t it almost suffocated him. He felt
how he sank, because everybody considered him bad. No one had any
confidence in him, no one would trust any work to him. He took what
company he could get, and learned to drink.

While he was going down hill, the Salvation Army came to the town.
It hired a big hall and began its work. From the very first evening
all the loafers gathered at the meetings to make a disturbance.
When it had gone on for about a week, Matts Wik came too to take
part in the fun.

There was a crowd in the street, a crowd in the door-way. Sharp
elbows and angry tongues were there; street boys and soldiers,
maids and scrub-women; peaceable police and stormy rabble. The
army was new and the fashion. The well-to-do and the wharf-rats,
everybody went to the Salvation Army. Within, the hall was
low-studded. At the farthest end was an empty platform; unpainted
benches, borrowed chairs, an uneven floor, blotches on the ceiling,
lamps that smoked. The iron stove in the middle of the floor gave
out warmth and coal gas. All the places were filled in a moment.
Nearest the platform sat the women, demure as if in church, and
back of them workmen and sewing-women. Farthest away sat the boys
on one another's knees, and in the door-way there was a fight among
those who could not get in.

The platform was empty. The clock had not struck, the entertainment
had not begun. One whistled, one laughed. The benches were kicked
to pieces. "The War-cry" flew like a kite between the groups. The
public were enjoying themselves.

A side-door opened. Cold air streamed into the room. The fire flamed
up. There was silence. Attentive expectation filled the hall. At
last they came, three young women, carrying guitars and with faces
almost hidden by broad-brimmed hats. They fell on their knees as
soon as they had ascended the steps of the platform.

One of them prayed aloud. She lifted her head, but closed her eyes.
Her voice cut like a knife. During the prayer there was silence.
The street-boys and loafers had not yet begun. They were waiting
for the confessions and the inspiring music.

The women settled down to their work. They sang and prayed, sang
and preached. They smiled and spoke of their happiness. In front of
them they had an audience of ruffians. They began to rise, they
climbed upon the benches. A threatening noise passed through the
throng. The women on the platform caught glimpses of dreadful faces
through the smoky air.