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SAILOR JACK'S REFORMATION
By Gene Gaunfler
Then we'll ro-o-11 the o-o-ld chariot
along, Then we'll ro-o-11 the o-o-ld chariot
along "
DOWN the street the little procession marched to the inspiring tune pounded out of the head of a huge bass drum, accompanied by a rhythmic jangle of tambourines, voices, and occasional cries of "Glory Hallelujah" in a sweet, feminine voice that rose above the medley of sounds.
The Salvation Army had been getting recruits rapidly of late, and was conducting an unusually successful campaign down in the section that was chiefly inhabited by sailors and longshoremen. There was a magnetism about the young captain, a young woman who had recently been sent to the barracks, which attracted both men and women; and the sturdy Lieutenant, who knew so well how to bring soulful strains of music out of a bass drum, was one of the first to fall under the spell of those pleading, brown eyes that wrought such havoc in the conscience of sinners. There were times when he almost wished himself back at the mourners' bench, if for nothing more than to receive words of sympathy and encouragement from the slight, little woman whose fervor and enthusiasm were bringing about a reformation, more or less permanent, in the daily life of Eoustabout Cove.
It was a June evening, but there was no scent of flowers at the Cove. Instead, it smelled rather too strongly of wet goods, both salt and spiritous. for several ships of varying build and capacity had put in that dav. and manv a home along the shore had been glad
dened by the safe return of a rollicking sailor.
Jack Martin had no home. If he had, it is possible he might not have grown to be the hardened sinner that he now considered himself. There were others of his ship in the same position, and when he and his comrades assembled on deck, a few hours before the sound of drum and tambourines smote upon the air, they had mapped out a plan for the celebration of their shore-leave, which would have caused the gentle Captain with the large, brown eyes to sigh, rather than to sing, as she marched down to the Seven Corners and started the concert. "Come, oh, come with me-e-e," sounded the clear treble of the girl, starting the chorus of the last hymn over again, just as Jack and his "buddy" hove in sight around the corner of the nearest saloon.
"All right — all right — we're a-comin'," shouted the tars, who had onlv just started on the first round of their celebration. "Got anything to drink? We're awful dry."
The music ceased and the Captain's voice rose in reply.
"The water of life is offered freely," she said, "and whosoever will may come."
Perhaps it was the angelic face of the speaker, perhaps it was really the something good that is in the worst of us. which made Jack silence the rude reply of his companion.
"If it's free, tell us about it," said Jack.
"Come with us to the Mission and I will tell you." answered the lassie, looking steadfastly into the bold eyes of the sailor. The procession moved on,
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