done that night.  Then he resolved to write home next day and tell his mother all, and what a coward her son had been.  And then peace came to him as he resolved, lastly, to bear his testimony next morning.  The morning would be harder than the night to begin with, but he felt that he could not afford to let one chance slip.  Several times he faltered, for the devil showed him first all his old friends calling him “Saint” and “Square-toes,” and a dozen hard names, and whispered to him that his motives would be misunderstood, and he would only be left alone with the new boy; whereas it was his duty to keep all means of influence, that he might do good to the largest number.  And then came the more subtle temptation, “Shall I not be showing myself braver than others by doing this?  Have I any right to begin it now?  Ought I not rather to pray in my own study, letting other boys know that I do so, and trying to lead them to it, while in public at least I should go on as I have done?” However, his good angel was too strong that night, and he turned on his side and slept, tired of trying to reason, but resolved to follow the impulse which had been so strong, and in which he had found peace.

Next morning he was up and washed and dressed, all but his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten minutes’ bell began to ring, and then in the face of the whole room knelt down to pray.  Not five words could he say—­the bell mocked him; he was listening for every whisper in the room—­what were they all thinking of him?  He was ashamed to go on kneeling, ashamed to rise from his knees.  At last, as it were from his inmost heart, a still, small voice seemed to breathe forth the words of the publican, “God be merciful to me a sinner!” He repeated them over and over, clinging to them as for his life, and rose from his knees comforted and humbled, and ready to face the whole world.  It was not needed:  two other boys besides Arthur had already followed his example, and he went down to the great School with a glimmering of another lesson in his heart—­the lesson that he who has conquered his own coward spirit has conquered the whole outward world; and that other one which the old prophet learnt in the cave in Mount Horeb, when he hid his face, and the still, small voice asked, “What doest thou here, Elijah?” that however we may fancy ourselves alone on the side of good, the King and Lord of men is nowhere without His witnesses; for in every society, however seemingly corrupt and godless, there are those who have not bowed the knee to Baal.

He found, too, how greatly he had exaggerated the effect to be produced by his act.  For a few nights there was a sneer or a laugh when he knelt down, but this passed off soon, and one by one all the other boys but three or four followed the lead.  I fear that this was in some measure owing to the fact that Tom could probably have thrashed any boy in the room except the prepostor; at any rate, every boy knew that