Tuesday evening the Canadian
preachers announced that their next day services would be held at the
People's Palace, in the East End. But I fancy that, among the packed
thousands who attended _The Citizens'_ first public meeting at the
Albert Hall on Wednesday afternoon, many came under the impression that
they were to hear the Canadian preachers.

The man of all others in England most fitted for the office, presided
over that first meeting, in full review uniform, and wearing the sword
which had been returned to him by General Baron von Fuechter, after the
historic surrender at the Mansion House on Black Saturday. The great
little Field Marshal rose at three o'clock and stood for full five
minutes, waiting for the tempest of cheering which greeted him to
subside, before he could introduce John Crondall to that huge audience.
Even when the Field Marshal began to speak he could not obtain complete
silence. As one burst of cheering rumbled to its close, another would
rise from the hall's far side like approaching thunder, swelling as it
came.

It seemed the London public was trying to make up to its erstwhile hero
for its long neglect of his brave endeavours to warn them against the
evils which had actually befallen. At last, not to waste more time, the
little Field Marshal drew his sword, and waved it above his head till a
penetrant ray of afternoon sunlight caught and transformed the blade
into a streak of living flame.

"There is a stain on it!" he shouted, shaking the blade. "It belongs to
you--to England--and there's a stain on it; got on Black Saturday. Now
silence, for the man who's for wiping out all stains. Silence!"

It was long since the little man had delivered himself of such a roar,
as that last "Silence!" There were one or two Indian veterans in the
hall who remembered the note. It had its effect, and John Crondall
stood, presently, before an entirely silent and eagerly expectant
multitude, when he began his explanation of the ends and aims of _The
Citizens_. I remember he began by saying:

"I cannot pretend to be a Canadian preacher--I wish I could." And here
there was another demonstration of cheering. One realized that afternoon
that the Canadians had lighted a fire in London that would not easily
be put out. "No, I am a native of your own London," said Crondall; "but
I admit to having learned most of the little I know in Canada, South
Africa, India, and Australia. And if there is one thing I have le