And now the hero of so many battles fought for freedom and liberty, was to witness scenes of warfare of a very different kind. War, it is true, but not where there are garments rolled in blood and victims slain; but war with the powers of darkness, war between good and evil, truth and error, light and darkness. We went together into the lowest slums of the district; walked arm in arm over the ground where misery tells its sad and awful tale, where poverty shelters its shivering frame, and where blasphemy howls its curse. We found out haunts of vice and sin, terrible in their character, and distressing in their consequences. I found he had not hitherto been accustomed to this kind of mission. Once on my entering a den of dangerous characters and lecturing them on their sinful course and warning them in unmistakable words of the consequences, he afterwards said: "I could not have found courage of the kind you show in this work; yet I never was considered lacking in courage on the field of battle. When in the Crimea, I was sent frequently and went on hands and knees through the fall of shells and the whizz of bullets right up to the Russian walls to watch their movements, and I never felt afraid; I confess I need courage to warn men of sin and its dangerous consequences." He met me, for a time almost daily, well supplied with tracts, which I noticed he used as a text for a few words of advice, or comfort, or warning as the case required, but he invariably left a silver coin between the leaves; this I think was a proof he was sincere in his efforts to do good. Along Old Millgate, and around the Cathedral, at that time, were numerous courts and alleys, obscure, often filthy, dark and dangerous; down or up these he accompanied me; up old rickety staircases, into old crumbling ruins of garrets he followed without hesitation. {C. G. Gordon: p51.jpg} At the bedside of the dying prodigal or prostitute he would sit with intense interest, pointing them to Him who casts out none. In our house to house visitation he would sit down and read of the Saviour's love, making special reference to those that are poor in this world, assuring them it was for the outcast and the forsaken, and the lost, that Jesus came to die. He would kneel down for prayer by a broken chair or the corner of a slop-stone, or by the wash-tub, and with the simplicity of a child, address in tender and touching petition, the Great Father of all in Heaven, while tears chased each other down his sun-tanned face; his great soul going out with his prayer for Heaven's blessing on the helpless poor.