and
toddled on to the next room, shutting the door with his usual "Good
night, genl'm'n."

There were many boys in the room by whom that little scene was taken to
heart before they slept. But sleep seemed to have deserted the pillow of
poor Tom. For some time his excitement, and the flood of memories which
chased one another through his brain, kept him from thinking or
resolving. His head throbbed, his heart leaped, and he could hardly keep
himself from springing out of bed and rushing about the room. Then the
thought of his own mother came across him, and the promise he had made
at her knee, years ago, never to forget to kneel by his bedside, and
give himself up to his Father, before he laid his head on the pillow,
from which it might never rise; and he lay down gently and cried as if
his heart would break. He was only fourteen years old.

[Illustration: Rugby School]

It was no light act of courage in those days, my dear boys, for a little
fellow to say his prayers publicly even at Rugby. A few years later,
when Arnold's manly piety had begun to leaven the school, the tables
turned; before he died, in the schoolhouse at least, and I believe in
the other houses, the rule was the other way. But poor Tom had come to
school in other times. The first few nights after he came he did not
kneel down because of the noise, but sat up in bed till the candle was
out, and then stole out and said his prayers in fear, lest some one
should find him out. So did many another poor little fellow. Then he
began to think that he might just as well say his prayers in bed, and
then that it didn't matter whether he was kneeling, or sitting, or lying
down. And so it had come to pass with Tom as with all who will not
confess their Lord before men: and for the last year he had probably not
said his prayers in earnest a dozen times.

Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling which was like to break his
heart was the sense of his own cowardice. The vice of all others which
he loathed was brought in and burned in on his own soul. He had lied to
his mother, to his conscience, to his God. How could he bear it? And
then the poor little weak boy, whom he had pitied and almost scorned for
his weakness, had done that which he, braggart as he was, dared not do.
The first dawn of comfort came to him in swearing to himself that he
would stand by that boy through thick and thin, and cheer him, and help
him, and bear his burdens, for the good deed done t