Catherine Booth

o

of its object; sometimes even with forgetfulne

Booth's character, as given by

compassion. Oh, how she loved, how she pitied the suffering poor!

ople? Even grace seems to fail to do so in many instances.

jury, and ready to sacrifice her life for those she loved. This spirit grew with her. She could not help caring and struggling to help all who needed her. The General often told her

people were jeering and mocking at the poor friendless wretch. Instantly Katie's pity and love fired up. She dashed across the street,

she went. She loved the poor. 'With all their faults,' she said,

nd overlook many mistakes; but with cold, narrow, '

only give money or pity, but she–so to speak–rolle

rself relieved it as best she could; and to the last, if she saw a horse or any creature being ill-treated

very living thing that suffered had a claim upon her, and t

s never weary of scheming and planning how

aid, when but a girl of twelve, 'I mus

. Long, long before Slum Sisters were ever thought of, Mrs. Booth did their work herself, just b

ally, noticing my eye fall upon the scanty meal, "and my mon, he'd do owt for me he could, bless'm–he couldna git me iny bootter, so he fitcht me this bit o' lard. Have you iver tried lard isted o' bootter? It's rare good!" said the poor creature, making me wish I had taken lard for "bootter" all my life, that I might have been t

ighted in this house-to-house visiting, and went especially

her time. I used to ask one drunkard's wife where another lived. They always knew. After getting hold of eight or ten in this way, and getting them to sign the pledge, I used t

nd cared for the drunkards long befo

nd cruel way in which young girls are trapped and drawn into sin,

rote. 'Almost everybody, notwithstanding the indignation, seems so content with talking. Nobody appears

more intense. 'If we only realized, as we ought, the value of souls, we should not live long under it,' she said; and she herself realized it fully en

to town, care-worn, weary, often quite unfit to me

g-table, when she should have been resting, trying to help those who

and chained her to her knees, weeping and pleading, agonizing

with the handcuffs on. Find him. Go to Lancaster Jail; let somebody go with you, and find that man. Tell him that your mother, when she was dying, prayed for him, and that s

man, and heard the cry, 'Won't you help us?' The old love for perishing souls woke again directly, and she cried, 'Oh, yes, Lord, I will go an

tion for a Salvationist on his death-bed is to have been a soul-winner. After all my labours I feel I have come f

s she was speaking, and she called her to her bedside, giving her warning

ou have been here, because you have worked out of sight with a good will, and I think you will make a brave Officer. You will prom

th such, do not hide it from Headquarters, but let them know about it, and they will soon move the false away from you. I shan't be here; b

han when fighting its battles. And The Army needed some one to stand up for it in those days. We who liv

does a great deal of good'; but then it was different, and again and again, bo

Army for all their money. But I did not say a word that I would object to have published upon the housetops. Such, however, is often the spirit of the rich. They

and always wore her own, rejoicing to be able to give to our peopl

y-opened Corps, or to parties of Officers going abroad; and when, shortly before she passed away, s

al, 'the Colours are ov

with her left hand, and trac

; that is just what my life has

d and Fire and Victor

. 'I won't give in. Next time I see them I

r her great mother's heart to unloose itself from those she loved, a

you will also have to suffer, and her v

roots all round the world clutching on to one and another, and that it will not let them go! And yet You can take care of the

to her prayer, 'And give us that same heart an