Mary Murray O.B.E.

Mary Murray was in the front line when but a few weeks old, and an evacuee before the word was invented. One evening, at an Indian hill station, she had been bathed and was lying in the arms of her ayah, when a soldier burst into the room with the news that tribesmen were surrounding the lonely post. He snatched up the baby, and with the ayah ran the child to a refuge in the hills.

For a month wee Mary was hidden there, tended and guarded by her two devoted servants, a British Tommy and an Indian nurse, first of many hundreds of men and women whose devotion was to be won by this daughter of the regiment!

For generations there had been warriors in her family. Her mother was a Malcolm ; her father became General Sir John Murray, K.C.B. When, during the Indian Mutiny, a group of Indians came. to Sir John with their picks and spades and said, ' If you will lead us, we will fight for the British,' he formed what was known for some years as ' Murray's Jhat Horse' and later became a well-known Bengal regiment. A great-uncle, who was Admiral of the Fleet, is buried in St. Paul's Cathedral, and one forebear was appointed Napoleon's guardian at St. Helena. Such was Mary Murray's heritage!

During those days of the Mutiny, when grave and imminent danger threatened one fort, all women and children were ordered to evacuate. As they left, Mary's mother noticed that their departure lowered the morale of the troops; so without hesitation she gathered her children around her and turned back to the fort. Her courage and cheerfulness brought new life to the tired soldiers.

Mary was born some years after these stirring events, but grew up in the cantonment, well used to military life. In her teens she spent some time in Belgium, where her schooling was continued, returning to India a tall, handsome girl. Her father decided that she must learn to ride. With some trepidation she mounted a horse, but the animal bolted and her friends, watching helplessly, expected disaster. Mary, however, held on and regained control of the frightened animal Soon she was riding with her father at the head of his regiment on military parades.

At the age of seventeen Mary Murray first awakened to spiritual things. One day in church, unable to hear the sermon, she  amused  herself by reading the vows she had taken at her Confirmation. She might never have seen them before! Startled at the bonds she appeared to have embraced, she walked out of the building.

The following day the chaplain called to ask whether she had been taken ill, as she had left the church so abruptly. 'No !' she replied, handing him her prayer book. 'I was reading this, and as I have no intention of giving up the world and all its pomps and vanities, I have made up my mind to act no more lies. Some day, if I find that there is a personal God, not merely a First Cause, I will serve Him. Until then, I've finished with church!'

In vain the chaplain tried to persuade her. For eight years she refused to attend a church service and checked every desire to pray; to pray, she felt, would be dishonest and superstitious.

Mary Murray's favourite hobby was painting. Later in life, when burdened with much responsibility, she found relaxation with her brush and easel. She was, too, a most popular member of her fashionable circle, a graceful dancer who had many admirers. Two of these, when she returned to England, travelled on the same ship, so anxious were they to win her affections. Both were disappointed. Perhaps already in those early days, though a rebel against religion, she had some intuition that a great work lay ahead of her.

Soon after Mary's arrival in England she came across a group of people at a street corner, listen. ing to a man who was telling how he had been a slave to alcohol, having sold his children's shoes and the blankets from their beds to get more drink.

'But now I have given my heart to God,' he added, 'my children are well clothed and I have a home of my own.'

Mary Murray was galvanized into action. She pushed through the crowd to ask the astonished man what was his name and where he worked.

The following day she appeared in the office of a cement works, where a shrewd-looking business man courteously asked what he could do for her. A pretty young lady was an unusual caller. More unusual was her request:

'I am anxious to ask you about a man who is making extraordinary statements at the street- corners. He says that he was a drunkard who used to sell the shoes from his children's feet and the blankets from their beds to buy drink, and that he was dismissed by you. Now, he says, he is saved and has a good home, and you have taken him on again. Is this true?'

'Well — ahem — madam,' replied the proprietor, uncomfortably, 'I don't usually discuss the affairs of my employees. But actually I did dismiss the man you have heard, and he is taken on again. He was a bad lot, but he has done well since he joined The Salvation Army.'

'But what has done it?' Mary persisted.

'I'm sorry I can't help you there, madam,' the manager replied.'I don't know'.

'But we ought to find out,' cried the girl, 'for a power like that would alter the whole world'

Mary did not find out that day. Her life, in fact, seemed to go on much as usual. Shopping, dancing, theatres and her art filled her days. But all the time she was pondering over the power that had changed the drunkard.

While walking home one day, she prayed: 'God, if You are real, do for me what You have done for that man.' No heavenly vision came to her, but from that hour she knew the power of God to be a living force in her life. Mary Murray had found in Jesus Christ all that her young heart craved, a Saviour, a Guide, a Counsellor, and a Friend.

Two weeks later she went to her first Salvation Army Meeting. She was interested but not impressed. At the close the Captain asked her whether she was converted.

'Yes,' was the answer.

'Then why didn't you give your testimony? asked the Captain.

'Oh, no! I couldn't do that,' Mary replied in dismay.

All the rest of the day she thought over the Captain's words, but she felt that she would rather lose all the peace of heart she had found than speak in public.

During the night she awoke and it seemed to her as if God had hidden Himself from her. When she rose in the morning, she put her very new Bible away and began again a life of gaiety, accepting many invitations from her old friends. A sigh of relief went round the family.

But a week later, when friends were dining at her home, towards the close of the meal Mary suddenly got up and, muttering some excuse, dashed to her room, to seize an evening cloak and hurry out to find The Salvation Army.

As she entered the Hall, she was struck by the sordid appearance of the building, the badly painted walls, the battered seats. But a woman was speaking of what God had done for her, and as soon as she sat down Mary Murray was on her feet. All eyes gazed at her expensive cloak and evening dress, and her bare head. But she was beyond caring, and spoke of the work of God in her heart. As soon as she was finished she sped out of the Hall.

Slowly Mary began to realize that it was God's will that she should become a Salvationist. Her natural feelings strove against the idea; she dreaded the publicity, and the attitude of her friends. But her logical mind insisted. In The Salvation Army she had heard men and women speak of the power which she had found in God. She had seen bad men made good, sad hearts gladdened, God becoming real to folk. God had spoken to her through a Salvationist. She must enlist!

She asked a policeman where was The Salvation Army's recruiting office, and was directed to where the Officers lived. A few weeks later Mary went to Headquarters for an interview. In the small room she entered sat a country lad who also wished to become a Salvation Army Officer. He asked whether she, too, wanted to be an Officer.

'I'm sure I don't know,' she replied. I want to work, that's all.'

'Well, you had better buy one of these,' he said, affectionately patting a concertina. They won't take you unless you can play something!

Mary Murray's heart sank, and when she was told she must see Mrs. Bramwell Booth, she sadly wondered whether this was because she had no concertina!

Mrs. Booth, during the interview, expressed her fear that Mary was too delicate for the work. 'But come on trial,' she said.

The applicant promised to start on the following Monday.

'Well, have you been accepted this time?' her people asked when she returned home.

'No,' she replied reluctantly. 'I am to go up on approval.' Whereupon a chorus broke out: 'What utter folly! What madness to go when you are not even wanted!'

On the Monday morning, in heavy rain, Mary Murray set out for Hackney. So ignorant was she of the East side of London that, to use her own words, she might have been going to Siberia!

The Women's Social Headquarters in Mare Street, Hackney, was a dreary looking house. Vigorous knocking brought to the door a young girl, who exclaimed, 'We can't take in any more cases to-day!'

But Mary Murray quickly pushed her box, which a man had carried for her, into the doorway, and followed it.

'Why have you come?' asked the guardian of the door.

'I was told to come,' was the reply.

'Who are you?'

At the moment,' Mary declared, 'I am goods on approval!'

After this the girl shot down the staircase, whispering hoarsely through the banisters, ,Stay where you are!'

Mary was wet, hungry and already homesick Why had she come? Why stay where evidently she was not wanted? Then her hand closed over a small framed text a poor Salvationist friend had given her. She recalled that it said 'Walk in the Light of the Lord.'

The street door opened and a file of young women, in Training for Social Work, entered. Their leader, seeing Mary, apologized for having forgotten that she was coming and welcomed her. And so Mary Murray, daughter of the British Army, joined the Army of Salvation.

Her Training days were hard. She had never soiled her hands with rough work, now she had to scrub as well as pray.

She visited the poor, marched the streets or stood in the open air, preaching the Gospel, in all kinds of weather which more than once made her long for India's sunshine and warmth.

By and by Captain Mary Murray was appointed to Midnight Work' in Piccadilly, where she and other Officers patrolled the streets between eleven p.m. and two in the morning, getting to know the girls who were in need of help.

On one occasion she tried to lead a girl away from a man whose evil face, seen under the fitful glare of the gas lamps, Made her shrink with horror. As the Captain pleaded, he swore, and tried to drag the girl off. When Mary laid her hand on the girl's arm, the poor prodigal burst into tears and promised to go with her rescuer. Seeing that he was losing his prey, the man leaped in fury upon the Salvationist and struck her in the eye. From the effects of that blow Mary Murray never recovered; long afterward the eye had to be removed, and in the latter years of her life she was almost blind.

All this, however, was but preparation for Mary Murray's life work. The Naval and Military League of The Salvation Army was in its infancy. Soldiers and sailors were getting converted. Who better fitted to serve their interests than Mary Murray, who, Adjutant in The Salvation Army, in 1899 was appointed Assistant Secretary of the League.

When the Boer War broke out and troops were hurried to South Africa, General Booth despatched Adjutant Murray to Cape Town to discover what could be done by his Army for the troops at the front, what part a woman could play in such a work, how to conduct the work in an efficient and economical manner.

This was the beginning of the vast activities now carried on under the sign of the Red Shield in many parts of the world.

Mary Murray's party consisted of ten Salvationists, who set out in pairs to follow the fortunes of different regiments. They held official passes entitling them to draw rations and move with the troops. They were to assist the sick and wounded and look after the spiritual welfare of the men.

Mary Murray and her helper, Elizabeth Hurley, pressed on into Natal. They spent many days within sound of the guns at Ladysmith, writing to relatives about or on behalf of servicemen, visiting hospitals and camps, and at night supplying hot cocoa to sentries. The men soon learned to know and appreciate them.

One night, when it was raining in torrents and pitch dark, Mary Murray and her companion set out over the lonely veldt with a large jug of cocoa and a lantern. When they reached the bank of a shallow but swollen stream the lantern went out.

They knew that somewhere in front of them was a sentry, with orders to shoot. The stream was at their feet, and the precious cocoa had still to be delivered.

'Picket! Picket!, called Mary, hopefully. 'You don't expect him to reply, do you?' asked her practical companion as, seizing the cocoa, she stepped into the stream. Mary Murray followed, and when they reached the further bank a voice shouted, 'Halt! Who goes there?'

'Hot cocoa!' answered Hurley.

The password was accepted. In a few minutes cold, rain-soaked men were filling their mugs with hot cocoa.

Later in the campaign a marquee arrived for the Salvationists, who flew over it a banner inscribed : The Salvation Army Soldiers' Home. It had not been put up an hour before a row of sleeping men was stretched across the floor, men who had been uncomfortably cramped in their bell tents. Others were writing at the solitary table or enjoying the rare luxury of sitting in a chair!

Only three dozen chairs were available, and there was much amusing competition who should use them. The fortunate ones carried their chairs while buying their tea, lest some one else should appropriate them!

Day after day the tent was filled with men. They read, wrote, obtained refreshments, or just slept. At half-past seven each evening Mary Murray would rap gently on the table, which meant: 'Pipes out! Caps off. Take your seats on the floor. Get ready for the Meeting.

The men were very ready to obey, but often the crowd was so great that even the Salvationist leader had barely room to stand. She conducted many a Meeting with one arm round the tent pole, to keep her upright in the crush! The average nightly attendance was over 500. On the still night air the old hymns rang out from this great choir. And it was no uncommon sight to see a row of men kneeling in front of their com- rades giving themselves to God.

When the Last Post sounded, 'Good-nights' were said, and the tent emptied.

A remarkable understanding sprang up between the troops and this general's daughter. They were not afraid to put her to the test. Once she announced that she would hold special Meetings once a week, in a small bell tent, only for those who were trying to live a Christian life. Eight men arrived for the Meeting, but when they started to pray, strange noises disturbed the company. Adjutant Murray opened her eyes, to see men's heads appearing close to the ground all round the walls of the tent. Her evening congregation had decided that they would not be shut out, though they could not come by the ' front door ' as Christians.' It was her first and last attempt at Meetings for `Christians only'.

Mary Murray and her tents moved with the troops. She worked under shell- fire. She was always finding new ways of service.

When among a new company of men notices were distributed that Meetings would be held nightly in the Salvation Army tent ; for several evenings no one appeared, then one man came. A congregation of one is not very inspiring, but the Officers held a Meeting with him.

The next night again there was only one man a different one. This happened for several evenings, there was never more than one in the congregation but always a new face ! And each evening the Meeting was held.

One morning two corporals approached shyly. 'We have come to apologize,' said one.

'What for?' asked Mary Murray.

'Well, you see,' they said, 'we have been finding out what you both were like. Now we're all coming to the Meetings.' The one man congregations had been sent as scouts.

It was never easy to get Mary to talk about her work, but when, later, she told this story, she said, 'Had we considered it not worth our while to do our best for one man, what disappointments would have awaited us! As it was, our little "Hall" thenceforward was packed nightly.'

As the weather grew colder, porridge was supplied at 6 a.m. It became as popular as the Meetings. Officers and men used to look in for it each morning.

The bell tent in which the two women-Officers lived was always pitched some distance from the marquee in which they worked. When the last 'Good-nights' were said, they would light their lanterns and start on their journey home. A bell tent is not an easy thing to manage, and often when they arrived 'home' at the end of the day, they would find that every cord had tightened to board like stiffness, and the only way in was by crawling underneath. Or they found their canvas beds full of water; or a dust storm had arisen and their few belongings were decorating the veldt.

Sometimes, just when they had made themselves comfortable in one place, and cow-dunged the floor of their tent, they would hear that camp was being struck, and so on they moved again. Their tent might have to be pitched in long grass, and before they could sleep the two women would kneel on the ground and try to reduce the vegetation with table knives!

Washing day was a problem. Sometimes a Kaffir was secured to wash the clothes at the river ; sometimes they had to manage themselves. But the great difficulty was the ironing. They had to manage without an iron, and yet look smart!

Mary was a General's daughter, and she was never beaten. Each article was folded, damped and tied in a blanket ; then the bundle was laid in the doorway so that every one who entered had to walk on it. Thus was the ironing done. They even had supplementary devices, such as slipping a bundle of handkerchiefs on the chair of a corpulent visitor!

After the relief of Ladysmith the two women Officers moved, on again with the troops. Challenged, as they boarded a troop train, with: 'Passes all right?' they had no need to answer, for a soldier cried, 'Of course, the Sisters go everywhere!'

One night, as they were preparing to sleep, a message reached them from the Commanding Officer. 'There are two men out on the veldt about four miles back. I want you to bury them.'

Summoning a burial party, they started off on the long lonely walk through rugged, hilly country. The only sound they could hear was the ring of the picks as the men dug the grave. In the darkness Mary prayed and read the committal service over two of the thousands of her comrades, the soldiers.

She was always looking for opportunities. One day, hurrying home to her tent, she noticed a soldier looking depressed and lonely. She was very tired, but stopped to ask, 'Can I do anything for you? To-morrow is mail day, perhaps I can post a letter for you in the village?'

'No, thanks,' was the reply, 'I never write home. We fell out years ago.'

So Mary Murray sat on a bank and talked to the man, who finished by writing something on a slip of paper torn from her notebook, which he asked her to post. The incident was forgotten until twenty years later, when during the Great War a reservist made inquiries regarding her. 'If you see her,' he said, 'tell her that letter reconciled us.'

In due course Mary Murray followed the troops over the border into the Transvaal. Volksrust was but a handful of houses on the veldt, a stone railway station and a tiny church and chapel. All around them were trenches and soldiers, though the Dutch inhabitants were carrying on as usual, children playing, biltong hinging from the rafters, and women baking in the open with their Dutch Ovens.

Here Mary secured the use of a tiny corrugated iron house, which a military officer christened Salvation Cottage. Every night Meetings were held, and in a few days the little room was packed. After one particularly big jam,' Mary asked one of the soldiers if he had enjoyed the service. 'Yes, Sister, very much,' was the reply, 'But I have been sitting on nothing !' As late arrivals pushed in he had been squeezed further and further, till he had completely lost his foundation!

Night after night men were found seeking Christ. Even here Tommy's sense of fun would out. Some of the tents took to flying flags of truce ; they had surrendered to the Sisters! Others posted sentries warning their mates: Booth's guns were about to open fire!'

Veldt campaigning over, Mary Murray returned to the Old Country, where she was placed in charge of The Salvation Army's Naval and Military Work. All her thoughts and energy were put into the building up of this. In seaports and military towns Homes for servicemen were opened.

When the Great War began, the activities of the Naval and Military League were multiplied. Its leaders, Mary Murray, who had come to The Salvation Army in evening dress, and Martha Chippendale,  who had come in clogs and shawl, were beloved of all the servicemen. In many parts of the world they read letters sent to them by their 'Colonel' Mary Murray, reflecting a sturdy religion worthy of a soldier's daughter right through. She imparted this sturdiness to the servicemen, and saved many from yielding to temptation. Soldiers' wives found their way to her office, and her bright presence and understanding mind did much to lighten the burden of those dark days. Her whimsical humour, too, often saved a difficult situation.

In August, 1914, Mary Murray crossed to Belgium and actually watched the Germans marching into Brussels. She was able to leave, however, and return to England. The Salvation Army's work with the expeditionary force was organized by other Officers. She herself was always struggling with weakness of the body. Heart attacks would seize her, but she refused to give in. The thought of death had no terrors for her. When one day she heard of the passing of a comrade who had suffered much, her face lit up as she said, 'I'm so glad, so glad! How happy she must be now!' Heaven was very near and dear to Mary Murray.

To the end of her life, though retired from 'active service', she went on with her work for others. When she could not see to write, a friend wrote her letters for her. Wherever need was, there was she—to help if possible.

In a little flat at Hurlingham, close to the river Thames, she spent her last years. During the Munich crisis, evacuation from London was suggested, she being over seventy and almost blind. But Lieut.-Colonel Murray refused to go. She would be needed, she declared, to look after soldiers!

Two months later, rifle shots rang out in a soldiers' salute, and the Last Post was sounded for her.

Perhaps she is still looking after soldiers. Who better fitted to stand on the other side and welcome her men as they answer the call, than Mary Murray, General's daughter and soldiers' friend?

Martha Chippendale M.B.E.

The grey-haired, red-tabbed general leaned back in his chair, a broad smile instead of the usual disciplinary frown on his face. Now there's a woman!' he chuckled.

The aide bent forward respectfully to catch his remark.

'I tell you my staff worries would be much fewer if only I had a Chippendale on this headquarters,' he went on.

The rest of the staff smiled a shade wanly. Another of the general's little jokes ! Of course, there was no denying that this Chippendale person was a goer. If all Salvation Army folk were like her, no wonder they got things done. Her combination of utter frankness and disarming tact were positively irresistible. Not that she played upon her femininity. Too much good sense for that. Her strong suit was that she knew her stuff and could put it over. That won her a respectful hearing everywhere.

Who then was this Chippendale for whom even the embattled War Office had lost its terrors?

In his 'Rough Islanders' H. W. Nevinson has described the bleak plateau ' which can be seen from the height of Undercliffe stretching away north-east beyond Otley toward Harrogate. Martha Chippendale's birthplace lies on this high round, about equally distant from both Leeds and Bradford. Sixty years ago Yeadon was an isolated townlet whose tall mill chimneys scattered smuts impartially upon the washing which hung below, according to the direction of the wind. The breezes which blew across from Ilkley Moor were pleasantly cool in summer, but, early on a dark winter's morning, they were anything but welcome—as Martha was soon to learn.

Her father worked in the mill, as did her brother, as had her mother before her. Custom and necessity dictated therefore that she should follow suit. Before she had reached her eleventh birthday, she was a half-timer — that is to say, one day at school, the next at the mill On mill mornings she started work at half - past five, and not even the shawl wound tightly about her shoulders, nor the trot into which she broke to get inside the gate before the buzzer sounded, could save her fingers from going so numb that she could hardly feel to piece together the broken threads as they showed amid the couple of hundred spinning bobbins she had to watch.

And woe betide the piecer who was not quick on the job! A box on the ears from the spinner was the usual way of smartening the wits. Nor were the morning hours alone in their almost inhuman demands. The power loom was merciless in its regularity. Mill machinery never grew tired. The last half-hour of the day demanded as much attention as the first—so that by six o'clock in the evening Martha's eyes and arms and legs were so weary with watching, mending and standing that she longed for nothing more than a good meal and the blessed oblivion of bed. Economists maintain that the living standards of the working class improved considerably during the last quarter of the nineteenth century. Martha's first weekly wage, however, was half a crown.

Life was uniformly drab for these mill girls. The men had their pigeon flying, whippet racing or rabbit coursing, but there were no organized recreations for their womenfolk. Playing fields, youth clubs, keep-fit classes were unknown. An occasional magic lantern in the chapel hall or a Saturday night's ' penny reading ' were the only alternatives to the public-house—the last refuge of the bored, the vicious and the idle. But not even this hard school of repetitive labour could quench Martha's desire to become a first class weaver. While still in her early teens, her alert and determined mind mastered the intricacies of the box-loom of that day, for which full time adult work she received fifteen shillings a week.

Into the dead level of this unexciting world came a detachment of The Salvation Army. Their primary colours made an instant appeal. Their Flag was yellow, red and blue ; their singing was bright and rhythmic ; their voices were free and full-throated ; their view of life was Scriptural and consequently simple. Man, destined for fellowship with God, was estranged from Him. There was, at the very centre of human personality, this fundamental disharmony. Intended to say 'yes' to his Creator, man took a perverse delight in saying ' no,' thus widening the gulf between himself and his God designed destiny. Through Jesus Christ, however, this shattered relationship could be restored. Man could be set on his feet with his face toward his true end. This was a theology which agreed with daily experience, and which working folk could therefore understand.

Mart, as she was known in the mill, had hitherto thought of religion as an affair of a particular day and place. In Yeadon, as in most parts of Victorian England,church going was largely a matter of sober faces and stiff Sunday clothes. The good were good and the bad were bad, and the one rarely crossed the line to mingle with the other. An elder in his blacks in the bar parlour was as rare a sight as a man in his corduroys in the pew. But in the musty theatre, the only public building of any size in the place, where Mart attended her first indoor Array Meeting, she saw men in work, stained overalls and women wearing their aprons and shawls. The proceedings were informal, yet not aimless; the speaking was colloquial, yet not irreverent. Plainly the followers of this new and lively expression of the Christian faith were not required to adopt a special tone or pose when addressing God or speaking about Him. The utter naturalness of these new-comers fascinated Mart. With them religion and life were one.

The first Salvationists who came to Yeadon had tramped over from a neighbouring town, intent on spreading 't' good news'. To begin with, meetings were held at irregular intervals, but more organized efforts were to follow. One autumn morning the mill hands, on their way to work, were surprised by outsize posters bearing the announcement:

MAJOR CADMAN WITH HIS HALLELUJAH SOLDIERS IS COMING TO FIRE RED-HOT SHOT AT THE DEVIL AND DRIVE HIM OUT OF THE TOWN.

The bill was typical of him who was to come. Elijah Cadman was a strong stocky man who had begun to work as a chimney-sweep before he was six years old, graduated as leader of a gang of corner boys known as the Rugby Roughs, but who, after conversion, offered his services to the Rev. William Booth, head of The Christian Mission, as The Salvation Army was then called.

At this particular time, Cadman had the whole of Yorkshire for his parish, and his attack on Yeadon was conducted with his usual native wit and abounding energy. As a result, a permanent hall was secured and Martha, despite her father's warnings, became a regular attender. Mr. Chippendale belonged to no place of worship himself, though his wife went to the chapel and his children to the Sunday school. That, in his opinion, was all that could be expected or even desired of any respectable family. The children were therefore gathered in the kitchen and grimly forbidden to have anything to do with so low down a lot as went to The Army.'

Martha tried to find some middle ground between obedience to her father and her own conscience by attending chapel in the early evening and then scuttering off to The Army where the Meeting began later. But this divided allegiance could not last for long. One evening she got saved, and the conversation and prayers which followed kept her till an unusually late hour.

Outside the front door her brother was waiting.

'Wherever have you been ?' he asked, She told him.

'You're for it, then. Father's waiting!' Chippendale senior was not a deliberately cruel man, but he had a smouldering temper which the family took care not to rouse. Mart had known him turn her and her mother into the street in one of his drunken rages. For one wild moment she thought she would pitch a yarn—any old yarn to save the situation. Then her head cleared and her nerve steadied. To his opening question she answered: 'I've been to The Army, father, and I got saved.'

'I'll have no Army here,' he retorted—and with that he fell on the girl and thrashed her so unmercifully that the following morning, when she left for work, one eye was still closed, her face was a study in colour, and her body had not ceased to ache from the weight of the blows which had been showered upon her.

The weaving shed was not the place to allow such an appearance to go unnoticed, and a pitiless stream of questions played upon the young girl. Mart went on working. She did not know ,how to defend herself, so took refuge in silence. Then came the thirty-minute breakfast break at half-past eight. Usually Martha never bothered to say any Grace-before-meat,' but this time she bent her discoloured face over her tea can. There was an amazed silence—and then more ribaldry.

'Mart's joined 'em all right.'

'What price Hallelujah Mart ?'

'And what a face to show for it!'

'Mart, dearie, who were you with last night?'

'Where's your poke bonnet, my love ?'

This raillery increased to such a pitch that Martha began to wonder whether she would be able to stick it out. But the six-o'clock buzzer sounded at last, and the girl hurried along the cobbled pavements to have a hasty tea so as to be back at the Army Hall in time for the evening Meeting. There, amid the fellowship of warmhearted comrades, she found the strength and solace she sorely needed.

Mart confounded all the self-appointed prophets in the mill by the growing strength of her new-found convictions. Her dress, her Army badge—most of all, her behaviour, showed that a real change had taken place in her life. As might be expected, she was eager to learn more about the Bible. Even Sunday-school attendance had left her woefully ignorant, and when she heard a text given out she hardly knew where to look for it. Of course, if it was a saying of Jesus, she understood she had only the Gospels to search; if a verse of a Psalm, only the Psalter. But beyond these slight clues, she was utterly at sea. She had never so much as heard of Cruden and his laboursaving concordance. So, in the attic by the fading light or, if night had fallen, by the gleam of a single candle, Martha had to go through her Bible verse by verse in search of a phrase or a sentence she might have heard quoted in the Meeting. ' Dogged does it ' had to be her motto.

Nor did her father ever abandon his bitter opposition to her going to The Army. Some mischief-maker aroused his wrath with a tale that his daughter had been seen singing in an Open-Air Meeting. When the girl reached home that night there was the look on his face which she had grown to dread. Again the question : ' Where have you been?' Again the inevitable answer: 'To The Army, father.' Mart turned to avoid him as he rose to his feet—but too late. A blow caught her with sickening force full on the cheekbone and sent her reeling down the steps which led to the wash-house. The next thing she knew was that her mother was bathing her injured face.

'Do stop going, Mart,' Mrs. Chippendale pleaded. 'You only upset your father.' But Martha grew only the more determined, and shortly after, by a strange providence, her father had a stroke which reduced him first to invalidism and then caused his death.

Meanwhile she had begun to cherish a secret ambition to become an Officer in The Salvation Army. From the first, women had held an equal place with men in the Movement. Many of The Army's most devoted and capable Officers and Soldiers have been, and are, women. The first Salvationist Martha had seen leading an Open Air was a woman. The first Captain at Yeadon was a woman and had made an ineffaceable impression on her young mind. The previous dream of being a top ranking weaver faded before this, new vision splendid.

Again there was opposition at home. The upward path was never smoothed in advance for Martha. Even to attend the Meetings had cost her black looks and beatings. To gain permission to wear the uniform had been a struggle. To help the work further by holding children's Meetings on Sundays and week-nights was looked upon with additional disfavour. But to leave home to become an Officer was the crowning folly. Girls left home, in Mrs. Chippendale's opinion, only to get married and set up a home of their own. Why on earth any child of hers should want to exchange a steady job at the mill for the uncertain mercies of an Army Officer's life passed her understanding!

Martha pleaded. 'Don't you see, mother, I must go if God is calling me.'

'Go then,' was Mrs. Chippendale's last word. 'Go, if you wish. But remember, if you do, you need not come back again.'

With that grudging consent in her ears, Martha had to say her good-byes. Her mill friends crowded round to see her off. Their sneers and scoffs had long since given place to a genuine respect and affection for one whose religion had made her the friend of every one in the shed in trouble. Many of the girls had steadied up under her influence. Quite a few had joined The Army. They were all sorry she was going. But there was no help for it. Martha was making that choice for herself which every adventurer for God has to make—whether his name be David Livingstone or Joan of Arc or Howard Somervell. He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me.' So it was farewell to the moorland air and the unsophisticated ways of Yeadon, and instead the raffish West End and pitiable East End of London in the 'naughty nineties.'

A period of training was followed by appointments at twenty-two Corps in the United Kingdom, at most of which Martha was in charge. This was no soft option. When in command of a centre of work of any size, Martha had to conduct (with another Officer helper) three if not four indoor Meetings each Sunday, attend three Open Airs, lead two, if not three, adult week night Meetings, supervise sundry children's Meetings on Sunday and again during the week, visit the congregation, inspire her own Soldiery, conduct their weddings and funerals, dedicate their children, beside being at the beck and call of every one in need in the neighbourhood. The cost of all this work had to be met, and the Commanding Officer was the person responsible for seeing it was met.

Martha could take it, however. Her willing heart and sturdy body were wedded to this work she loved, and, under God, she won many men and women to new and better ways of living. Her speech was always sensible and often racy ; her clear singing voice, though untrained, rarely failed to attract and hold a crowd, and more than once got her out of a tight corner.

One evening she and a helper had gone into a public-house to sell War Crys. The men in a small drinking bar at the end of a long passage locked the door and tried to make maudlin advances. Mart kept her head. Gentlemen, I am going to sing you a song ', and with that she turned to some verses printed on the back page of the paper she was selling. The men were silenced by the sweetness of her tones.

'Sing us another,' they cried.

'I will, on condition you unlock the door.' She kept her word, and they theirs.

As Ensign Chippendale, Martha was in the flood-tide of her work at Oldham when she was appointed to the Naval and Military League. At that time, the closing days of the Boer War, this section of The Salvation Army was in its infancy. A single canteen, a rest room and a hall seating not more than a hundred people were the sum total of our property in the garrison town of Aldershot. But Martha had faith in small beginnings. She never forgot how unpromising her own early days had been. The routine on Salisbury Plain was vastly different from anything she had known before, but human needs everywhere were basically the same. Martha gave herself to her new work and within twelve months proved herself to be so much at home in it that she was appointed second-in-command of this growing department.

With characteristic method, Martha determined to know all that could profitably be known about the fighting services. The same determination which had gained for her a thorough knowledge of the Bible, now enabled her to master the soldiers 'bible' the King's Regulations. Her knowledge of naval and military law became encyclopaedic. It astonished even those whose duty it was to be versed in such matters.

In the Army and Navy alike she won her way by her fearless sincerity. She learnt to swarm up a rope ladder on to the main deck with the same ease with which later she would hold a Meeting with half a dozen Leaguers in an ammunition passage. Yet she never became 'mannish.' She had too much of a mother's heart for that. Should a ship be coming into port in whose complement were men about whom Martha was anxious, she would wait at the dock gates and then steer them safely past the harpies and sharks who seem to regard sailors as their special prey. More than one rating had, cause to thank her that he got home on his long leave with his pocket-book intact.

But all that was typical of her attitude to the men she had been appointed to serve. Nothing was too much trouble. More than once a man who sought her advice turned out to be a deserter. She would never condone the offence, but, having advised and prayed with the runaway, would take him to the nearest railway station, buy his ticket, wire another Salvation Army Officer to meet him at his destination, and then beg his Commanding Officer to treat him as generously as possible.

Nor did she limit her help to Servicemen. To give one instance among many a man had fallen out with his wife, had left his home, and then had thought better of it and wished to be reconciled. Martha was equal to the situation. She wrote to the wife asking her to be at home the following afternoon; she wired the husband to come along at tea-time. Wise counsel smoothed one disturbed spirit; an invitingly spread table and a welcome cup of tea made the other feel he was wanted, and Martha's own blessing sealed the reunion. It sounds simple enough, but the world is not too full of people with both will and wit to unite in renewed harmony a complaining husband and an offended wife.

The European War found Martha at the height of her powers. Long experience had made her wise in handling human nature, and more than twenty years with the Forces had won for her an assured place in the hearts of all ranks. Between 1914 and 1918 she helped more men than she could count. 'My " S's,"' she used to say jokingly, 'stand for a shirt and a shave.' She knew that soldiers back from the front line required more than pious counsel. Brother Body needed comfort as well as Brother Soul. She could provide both, and in such natural fashion that the inarticulate Tommy, whose habit it was to close up like a clam at the least hint of a pi-jaw, listened to Martha's shrewd advice, delivered in broad Yorkshire accents, with gladness.

Early in 1914 the War Office had agreed to allow Salvationists to register as such on enlistment, and later this was followed by permission for Salvationist servicemen to join in all Army processions, and to speak, sing or pray in Open Air Meetings. Martha happened to be in Aldershot the night this news came through. The march that night contained more than forty khaki-clad Salvationists, Martha at their head.

Her pride and pleasure were justifiable; her men were no cissies. One such was a Marine who was on H.M.S. Cressy when she was torpedoed in the autumn of 1914. Jumping into the sea, he had reached a floating spar when another of the ship's company swam up and grasped it also. When it became plain that the spar would not support them both, the Marine asked his companion in distress to promise he would dedicate his life to the service of God and his fellows: The pledge was given, whereupon the Marine let go. deliberately swam away, and was drowned.

Such heroism Martha humbly wore as God's crown upon her work. No other human reward did she desire, but further recognition was to follow. In the 1918 birthday honours list, Brigadier Chippendale, as Mart by this time had become, was gazetted a Member of the Order of the British Empire. With a beloved friend, she went on the appointed day and joined the line of those who were to be decorated. At last her turn came to stand_ before the raised dais, and King George V, in a few well chosen words, congratulated her upon a life-time's service. Martha was the first woman Salvation Army Officer so to be honoured, but none deserved it better. The same bravery with which she had endured the blows of an angry father and the same determination which had enabled her to triumph over the stolid opposition of an uncomprehending mother had won for her this reward. 'I have suffered for my religion,' she used to say, 'but it has all come put right.'

The Brigadier worked on until Easter, 1926, when she planned a quiet holiday at Yeadon. Had she a premonition that the end was near, and did she wish to die among her own folk? She was perfectly well when she left London, by early Easter Tuesday morning she was with her Lord.

The wind from the Yorkshire moors which had once whipped about the shawl and skirt of an eleven-year-old girl on her way to work now played around the Flag and bonnet that rested upon her coffin. The mills were all closed and the pavements were lined with silent crowds to pay tribute to what Yorkshire calls a 'gradely lass'.

The simple Army procession moved from the Hall to the cemetery. The solemn words of committal were read. The immortal Christian hope was clearly announced again. Then the muted notes of the Last Post, sounded by buglers from Pontetract Barracks, died away on the air. Martha had finished her course.

Christian Mission Reports, Whitby 1877 - 1878

WHITBY, THE LATEST WAR NEWS.
SATURDAY, November 10th. Arrival of Mr. Booth, General of Hallelujah army. We had a review at 7 p.m., marching through the streets in good order singing "O we are going to wear a crown." We halted in the Market Place, and formed a ring, and listened to a powerful address by the General, which greatly encouraged all of us.

Sunday, 11th. Hard fighting through the day, the streets filled with people. Our hall, that holds 1,000, was soon full. Mr. Booth spoke with power, Mrs. Booth gave a short address, and ten souls were saved. One was a big backslider; for sometime he had been smitten with the power of God, but would not yield. He went out of the hall, but could not get away—the Spirit said to him " Stop !" Mr. Booth found him on the stairs, and led him to the penitent form, where he soon found peace. Now he is a useful man with us. Mr. Booth was called suddenly back to London, but sent his son, Mr. Bramwell, who came on the 14th and stayed for Sunday, which was a day of remarkable hard fighting and solemn feeling. We expected a great smash—sinners were cut to the heart, but would not yield. On Monday the victory was won, and the devil defeated, twenty-six men and women came boldly out to the penitent form, cried for mercy, and God soon set them at liberty. During the three weeks that has followed, we have had 160 souls. Some of the worst men and women in the town. I will give a few of them.

A Miracle.
A young woman said, Thank God I am saved. A fortnight on Saturday, I was fighting in the Market Place, and a fortnight on Sunday I was converted in St. Hilda Hall; and if I could fight with my hands for the devil, now I will fight with all my heart for God.

A Converted Infidel.
Thank God I am saved! I was a member of an infidel club at Nottingham for eighteen months. We used to sing songs all day on Sundays, and drink and swear, till I came to Whitby to work. I went to hear Cadman, thank God I did, though I did not believe in God or devil; but now I believe in both. God has saved my soul and my wife's too, and we are very happy together.

A Scoffer and Persecutor
A young man that was put out of the hall one night for making a disturbance, came the next night and gave his heart to God. He is a. champion rink skater. He said they would not let him skate for the prizes but now he meant to have a greater prize. Christ in the heart, and at the end a crown of Glory. He speaks at all our meetings with power.

Sharp Persecution.
A young woman saved at our hall, is now a member with us-joins in the processions, and speaks for Jesus, and does it well, too. Her mistress told her she must leave off coming to our meetings, or give up her situation at once. She gave up her place that night, but stuck to Jesus. The parents of another beat her till the blood ran down her face for coming to our meetings, but it does not keep her away. These are the sort Christ wants in his army. Always at it! yes, we don't mean to give the devil or sinners any rest. We have a good meeting from Twelve to One o'clock every day; open-air every' night, hundreds in procession; public-houses emptied; a thousand in the hall before time, racing to get in, and many standing at the door; we have a thousand in our processions on Sunday—such a sight that makes devils tremble and angels shout. On the hills and in the valleys, in jet shops and fishing boats, you may hear them singing our hymns. Neither Cheap Jacks, the Christy Minstrels, nor Mesmerizers can get on in Whitby, for the people are mesmerized with the power of God. Hallelujah! Reader, will you send us powder and shot in the shape of money and tracts to help us in this great war between heaven and hell.

Yours truly, in the Lord's army,
Captain Cadman & Gipsy Smith.
16, Gray Street, Whitby.

WHITBY
Sister Dowdle from Bradford was with as, and had a good day; twenty-eight souls on the last Sunday of the year. On New Year's eve, the last day of the year, we had the first Christian Mission tea-meeting. Upwards of 600 sat down to well filled tables, thanks to Mrs. Robinson and all the friends that helped so liberally to make the tea a success. The profits were £8 10s. 4d. Hallelujah! The meeting commenced at 7.30; then Mrs. Dowdle spoke of the mission work generally, more especially of Bradford. Bro.Gipsy Smith gave his farewell address, as he was going to Bradford for a fortnight. I gave a short account of the Mission's sudden appearance here and how God had blessed the work in saving men going down to dark despair. The watchnight commenced at 10, with about 1,000 people present, who stayed till after midnight. It was a powerful time, Holiness, being the subject. At 11.40 we arranged two penitent forms, one for them that wanted salvation, the other for them that wanted sanctification. Over thirty of the young converts came out to be cleansed from all sin and to get perfect love. The women gave up their feathers, flowers, and eardrops, and one could not get the blessing because she had a jacket covered with beads which troubled her; at last she took it off and got the blessing. The men took the rings off their hands, gave up their pipes, and came out clean and clear, being determined to work for God and souls. Five came out for salvation and got it. Glory to God. A policeman that was at this service, and looked round to see all was safe at the close, whilst on duty three days afterwards, on a dark night, fell into the harbour, and, with one shout for help, sank to rise no more. I preached his funeral sermon to a filled Hall, and souls were saved.

MISS BOOTH AT WHITBY.
We deeply regret that the dangerous illness of Mrs. Cadman imposing upon the husband watchings, oft in addition to the ordinary duties devolving upon him, has prevented our receiving a report in the well-known style which has, no doubt, already become so familiar to our readers. But we are thankful to say that Mrs. C. is now steadily recovering, and that we hope to be supplied next month with an ample record of the extraordinary services conducted by Miss Booth during the past month.

The Congress Hall, which holds 8,000 people, has had to be taken, not merely for Sundays, but for every evening of several weeks. When we say that in a town of some 15,000 inhabitants this great building has been crowded on Sundays, and that as many as 1,500 have been present on week days, it will be readily seen how completely the services must have taken hold of the whole adult population of the town.

Rich and poor have met together, and hundreds of all classes have been humbled before God, and have, we trust, become new creatures in Christ Jesus. We must leave the following extract from a local paper to convey a general idea of these services, pending the fuller report we hope to give when they are concluded.

"The Mission this week is holding its services in the Congress Hall, and Miss Booth, an earnest Christian young lady (daughter of the Bev. "William Booth, the founder of the Mission) has been speaking to large congregations on Sunday, and each evening with power. The zeal and sympathy of this gifted young lady in the work to which she is devoting her life (she is but 19 years of age), is so apparent that it disarms criticism, and wins the affection and secures the rapt attention of a congregation composed perhaps of the roughest characters in the town, who, for good or for ill, have been attracted to the services of Captain Cadman in such large numbers from their commencement.

Now the meetings are held in a large hall, many seat-holders in the various places of worship have attended them with both pleasure and profit. The Congress Hall congregations have been both quiet and orderly, and anyone who has a prejudice against lady preachers, or who holds with the Apostle Paul, that women should keep silence in the churches, should go and hear Miss Booth speak, and we venture to think they would have their prejudice removed, and at the same time they would see something of the work done by Captain Cadman and his lieutenants in the place."

We earnestly commend to the sympathy and prayers of all who love the work, our sister and brother.

WHITBY.
"What is the meaning of this excitement? asked the porters at the station on the night of February 22nd. "Oh!" says a bystander," it is Captain Cadman and his army come to meet Miss Booth, who is going to preach in the Congress Hall." The train arrived, and at the sight of Miss Booth there was a great stir on the platform, all crushing forward to get a look at her. "What's the matter?" said Miss Booth, seeing such a crowd. "Oh," I said, "this is our army come to sing you into the battle-field." We walked with her up to her lodgings, the army singing all the way. They then formed a ring outside the house, singing, "There are angels hovering round."

On Saturday great excitement in the Market Place, hundreds of people from town and country arrived to see Brother Wessburg and myself with a ladder, bucket of paste, and a roll of paper. "What are they going to do? " was the cry, and their curiosity was aroused when they saw us putting letters up, so large that we could only stick them up, one at a time. A large muster; the police having to keep the way clear to the market. It took us nearly an hour to complete what was then the largest advertisement ever seen in Whitby; At the same time the crier's bell might be heard and his clear voice announcing the services in real mission style. On Sunday large processions as usual, and people from all parts came to the meetings. The large hall, which holds 3,000, was well filled, and, in the after service many, souls were brought to Jesus. Large congregations every night during the week; souls saved. On Friday night Miss Booth spoke on Holiness; many from other places of worship were with us, and at the penitent form many sought .mercy, and some were awakened to the fact that they had only the form of godliness. One young woman, a member of a Christian Church, really screamed for mercy; the Lord soon set her free, and when Miss B. asked her if it was a reality, she answered, "Oh, yes, Jesus saves me now." At the same time, her father was saved at the other end of the penitent form. As soon as he was told his daughter was saved he went to her; she was sitting in a chair praising God for what he had done for her; he fell down on his knees and put his arms round her neck and kissed her with tears running down his cheeks, he then dropped his head into her, lap and they wept together. Many others that night stepped, into liberty and praised God for what he had done for them.

Sunday, March 3rd.—Town was all alive, whilst our army in grand muster was singing," Soldiers fighting round the Cross, &c.," commencing at the extreme end of the town, and carrying before it and after it hundreds of people, until the large hall was packed with all classes, many not being able to obtain admittance. Miss Booth was listened to with breathless attention. In the after service we drew the net to land, having a multitude of fishes, and amongst them we found we had caught a fox hunter, a dog fancier, drunkards, a Roman Catholic, and many others. The week-night services went on as usual, souls saved every night. The proprietor of the hall had got some large bills out announcing" Troupe of Arctic Skaters in the Congress Hall for a week! " I expected we had lost the use of the hall for that week, but the proprietor put them off by telling them it was no use their coming as "all the town was being evangelized."

Sunday, 10th. - Packed as usual; many souls brought to God.

Sunday, 17th. - A remarkable day, grand procession in the morning and large congregation inside. A heavy snow storm raged all the afternoon, but our army was undaunted—we met at the appointed place as usual, though covered with snow and snowballed, we were all in our glory, singing " 'We'll stand the storm, it won't be long, we'll anchor by-and-bye," and drawing a grand congregation. At night, Hall packed as usual, and many souls were saved.

Sunday, 24th, was to be Miss Booth's farewell services, drawing great crowds from all parts of town and country, rich and poor, until the hall was so filled, there was no standing room-30 converts at the close of the service.

WHITBY. GOOD FRIDAY.
Our army met in the Town Hall at 7 a.m. with a determination to get a blessing, and to put in a full day for God and souls, and so we did. At 10 a.m., open-air meeting and procession; at 11 a.m., in St. Hilda's Hall; at 1.30 p.m., we commenced a large procession headed by a banner with this inscription:—"War is declared, recruits wanted," And another one, "The Hallelujah Army fighting for God." "We sang all through the town and round the Cliff till 3 p.m., then had a love feast in St. Hilda's Hall. At 5.30 p.m. open-air meeting. In the hall at 7; many of the young converts spoke urging their old companions to give their hearts to God. Souls were saved, and crowds kept from the public-house, being fully taken up with our singing through the day.

On Easter Sunday great excitement prevailed, the town being very much alarmed, while two batteries of the Hallelujah artillery were firing truth and salvation into the enemy's camp, declaring the King's commandments and the terms of peace to all rebels. We then sang as real soldiers of the Cross to the centre of the town where the second battery met and joined together; we were then fourteen abreast. We had a shout like Joshua at the walls of Jericho. We then sang "Faith Triumphant makes it Glorious" up to the hall, and glory be to God souls were saved. Many of our enemies said such goings on ought to be stopped, it was more like an election time. I said, that is what it is, we want all to vote for Jesus.

Caught By A Tale.
"Thank God that I ever come to hear Cadman, I had heard many things, about him, and one was that he was a blackguard. I thought it strange for a preacher to swear, so I went to hear for myself, and thank God got converted and now belong to the army and mean to go to Heaven."

Caught At Last
A woman that has attended our meetings ever since I have been here. She came to our believers' meeting, the pqwer of God broke her heart, and like the publican she came trembling to the penitent form and cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner." She was soon set free and went home to tell her husband what the Lord had done for her.

Captain Cadman & J. Goulbourn

How the Salvation Army Returned to Whitby by Major P. Charlesworth

Whilst in Notting Hill/London, Major Pat Charlesworth and Major Norma Richardson offered their services to God and The Salvation Army to pioneer the work in a place where there used to be a Corps.

The year 1991 dawned with the earnest prayer that God would direct them and clearly show them what He wanted them to do, and then equip them for the task. In the Autumn of the same year God spoke to them through three vivid dreams which Norma had.

In the first dream, Pat decided that we must go and sit in a certain field where there was one sheep. Deciding to move a little closer to the middle we were joined by another sheep. After a while we walked into the middle of the field and were surrounded by all sorts of different animals. We then fell asleep, finding when we awoke that all the animals had turned into people singing and praising God. We went with the people into a flat roofed but but it wasn't big enough to hold everyone. We walked past some water, a harbour wall, and- then walked half-way up some steps which had something at the top, we did not know what. We looked down' and saw a building which stood out amongst the houses. "That's the place" Pat said, pointing-to it. We went back down the steps and walked through the cobbled streets until we came to the derelict building. We gained the owner's permission to use it and, cleaning it up, found an old Army drum, a cornet and a trombone in a cupboard under a platform. We then realized that this building must have been used by the Army in the past.

After we had opened the hall as an Army Centre, the first person to enter it was an elderly woman in uniform. She thanked God for answering her prayers and gave us cartridges covering the past thirty years! Another woman came in, also saying that she had been praying that the Army would recommence work in the town and asked how it had happened. We told her that it was long story, and asked her if she knew where we were.

At this point Norma woke up. She shared the dream with Pat, saying she thought the place was Whitby, but she had only been there once. Pat had been to the town on several occasions, however, and from her description, she indeed recognized it as Whitby.

Wanting to know about the Army's link with the town, they contacted the Army's Heritage Centre. In reply they were sent a programme of Whitby's Corps anniversary, 1932, in which it stated that meetings used to be held in the old town hall, and whilst the services were held upstairs, animals were being sold underneath!

They received information from the Tourist Board at Whitby, including a map of the area and a list of Churches. They marked out the list of Churches on the map and realized two housing estates were without a Christian expression and that one of these could be seen from the 199 steps. This area included Meadowfields.

As if to confirm these findings, Norma had a second dream about Whitby a few weeks later, on 20th September 1991. The location was the same, but this time more detailed: After parking the car Norma arid Pat walked through the narrow, cobbled streets. At one point we were restricted by a fence across the road, but we easily stepped over it. We then negotiated two more, progressively getting higher fences. But a fourth fence was so high that it was impossible for us to climb over. There was a pile of house bricks nearby and, using the bricks as steps, we managed to get over the fence. We walked and there were no more obstacles. When we decided to return home the fences had gone. Norma woke with the shock!

During their private devotions they received further confirmation from the Lord that all they had been experiencing, though puzzling, was within His plan for them. They were constantly assured of God's presence and purpose through such Scripture verses as: "There is still a vision for the appointed time, it will testify to the destined hour and will not prove false. Though it delays, wait for it, for it will surely come before too long." (Habbakuk 2:3 REB) and "Take heart...Begin the work, for I am with you, says the Lord of Hosts." (Haggai 2:4 REB}; as well as other verses of encouragement from Exodus and Deuteronomy.

Norma had a third vision on 7th October: We were back on the steps overlooking the houses and we had with us all the information we had acquired about Whitby, including the maps. Pat felt we should turn to the Bible to Isaiah 58: 11 -12, even though she did not know what this was.

Norma woke up and shared the dream with Pat and together they read from Isaiah: "The Lord will be your Guide continually and satisfy your needs in the bare desert; He will give you strength of limb; you will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Buildings long in ruins will be restored by your own kindred and you will build on ancient foundations; you will be called the rebuilder of broken walls, the restorer of houses in ruins." (REB)

They attended officers' councils at Swanwick in October and as they were half-way to Whitby they decided to visit 'The Promised Land!' Knowing the visions to be real and prompted by the Holy Spirit, they asked God to give them direct confirmation of the direction their lives were to take from at least one person. In fact, they were inundated with confirmations as they prayer-walked around the district. .... "Don't tell me the Army is at last coming to this God-forsaken place." "I used to go to the Army, until I moved here." "We need the work peculiar to the Army." Others assured them "we'll pray for you as you present this to the Army for consideration." These prayers were answered as, after sending details of all these confirmations to THQ, the Army Leaders listened to them and accepted God's directions.

So at last in May 1992 they were appointed to Whitby. They even took the original Whitby Corps Flag - another sign of God's amazing forward planning. A Cadet working with them at Notting Hill told her father about Norma's visions and he just happened to have the flag in his possession.' He had acquired it some 20 years ago.

They started with open-air meetings on the East-side of Whitby, after prayer-walking the estate, and it was so encouraging to see the interest roused by these. Leaflets were given out by a group of vocational fellowship members from the Division and 50 children came to the first 'FUN HOUR' Many of the parents sat around the fringe watching and listening to the activities. Encouraged by this, they planned open-air Sunday Schools, wondering what the response would be. Imagine the thrill when 38 children attended.

However, not all was plain sailing and as Norma's third vision had warned, there were obstacles to overcome. Not least of these was the need for premises in which to hold meetings. Driving along the Scarborough/Whitby road through torrential rain one Sunday morning in early September to hold open-air meetings seemed like blind faith, but God did not let them down and within two miles of Whitby the rain had stopped.

The other pressing problem was the fact that the living quarters was in Scarborough 21 miles away. To really get to grips with the work in Whitby, it was imperative that accommodation was found in town. Back on 12th June God had given the officers a promise that on the 24th September He would bless them in full on that day (Haggai 2: 18 - 19) and no longer would they be at half measure. On that very day they received a letter from Scarborough Council telling them they could use the Community Centre in St. Peter's Court on Sundays and Thursdays free of charge! Glory to God for His specific timing.

Progress was also being made on scaling what the officers had come to think of as the fourth barrier in Norma's dream - a quarters in Whitby. After drawing a blank on trying to obtain rented accommodation, the Army allocated money for the purchase of a house on the estate where the community centre was. Contracts were at last signed and the house has been named 'Ebenezer' (Hitherto hath the Lord helped us). Further confirmation of God's hand in all that had happened came when the keys were received a year to the day that the Army Leaders had been presented with the vision for Whitby.

Work is now being established within the Centre with Sunday Service, Sunday School, Bible Study, Lunch Club, Home League, Junior Soldiers Classes, Timbrels and Mime, Savings Club and a Good News Van, and the Army Periodicals are sold regularly in town. 10 Adherents have been enrolled also 2 Senior Soldiers and 5 Junior Soldiers. After 12 years, at last a 15 year lease has been signed by the Council for the Centre and the Army has carried out extensive improvements, making the building disabled friendly and a purpose built kitchen. We believe God is ready to show us new and challenging work which he wants us to engage in and we wait for His direction and man power. Give to Jesus glory. He is a great God who can do far more than we ever think or dare to imagine.