“‘Now that’s so,’ said one; ‘I feel that way all the time myself.’ And another said, ‘Not all the time;’ which implied some assent. And yet they were all of them, perhaps, swearing away as much as ever in three minutes. “All this only proves that a good many are walking into the net with their eyes open. “I have felt since I have been here that I should be proud to give my life to the spreading of Christ’s kingdom, even as a missionary, or in whatever way he might see fit. I never read my Bible with half the interest I now feel in it. Nor did I know how it was adapted to every possible situation. I don’t know at all what is before me in life, but I have no doubt that if God intends me to grow up to man’s estate, he will give me some situation in which I may honor him, and love and benefit my fellow-men. I have conned your letter over carefully, and feel it in my bones. I am convinced, as grandfather wrote me, that the Christian gentleman ‘is the highest style of man, notwithstanding the sneers of the profane and the ungodly.’ I hope that I could never be happy living without some worthy object; and I can conceive of nothing, as an object in life, more glorious and desirable than ‘conducting timid pilgrims through the perils of the wilderness to the promised land.’ You quote a couplet which is often in my mind: ‘The love of Jesus--what it is None but his loved ones know.’” A classmate writes of him as follows: “My heart is too full for utterance, and yet I feel I must let you know what he was to me, and how he was everywhere a blessing. I first knew him at the military school. I had been there a year longer than he, and the first day he came I met him. Cheerful, frank, and sincere, the hearts of all went out to him at once, and there in school, the only Christian, the only unprofane man, he was universally esteemed and respected. And yet among scoffers he was never afraid of the offense of the cross. Boldly and manfully he upheld it all alone. Speaking to others on the subject of religion was a thing which, as he often told me, came hard to him, and yet for that reason he was all the more active in doing it. He set out to speak with every individual member of the school on the subject of his soul’s salvation; and I believe he accomplished it. I know that he set many to thinking as they had never thought before, and, I have no doubt, sowed much seed which will hereafter spring up and bear fruit to the honor and glory of that Master he was so diligent in serving. Among the many, I was as openly a scoffer as any. One day, however, I can never forget; for from it I date the beginning of a new and higher life. It was the last Wednesday in May, 1862. He asked me to walk with him, as we had often done on holidays before. We had gone some little distance and turned a corner on the road; he turned to me abruptly, and asked, ‘B., why are you not a Christian?’ My mouth was stopped. I tried to make excuses; but no, nothing could I say.