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.
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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,
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 “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
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 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, when............