As to the Sunday-school, it renewed its youth. “Why, this is what we have been trying to do all along; this is our work,” said the teachers; and they were right, for there could have been no such abundant harvest ready for reaping but for the patient tilling and sowing which had been accomplished in the Sunday-school.
“Where are the headquarters of this great movement?” was a question frequently asked. And the answer seemed a strange one: “In the houses of a few women.”
“It is growing too much for us,” said Tom. But on the day when she said it more than a dozen ladies asked to be allowed to do the clerical work of the endeavour.
“What put it in your minds?” one asked, and a bright girl replied with a smile, “You should put your question differently, and ask, ‘Who put it into our minds?’”
But, after all, every district, town, and village had to provide its own headquarters. Nor was this difficult; for that had happened for which devout souls had agonised in prayer for many a weary year, and at last the Church was awake.
And it found everything ready for the new work, which was yet not new, but as old as Christianity. A conviction forced itself into many minds, as it might be, simultaneously, that no new organisation, but the old-established ones, were called to make the Great Endeavour, and that they had all the necessary power and means, and especially they had what was of greater importance than all else put together—they had the boys.
One town after another, and villages by dozens, gathered the boys into the new organisation; and it was officered by the finest men of the district.
“This must not be left to uneducated, unequipped men; you and I must take it up, or prove ourselves traitors to our consciences.” Such words as these were spoken at many a club. And the recruiting sergeants were the boys themselves. “Father, you must come; you are clever; the boys would obey you; and you know how to govern. Don’t leave us to any duffers who like to take us in hand. We want real men to manage and direct us.” So pleaded the boys; and real men responded.
And yet it was very much a woman’s movement. It was always a lady’s hand who pinned the rosette of significance upon the boy’s breast when he enlisted. The sweet tones of women’s voices commended the young soldiers to God when they went forth to fight the peace-battles. They were welcomed once every week when they came for counsel and encouragement by motherly hands and sisterly commendation. Every boy knew that some good woman held him in her heart and mentioned him in her prayers, and would be glad or sorry according to whether he proved faithful or the reverse. For at the very foundation of this movement was the principle of woman’s influence. Every lady-member of the Christian Church with which the Branch was connected was expected to take the oversight of some of the boys—not less than two nor more than twenty being the number decided upon. And these women, who, as might have been expected, entered very heartily into the scheme, had to help and inspire the boys in their uphill endeavour; and especially set them to work upon those other boys who, at present, were their opponents. One or two of these ladies, whom we know, brought the old history of the Knights Templars to bear on these modern times. Nor could anything better for their purpose be conceived than the oath taken by this order—“I swear to consecrate my words, my arms, my strength, and my life to the defence of the mysteries of faith and that of the unity of God. I also promise to be submissive and obedient to the Grand Master of the Order. Whenever it is needful I will cross the seas to fight; I will give help against all infidel kings and princes, and in the presence of three enemies I will not fly, but fight if they are infidels.”
It was not far from Arthur Knight’s factories that Margaret and Tom commenced these operations. He had not seen these ladies, but he heard of what they were doing from Dallington and Miss Wentworth, and between him and them his idea was in a fair way of being accomplished, for almost every young person was surrounded by an atmosphere of kindness and good influences. By every means he was endeavouring to prepare his people, and especially the young ones, for a better life under happier conditions in his Land of Promise, which was being got ready for them. It was a great satisfaction to him to find how much of the work which he considered his was being done for him by others. He had heard of the Basket Woman, and was curious about her. But among the helpers doing Christian work for his people there was one of whom he thought more frequently than of all the others, and that was the young lady who had spoken with such vehement condemnation of the wretched houses that belonged to him. Only once since had he seen her, and it was when, hearing that the woman whom she visited was dying, he went to the house to see if he could render assistance. But the young lady was before him. As he pushed open the door he saw a sight which he would never forget. By the side of the couch which had been provided the girl knelt in prayer, and he heard her soft voice pleading, “Oh, take Thy servant, who has so long borne the burden and heat of the day, into Thy Paradise above, where they hunger no more, neither thirst any more, where the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and lead them unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” He closed the door softly, and passed the little window of that room bareheaded and with a reverent heart. And he understood, as never before, when he walked over the dusty stones, through the close court, what such words must be to the poor, and how natural it was that Christ should have thought of them first. “To the poor the Gospel is preached,” and those who receive it are thereby lifted out of the greatest depths of their misery. A wave of compassion passed over Arthur Knight, and the resolutions he had formed grew stronger than ever within him. He passed the house again (it was strange what an attraction it held for him), hoping that he might meet the young lady; but, instead, he heard her voice singing sweetly the well-known strains, “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” He waited a moment or two, and then, realising the impertinence of such conduct, he walked slowly away, hoping, however, that an opportunity of making the acquaintance of the singer might be granted him. Could she be “the Basket Woman,” of whom he heard so much? Or were there two ladies who had taken his poor people into their compassion, besides those who originated the Young Crusaders’ movement? Among all his engagements Arthur Knight found time to wonder about this mystery, for he could not help being vividly interested. “It is absurd,” he said to himself; “but I cannot get that young lady who lectured me out of my thoughts. Surely I am not going to fall in love. That is the last thing I ought to do. But I must see her again, somehow.”