A mortuary chapel has had to be built for this neighbourhood. The rooms of the houses are so crowded that directly a person dies the body must be moved.

Mr. Begbie now introduces Kate Lee:—

Into these streets come day after day, and every Sunday, the little, vigorous corps of The Salvation Army, stationed in this quarter of London. The Adjutant of the corps some years ago was a beautiful and delicate girl. She prayed at the bedside of dying men and women in these lodging-houses. She taught children to pray. She went into public-houses and persuaded the violent blackguards of the town to come away; she pleaded with the most desperate women at street corners; she preached in the open streets on Sundays; she stood guard over the doors of men, mad for drink, and refused to let them out.

On one occasion this little woman was walking home through evil streets after midnight, when a drunken man asked her if he might travel by her side. After going some way the man said, 'No, you aren't afraid,' and then he mumbled to himself, 'Never insults the likes of you, because you cares for the likes of us.'

It is to the work of this wonderful woman—so gracious, so modest, and so sweet—that one may trace the miracles whose histories are contained in the following pages. The energy, resolution, and splendid cheerfulness of the present corps, some of them her own converts, may likewise be traced through her influence. She has left in these foul streets the fragrance of her personality, a fragrance of the lilies of a pure soul. 'Ah,' exclaims an old jail- bird, showing me the photograph of this woman, 'If anybody goes to Heaven, it will be that there little Angel of God.' They call her the 'Angel Adjutant.'

We see the Angel Adjutant again in the book, visiting the 'Puncher' at his work; braving the abominations of 'O.B.D.'s' den, as she made friends with that sodden drink slave and his wife, piloting him to the hall and mothering the first signs of grace in his stupefied soul. We see her mothering the 'Criminal,' weeping over the fall of 'Rags and Bones,' endeavouring to hold the 'Failure' to his moral and spiritual obligations, and, despite his falls, refusing to give him up.

'That man, Mr. Begbie, is wonderful. He's got those men's very images on paper,' says one of Kate Lee's converts, referring to the 'Twice Born Men' characters. None the less truly did he get Kate Lee's photograph on paper, and sent it round the world for all to see, and for thinking people to admire, to wonder over, to praise and give thanks for.

'Twice Born Men' was a great success. Its first edition was immediately absorbed, while its present edition is the twenty-seventh, and its English circulation has reached over a quarter of a million copies. It has had, likewise, an enormous sale in the United States and Canada. It has been translated into French, German, and Swedish.

Few books of its time appealed to so widely differing minds and classes. The professor of psychology, the theologian, the prize-fighter, Christian mother, the school-boy, in common interest bent their heads over its pages. The Press discussed it from many aspects in a chorus of favour.

'The Angel Adjutant' became an entity whom people all over the world desired to know. After she had been thus discovered to the world, wherever she went she was received with honour. Churches besieged her with invitations to occupy their pulpits. Civic authorities paid deference to this spiritual and moral specialist.

How did the glare of the limelight affect Kate Lee? A comrade who knew more of her inner life than almost any other, lets in a sidelight upon her association with 'Twice Born Men.' Her experiences in connexion with the book were not entirely sweet. She felt the sting of jealousy, that hurtful thing which, while uncleansed human nature is what it is, will continue to inflict wounds upon those chosen for honour, but Kate Lee bore it with meekness and in silence. 'It is not easy to bear success,' she said on this subject. 'When I have been lifted up, it has meant a cross rather than a throne for me.'

It is not easy for a noble soul to bear a representative honour, unless it is patent to all that it is representative and not personal. No one realized more fully than Kate Lee that other women officers had worked and are working amongst the masses just as she worked, actuated by the same spirit as moved her, and achieving the same results as those in which she rejoiced. She would rather that another than herself had been thrown upon the world's screen to illustrate the work. A few weeks before she died, she spoke of this to her old friend, Brigadier Elizabeth Thomas, adding, 'Whenever "Twice Born Men" is mentioned, I want to run and hide my head.' But while she felt all this, her keen sense of true values withheld her from putting a trumpet to her lips and declaring it. Rather, with that Christlike modesty and dignity that characterized all her public service, she entered every door that publicity opened to her and gave her message. She occupied many important pulpits, filling great churches with interested and sympathetic congregations.

As ever she was about her Father's business. Far from attracting attention to herself, she brushed aside preliminaries, and got directly to her subject. For the title of her lecture, she did not always choose 'The Terrible Ten' or 'Modern Miracles' or 'Twice Born Men'; sometimes she gave a plain Salvation address, or a simple call to professing Christians to live the life of Christ. One lady who heard her, tells how on one occasion she held a great congregation in the hollow of her hand. Tears had flowed; heads were shaking in depreciation or nodding approvingly, as she pictured the sorrows and the sins of the poor, and God's power to save them to the uttermost. Then she 'turned her guns' upon her hearers. How did they stand before God in relation to sin? 'Society is often a cloak for sin that is terribly present in the heart. The law deals with sin that is found out: God deals with it as it is in the soul. You and I are each going to the bar of God to be judged as we are. How is it with your soul?'

A strange silence came upon that select audience, as the people pondered straighter and more personal questions than they were accustomed to hear addressed to them.

A lieutenant tells of a railroad incident, which reveals how truly Kate Lee loved to be unknown, and how she would screen herself from praise, when to accept it could serve no definite end. She says:—

We were returning from some Councils, and a clergyman got into our compartment. He was very friendly, and in conversation we found him enthusiastic over 'Twice Born Men.' He said how he would count it an honour to meet the 'Angel Adjutant,' and express to her his thanks for the help he had received by her example. I felt so proud of her, and wanted to tell the clergyman that the 'Angel Adjutant' was my Captain; but catching a warning glance from her, I had to keep quiet.

A few hours after he heard of Kate Lee's death, Harold Begbie penned the following tribute to her memory:—

There seems to me something in the death of Kate Lee at this moment which has a mystical significance.

The world has just received 'The Life of William Booth,' and is making up its mind what to think of him. His son, Bramwell, with a courage which is part of his religion, allowed the biographer of William Booth to write freely what he believed to be the truth, and the whole truth, of the great Founder of The Salvation Army. There in that book for all men to behold, in the very habit of his daily life, stands William Booth, revivalist, social reformer, colonizer, organizer, husband, father, and man.

And now there ascends into the glory of God one of the most radiant spirits that ever blessed the darkest places of the earth with a light truly from Heaven, little Kate Lee, the Angel Adjutant of Notting Dale; the saint of the worst men that ever lived, the adored angel of souls once as foul and brutal and besotted with iniquity as ever corrupted human life, and but for William Booth she herself might have perished.

I am one of those who cannot think of William Booth as a saint. His wonder for me, and his greatness, lies in the fact that he made saints; this turbulent and tremendous power, this unresting energy, he made saints; that is to say, he made the most beautiful and gentle thing that can exist in human life, the spirit that loves the worst; that descends with joy into the pit of pollution; that is happier there than in the abodes of the sanctified; that is wholly content to be unknown and unheard of; that can save the worst and transfigure the most hideous, and itself remain utterly unspotted by the world.

I was far away in the dales of Yorkshire when I heard of Kate Lee's death. My first feeling was one of gladness, for I loved to know she was beyond the touch of pain. Then I fell into a fit of sorrow. Why had I not made this miracle of William Booth more real in the biography? Is there anything in life so important, or anything at this moment of the world's history that calls so urgently for proclamation, as the miracle of conversion?

Kate Lee seemed to be at my side. I saw the harassed statesmen of the nations attempting to piece together the broken pieces of this war-shattered world, and they seemed to me no greater figures than children playing with the parts of a world which they themselves had taken apart. And Kate Lee seemed to say, 'There is no hope for the world, no hope at all, but the changed heart. Until men love God, they will never love each other. And until they love each other there will be poverty and crime, revolutions and wars.'

Her life goes on in the lives of others. She is immortal here upon earth. For ever and ever some men and women will be better because in her lifetime she made other people good who were bad, happy who were unhappy. But I would that her spirit could penetrate into the whole life of humanity.

How modest she was, how unassuming, and how tranquil! She had seen the most evil depth of the human heart, and yet she believed, with a smile of unclouded gladness, that the human heart is of God. She loved the worst people in the world. She was tender and patient with the most stupid and dull. She never despaired of any soul that looked at her with eyes of hunger. The Pharisee might turn away with disgust, the judge might condemn, science might pronounce the case hopeless; she smiled and waited, waited at the prison door, waited in the pit of abomination, waited at the hard heart. And while she waited she prayed, quietly, and calmly; and while she prayed so great was the love of God in her heart, she smiled. There is no hope for the world until the love that was in Kate Lee is in us. Let every Salvationist assure himself with every day of life that his work lies only with the unhappy, the foul, the horrible, the repulsive. To this end came William Booth preaching in the slums and alleys of great cities, and on this mission of his went Kate Lee with a song in her heart and a smile on her lips.

I never looked into human face so full of the love of God, so shining with love of humanity, as the face of this 'Angel Adjutant.'

During the week of the announcement of Kate Lee's death, her name was upon the lips of millions of people. Newspapers throughout the country published her photograph and told of how she sought the lost. In the saloons around London the topic of conversation was the loveliness of the 'Angel Adjutant.' Almost wherever Salvationists appeared, people sympathized with them in the loss of so brave an officer as Kate Lee.

Beyond the seas, illustrated journals carried the picture of her pure face and the story of her love and devotion to her Saviour and the sinful, and mothers gave thanks for her life and prayed that their daughters might have her spirit.

Her casket was borne through streets lined with thousands of silent, reverent spectators and carried to the grave by men once deep-dyed in sin, now cleansed and ennobled by the Salvation she had proclaimed.

To queens has less honour been shown than to this girl who was born in crowded Hornsey, who lived a life of toil and struggle, and died penniless. Why? Because the human heart, despite its crookedness and failings, recognizes that love is the greatest thing in the world, and pays tribute accordingly.



XI

COMRADES AND FRIENDS



Perhaps no class of people voluntarily work harder or longer hours than Salvationists. When the ordinary worker quits toil for recreation, the Salvationist drops his tools to work at his religion, and for no reward in this life. But for all that, the Salvationist has his compensations. The most precious thing about The Army, he will tell you, is its comradeship.

The uniform of the military means something of fellowship on service, nothing on leave; but the Salvationist is always on service, and the sign of cap, bonnet, or even the small Salvation Army brooch or tri-coloured ribbon, serves as an introduction, which includes a welcome, when Salvationists meet in any clime or country.

The uniform stands for the acceptance of certain convictions, principles, and consecration to one purpose in life, which knows no barrier of nation, colour, nor class. Salvationists are comrades of a single purpose, the bringing of all men to knowledge of God. Mr. Harold Begbie describes this bond of comradeship which he found illustrated in a prayer meeting which he attended amongst Salvationists in India. He writes:—

Those Officers represented many nations. Among them were a Brahmin, a Singalese, Malayali, a Tamil, a German, a Norwegian, a Swede, an Australian, an Englishman, and a Scot. All were praying. The voices of those various nationalities rose into the air as a cry inspired by love for a sinful world, with a compassion and a longing, uttered for the need of a common humanity, and all those separate voices and different words rose in a perfect unity like the prayer of a single family under a father's roof.

Constitutionally Kate Lee was not dependent; she did not know what it was to hunger for society; to pine for a 'yarn'; to ache with desire to discuss with a chum small talk of The Army. The passion of her life swept her beyond such things and the springs of her refreshment ran deep. Her business was to seek and to save that which was lost—to shepherd the sheep—and these she sought with a love that never wavered. Nevertheless, fellowship with her comrades was one of her chief joys. She delighted in Officers' Councils where all were bent upon seeking guidance for the furtherance of the Salvation War. Whenever she was thrown into the company of her comrades her heart was at once at leisure from itself, and she sought and found pleasant and profitable point for contact.

She felt herself to be a poor conversationalist, and her success in fellowship lay in drawing out the interests of others. She was a good listener, rather than an entertainer. Humility was one of her greatest charms and she had no hesitation in confessing her limitations. 'I enjoy the fun, but I can't make it; do help me,' she said to a comrade, when once she found herself responsible for guiding the conversation of a party of officers.

Tributes come from comrades of all ranks, from the shy lieutenant, to the veteran commissioner, telling of the sweetness of her communion in comradeship.

But so great was the pressure upon her life, that during any period of respite from her work, she longed, not for change or entertainment, but rest.

One cannot talk with Kate Lee's people without discovering that they regarded her as a person apart from all others. She would drink tea in a hovel with outcasts, or lead a volunteer brigade in scrubbing her halls; handle hammer and nails as a man; collect produce for the harvest festival with a donkey-cart, and perform a hundred and one other 'unladylike' offices. But about her was an atmosphere of intrinsic superiority, that the most untaught felt and appreciated. Amongst the most rough and ready people she is never mentioned with familiarity; but one constantly hears references to 'that heavenly woman,' 'an angel if ever there was one,' and 'that lovely lady'; also mention of 'her private means!'

Incidentally, a pathetic interest attaches to the illusion of 'her private means,' for, except for her small Army allowance, Kate Lee had no private funds. Reserve and independence are characteristics of the Lee family, and are, despite warm affection, observed within their tiny family circle. When the mother joined her Officer daughters in their home, Lucy and Kate realized that if she were aware of the smallness of their allowance, she would feel that a third person could not share it without causing strain, and such knowledge would be a continual sorrow to her. So they never enlightened her, and during the years spent together, they endeavoured, by touching little self-denials, to keep their table and wardrobe as in the home days. So the little mother lived in peace, and died, and never guessed the truth. It was a good training for Kate, and later in life few women could get more value out of money than she. Her uniforms were turned, mended, and worn to the last. Her single indulgence was books, and these were few and well chosen. By dint of the habit of constant watchfulness over her purse, and the blessing of God, her little store became like the widow's cruse of oil, and she gave her tenth and more to the Lord's work. But it was the graciousness with which she gave that made her gifts appear large in the estimation of those who received.

While Kate was received and made much of by high and low alike, she made no pretence of being well born or well educated; nor did she assume airs. She was a perfectly natural woman, who, realizing that she was a daughter of the Heavenly King, sought to rightly represent Him. Nothing rough, mean, nor trivial would become a member of the heavenly household; but joy, peace, gentleness, kindness, goodness—the graces of the Spirit should be seen in her. And they were. The consciousness of her heavenly relationship also gave her a dignity that held itself graciously in any company, and with gentle, unafraid eyes, she met the gaze of all. Kate believed that if we 'walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with the other,' and from a heart free from selfishness and guile, she looked out upon her neighbours, asking for nothing but to understand and bless them, and be blessed. The hearts of all but those who hate and reject the good, rose to salute her, and called her friend.

Of those who loved her and whom she loved there is no count; but here and there upon the fields where she fought, there are some to whom her soul clave in a particular way.

In and out of the homes of the rich she went, bearing sunshine and gathering gold wherewith to push her campaign; but she had no time to make friendships there. A certain leisureliness is inseparable from the life of the well-to-do; time to talk; to be interested in a variety of subjects; to be amused; time even to eat and rest in correct form. With Kate, life was terribly real. On every side her eyes saw men, women, and little children weighed down with sin and sorrow, and her soul joined in the consecration of the great soul who wrote:—

My every sacred moment spend. In publishing the sinner's Friend.

Thus, while many rich friends opened their beautiful homes to her, placed their cars at her disposal, and begged for her company, she passed on her way with a smile that was wholly free from censoriousness. And there may have been another reason. In her nature was a deep love for the beautiful, the harmonious. Maybe she recognized in the good things of life a temptation which she needed to hold at arm's-length, if all her spikenard were to be poured out for her Lord.

In any case, it was to Bethany-like households, where, as a rule, the occupants did their own serving, but were rich in love and in full sympathy with her spirit and purpose, that she tarried to gain strength or refreshment.

One of these friends, Mrs. Taylorson, is a bedridden saint, a remarkable woman in her ninetieth year, of charming countenance, keen, vigorous intellect, great heart and spiritual vision. In the school of affliction and discipline she had sought and found the blessing of Full Salvation, and though a prisoner in her home, her interests are wide, and her influence, by the ministry of prayer, great.

Hearing of Adjutant Lee's arrival in the town, she sent for her, and from their first meeting this aged saint rightly estimated the beauty and greatness of the Adjutant's soul, and felt there was a part she could play in her campaign. Mrs. Taylorson says:—

I realized that my ministry to her was to look after her bodily welfare. I took to my bed whilst she was stationed here: and living quite near to me, she would often slip in for a few moments. Her sweet face would come round the door like a ray of sunshine. She would give me a warm kiss, tell me the latest news —this case or that problem to pray over—then she was off again. But I saw to it that my maid always had something nourishing on hand to help that dear, worn body. How my maid loved her! The Adjutant's influence so led her into touch with Christ, that life became changed for her.

Oh, how Kate Lee worked! Far beyond her strength. Often, after her quest for souls, she would pass this house at two o'clock in the morning. When I would remonstrate with her, she would reply, 'Oh, but I had such a case last night.' Then she would relate to me the story. Once, kneeling by my bed, she said, 'Granny, last night I was afraid for the first time. Oh, this place, this place! The sin, the sin is terrible!' And she described to me the horrors of iniquity she had seen in our town.

The transparent hands were tensely clasped; the strong alert features relaxed into contemplation, and my eyes lifted from the face of the aged saint to the wall beside her bed where hung a motto, 'Prayer brings victory.' It was easy to realize how Kate Lee had gathered strength for the fight in that little sanctuary of faith and hope, and love, with the practical addition of a strengthening cup, 'always ready, that the Adjutant might not be hindered.'

Kate met her beloved old friend only once after her term of three years at Sunderland. When leaving London to spend a week there, she received a wire from her old lieutenant, then on duty amongst the troops in France, 'Coming on leave; want to spend week-end with you,' to which she replied, 'Going to Granny's. Come.' It was a happy party that gathered in that old home. The joys of reunion were still fresh, when in the doorway another figure appeared—Lucy Lee, also home on leave from France. Heaven seemed to come down to earth for those four women. Three from the rush of the battle, bubbling over with stories of the Holy War, the fourth—her faculties fresh as those of the youngest—delighting to linger on the brink of eternity, that she might hold up the hands of these, her adopted daughters in battles for God and souls.

Perched on the crest of a hill overlooking a seashore town, is a tiny cottage—two rooms up and two down. There are flowers in the windows and garden, and within, simplicity and sweet homeliness. The dwellers there are an old pensioner and his daughter. The daughter, a semi-invalid, keeps house. Her face is calm as a lake resting in the sunshine; her eyes blue as the sky on a spring day, and her voice musical and soothing as rippling water. Almost twenty years ago, Kate Lee conducted a battle for souls in the little town nestling below the hill. The suffering woman listened to her call to arms, at first from a distance. By degrees the full meaning of the officer's life dawned upon her; she knew she could never be a leader; but she could, perhaps, be an armour-bearer; so she came nearer, and nearer, till she took a place at Captain Kate's side, ready to perform any service possible.

A sufferer who triumphed had a peculiar charm for Kate Lee. This woman, caught in the furnace of affliction, had yielded herself to the fire, and found the Son of God keep company with her there, and she grew like Him.

When nerves were tingling, and body and soul were weary with sins and sorrows of the world, to no place did Kate turn her steps more readily than to the tiny house on the hill.

'Why can you love to come here? I have so little to offer you. Rich people would love to have you, and give you what I cannot,' said her friend.

'And you can and do give me what no money in the world could buy: understanding, and love, and rest.'

On a sunny day, Kate would take a rug and a cushion, a book or some sewing, and her friend would accompany her to a little knoll, a stone's throw from the house, which commanded a sea view for many miles. And there, mostly in silence, she would sit, and sun and rest for a day or two, and then hie back to the fight.

A mother with a child in an invalid chair, followed The Army march many a Sunday night during one summer. The band charmed the child, the sweet face of the officer soothed and strengthened the mother. One night, mother and child ventured into the meeting. At the conclusion of the first service, Adjutant Lee was shaking hands with the people as they left the hall, and urging them to return, and she beamed on the mother and child, and later, visited their home. A typical home of millions of working people, but true love reigned there, and made it a more pleasant place than many a mansion. The mother had spinal disease and her child seemed to have been born only to die. Doctor and friends had striven in vain to unlock the bands of mother love, and let the little suffering life escape, but the mother refused. If love and ceaseless care could make a child live, he should live. Mother and child nestled under the protection of a great, loving husband and father. The coming of the Adjutant to that home was like the visit of an angel; but she gathered as she gave, for the soothing atmosphere of those tiny rooms fell upon her spirit like dew. As well as love there was music. The father sat at the organ, and as he played and sang, his strong, tender spirit seemed to ring through the hymns. 'Just one verse!' the Adjutant would say, as she dropped in to give five minutes' cheer.

The Adjutant lay ill in her quarters. Bronchitis had, as usual, laid her low during a foggy week. She had sent her lieutenant out on a round of work, and, feverish and weak, gave herself up to rest. There was a movement on the stairs and a face appeared at the bedroom door. It was little invalid mother. 'How did you get here?' the Adjutant asked. 'Through a window, and you'll not talk. Just eat this bit of steamed fish.' Every day, until the Adjutant was able to be about her Master's business again, the little woman ministered to her with tender, joyful love.

'Would you mind letting me look at your back?' she asked the little mother, when she had come to be regarded as the dearest friend of the small family. She looked, and her eyes filled with tears. For a woman with such a back, to work, as this mother worked, to watch and wait and refuse to give up hope for love of her child, this was love indeed. Kate Lee would love sin-sick souls in this way. 'Thank you,' she said simply, 'you have inspired me.' During her stay the little boy, then six years of age, definitely yielded his heart and life to the Saviour. When he was fourteen he begged to be allowed to join The Army Young People's Band. 'Impossible,' said the doctor. 'But, doctor, you know how he has lived in spite of many contrary opinions, and we wish him to devote his life to The Army,' pleaded the mother. A tall lad with purposeful face, playing in an Army band, is a joy to his Salvationist parents who carry in their hearts the faith of Kate Lee, that one day their son shall be an Army Officer.

Such were a very few of the friends of Kate Lee. Many, because of their great love for her, and conscious of her love for them, will, perhaps, feel a touch of disappointment that they are not included in the number, but the pages of our book will not stretch. As I think of them all, as I have seen them in their homes, and know of the many I have not been able to meet—I am reminded of strangely similiar company, fishermen, clerks, and a company of humble, holy women who ministered to Kate Lee's Lord and Master in the days of His flesh.



XII

TROPHIES OF GRACE



Many volumes would be needed to contain the story of all the souls who found deliverance from sin, sorrow and terror by the message of Kate Lee, but her memoir would be sadly incomplete without, at least, a few sketches which illustrate the courage, the faith, and the love with which she sought and won and held souls who, unless such love, and faith, and courage had been expended upon them, would have died in their sin.

The following stories are true, but they do not profess to be vivid.

Few of us would care for a passport-photograph of ourselves to be given to the world as a true likeness, and when giving word-pictures of souls who are still fighting their way to Heaven 'midst many enemies and dangers, there is surely need of a kindly 're-touching!' Scars which sin has made are wisely unnoticed; sins of the past best forgotten; there are conditions of strange and fierce trial in the lives of some which, if told, would magnify the triumph of grace, but should, for obvious reasons, remain unmentioned.

It was a great change for Kate Lee when, after her command of Norland Castle, she was appointed to Reading, a prosperous county town in charming surroundings. In its best business part stands a fine Army hall. It was faultlessly kept, and attended by a most respectable congregation. After her heavy term in the slums of London, it might reasonably be expected that she would take things quietly in a provincial corps and recuperate her spent strength. But Kate Lee could no more settle down to enjoy a pleasant time amongst pleasant people than could her old General during his field days.

She by no means despised her 'nice' people, but she hungered for those without the camp. 'Are there none of our sort in Reading?' she inquired of the local officers. To be sure there were Silver and Coley Streets; they were bad enough for anything. Too true. Kate Lee found in that small area drunkenness, cruelty, misery, hideous sin—a match for anything in Shepherd's Bush.

She began with the children. Poor, ragged, neglected little souls they were; not because of want, but because of the sin of their parents. The Adjutant rented a small hall in Coley Street, and to it invited the children; they came in swarms. She made music for them with her concertina and banjo; sang to them; chatted with them; laughed with them; patted them. One of the first songs she taught them was, 'Let the blessed sunshine in.'

Straightway they took her to their hearts and called her 'The Sunshine Lady.' She worked week after week amongst them. As well as telling them about the Saviour who wanted to make their lives good and happy, she drilled them, and after a while, announced a surprise to the parent corps. She would show them what her Coley Street children could do. She marched them up to the citadel, where they gave a programme of songs, drills, and recitations. What parents are not pleased when some one charmingly loves and makes a fuss of their children? Certainly, Silver and Coley Street parents were gratified.

One little group of youngsters begged the Adjutant to come and see their grandfather who was dying. She found a dear old Christian, living with his daughter and son-in-law, the latter a terrible drunkard. The Adjutant visited the old man until he died, comforted him, and promised by the help of God, to win his son-in-law. It seemed like attempting the impossible, but with God on her side nothing was impossible with Kate Lee.

Shepherd's mother died when he was six weeks old; later his father died a drunkard. At five years of age wee boy Shepherd was carried home drunk, for men had stood him on a bench in the tap room and 'filled him up with beer.' He drank for forty years. During a brief, steady bout, he had married a decent girl, who, not knowing his character, was carried away by the smart appearance of a handsome soldier in the glory of red coat and gleaming buttons. Once married, habit reasserted itself as the years stole on. Shepherd broke up his home, beat his wife, and terrified his children. His good wages went to the saloon-keeper's till while his family starved and went in rags.

He had not been in a place of worship since the day of his marriage until, in an effort towards decency, in acknowledgment of Adjutant Lee's kindness, he attended the memorial service of his father-in-law.

Kate Lee threw her net, but never was fish more wary, more determined not to be caught, than Shepherd. For months she followed him.

'Where's father?' she would ask the children. 'In the "Blue Lion,"' they would reply, and into the 'Blue Lion' the Adjutant would go and visit him there. She waylaid him on his way home from work. She took the corps into the plot of garden in front of his house on Sunday afternoons and held meetings there.

'She fair terrified me,' says Shepherd, now. He was furious with her and determined to insult her, but when he met those blue eyes that knew no fear, brimming with love for his soul, and heard her ringing inquiry, 'And how's Brother Shepherd to-day?' angry words died on his lips, and he sought refuge in escape.

At last, word went round the Coley district that the 'Sunshine Lady' was leaving Reading. Shepherd would soon be free from this bothering, interfering woman. But strangely enough, he did not feel relieved. Upon his heart had settled a load heavier than lead. He felt unutterably oppressed and miserable. He must see that Adjutant once more. He went to her farewell meeting. As she shook his hand, and looked into his soul to make her last appeal, his heart broke. He had loved sin greedily, but now it appeared hateful to him. If only he could be free from it! Down at the penitent-form he cast himself asking God to make him a new creature. He rose, feeling strangely, wonderfully light and free, sweet and clean in spirit. He was delivered from all desire to sin. Arriving at home, for the first time in his life he wanted to kneel at his bedside and 'say his prayers.'

Kate Lee had won him to God. Now she must leave him. Years later, when visiting Reading, she met Shepherd, a bandsman in full uniform, beating the drum in Silver Street. Tears of joy ran down her face at the sight.

Shepherd has proved to his own happiness and to the satisfaction of the town that 'the blessing of the Lord maketh rich and addeth no sorrow.' By the grace of God he has never slipped. At the time of his conversion he had no clothes but those he stood in. When he left Coley Street, all his furniture went on a push-cart. Recently he moved house, and needed two vans. He is foreman at his place of employment. His wife sought salvation two weeks after he was saved, and of his family, five out of the seven children are Salvationists. His home is a joyous place. He loves to entertain, to take people home on a Sunday afternoon, and have a happy time with singing, reading God's Word, and prayer. Then off to the open- air meeting, where he delights to witness to God's wonder-working power! Saturday night, when his workmates gather round The Army ring, and in Coley Street, are his favourite open-air meetings.

Shepherd is a happy man. His healthy face beams with goodwill to men and gratitude to God. His eyes grow moist, but they still shine, when he speaks of Kate Lee. 'Aye, bless her heart! I'm going to frame that picture of her that came out in "The War Cry,"' he exclaims with a deep, ringing voice. 'I look upon her as my mother—a real mother to my soul she was.'

In the streets of Reading almost any day, an old man may be seen pushing a tinker's barrow. The small carriage is gay with yellow, red, and blue paint and bright with polished brass, and on a conspicuous place appear the words, 'Where will you spend Eternity?' The barrow-man has a pleasant, bearded face, and steady-gazing, merry, eyes, with a cheerful nod and word for every one; he steps in and out of gardens, mending kettles, sharpening knives, and doing other handy jobs for housewives. 'Mr. Wellman, of The Salvation Army,' an established resident would inform an inquirer.

Thirteen years ago, Wellman was one of the most wretched men in Reading. Drink had brought him, with his wife and family, to a common lodging- house, and there they herded, sometimes as many as twelve men, women, and children in one room, eating, drinking, sleeping, cursing.

A son of Christian parents, Wellman was a decent youth, but in his early married life he began to go down-hill and long before Adjutant Lee took charge of the corps at Reading, had reached the dead level of misery, degradation, and hopelessness. He had turned his back upon God; he feared Him, dreaded Him, longed to escape from His presence, but the Heavenly Father did not forsake him. His mother had died, he was filled with sorrow and remorse, when one Sunday evening The Army band halted before the lodging-house. Wellman was in the yard lounging against the wall when the drum tapped. He walked through the passage and gazed at The Army. Kate Lee was leading the meeting. She looked at him and smiled. There was a world of power in that look; interest, kindness, gentleness, sorrow for sin. Wellman listened with apparent indifference to the meeting, and the march moved off.

He had heard the Army drum hundreds of times before in Reading, but while it called to every one to remember God, its message had never reached him; but the look on that woman's face did. For the first time he followed the march, and, arriving at the hall, was invited inside. The place was already full, but a wise-hearted orderly piloted Wellman to a front seat.

He has no remembrance of the message of the meeting; but he saw himself; his loathsome condition; his sin to God and man; his failure in life. At the invitation he went forward to the penitent-form and asked God to take away his sin; he rose from his knees believing that he was saved.

How wonderful is the work of God! Wellman came into the hall dirty, unkempt in body and soul. For years he had given no thought to his appearance, cared nothing for the contempt of respectable people. Now he fled to the lodging-house, ashamed to be seen.

The next morning the Adjutant called to see him. He had broken up eight homes, and for years had felt no wish for so troublesome a possession, but now he longed to get out of that hovel and to have a decent place to which he could invite this 'angel woman.' The Adjutant smiled upon him, told him he had only to follow God and things would soon improve. She fostered the desire to make home again with his family and his own bits of furniture about him, and helped him to get rooms. During Wellman's years of sinning, whenever he had seen the word God in print, he had dropped the paper or book as though it were hot; now he opened his mother's Bible and found it to be a library of delight; and his spare time, between work and the meetings, was spent in reading it for sheer pleasure.

The desire for strong drink had been swept out of him by one touch of the Holy Spirit, but his love of tobacco was even stronger than of beer. No one spoke to him about giving up smoking, but from the day of his conversion he felt ashamed of the habit and only smoked in the house. The heavenly vision growing stronger he determined to have nothing in his life about which he had any doubt, and he thus reasoned with himself, 'If God can cure me of the drink, He can cure me of the pipe.' From that day he had no desire for tobacco.

Wellman's business increased, and the Adjutant was interested in his barrow which had taken on a gay appearance in The Army colours. Pointing to a clear space she remarked, 'Wouldn't a message go well there?' ''Twould, Adjutant; what one would do?' She thought, 'I think, "Where will you spend Eternity?" would be a good one,' she replied. So Wellman had the words painted on his barrow.

His quiet eyes smile as he says, 'Her text shall preach in Reading while ever I can push the barrow. It gives me no end of chances to speak to people. Some ladies on bicycles stopped me one day and said, "What is the meaning of those words?" "It means that you're going to die, and are you ready for what comes after?" I told them. Some have said, "What have you got that rubbish on there for?" Then I tell them what Salvation has done for my life. But most people know me now, and look for a little word.'

He is now Sergeant Wellman at the corps, in full Army uniform, and does useful work as doorkeeper and orderly, always on the watch to welcome poor souls such as he was. He has had his share of trials since he was converted. Bronchitis and asthma often keep him a prisoner and make work slack. 'I don't have to look for troubles, they come trooping along, but grace keeps them company,' he says joyfully. Then a shade of sadness steals into his voice as he continues, wistfully, 'What was I doing to miss all those years? Wretched, terrible years, mind always brooding, never happy, never at rest!'

It is often more difficult to rescue a sinful married woman than a man. A man as soon as he is converted goes to work, and during the day remains under some sort of discipline and restraint; whereas the very privileges of a married woman's position often become hindrances in the way of her Salvation. No one can compel her to work, and undesirable neighbours may visit her and tempt her to sin. Adjutant Lee never relaxed hope or effort because success was difficult of realization. There are bright stars in her crown of jewels whom she discovered in the depths; but after a woman has been restored to her family, the past forgiven and laid aside, her dear ones are naturally unwilling for the past to be recorded, and in this book we must content ourselves with a very slight sketch of one who has passed beyond the touch of pain.

A married woman had worn out the patience of a loving family. So ruinous to the happiness and well-being was her presence in the home, that when at last she went away her nearest made no effort to bring her back. The Adjutant found her in the depths of sin, and determined, by the grace of God, that she should be saved. This was one of the most difficult cases she ever undertook. The woman had lost hope and will power, and it took love that would not let go, and faith that would not accept defeat, before the desire to rise again stole into the poor heart made captive of the devil. At last the Adjutant persuaded her to attend the meetings and there she found deliverance. After a few weeks Kate Lee got in touch with the husband in a distant town, but his family had suffered too much at their mother's hands for him readily to consent to his wife's return. Yet he was not a hard-hearted man, and upon the suggestion of a reconciliation, if, for six months, his wife proved herself to be indeed a changed woman, he consented. During that trying probation the Adjutant mothered this soul, who, with tottering steps, had turned her face homeward, and she won through.

At the end of the allotted time a letter brought the husband to a meeting-place. He looked apprehensive, but meeting the wistful eyes of a well-dressed, comely woman, he saw once again the wife he loved and the mother his children loved. That day he bore her off to the expectant but anxious home. With beating hearts, the daughters waited the arrival, but it was not the abandoned drunkard who had spoilt their home, and horrified and frightened them, who stood on the doorstep with father. It was just mother. Home was really home once more. Mother at the head of the table, mother's hand here, there, upon everything. Then she became ill. Months of agony followed. The doctor ordered stimulants; these were refused to the end. Slowly the delivered soul slipped down death's river; then, as it met the sea of eternity, she looked up. 'All's well!' she said, and crossed the bar.

It was through the house-to-house canvass of a Salvation Army Assurance Agent that Adjutant Lee came into contact with the Parrot family at Brighton. They lived in a poor enough street and house; but thinking people who live close to the working classes know that pounds a week which should go into the homes frequently find their way to the saloon- keeper's till. 'The only saving I want to think about is to get my husband saved from the drink,' Mrs. Parrot had told the agent, and, like a wise man, he reported the incident to Kate Lee.

It was Sunday morning. There was a tap at the door; a little child appeared, took one look at the pure, radiant face there, and disappeared saying aloud to his mother, 'There's a Salvation Army lady at the door, mother, and I don't think you ought to send her away.' Kate Lee heard the words, and uninvited, slipped into the passage. Meeting the mother, she said gently, 'If I have a welcome from the child, I am sure of one from you.'

That morning the strings of Mrs. Parrot's harp of hope were reduced to one. A brave-hearted girl, she had started married life determined to fill it with music, despite the prophecies that she was a fool to marry Parrot. But the strings of her harp broke one by one, and this morning there was no song in her heart; she could see no star in the heavy sky. She was a fine type of the working woman; had been servant in a good family, and had had a godly Sunday School teacher who had taught her the reality of God and the efficacy of prayer. Through all the wretched, terrible years of her married life, she had prayed and hoped for deliverance from the earthly hell in which she and her children lived. The week before Adjutant Lee's visit she had in desperation gone to a spiritual leader and implored him to try and reform her husband, and had received the extraordinary reply, 'Well, you must bear with this little habit. I may tell you I have the same weakness myself.'

Little habit indeed! It had lost Parrot two businesses. Now he pushed a barrow, hawking anything he had money to buy; generally the proceeds went in drink, his family starved and lived in terror of him, and his wife, the soul of respectability, could not keep the family decent.

A year ago, her patience completely worn out, she had told him not to come home any more. This was the last straw to Parrot's own wretchedness. He went to a chemist, purchased some oxalic acid, dropped it into a pint of beer and drank it; stumbling into the street, overcome by pain and gasping for breath, he fell to the ground. The police picked him up, took him to the hospital and his life was saved. When he had sufficiently recovered to go before the magistrate, he was sent to jail for a week; while in there, he made desperate resolves that he would do better; but once released, life went on as before.

Mrs. Parrot lifted her eyes to the Adjutant's face. Was God going to help her after all? The Adjutant invited her to the meetings. She frankly said her husband had no clothes to wear. 'Where was he?' 'Upstairs in bed.' The Adjutant asked if she might go up and see him. Mrs. Parrot thought she had better go and inquire.

A Salvation Army woman wanted to come up to his bedroom and see him lying drunk in bed! The impudence! He would show her out of this British workman's home quicker than she had come in. Lunging into his rough clothes, and staggering down the stairs, with muttering lips and angry eyes, came Parrot. He found Kate Lee talking with his children. She looked up at him with a smile and said, 'They told me I was coming to a drunkard's home, but these don't look like a drunkard's children. The dears!'

Parrot was struck dumb and stood with a strangely-working face and a peculiar tearing at his throat staring at this fair, fragile woman. 'I want you to come to our meeting to-night,' continued the Adjutant. 'Mrs. Parrot tells me you haven't any good clothes; but I'll have a full suit ready for you in time, and shall expect you there.' She prayed and was gone.

This was the first vision of Divine love that Parrot had ever seen. Born in a beer shop, fighting and quarrelling from childhood, his life had been a hideous, hopeless failure. Hell he understood—felt; but such words as God, Heaven, Love, had meant nothing to him at all. Now they did. Love seemed to shine all over that woman. Angels' wings never looked lovelier to human eyes than the Army blue of Adjutant Kate's uniform looked to Parrot.

By-and-by a parcel arrived. It contained shirt, trousers, coat and vest, socks and boots, collar, tie, and even a handkerchief. Parrot handled them with wonder. He had never worn such clothes—the Adjutant had begged them from a gentleman. He put them on, and walked up and down the back yard. How good it felt to be well dressed—to look respectable.

Meeting time arrived and, piloted by his wondering wife, Parrot went to the hall. 'Let's go up out of the draught,' diplomatized Mrs. Parrot, and edged her man as near to the front as possible. Kate Lee gloried in God that night. She told of His boundless love, His seeking—seeking to find, and make good and happy, every soul of man. Parrot and his wife knelt at the penitent-form.

Next morning Parrot felt desperately ill, but the craving for strong drink had gone. He must face life in earnest and see about providing for the family. He must have something to sell. Mrs. Parrot remembered a kind-hearted man who had promised, that if ever her husband tried to do better, that he would help him. Parrot walked several miles to find this man, who trusted him with a dollar's worth of fish.

The spiritual life in this new convert was very feeble. Parrot felt comfortable in his mind, and happy to believe that angels still walked this earth, and that one had come his way. An ambition had come into his weak, undisciplined will to make a decent home for his wife and children. He would have been content to have let things rest there. But Kate Lee bore down upon him, not only with smiles, but commands. He must fight for God. He must tell all his townspeople of his conversion. Parrot was terrified, but there was no escape. When the Adjutant arrived with the band to carry him off, he slipped out of the back door, but there he was met by the wisest of recruiting sergeants, a man who understood men and loved them. Trembling in every limb, Parrot was marched off to The Army Hall, and sat by the Adjutant on the platform. In an open-air meeting in his own street, an Army cap was placed on his head. There could be no turning back. He was literally carried up the Delectable Mountains and shown higher views of life; and, seeing them, he desired them.

To-day, he is proud of his Salvation Army family, and of his good wife, who is the neighbours' friend, helping them in trouble, comforting them in bereavement, praying with them in distress. When The General called for homes for the destitute Austrian children, the Parrot household was the first in the corps to open their door. Mrs. Parrot has a prosperous business, as also have two of their sons, and Parrot is in steady work. He is grateful for temporal mercies, but no words can express the gratitude of this man and his wife for the miracle of Salvation, the deliverance from sin, the love for the things of God, which has come to their home and their hearts by the grace of God, brought to them by the love that feared no insult, no violence; the faith that would not be disappointed, of Kate Lee.



XIII

KATE LEE'S SECRET



Of Kate Lee General Bramwell Booth writes, 'She was one of those conquering souls who seldom look like a conqueror. She presented an extraordinary contrast. She was weak, and yet she was strong. She was poor, and yet she was one of the richest. She was intensely human, with many of the most marked limitations which belong to the human, and yet she was in an extraordinary degree spiritual, yes, even divine.'

These contrasts were clear to all and puzzling to many. Not a few people both in and outside the ranks of The Army have asked the question, 'Wherein lay the secret of Kate Lee's success?' One person, accustomed only to surface views, gave answer, 'It is that she always aims to win trophies.'

Let any one determine to gain distinction for himself by lifting from the mire of sin souls robbed by the devil of hope and will power, and even desire for deliverance; let them essay to bring back from the far country wanderers sunk to the level of the brute; let them attempt to break bands of habit forged by the devil, or to deliver the prey from the terrible one. He will discover the impossibility of his enterprise if not his folly.

Desire to win spiritual battles in order to gain personal reputation is age-old. From the day that Simon the sorcerer offered Peter money in exchange for miracle-working power, the exercise of which would have placed him upon a pedestal above his fellows, the rebuke has rung out, 'Thy heart is not right in the sight of God.'

Shortly before Jesus left His little band of disciples, with the charge to preach the Gospel to every creature, He spoke with them on the subject of spiritual fruitfulness. He assured them that, 'Herein is My Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit,' and in one sentence He made clear the secret of spiritual success. He said, 'He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit, for without Me ye can do nothing.'

The failure of the Church of Christ to extend His Kingdom upon earth by great sweeping victories, lies in the imperfect apprehension or the neglect of this declaration. Tens of thousands of professing Christians do not abide in Christ; consequently, He cannot satisfy their soul. The cares and pleasures of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, occupy them as they do the ungodly; for their pleasures they turn to the world. A smaller section have faith in Christ, and realize the joys of Salvation, and comfort of His presence, but they do not yield themselves to Him for service. A smaller section dedicate themselves to His service, but rush to work for God without receiving directions from Him, with the result that much effort is wasted. If every consecrated soul would pay heed to Christ's direction, how gloriously would His Kingdom extend! Not that the battle would ever become an easy one. The powers of evil against which we fight are second only in strength to those of righteousness and light. In conflict between these powers there will always be the sacrifices of war to reckon upon, the spade work, the tunnelling, the weariness; surprises of the enemy, rushed advances, sick and wounded to care for, and captured territory to be occupied, organized, and governed, before the final victory.

Kate Lee was one of the company that dwell in God. It is difficult to write of her secret soul life; for, keeping no journal she made no record of the dealings between her soul and her Beloved; no fights and victories over the powers of evil, no story of following the heavenly vision, nor does her very scrappy correspondence contain out-pourings of spiritual experience. Her life was a lovely epistle of week-day holiness for all to read, but it was the outward sign of an inward experience. Locked in a private box, a "Covenant" was found after her death which is as a key to the inner sanctuary in which her life was lived with Christ in God. It reads as follows:—

COVENANT Solemnly entered into, January, 1897; Renewed, January, 1918 TO MY PRECIOUS LORD AND MASTER

In the first moments of this year I present myself to Thee in the deepest humiliation of soul, sensible of my utter unworthiness. I desire nothing in the world so much as to be Thine, and with the utmost solemnity, surrender myself fully unto Thee.

I declare Thee, O Lord, this day, to be my God, and myself to be Thine own child. Hear, O Thou God of Heaven, and record it in Thy Book of Remembrance, that I am Thine, only Thine.

From this first day of January do I solemnly renounce all that has had dominion over me, and every sin, and every lust, and in Thy name, set myself in eternal opposition to the powers of hell.

The whole frame of my nature, all the faculties of my mind, all the members of my body would I present to Thee this day, as a living sacrifice.

I consecrate myself to Thee; all my worldly possessions; and I pray Thee to give me the strength and courage to exert for Thy glory all the influence I may have over others. Receive and wash me. Forgive all past failings, clothe me with Thy perfect righteousness, and sanctify me throughout by the power of Thy Spirit.

Help me that I may never withdraw in any point from this renewal of my consecration and covenant.

Help me to live in the spirit of real consecration and crucifixion; and should I fail in carrying out this covenant in all points as I ought, then, dear Lord, forgive and lead me to perfection.

In Thy strength I promise to be true till death. Until then, keep, guide, and direct me.

Remember, dear Lord, this covenant when I am about to pass away; and should I then be incapable of recollecting it, look with pity on Thy dying child. Put strength and confidence into my departing spirit, and receive it to the embrace of Thy everlasting love.

For Jesus Christ's sake.

May this petition be granted. (Signed) KATE LEE. Renewed, January 1st, 1920

Another valuable document traces for us Kate Lee's seeking after sanctification. After having lived in the enjoyment of this blessing for nearly thirty years, she was asked by the editor of 'The Officer' to write her experience. The following article appeared in that magazine three years ago:—

Soon after I was converted I realized a great need in my heart. I had turned my back on the old life, and my face was toward God. I had started to travel the upward way. For the first few weeks I went with a rush, the joy of the new life within buoyed me up. I felt as though I was walking on air. I did not feel any strain of the upward tread. But soon I began to feel the tension of the daily struggle, the weary march. There were obstacles in that way that impeded my progress. My circumstances were against me, and the influences surrounding me had a tendency to draw me from Christ.

I began to stumble and fall. The tempter was soon at my side suggesting, 'You're not converted; it's all a delusion; you would not feel as you do; you would not fail as you have done, if you were really a child of God. Give it up, it's no use trying,' he argued. And, worst of all, I knew sin still existed in my heart. How often passion had broken my peace. How many times bitterness and evil had manifested itself in my nature. Was I mistaken? Had I ever been converted? Was it all a delusion?

Just then God in His love and pity came to my heart; gave me a revelation. He not only showed me myself and my sin, but showed me my need. I needed something, and as I sat in a holiness meeting I realized that need was sanctification. For months the word sanctification was to me a heavy burden; a torture. I could not really grasp its meaning. I read and re-read the theory of sanctification, going from one authority on the subject to another, only to turn away still more puzzled. I then set myself to seek publicly and was several times found at the holiness table, pleading for the blessing that I failed to understand. Again and again I came to the altar, and, as far as I understood, laid my all there. But as soon as the test came, without realizing that I did it, I took from off the altar the sin I had laid there, or the gifts that I had surrendered to God.

This is where I failed many times, and during my officership I have found scores of other souls who have failed on this very point. They come sincerely to the altar, definitely laying their gift there, a living sacrifice; but when the knife is felt, the realization of the dying comes upon them as they feel the hurt and understand fully what it means, they shrink and draw back. Abram's experience, related in Genesis xv., has been a great help to me. He had to wait for the fire. He prayed all day, even until eventide, and then the birds of prey came down; but he stood by the sacrifice and drove them off. Then the fire came and consumed the sacrifice.

That was just the point to which I had to get. I had laid my all on the altar, but then I had to wait for the fire. Meanwhile, the birds of doubt, fear, and discouragement came flying around. I had to get up again and again to drive them off, and hold on to God.

Fresh light came; a new path opened up. The laying of self on the altar meant following God fully and showing my colours everywhere. Could I do it? It was hard to die to self, and say, 'Yes, Lord.' But as I said it, I felt I was accepted, and afterwards, when I carried out that vow, joy flooded my soul and I realized that the Spirit of the Lord was upon me. The desire to sin was removed, and my heart yearned to be kept pure and clean.

I have found the need of great watchfulness, and have needed much prayer to keep my soul in touch with God and on fire for precious souls. Although I realized, after I was sanctified, that I was over sin and no longer under the power of sin, and that I was cleansed from the desire to sin, yet in his subtlety the devil has come again and again and striven to bring me down.

Sometimes he has come as an angel of light, so that I have been led to the very verge of sin, tempted to indulge in what seemed at the moment harmless, perhaps because others, who professed as much as I did, indulged in it too. Tempted to shrink from the sacrifice that a separated life must mean; tempted to give way to the flesh, one's natural desires and inclinations, I have even allowed the devil to take me to the edge of a great spiritual precipice, but God, in His mercy, has flashed His wonderful light upon my path in time to show me where I was, and what would be the outcome if I yielded to the temptation. Oh, how it caused me to pray and seek strength which enabled me to overcome!

Prayer has been my source of help, when burdens have pressed so heavily upon me that they threatened to crush my spirit; when disappointments, misrepresentations almost overwhelmed me, prayer has brought strength and comfort, a courage that could face a world of bitterness and scorn. I have proved that prayer will enable me to retain the substance of holiness. Prayer enables me to retain a passion for souls; keep it burning in hours of disappointment and failure, indifference and hardness, when men and devils rise in power against me.

One must tread the path of holiness carefully, with a watchful eye and ear always open to His voice, and a spirit ever ready to obey. But it is a wonderful way, a way of purity, where the soul can see God, even in the struggles of life. A way of joy; the deepest of joys. The realization of His smile enables me to live independent of all the joys of the world and to rejoice in the hour of sorrow. A way of power; when the channel is clear He works through it and accomplishes His will.

A personal experience of Full Salvation was the secret of Kate Lee's success.

This life was not spasmodic. She did not pass in and out of the holy place, or step on and off the highway of holiness. She dwelt there. That does not imply that never during those thirty years was she overcome by Satan. Once, into a deep sorrow was poured the bitterness of gall through the wickedness of another. The enemy came in like a flood, threatening to overwhelm and root up many precious things, but the Spirit of the Lord was there to lift up a standard against him. 'If ye forgive not your enemies, neither will your Father forgive you,' was the word that came to her heart. She closed her lips, hushed her sobs, crept to the feet of her Lord, where are ever the print of cruel nails, to remind His children of His sufferings and His forgiveness.

'I was wrong,' she said, 'very wrong. I must forgive, I do forgive'; and to the close of her life she lavished love upon one who had sore wounded her. 'If we sin we have an Advocate.' She laid her case in His hands, and left it there.

The officers who served as lieutenants with Kate Lee give us glimpses of the life she lived in the privacy of her quarters. We may stand at the door of the sanctuary where she met with God and learn a little. Says one of her lieutenants, 'It seemed to me that she prayed without ceasing. Her life was one continual looking to God. She prayed upon rising. We prayed together after breakfast; later, she went to her room for an hour's private prayer and study; for special undertakings or emergencies she had special seasons of waiting upon God.'

How much there was to pray for. Her own soul and that of her lieutenant, that they might be kept in touch with God. Her corps, every department of it; the local officers, the band, the songsters, the home league; the soldiers and converts; the town, with its sin and indifference to the claims of Christ, the finance. Then, hers was not a small soul. She loved the whole wonderful Salvation Army of which she was a unit, and her leaders and comrades in all lands were remembered at the Throne of God. It was a great strength to her to feel that she lived in the atmosphere of prayer. When in the midst of a specially heavy battle for souls, she would write to comrades she knew had power in prayer and beg them specially to help her to fight through to victory.

Very real were the powers of darkness and evil against which this frail little woman set herself; sometimes they pressed her sore. She felt something of the sorrows and travail of soul of her Saviour, of whom it is written, 'And being in an agony, He prayed.' At times she suffered from depressions so heavy that they prostrated her. The lieutenant says, 'At these times, all I could do was to let her feel that I was carrying on, whilst she sought her chief remedy, prayer. By and by, she would come from her room, strengthened and peaceful, ready again for the fight.'

Writes another of her helpers:—

She was a wonderful officer in public, but I love best to remember how she conquered in her own private life. When we remember how she attacked the devil's kingdom, we can well believe that he did not leave her unmolested. She had her full share of difficulties, hardnesses, disappointments, and physical weakness; but, whatever her feelings were, she rose above them, and went on with her work.

In her office, over the fireplace, hung a large picture of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. On her writing table was the same picture, but small; so, if she lifted her eyes from her writing, she was reminded of Him whom she loved with her whole heart. As He conquered by prayer, so did she. One morning, one of the local officers called to see her. When I went to her room to fetch her, her eyes were red with weeping. 'Dear, I can't go down like this,' she said; 'will you see to the business for me?' She had been pleading—agonizing with God.

She was very sweet to me. I can see her smile now as she first welcomed me to the quarters. I was very timid and helpless in public work when I became her lieutenant, but she made me feel that her responsibility was to make me a worthy officer. She said, 'I could get others to do the house-work; you are to be my comrade in the fight.' She took me fully into her confidence, consulted me about corps organization, difficulties, special efforts, everything! She would tell me all her plans and then ask for mine.

The first time she insisted upon my taking the Sunday night address, in spite of having laboriously prepared, I was so nervous that I stopped, fairly played out, in the middle of my talk, but she got up and encouraged me, and asked the comrades to pray. She helped me so much that to give a Bible address is not a difficulty now. I learned to forget myself.

Had she a weakness? Well, it may seem much to say it, but though I lived with her so long, I cannot think of one; she was an all-round conqueror.

Writes still another lieutenant:—

How I love her memory! My Bible was her parting gift to me, and in it she marked the text: 'In all thy way acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.' She passed on to me the method that governed her own life.

In nothing did Kate Lee show her likeness to her Lord more than in her practical unselfishness. He wanted nothing from the world. He came to give Himself to save it. It was so with her. A woman so popular could have drawn to herself the homage and service of the crowd; but here she stood aloof. She welcomed, indeed she sought, gifts and service for the work of The Army and the poor, but she wanted nothing for herself. When she and her lieutenant were so pressed with work that they scarcely had time to eat their food, her eye would rove over the corps, and she would select a girl whom she felt had a true appreciation of the Kingdom of God, and ask her if she would like to come to the quarters to help with the house-work, so that the officers might be freer for soul-saving. Many a girl counts it the honour of her life to have shared that saintly woman's home, sat at her table, joined in the prayers, and done the work of the house. The Adjutant and lieutenant paid her out of their small allowance.

To her soldiers, Kate Lee delighted to preach the doctrine of Full Salvation from sin, and greatly she rejoiced over those who entered into this glorious experience of freedom and power.

One comrade, who had been a Salvationist for twenty-seven years, a white- haired, sweet-spirited man, enjoyed his religion in the corps, but was little more than a cypher as a soldier. In a holiness meeting, while the Adjutant spoke from the text, 'Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord,' the old soldier saw in a moment of revelation, that if he were thoroughly yielded to God and obedient to the heavenly vision, the Holy Spirit would cleanse him from sin, and, despite his lack of personality, and very ordinary qualities, would empower him for service. He went forward to the holiness table, seeking this experience. Attached to the corps was a young men's Bible class languishing for want of a leader. A few evenings after his consecration, the Adjutant told this comrade that she wished him to take over the class. The habit of years strong upon him, he began to plead his unfitness; but inwardly reminded of his covenant with God, went away to pray and returned to say he was ready for service.

He laid hold upon those lads. Many young men, as officers, soldiers, and bandsmen, bless the day that Brother Fenwick claimed them for God. They are the fruit of his service.

The Adjutant was as watchful to help souls convicted of the need of a clean heart as to capture the unsaved. A sister writes:—

I am indebted to Kate Lee for leading me into the blessing of entire sanctification. Attending a tent campaign she had inaugurated, after her address setting forth the experience of holiness, she asked those in the congregation who were living up to that standard to rise. Condemnation filled my soul. I arose, but only to slip out of the tent by a far door. The Adjutant noticed the move, and met me as I was making my escape. Then she laboured until I knelt in full surrender, yielding my all to God. One of my chief difficulties was to wear Army uniform, but that was included in my consecration, and from the putting on of my first Army bonnet, nearly twenty years ago, I have been proud to witness for Christ in this way.

As a spiritual surgeon with skill in diagnosis, Kate Lee excelled. A sergeant-major of great devotion and good cheer fell into deep spiritual depression. No amount of pulling himself together or shaking free of the dumps, availed anything. He became as miserable as when first convicted of sin. 'But why?' he asked himself the question over and over. 'I love God with all my heart; I am fully consecrated to His service; then what is amiss?' No reply. To a Watch-Night service this man came, under a vow not to leave his knees until he discovered the reason of this cloud and obtained deliverance.

During the meeting, he, the chief local officer of the corps, made confession before his comrades and knelt at the holiness table. The Adjutant sought to discover his difficulty. 'Sergeant-Major, have you a grudge against any person? Now, think carefully.' The man was silent, searching his heart. Presently he replied, 'You have found the spot.' Years before, a man had deceived him in a matter of business, thereby bringing much trial into his home. By dogged, hard work, the material loss had been overtaken, and the affair forgotten. But there it lay in his heart. The remembrance of the man's name brought with it feelings of resentment and contempt. 'Lord, forgive me for my hardness of heart toward that man as I now forgive him,' he cried. 'Cleanse my soul from every stain of sin and fill me with perfect love.' In an instant the cloud lifted from his soul, and his heart was filled with singing. That was a remarkable Watch-Night service. Other battles were fought and won, and not until two o'clock on New Year's morning did the meeting close, with a final burst of praise, and with renewed consecration to fight for souls during the coming year.

Dr. Garfield Carse, of Sunderland, became a soldier of the Sunderland corps, and entered upon his medical career there, during the Adjutant's term. He says:—

Adjutant Lee was a great advocate of holiness. She preached the doctrine and lived the life. That was the key to her success. Her theme expressed in many ways was, 'Put off the old man, and put on Jesus Christ. Live so that your life reminds people of His life.' She was a great spiritual help to me; understanding the claims of a busy man, she would drop into my surgery and say, 'I have come to visit you for five minutes.' She would read from the Bible, a few choice verses that had refreshed her own soul that day, and then would kneel and pray for me that I might represent Christ in my particular sphere. She was a great woman!

An old local officer illustrates her meekness, when as a young officer she was impulsive and arrived at quick conclusions on incomplete evidence. 'She believed I had done a wrong, and wanted me to ask forgiveness of people who were themselves in the wrong, but made a fair showing. I said, 'No,' and kept to it. She did not turn bitter towards me, nor 'turn me down,' but was kind and sorry. By and by she saw she had been mistaken in her judgment, and said sweetly, 'Ah, yes, I see I was wrong that time.'

Says another, 'What I thought she was when she came to us, I was sure that she was when she went away.'

Kate Lee had a settled conviction that 'the servant of the Lord must not strive.' A comrade says:—

If misunderstood, she would not justify herself, even in a way that seemed wise to me. She would not attempt to hold her own. She would stand up for others or for principle; but for herself, she trusted the Lord to bring forth her righteousness as the light, and her judgment as the noonday. She would say, 'It doesn't pay to contend for self, dear. It ruffles one's spirit and lessens one's influence. We must stoop to conquer.' I was impetuous and hot before I knew her, but her life taught me the meaning of the beatitude, 'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.'

During the last year of her life, Satan gathered his forces for a last onslaught upon Kate Lee's soul. She was stationed at the International Training Garrison in London, and her health continuing to be frail, a change was thought to be desirable for her. Therefore, she was appointed to take charge of the Home of Rest for Officers at Ramsgate. Only once before had she found it difficult to trust God concerning an appointment. As to her health, she was quite prepared to die at her post, but to leave the work of training those cadets for the field-work which she understood so well and loved with such a passion—could it be the will of God?

For some weeks the clear shining of her faith and joy suffered an eclipse. She maintained a calm exterior, but, in sore spiritual distress, sent for an old, trusted comrade to come and see her. This officer tells of a very sacred interview:—

When it was convenient for us to have a quiet time in her room, she turned upon me a face marked with intense suffering. She said, 'I cannot feel this is God's will, and so I cannot be happy. I have never felt like this before in all my experience.' 'But, Katy, what have we always preached? Don't we still believe that a soul, really committed to God, cannot be moved, cannot be hurt, except by His permission? He knows you are here. If, to give up the thing you love best in life, is His test for you, can't you trust Him and not take it from man, but from Him, and say, "Thy will be done"?'

Much searching communion passed between the sister-comrades, and at last in answer to the question, 'Can you not just now take life from God, just as you have done for thirty years?' Kate replied with decision, 'Why, of course I can, and I will.' Then the comrades rejoiced together, knelt in prayer, and when they rose, peace had returned to Kate's heart and shone out of her eyes. 'She looked ten years younger,' says her comrade. 'I had an appointment to keep and she some shopping to do. She took a basket on her arm and tripped down the street with me as gaily as the girl she was when I first knew her.'

Shortly orders came to proceed to Headquarters. She was needed for training work in another part of the world.

Then, sudden, unexpected illness brought her face to face with eternity. After the doctor who gave the verdict had departed, the little maid went to Kate Lee's room to see if she needed anything and found her in tears. 'Leave me a little while,' she said.

Alone with her Lord, Kate Lee realized many things. There was no mistake. Gently her Heavenly Father had been loosening her hold on the sword here, in preparation for higher service. This last trial of faith had been allowed that she might know at the end of her career, as at the beginnings of her service, that she chose the will of God before her own way. By-and-by the little maid, with leaden sorrow dragging at her heart, crept back to the Staff-Captain's door. She started as she met Kate's gaze. It was full of unutterable peace and joy. She smiled and stretched out her hands. 'It is all well. God's will is peace,' she said. From that time until the end, only a few days later, except for the heat of the furnace of suffering, Satan's fiery darts missed the mark. Kate had faced and overcome the last attack of the enemy. She won through to the end.



XIV

OFF DUTY



The Regulations of The Salvation Army provide for its officers to have, under ordinary circumstances, from two to three weeks' furlough yearly. This respite from strain upon body and soul which the work involves is brief enough; it is due to their work, and it is expected that officers should make the most of it. To assist them, the authorities have instituted Homes of Rest at pleasant seaside resorts; at these institutions, for a very moderate charge, under good conditions and healthful surroundings, a thorough rest may be enjoyed. But officers are perfectly free to make their own arrangements if they so desire.

How did Kate Lee take her holidays? What spirit moved her when the pressure of responsibility for her particular charge was removed; when professionalism was, for the moment, dropped? 'Tell me about her holidays?' I asked of an old lieutenant.

She replied: 'I never knew Adjutant Lee take a holiday in the usual sense of the word. If she furloughed in London, much of her time was spent in visiting her converts; if at the seaside, her Bible notes accompanied her thither, to be revised. A few years ago she and I spent a few days together in the country. For months the Adjutant had been working at very high pressure; she was too tired to read or write, but not too tired to meditate upon God and His goodness. Those five days are a precious memory to me because of the interchange of thought we enjoyed.'

So that officers may take their brief furlough without attracting attention to themselves, or receiving unlimited calls for service, they lay aside their uniform. The only 'private' clothing that Kate allowed herself were two or three white blouses, a panama hat for summer, and a blue felt for winter. These she wore, with her uniform blue serge skirt and 'three-quarter' jacket. When on holiday, she often travelled in her uniform so as to have more opportunities for blessing the people.

'Tell me about Kate's holidays,' I asked, still curious of Commandant Lucy Lee. Into her eyes stole a faraway look, and after some hesitation, came vague answers.

'Well,' she began, 'last year we had our holiday together, preparing the Home of Rest at Ramsgate; the year before, Kate came to me in France. We had a lovely time visiting the hospitals and camps together; but, of course, it was not exactly a rest. And the year before that we spent them fixing up this little home. We did enjoy that. And the year before that?——'

Something else unsatisfactory to my way of thinking. 'But tell about a nice restful holiday at the seaside, or in the country where, out in the open, Kate just unwound and was refreshed for her work.'

'Well'—Lucy half closed her eyes and smiled wistfully—'somehow there always seemed something to prevent plans like that. So long as we could be together and have a quiet time, we were perfectly happy.'

Until the end of her life, a certain insularity clung to Kate Lee. She gloried to fight in a crowd, but she could not rest with a crowd. When set free from duty, all she longed for was some quiet corner with the protecting love of her sister—that love which perfectly understands and makes no demands—filling the days with tenderness. As her sister suggests, something generally turned up that made arrangements for real rest and change difficult to arrange. On the face of things, we might judge that in this particular Kate Lee's usual common sense and good management failed her; but to one who has seen behind the scenes, into the hidden life of this remarkable woman, it would appear, rather, that in the matter of rest, as in other affairs touching her temporal happiness, God shut her up to Himself and taught her, first for her own joy, and then through her life taught others the possibility of having nothing, and yet possessing all things.

During one furlough, Kate determined to feel for herself the conditions of the very poor. To this end she spent a night amongst the women who frequent our Women's Shelter in the East End of London.

Dressing in rags, she went to the door, paid her pence for a bed, passed into the long dormitory and, flattering herself that she was so well got up that she would not attract attention, sat down beside her bunk. But soon she discovered that she was the centre of discussion.

'Poor thing, she's not used to this,' mumbled an old woman, steadily surveying her. Presently another, remarking that she would need some supper, offered her a mug of tea; another, a piece of bread. She accepted the bread, but said she was not thirsty, only tired, and would go to bed. She proceeded to lie down with her clothes on. Now the women were sure she had never been there before. 'Oo ever 'eard tell of agoing to bed wif close on?' they remarked in loud whispers. But seeing the poor, tired thing would not be advised, they pitied her, told her the most comfortable way to lie, and left her alone.

The details of that long night remained clear in the Adjutant's memory. The miserable seared days of these women were echoed in their sleep. Groans; curses; snatches of song; angry or weary talk, with heavy breathing troubled the night. Oh, the sorrows that follow in the wake of sin; it pressed upon Kate Lee's heart until it felt like breaking.

With the first streak of dawn she rose, and noiselessly stealing out, escaped into the street. She felt cold and sick. Standing at a corner, she hailed a bus. The driver gave her a glance and drove on. She hailed another and another, but none would stop. They did not want to carry such as she. At last she managed to board a street car, and the passengers eyed her as she crouched in a corner. She knew, perhaps for the first time, what it really meant to be poor, and hungry, and despised. From that morning she believed that the very poor suffer more in spirit than in body, and she used her experience powerfully to plead their cause.

One of her furloughs was spent in Sunderland. That visit is still the talk of the corps; it seemed that in those few days she laid a hand of love upon all. And how full was Kate's heart of grateful joy when she turned homeward. One of her most wonderful trophies, after fighting a splendid fight for years, had slipped back into the depths of sin. She found him desperately ill and wretched; drew him back to the Saviour; saw him restored and comforted, and held his hands as he waded the river of death, till his spirit reached the other side. Then she buried his mortal remains.

Her longer furloughs, those occasioned by illness, found her the same loving, watchful, ministering spirit, as when in health. After the operation, which followed her farewell from the field, she spent a few days in hospital. Suffering much, and unable to sleep, still she noticed that one of the nurses wore a sad expression. Waiting until she came to attend to her at midnight, she engaged her in conversation, and, spiritual specialist that she was, got to the root of the nurse's trouble. She had lost faith and her life was sadly clouded. At midnight. while others slept, in that palace of pain, Kate led her nurse to the Saviour.

Later, at the Officers Nursing Home at Highbury, London, she shared a room with an officer from India, and delighted in this unexpected way to come in closer touch with our missionary work. As health returned, the two officers talked India to their hearts' content. The major from the East confided her fears, that the little girls of the Industrial Home she had just left would miss their Christmas this year. 'Do not worry about it, they shall have their dollies,' replied the Adjutant. As soon as she was able to write, she sent letters to many friends, begging for dressed dolls in time to reach India by Christmas. Fifty dollies take some getting, and the number was still incomplete when the Adjutant arrived at the Bexhill Home of Rest. An officer who was resting in the Home writes:—

She was just a shadow, sweet, mostly silent, with a cheerful, heartening smile. The officers saw in her the visible proof that unrestrained service pays; that God gives good recompense for all that is done for Him. The Adjutant's quiet enthusiasm roped in ready assistance, and in good time, the dollies, beautifully dressed and packed, with additional tiny surprises were ready. She could well have been excused from such spending of time and effort, but it never dawned on Kate Lee that she needed to be excused. She gave all the time without effort, without knowing that she gave; to her it was just life. To those officer-comrades who assisted her, however, she was all gratitude. It was so splendid, she said, that they, being weary, should volunteer to do this sewing for the little Indian girls. She only saw their work, she never glimpsed her own, so utterly unselfish was her spirit.

The Adjutant had hoped that her retirement from the battle's front might only be for a short time; but the nasal trouble was deep-seated, and her general health was atfected. She needed a course of surgical treatment, and it was arranged for her to rest in London.

Her experience somewhat resembled that of the apostle Philip, when he was caught up from the joys of a revival and set down in a desert. It was an experience difficult to understand, for her to retire, sick and wounded, to the rear, when there was so much to be done at the front of the battle, so much that she might do. But we have seen how she had fought the battle out, and she entered 'the desert,' her heart at peace with God, ready to accept any small opportunities for service that might come her way.

She was too frail to attend meetings, but she took up her pen, and having leisure for the first time in her Army career, revelled in the opportunity of writing for our periodicals. Each paper received helpful contributions. In a brief article which appeared anonymously in 'The Young Soldier' we catch a glimpse of her happy spirit at this time:—

Sometimes I go to visit men who are in jail, and try to make them see that Jesus cares for them though they have done wrong. Then they talk to me. Some have told me about the mice in their cells. When they feel lonely, the prisoners are glad to have the company of even a little mouse. I am a prisoner just now, although I am not made to stay in a cell; but when an Army officer is shut away from all the poor people she loves and wants to help, it seems very much like being in a prison; but I have some little friends who come to cheer me. At least, I think they look upon me as their friend, for they come to my window and peep in at me so knowingly. Then I open the window very gently and they wait until I put some scraps from my plate on the sill, and then they have such a feast.

One of my little sparrow friends is partly blind. He only seems able to see out of one eye. I guess he has been in some fight and got the worst of it. It seems very bad for a bird to fight and have to suffer; but then he did not know any better, and perhaps he was fighting an enemy bird who tried to hurt his family. One day, when I was watching my sparrow friends on the sill, to my surprise I saw a little mouse pop out of the ivy which hangs round my window. Very quickly he picked up a piece of fat that I had put there for the sparrows, and then ran off so fast; and, what do you think? he brought another little mouse with him. Now they come along about the same time each evening, just when the birds are having their supper. I know that mice like to sip milk, and once I dropped just a little milk on the window-sill for them. Oh, how they enjoyed it! You would have laughed to see what they did after that; they sat up, and rubbing their wet hands together, made what looked like a soapy lather, and washed their faces.

Some small children make a fuss if only their lips are washed after a meal; they do not seem to care how sticky they are; but my mice do, they like to be clean and tidy. God's tiny creatures teach us many lessons, and if you little ones are wise you will try, as great King Solomon advised, to learn something from them all.

The daughter of the house in which Kate Lee had taken rooms, attracted her. Commandant Lucy Lee lent the girl the two volumes of 'Catherine Booth: the Life of The Army Mother,' which she read with delight. In the loving, eager spirit of this school girl, Ina, Kate detected something which reminded her of her own early longings. All her spiritual mother- love went out to Ina, and she led her into the Kingdom of God, and then step by step along the way of the Cross and the highway of holiness.

It was some time before permission was gained for the new convert to become a Salvationist, but gradually the parents began to recognize the beauty of a life wholly yielded to God, and became willing for their daughter to go Kate Lee's way, and all the way. Kate did not make things easy for this new recruit. When she saw the spiritual light burning brightly in her soul, and the heavenly vision leading Ina to visit the saloons, she encouraged her, and frail though she herself was, she introduced her to the best way of doing this work. An anonymous article written to 'The Warrior' shows how this corps cadet learned to fight:—