The Jews say the Messiah will come after the war.  I think He is here already—­but on a cross as of yore!

I went up to Glasgow to make arrangements there, and my task wasn’t an easy one.  Somehow I knew that I must speak, that I must arouse slackers, and tell rotters about what is going on.  One goes forth (led in a way), and only then does one realise that one is going in unasked to ship-building yards and munition sheds and docks, and that one is quite a small woman, alone, and up against a big thing.

Always the answer I got was the same:  “The men are not working; forty per cent. are slackers.  The output of shells is not what it ought to be, but they won’t listen!”

In the face of this I arranged seven meetings in seven days, to take place early in August, and then I went back to give my lecture in the Queen’s Hall, London.  I took the large Hall, because if one has a message to deliver one had better deliver it to as many people as possible.  It was rather a breathless undertaking, but people turned up splendidly, and I had a full house.  Sir F. Lloyd gave me the band of the Coldstream Guards, and things went with a good swing.

I am still wondering how I did it.  The whole “campaign” has already got rather an unreal atmosphere about it, and often, after crowded meetings, I have come home and lain in the dark and have seen nothing but a sea of faces, and eyes all turned my way.  It has been a most curious and unexpected experience, but England did not realise the war, and she did not realise the wave of heroism that is sweeping over the world, and I had to tell about it.

Well, my lectures went on—­Erith, Queen’s Hall, Sheffield (a splendid meeting, 3,000 people inside the hall and 300 turned away at the door!), Barrow-in-Furness.  I gave two lectures at Barrow, at 3 and 7.30.  They seemed very popular.  In the evening quite a demonstration—­pipe band playing “Auld lang syne,” and much cheering.  After that Newcastle, and back to the south again to speak there.  Everywhere I took my magic-lantern and showed my pictures, and I told “good stories” to attract people to the meetings, although my heart was, and is, nearly breaking all the time.

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Then I began the Glasgow campaign—­Parkhead, Whiteinch, Rose-Bank, Dumbarton, Greenock, Beardmore’s, Denny’s, Armour’s, etc., etc.  Everywhere there were big audiences, and although I would have spoken to two listeners gladly, I was still more glad to see the halls filled.  The cheers of horny-handed workmen when they are really roused just get me by the throat till I can’t speak for a minute or two!

At one place I spoke from a lorry in the dinner-hour.  All the men, with blackened faces, crowded round the car, and others swung from the iron girders, while some perched, like queer bronze images, on pieces of machinery.  They were all very intent, and very polite and courteous, no interruptions at any of the meetings.  A keen interest was shown in the war pictures, and the cheers were deafening sometimes.