SOUP AND MELODY

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1716, 18 January 1905, Page 70 (Supplement)

SOUP AND MELODY

ALL NIGHT IN AN “ARMY" DEPOT. TIRED WAYFARERS. (London “Daily Chronicle/’) The red-jerseyed adjutant fascinated me. Slight and Aviry, with rough, reddish beard, and serious eyes looking from behind spectacles, I had a puzzling idea that I had met him before. His proper environment seemed to lie somewhere in the past, in a cold, grey land, where the “peewees" were calling “about the graves of the martyrs/' It was here that the religious intensity of the man would have found its fitting'use. Hut it was not in any pre-existent life that I had known him, and memory, with a struggle, came right in the end. I recalled a steaming hot_ day in the Red Sea and a popular Scot first steward on a big liner. “Mac,” I said, “what are you doing here ?" We were sitting in a room of the Salvation Army depot, overlooking the huge gap which Aldwych and Kmgsway have made in Glare Market. One o'clock struck from a churcn steeple near. The dull thunder of London's twenty thousand streets had died away. The palpitating hum of its many millions of workers was hushed in sleep. But from north and south, east and west, past the shuttered and comfortable houses, men were marching, inarching towards that little room in Wych street. ‘They'll be here soon," said the adjutant, “anti"—this with an introspective gaze at the ticking clock—“to think that I was once like them! But not always—and not now. The wife has died since those clays'—you know. Drink took hold of me. I have glimmed for a living. Anri griddled. Been nearly killed in a Seven Dials drunken brawl, and—come into the street," he gasped.

In the keen fresh air of the early morning he recovered his self-possession. “There they are." We walked down the melancholy row of outcasts lined up against a hoarding. “Mornin'." “Good "morning, sir." “Good morning, Mac." “Morning, old man"; and to the varied salutations that rippled down the line the earnest officer had his cheery answer. SILENT MEAL.

Half-past one, and the doors of the depot were thrown open. The men trooped in silently, and silently took their seats. The first greetings over, thev seemed suddenly to have lost their ‘power of speech, and recovery came only at the end of the simple but comforting meal. But if the guests were dumb in their misery beyond even the power of fraternising with each other, 1 he hosts made ample amends. Jov and jubilation on their part were the accompaniments of the frugal feast. With one or two exceptions they had all been through the mill of poverty, and no congi egH. ion of penniless and hungry men ever had more good advice and encouragement served with their food. One of the officers who naa ro>.- from the Bermondsey “Elevator 5 " to Ik ip, had

followed the sea. for many a year. Twelve years ago lie ehook liis clenched fist at Cape Horn, and took a solemn oath never again to see that awful peak, and to forget all that sea-life had meant to him. The only memento of those days was his concertina —the sailorman’s favourite musical instrument. It had enlivened many a fo’c’sle gathering with rollicking sea chanties, and now, in a new cause, the skilful fingers trilled out hymns for the pleasure of 550 broken men. Quick and fast the fine old melodies, such as “Rock of Ages” and “Abide with me,” flowed from the moving keys, and voices, not too tuneful, raised their song of praise. With bared and bowed heads the men listened, and who shall dare to say that they went away only to scoff? TWO WANDERERS. About two o’clock, when the soup and the bread were half-consumed, a diversion was caused by a burly sergeant from Bowstreet Police Court. As tenderly as if he were guarding two lost children, he led in a young man and a young woman, both decently dressed, but with misery and hungry written in their drawn faces. They were man and wife; he a waiter, she a sempstress, and both out of work. In arrears with their rent, they had been driven from their small home, and, tired of walking about the streets, without food or money, they had gone to the nearest police station. That was obviously not the place for them, and so they were taken to the Salvation Army depot. In utter exhaustion they dropped upon the nearest bench in the waiting room —the man in the corner seat.

“See,’ - ’ remarked Adjutant McGregor to me, “how she gives np the best place to him; it’s always the woman who pays, even in little matters like that.”

A basin of soup and some bread brought a tinge of colour into their pallid cheeks, and socn they had dropped into a sleep of utter exhaustion, dreaming doubtless of the adjutant’s promise that work would be found for them next day.

It was two o’clock, and the 550 had partaken of, perhaps, the only food that had passed their lips for twelve hours. Frugal as it was, it had put some heart into them, and there was a conscious air of hopefulness and courage about them a* they left. “They are all willing to work,” said the adjutant, and it was this knowledge that made him so kindly and gentle with them.

“Out again, Cliarlev ?” lie said to one. “Yus, Mac.”

“Struck no lucky?” “Nali. They were hunting for me all day yesterday for a job. Thirty bob a week. Couldn’t find me.” This, with as near an approach to a grimace of despair as his hard features would allow.

“Why couldn’t they find you?” I ventured to ask. Charley looked appealingly to the adjutant. ‘‘He’s got no home/' explained the officer, “where anyone can be certain of finding him.” Charley nodded assent, and then in a hoarse whisper said: “Give us a copper, Mac.” Furtively, and as if he were ashamed of the deed, the adjutant passed a copper into a willing hand and Charley slipped out into tlie silent and inhospitable street.

Another 500 or so succeeded the first batch, and the same quantity of food was served. Altogether at the Wych street depot there were served free of charge, in the week ending Wednesday morning, 5742 basins of soup, and 5742 eight-ounce loaves of bread. At five o’clock people come who can afford to pay a halfpenny for the same fare..

The red-jerseyed adjutant came into the street to say As he Avaved a fareAvell from his Avarm doorstep, I thought that, if this Avas to fail, it Avas to fail gloriously.