made it impossible for us to get a large congregation, especially
in warm weather."

"But why don't you get a better place?"

"Well, there is nothing in the town large enough to let, and as for
building--any site that would be of use would cost a pile of money, and
we have no hope of raising any large sum here."

"Why? Have you no rich friends?"

"There are a few very rich men here. I was seeing one of them myself
only last month when we wanted to get some new instruments for our Band.
But what do you think he said to me?

"'Why,' said he, 'I have more than enough to do to keep up my own
church. We have got to rebuild it, and it will cost us L30,000.'"

"There is not a mill-owner in the place who does not want to get
Salvationist workpeople, even to the boys of our Soldiers, because they
know they can depend on them. But to help us to get a Hall! Ah! 'that is
not in their line.'"

Therefore, the Treasurer and every Officer must go on week after week,
with the miserable beg, beg, beg, which afflicts them, perhaps, even
more than the most critical listener. And then our great work must
suffer both for want of the needed plant to carry it on, and from the
appearance of too much begging, which, in so many instances, has
undoubtedly hindered our gathering in the very people we most wished to
help.

What stories of self-denial, not one week in the year more than another,
any such Treasurer could tell! How Officers managed to rear a healthy
and promising family upon less than a pound a week: how The General's
own granddaughters "made six shillings a week do" for their personal
support, for months, because their Corps could not afford more: how the
Sergeant-Major's wife did her washing during the night "before
Self-Denial Week came on," so as to be able to stand all day long
outside the station, in the cold, collecting: how widow Weak "keeps up
her cartridges"; that is to say, goes on giving the Corps a regular
subscription of sixpence a week since her husband's death, as before,
"lest the Corps should go down."

Lately they took me to see a German widow, now suffering in a hospital,
who when her whole weekly cash earnings outside only totalled two
shillings a week, invariably "put in her cartridge" two pfennigs, say a
farthing. No. I gave her nothing, nor did anybody else in my presence,
as her needs are now attended to; and I am sure she would rather keep up
the fact of never having received anything from, but alw