COLLEGE DAYS
Had you met him as he trudged along the dusty road on that day of
early September, you would have little suspected that you had come
into the presence of a hero; but the stuff of which heroes are made is
not carried in the way of outward observing, having its place within.
Records of the world’s great deeds give the place of honor and fame to
those who have taken cities and subdued peoples, but the Book of books
says that a greater hero than he who conquers a city is he who rules
his own spirit.
That he was one of the “greater heroes” Robert Allen was to make proof.
Had your curiosity prompted you to question the lad, as you met him, he
would have told you that he was on his way to enter Carlton College:
and had there crept into your voice a note of friendliness, enthusiasm
would have kindled in his blue-gray eyes, and he would have confided
to you the great ambitions that had been crowding in upon the fifteen
years of his young life. As he recounted the sacrifices that had been
made in his humble home, and the purpose and high courage for the years
of struggle before him, you would not have seen the poor clothes, the
awkward, uncouth manner, but would have given heed to the strong,
clean, manly soul within.
Robert Allen found employment at the college by which, working half his
time, he could spend the other half with his books. That he was the
victim of hard circumstances, or that there was any sort of injustice
to him in the fact that he had to saw and carry up wood for the wealthy
boys, and do other menial labor, never entered his thoughts. That his
grand dreams were coming true, and he was actually privileged to study
in a college, and sometime would be able to graduate, was too wonderful
and precious to allow any other sentiment than gratitude to have place
in his heart.
While Rob was, for his age, a well-read boy and at home with many of
the great ones of literature, he found it difficult at first to bring
his mind to the habits of study required by a college course. The class
room was a place of especial torture; of the twenty-six students in
his class, more than half were young ladies, and when, after hours
spent upon _amo, amas, amat_, etc., Rob would arise to recite he would
feel the eyes of all those elegant girls fixed upon him and his poor
clothes. Then, the sheep before his shearer was no more dumb than Rob
before the Latin teacher.
After several trials and failures Rob sought the kind-hearted professor
and requested the privilege of reciting privately to him in his room,
telling him of his confusion and its cause. The professor, with kindly
tact and Christly love, soon had the boy at his ease, and drew from him
the story of his aspirations and purposes. Then, instead of granting
his request, he said, “Robert, you prepare your lesson and come to the
class room as usual, and when you are called upon to recite, look into
my eyes, and remember that you are speaking to a friend who knows and
understands.”
It was not long before the personal sympathy of the young professor
made itself felt in greater confidence, and the boy was able to hold
his place in the class.
In the winter term a revival meeting was held in the college church.
Rob had never become a Christian, though often he had wished he might
be. He had been well reared, morally, and his life knew nothing of the
grosser sins common to so many of our young men and boys. Swearing,
Sabbath-breaking, drinking, smoking, and card-playing were evils of
which he had no experimental knowledge; but he knew that he was not a
Christian; that he had not been born of the Spirit. While his roommate,
Tom Wright, made sport of the preacher, and would bring in his set of
rough boys for a “high time” after the services, Rob was thoughtful and
serious. One night Professor Jackson, his Latin teacher, walked home
with him from the meeting and in an earnest, friendly way urged Rob to
become a Christian; adding the assurance that he was praying for him.
Rob thanked the professor and walked up to his room. One time, at
least, Satan helped, for Tom Wright and his fellows remained out nearly
all night upon a wild lark. Rob, his heart strangely stirred, felt that
he could not sleep, and at last flung himself at the side of his bed
crying, “O God, I want to be a Christian. I don’t know how, but You
know how to make me one, and I’ll never leave this bedside until I am
saved.”
Rob prayed on in his stumbling way until it seemed that he could do no
more, when all at once there came into his heart a beautiful stillness.
He felt as light as a feather, and as happy as a bird. He could not
stay in his room; and throwing open the door he ran down the corridor
to Professor Jackson’s room and awoke him with the glorious tidings
that his prayer had been answered and he was saved.
Rob’s first real test came the following night at bedtime. When he
was ready for bed there were two or three of Tom Wright’s gang in the
room with him, and when Rob, with the courage of a genuine hero, knelt
by the bedside and began to thank God for His goodness, and claim His
promise for future help and guidance, the boys were, for the moment,
dumbfounded. Then they broke out into cursing and reviling. They
declared they would have no pious hypocrite around there, even if they
had to throw him down stairs.
Night after night the persecution kept up, whenever one of the others
would be in the room at bedtime. They would tie Rob to the bedpost as
he prayed; they drenched him with ice water; and, harder than all to
bear, they followed his praying with vile and hideous blasphemy. But
Rob had enlisted under the banner of Jesus Christ, Who, when He was
reviled, reviled not again, and Who blessed when He was cursed; so the
fierce trial but deepened his real experience of grace. He became an
active worker for his Master among his college mates, and had the joy
of seeing several converted through his efforts.
Serious breaches of discipline had occurred in the dormitory some
two months after Robert’s conversion, and one Sunday night Professor
Jackson was deputized by the Faculty to stay in his room during the
church service and endeavor to get some clue to the transgressors.
After church had well begun, Tom Wright and his crowd, who were all
supposed to be at the service, got out an old fiddle, and with some
rough characters from the town, proceeded to have a dance in the halls,
all unconscious of the presence of the professor in the adjoining room.
The “fun” became furious, and one of the boys undertook to act the
character of “pious Bob Allen” for the amusement of the strangers, the
others using the name of Robert as if he were really present.
As the other students began to return from the service, the uproar
subsided, and when Rob reached his room his roommate was already there,
apparently having just returned from church. The next day, with a very
grave face, Professor Jackson called Rob into his room. Rob went in
smilingly, but his smile faded quickly at the stern look of his friend.
“Where were you last night, Robert? I want to give you a chance to
confess.”
“Why, I was at church. Where should I have been?”
“Do you mean to tell me that you know nothing of the disgraceful
occurance last night in the hall?”
“What occurance, sir? Indeed, I know nothing. I was at church.”
“Robert, Robert, I am so disappointed in you! I believed you to be a
manly young man, and a Christian. How could you so forget yourself as
to engage in such an affair, and then pretend that you were at church!
I was here in my room throughout, and heard your name called again and
again. Because of your previous perfect record, no public punishment
will be given you by the Faculty, but the other boys will be severely
dealt with.”
“Professor, I have told you the truth. Goodbye,” and Robert staggered
out to his own room, unable to fathom the depth of his misery. His
poverty and his life of toil isolated him from the most of the
students. How he longed for the quick understanding and sympathy of his
lost friend Dauphin. He had made comparatively few acquaintances in
college, and there had been but one, the young Latin professor, whom
his heart had really claimed for a friend. And now that one was lost!
That one despised him for a breaker of rules, and a liar. O it was too
much! The tempter came, as he always does in the moment of our stress,
and said, “Give it up. Give it all up. It’s no use. Go back home.”
The battle was fierce, and not soon over. But victory came--came
through the stretched-out Hand that had brought him salvation. In the
darkness of his extremity, the thought came to him that there was One
who knew all, and, he knelt and poured out his soul to the comforting
Christ.
Not for a moment afterward did Rob relax his conscientious work either
in the class room or in such Christian duties as came his way. His
manner became graver, if possible, and a little shyer, but there
glowed upon the face of the lad a steady light that would often cause
a wondering look from those who passed him by. He had conquered his
own spirit, and trusting, he looked to God for his vindication and his
reward.
Just before the commencement in June, an escapade of unusual
viciousness caused the expulsion of Tom Wright and two of his fellows.
As the students gathered in the college chapel on the last day of
school to hear the awards of prizes and scholarships that had been won
during the year, and the white-haired president had come to the Ira
Morton prize of $50 for the best Latin grades for the year, he paused,
and wiping his spectacles, said, “In connection with the award of
this prize, the Faculty have delegated to me another pleasant duty.
The confessions of some students whom we were obliged to send home,
during the past term, opened our eyes to the fact that we have had in
our midst as true a hero as any knight of old; a lad whose courage and
faithfulness under severe trial and severer suspicion and accusation
has shown a quality of manhood and Christian spirit that honors this
institution.” Briefly the president sketched the career of the boy,
then added, “To the $50 Morton prize, the Faculty have added another
$50 in recognition of the conflict and glorious victory of this young
man. Mr. Robert Allen, come forward and receive the honor which is your
due.”
In the years that were to come Robert Allen was to rise high in the
world, and receive honor from his fellow men, but no honor nor applause
ever was able to gladden his heart as did this vindication and victory
he had won through Jesus Christ.
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Transcriber’s note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.