you have been engaged on during the past six years has been of material advantage to the community. You have rescued from crime some who, but for the counsel and assistance rendered them, might have been a permanent tax upon the State, and you have restrained from further criminal courses others who had already suffered legal punishment for their misdeeds. It has given me pleasure to obtain from the Executive Council authority for you to apprehend children found in Brothels, and to take charge of such children after formal committal. Of the great value of this branch of your work there can be no question. It is evident that the attendance of yourself and your Officers at the police-courts and lock-ups has been attended with beneficial results, and your invitation to our largest jails has been highly approved by the head of the Department. Generally speaking, I may say that your policy and procedure have been commended by the Chief Officers of the Government of this Colony, who have observed your work.

I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient Servant,

(Signed) ALFRED DEAKIN.

The Victorian Parliament has voted an annual grant to our funds, not as a religious endowment, but in recognition of the service which we render in the reclamation of criminals, and what may be called, if I may use a word which has been so depraved by Continental abuse, the moral police of the city. Our Officer in Melbourne has an official position which opens to him almost every State institution and all the haunts of vice where it may be necessary for him to make his way in the search for girls that have been decoyed from home or who have fallen into evil courses.

It is in Victoria also that a system prevails of handing over first offenders to the care of the Salvation Army Officers, placing them in recognizance to come up when called for. An Officer of the Army attends at every Police Court, and the Prison Brigade is always on guard at the gaol doors when the prisoners are discharged. Our Officers also have free access to the prisons, where they can conduct services and labour with the inmates for their Salvation. As Victoria is probably the most democratic of our colonies, and the one in which the working-class has supreme control, the extent to which it has by its government recognised the value of our operations is sufficient to indicate that we have nothing to fear from the opposition of the democracy. In the neighbouring colony of New South Wales a lady has already given us a farm of three hundred acres fully stocked, on which to begin operations with a Farm Colony, and there seems some prospect that the Scheme will get itself into active shape at the other end of the world before it is set agoing in London. The eager welcome which has thus forced the initiative upon our Officers in Melbourne tends to encourage the expectation that the Scheme will be regarded as no quack application, but will be generally taken up and quickly set in operation all round the world.

CHAPTER 8. A PRACTICAL CONCLUSION.

Throughout this book I have more constantly used the first personal pronoun than ever before in anything I have written. I have done this deliberately, not from egotism, but in order to make it more clearly manifest that here is a definite proposal made by an individual who is prepared, if the means are furnished him, to carry it out. At the same time I want it to be clearly understood that it is not in my own strength, nor at my own charge, that I purpose to embark upon this great undertaking. Unless God wills that I should work out the idea of which I believe He has given me the conception, nothing can come of any attempt at its execution but confusion, disaster, and disappointment. But if it be His will—and whether it is or not, visible and manifest tokens will soon be forthcoming—who is there that can stand against it? Trusting in Him for guidance, encouragement, and support, I propose at once to enter upon this formidable campaign.

I do not run without being called. I do not press forward to fill this breach without being urgently pushed from behind. Whether or not, I am called of God, as well as by the agonising cries of suffering men and women and children, He will make plain to me, and to us all; for as Gideon looked for a sign before he, at the bidding of the heavenly messenger, undertook the leading of the chosen people against the hosts of Midian, even so do I look for a sign. Gideon's sign was arbitrary. He selected it. He dictated his own terms; and out of compassion for his halting faith, a sign was given to him, and that twice over. First, his fleece was dry when all the country round was drenched with dew; and, secondly, his fleece was drenched with dew when all the country round was dry.

The sign for which I ask to embolden me to go forwards is single, not double. It is necessary and not arbitrary, and it is one which the veriest sceptic or the most cynical materialist will recognise as sufficient. If I am to work out the Scheme I have outlined in this book, I must have ample means for doing so. How much would be required to establish this Plan of Campaign in all its fulness, overshadowing all the land with its branches laden with all manner of pleasant fruit, I cannot even venture to form a conception. But I have a definite idea as to how much would be required to set it fairly in operation.

Why do I talk about commencing? We have already begun, and that with considerable effect. Our hand has been forced by circumstances. The mere rumour of our undertaking reaching the Antipodes, as before described, called forth such a demonstration of approval that my Officers there were compelled to begin action without waiting orders from home. In this country we have been working on the verge of the deadly morass for some years gone by, and not without marvellous effect. We have our Shelters, our Labour Bureau, our Factory, our Inquiry Officers, our Rescue Homes, our Slum Sisters, and other kindred agencies, all in good going order. The sphere of these operations may be a limited one; still, what we have done already is ample proof that when I propose to do much more I am not speaking without my book; and though the sign I ask for may not be given, I shall go struggling forward on the same lines; still, to seriously take in hand the work which I have sketched out—to establish this triple Colony, with all its affiliated agencies, I must have, at least, a hundred thousand pounds.

A hundred thousand pounds! That is the dew on my fleece. It is not much considering the money that is raised by my poor people for the work of the Salvation Army. The proceeds of the Self-denial Week alone last year brought us in #20,000. This year it will not fall short of #25,000. If our poor people can do so much out of their poverty, I do not think I am making an extravagant demand when I ask that out of the millions of the wealth of the world I raise, as a first instalment, a hundred thousand pounds, and say that I cannot consider myself effectually called to undertake this work unless it is forthcoming.

It is in no spirit of dictation or arrogance that I ask the sign. It is a necessity. Even Moses could not have taken the Children of Israel dry-shod through the Red Sea unless the waves had divided.

That was the sign which marked out his duty, aided his faith, and determined his action. The sign which I seek is somewhat similar. Money is not everything. It is not by any means the main thing. Midas, with all his millions, could no more do the work than he could win the battle of Waterloo, or hold the Pass of Thermopylae. But the millions of Midas are capable of accomplishing great and mighty things, if they be sent about doing good under the direction of Divine wisdom and Christ-like love.

How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the Kingdom of Heaven! It is easier to make a hundred poor men sacrifice their lives than it is to induce one rich man to sacrifice his fortune, or even a portion of it, to a cause in which, in his half-hearted fashion, he seems to believe. When I look over the roll of men and women who have given up friends, parents, home prospects, and everything they possess in order to walk bare-footed beneath a burning sun in distant India, to live on a handful of rice, and die in the midst of the dark heathen for God and the Salvation Army, I sometimes marvel how it is that they should be so eager to give up all, even life itself, in a cause which has not power enough in it to induce any reasonable number of wealthy men to give to it the mere superfluities and luxuries of their existence. From those to whom much is given much is expected; but, alas, alas, how little is realised! It is still the widow who casts her all into the Lord's treasury—the wealthy deem it a preposterous suggestion when we allude to the Lord's tithe, and count it boredom when we ask only for the crumbs that fall from their tables.

Those who have followed me thus far will decide for themselves to what extent they ought to help me to carry out this Project, or whether they ought to help me at all. I do not think that any sectarian differences or religious feelings whatever ought to be imported into this question. Supposing you do not like my Salvationism, surely it is better for these miserable, wretched crowds to have food to eat, clothes to wear, and a home in which to lay their weary bones after their day's toil is done, even though the change is accompanied by some peculiar religious notions and practices, than it would be for them to be hungry, and naked, and homeless, and possess no religion at all. It must be infinitely preferable that they should speak the truth, and be virtuous, industrious, and contented, even if they do pray to God, sing Psalms, and go about with red jerseys, fanatically, as you call it, "seeking for the millennium"—than that they should remain thieves or harlots, with no belief in God at all, a burden to the Municipality, a curse to Society, and a danger to the State.

That you do not like the Salvation Army, I venture to say, is no justification for withholding your sympathy and practical co-operation in carrying out a Scheme which promises so much blessedness to your fellow-men. You may not like our government, our methods, our faith. Your feeling towards us might perhaps be duly described by an observation that slipped unwittingly from the tongue of a somewhat celebrated leader in the evangelistic world sometime ago, who, when asked what he thought of the Salvation Army, replied that "He did not like it at all, but he believed that God Almighty did." Perhaps, as an agency, we may not be exactly of your way of thinking, but that is hardly the question. Look at that dark ocean, full of human wrecks, writhing in anguish and despair. How to rescue those unfortunates is the question. The particular character of the methods employed, the peculiar uniforms worn by the lifeboat crew, the noises made by the rocket apparatus, and the mingled shoutings of the rescued and the rescuers, may all be contrary to your taste and traditions. But all these objections and antipathies, I submit, are as nothing compared with the delivering of the people out of that dark sea.