One night in London two men went to the theater and presented passes for entrance. For some reason or other, the man at the door did not recognize them and the passes were refused. One of the men was a very prominent entertainer and thought he was well-known in the theatrical profession everywhere, and this refusal to accept the passes irritated him greatly, and he left the theater with his friend in a rage. They took the Kensington Avenue bus, and as they were passing the Royal Albert Hall, he noticed the signs of the mission. He remembered he had promised his sister that he would come and hear me, so he suggested to his friend that they get off the bus and come into the hall that night. His friend consented and in they came. He was not much interested in the singing, though he himself did a good deal of work in his profession along that line, but the sermon went right to his heart. He left the Royal Albert Hall to think the matter over. His sister, who was an earnest Christian woman, had left on his mantelpiece a little tract (a report of a sermon on “Hell” that I had delivered in London). He took it down and read it. It brought him under deepest conviction of sin, and he then and there fell on his knees and surrendered himself to God.
The next night he came to see me at the Royal Albert Hall, and told me of his decision to accept Christ. He made a public profession that night before the great crowd in the hall. He told me he could not go on and take the entertainments for which he was booked the next day at St. George’s Music Hall. He said, “I cannot go and entertain those people and make them laugh when I know they are going to hell.” He tried to get into communication with the stage manager, but could get no reply from him either by letter or telegraph. He went down to the Hall and asked to be let off from his engagement. The manager replied, “I will let you off on one condition, and one condition only, and that is that you will go out and tell the waiting crowd why you are not performing.” He said, “I will do that.” He went out on the stage and said, “Friends, I cannot give my entertainment this afternoon. I was converted last night at the Torrey-Alexander mission.” The crowd burst into applause, thinking it was a new joke that he was getting off. He stopped the applause and said, “It is no joke. I have been converted. I cannot stand here and make you people laugh when I know that many of you are on the road to hell.” The audience stopped their applause and became serious. Many of them were touched by his earnestness and his bravery. At least one woman was converted then and there in that audience.
When he went off the stage, the manager offered the hall for the use of Gospel meetings the next week. He accepted the offer. Meetings were held in that music hall all through the week, and there were many interesting conversions, including at least one person connected with the nobility. He was afterward invited all over England and Scotland and Ireland and Wales to hold evangelistic meetings. A great London magazine had an article upon his conversion and said, “Two or three such conversions as that would move all London.”