paralleled services that followed. More than forty thousand people
visited the Congress Hall, Clapton, to look upon her remains there, and
to pray and give themselves to God in many cases, whilst her favourite
hymns were sung by bands of Cadets. The coffin was then removed to the
Olympia, the largest covered building we could hire in London, and
30,000 persons passed the turnstiles to attend the funeral service,
conducted mostly by signs, according to a printed programme.

The next day, the funeral march was restricted to Officers of whom 3,000
were present; but the crowds which looked on as it passed right through
from our Headquarters in the City to the Abney Park Cemetery were beyond
all computation. A crowd of 10,000, admitted by ticket, surrounded the
grave, where The General spoke, as one newspaper reported, "as a
Soldier, who had disciplined his emotion without effort, and straight
from the heart." Of his wonderful address, we have only room to quote
the final words:--

"What, then, is there left for me to do? Not to count the weeks,
the days, and the hours which shall bring me again into her sweet
company, seeing that I know not what will be on the morrow, nor
what an hour may bring forth. My work is plainly to fill up the
weeks, the days, and the hours, and cheer my poor heart as I go
along, with the thought that when I have served my Christ and my
generation, according to the will of God, which I vow this
afternoon I will, to the last drop of my blood, that then she will
bid me welcome to the skies, as He bade her. God bless you all!
Amen."

And then he knelt and kissed the coffin, and we lowered it into the
grave. The Chief of the Staff read a form of Covenant, which thousands
repeated, and then we parted.

From that very day The General rose up and went forward, sorrowing, as
every one could see, to his last days over his irreparable loss, but
never allowing his grief to hinder his labours for those who, amidst
their afflictions have no heavenly Comforter.

A still further blow was to fall upon him, only three years later. Mrs.
Booth had delighted, especially during her years of suffering, in the
fellowship of her second daughter, Emma, who had been married to
Commissioner Tucker, in 1890, and who had always seemed to The General
to be the nearest representative, in many respects, of her mother. He
had gladly given her up to go with her husband to India,