Say, fellows, a bunch of college students were talking over the news
that had come to the campus that morning about Bob Allman. They were
not only surprised; they were mad, for "Bob Allman had done the
biggest fool thing ever committed by any decent fellow that the
college had sent out,"--that was the unanimous verdict. And of all the
bunch in last year's graduating class, Bob was the last one you would
have suspected of such a thing, he had so much at stake. He was the
clearest-headed, the best-balanced, the finest physical specimen, the
smartest chap in the lot. Bob was one of those rare fellows who could
stand high in his classes and be popular with the boys and the
professors alike. He was president of his class and captain of the
'varsity football team, and everybody was glad of it.

The amazing news had arrived, in a letter from Bob, himself, to one of
the boys stating that he was that very week at Vancouver, taking ship
for China, where he had accepted a position as school-teacher on the
banks of the Yangtse; there he would preside over a room full of
Chinese boys about seven hours every day, while they monotonously
swayed backward and forward to the droning of their "study voices" in
the characteristic Chinese fashion.

Bob's friend showed the letter. He had no more sympathy for Bob's
reasons than the bunch had; it was "simply a horrible mess--an
outrageous slaughter of talent." That was what they decided. Bob's
letter had said:

"I don't suppose you will understand it now; I hope you may, later;
but out there are living (dying, I had better say) about four hundred
and twenty-five millions of people, practically without a knowledge of
Christ. I know Jesus Christ, not only as my Saviour, but as the very