The Angel Adjutant of Twice Born Men""

ngel A

ls, than he was with the miracle of their conversion. Throughout the book we catch glimpses of Kate Lee-her loveliness of character, her guileless wisdom, and her strength of purpose-as Mr. Begbie saw her. Vividly describing Shepherd's Bush, the locality in which the Norland Castle corps operates, Mr. Begbie pictures the incessant, ro

aying cricket, cherry-bobs, hopscotch, hoops, and cards, and sudde

houses themselves. Dear God, the very houses seem accursed! The bricks are crusted, and in a dull fashion shiny with grime; the doors, window-frames, and railings are dark with dirt only disturbed by fresh accretions; the flights of steps leading up to the front

men are thieves, begging-letter writers, pickpockets, bookmakers' touts, totters (rag and bone men), and trouncers (men paid by costermongers to shout their

-tailed slovenliness incomparably horrible; and if you could hear their appalling language loading their hoarse voices, and from their phrases receive into your mind some im

aces, there was every expression of ... underhand craft, but they looked and low

houses. Some–can it be believed?–are decently clothed and look as if they are sometimes washed.... The mass of these children, above five or six years of age, are terribly neglected. I have never see

ghbourhood. The rooms of the houses are so crowded

ow introduce

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 t

an asked her if he might travel by her side. After going some way the man said, 'No, you aren't afraid,'

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 li

en 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,' weepin

ferring to the 'Twice Born Men' characters. None the less truly did he get Kate Lee's photograph on paper, and sent

the twenty-seventh, and its English circulation has reached over a quarter of a million copies. It has had, lik

ology, the theologian, the prize-fighter, Christian mother, the school-boy, in common interest

hus discovered to the world, wherever she went she was received with honour. Churches besieged her with in

onnexion 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

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 o

ofessing 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

he people pondered straighter and more personal questi

Kate Lee loved to be unknown, and how she would screen herself fr

e 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.

Lee's death, Harold Begbie penned t

death of Kate Lee at this moment

n, 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

ruly 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

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 t

d 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 anyth

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

men and women will be better because in her lifetime she made other people good who were bad, hap

e 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

he love of God, so shining with love of hum

y published her photograph and told of how she sought the lost. In the saloons around London the topic of conversation was the loveliness o

the story of her love and devotion to her Saviour and the sinful, and mothers

reverent spectators and carried to the grave by men once deep-dyed

life of toil and struggle, and died penniless. Why? Because the human heart, despite its crookedness