officer who was very much interested in religious work among soldiers,
and directed me to his quarters.

The interview resulted in an invitation to a Sunday afternoon meeting
at the town house of a duke. It was the most gorgeous place I had ever
been in, and the audience was composed of the most aristocratic people
in London. I felt very much out of place and conspicuous because of my
uniform and station in life.

The first part of the meeting partook of the nature of a reception. I
watched the proceedings from the most obscure corner I could find.
Somebody rapped on the table. The hum of voices ceased, and there
stepped out, as the speaker of the afternoon, my friend of the
Possilpark Mission, Professor Drummond.

Up to that hour my theology related largely to another world, but his
explanation of a portion of Scripture was so clear and so convincing
to my simple mind, that I could neither miss its meaning nor avoid its
application. The professor was telling us that religion must be
related to life. Many years afterward I came across the treatise in
printed form. It was entitled, "The Programme of Christianity." The
officer of the Horse Guards by whose invitation I enjoyed this
privilege, introduced me to the lecturer and this personal touch,
though very slight, marked a distinct period in my development.
Drummond had pushed me out of one stage, and, by inviting me to
render an account of myself to him, inspired me into another.

My Bible studies had given me a longing to see the Holy Land. Perhaps
the longing was super-induced by the possibility of being drafted to
the Mediterranean Squadron. On inquiry I learned that the flagship of