the flood of memories which chased one another through his
brain, kept him from thinking or resolving. His head throbbed,
his heart leapt, 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.

It was no light act of courage in those days 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 is did not 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.