Some time ago a very young boy went to school for the first time. He was a mere child, only eight years old, and he had never seen so many boys together before. The boys slept in large rooms, about fifteen boys in each room, and when he came, he was put into one of these, without knowing a single boy in the room. Now this child had been carefully and religiously brought up, and before the little fellow left home his mother had talked to him about the school to which he was going. Amongst other things she had told him never to forget to say his prayers. So, accordingly, the first night the boy got to school he knelt down to pray. No sooner, however, was he on his knees than the whole room was in an uproar. Some of the boys threw their slippers at him, some laughed, some shouted, or hissed, but still he kept on his knees. At last he rose and the tears stood in his eyes, for remember he was only a child. The next night he knelt down again, with the same result; boots and slippers were thrown at him, but still he persevered. For many nights this went on, until at length one night a little fellow came and knelt beside him, and said, "Mother told me to say my prayers too, but I was afraid." And so for some nights the two knelt side by side, and got an equal share of the slippers and the laughter. But at length a change came over the room. The good example had borne fruit, and one after another the boys in that room knelt down regularly and said their prayers. I have read of the greatest victories by land and by sea. I have read accounts of the Duke of Wellington’s campaigns, and of Nelson’s battles; but nowhere have I read of a greater victory, won under more trying circumstances, than that child’s victory over his companions’ laughter. And will you be beaten by him? Will you, a strong man, give in, where a weak child of eight years old would not? Will you deny Christ, and break your Confirmation and Baptismal vows, because you can’t stand the laughter of a few? Just look on a few years ahead--it may be only a few hours. You will be standing before a great white throne, while on it will be sitting your Judge. Around that throne stands the noble army of martyrs--men who laid down their lives in torture and pain for the sake of Christ crucified. The charges against you are read out, charges of carelessness and neglect of God and of His Sacraments; and then the Judge turns to you, and asks you if you have any excuse to make. And you answer Him, "Yes." And then God turns to you again, and He looks at the martyr band, and thinks of all that they have suffered, as He asks you--"What?" And then I fancy I can hear you saying that you made good resolutions, and that you intended to keep straight, but your companions laughed at you, and you fell away. Do you think Almighty God would be satisfied with such an excuse. I think not. Do you think that you would deserve a place in the same kingdom as that in which the martyrs of Jesus rest?