In the big parlour of Crosston Hall the boys grouped in prayer and rejoicing. One after the other each one rose and told what God had done for him. One after the other, each offered up prayer.
Toward three o'clock the climax was reached, when the captain of the hall's football team jumped to a table in an extra burst of enthusiasm and shouted, "Boys, all together now,—three cheers for Jesus Christ!"
I was one of the three in our hall who resisted all efforts at conversion. The next morning a group of convertees knelt and prayed for me, in front of my door ... that God might soften the hardness of my heart and show me the Light.
For two weeks the flame of the revival burned. Some were of the opinion that from the school this time a fire would go forth and sweep the world....
There were prayer-meetings, prayer-meetings, prayer-meetings ... between classes, during study-periods, at every odd minute of time to be snatched.
Though, my preceding summer, my chief pastime had been to argue against the Bible, all this praying and mental pressure was bound to have an influence on my imaginative nature....
Besides, the temptation toward hypocrisy was enormous. The school was honeycombed with holy spies who imputed it merit to report the laxity of others. And, once you professed open belief, everything immediately grew easy and smooth—even to the winning of scholarships there, and, on graduation, in the chief colleges of the land.
So, suddenly, I took to testifying at prayer meetings, half believing I meant it, half because of the advantages being a professed Christian offered. And the leaders sang and rejoiced doubly in the Lord over the signal conversion of so hard and obdurate a sinner as I.
One day, as I was marching in line from the chapel, a queer thing took place....