IN THE SMOKING ROOM - 159 
him whispered gently that she could well under- 
stand his being touched by such beautiful prayers, 
but could he, please, try and keep silence? If 
so, she would present him with a new pair of 
boots. The man responded: “Thank you, 
mum, I will try; I will indeed!” He strove 
valiantly. You could imagine him holding him- 
self back, straining at the leash like a greyhound. 
At last something was said which touched the 
man’s heart particularly. It was toomuch. Arms 
uplifted, up he jumped triumphantly, exclaiming 
with a voice that penetrated through the whole 
building : “ Boots or no boots—Praise the Lord ! 
Hallelujah !” 
Another story belongs to war time at Charing 
Cross underground station : a lad was to be seen 
whowas somewhat vague as tohis surroundings; he 
had celebrated at least one birthday too many. A 
sympathetic passer-by in mufti spoke to him and 
inquired where his camp lay. The lad managed 
to tell him, and the man went off to ascertain 
the platform and the time of the train. He then 
hurried back to the khaki lad, who still looked 
very helpless. ‘Come along, my lad,” said he 
cheerily, “ we have to go to No, —— platform, the 
train will soon be in!” At the bottom of the 
stairs the friend in need met a porter, to whom he 
briefly explained matters. The porter, good 
fellow, understood, and said: “ Leave him to me, 
sir, I'll see him in the train all right ; why, here’s 
his very train just coming in, and it will put him 
down just by his camp! Come along, my lad, 
