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.
Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling, which was like to
break his heart, was the sense of his own cowardice.
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