Chapter X
IN September of 187 1, Frank entered the
Freshman class at Princeton College, and
began keeping “Bachelor’s Hall,” as he
called it, in a room in the town. In his Pocket-diary
the last entry takes notice of this:
“September iT,fh. Oh, thou poor diary, thou dost tell but little of my thoughts and feelings, so lazy am I about writing in thee J And now what am I? Still I do hope a trusting child of God! And where? Well, of all places in the world, in Princeton. Yes, here at college; here, if nothing happens, for four years, for better and for worse. Princeton will still keep me a member of ’75, if I live and remain well. Jean Ingelow says, in her ‘Songs of Seven,’ something like this: * Ring out, ye bells, ring out your wild changes! ‘And I thought of this, as I heard the college-bell ring to-night, here at Princeton, in my own private room. How changed is my position from this time last year.”
On the same day he wrote to me:
‘’ Darling Mother:
‘’ Here I am, safe and sound, in my Bachelor’s Hall at 7 J p. M.; arrived about one.
“I don’t like to confess it, but I feel really lonely to-night. I would not for the world acknowledge I was homesick; but I should not mind one bit being at * The Cedars ’ with thee just now. It is a dreadful shame I do not let out my real feelings when I am at home, but it seems almost impossible. Those talks thee had with me, that prayer of thine by my bedside the night before I left, and all thy loving advice, was ever so acceptable, and more profitable to me than I can tell; and yet I hardly gave thee the slightest sign of sympathy, thereby depriving us both of a great deal of pleasure. It sometimes seems to me as if it must be hard work loving me. I am so cold, and there is so little sign of feeling about me. However, I know thee does love me, and thee cannot tell how much I think about it, when I am not with thee. That coldness is undoubtedly a defect, which I want to try and overcome. My trust is all in the Lord, and was so while I was at home; but I did not talk about it. He will keep me, I am sure.
“Give much love to Mary and the * young uns,’ and an untold amount for the dear mother of
“F. W. S.”
To his father, also, he wrote on the same day: *’ Darling Father:
“I feel ever so lonely here, not knowing a soul; but I will not acknowledge I am homesick. I shall, nevertheless, be very glad to see thee when thee comes. You never know how much you love people until you are separated from them. I never had the faculty of expressing my love to thee and mother, —
134 777^ RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE, [^Etat. 17,
but, indeed, 1 do love you, and try to observe your wishes a great deal more than perhaps you know; and in coming here, I think I appreciate fully your kindness in giving me a good thorough education, and in keeping me so liberally while doing it. And now that I know, in some degree, the advantages of education, I can never be thankful enough to my Heavenly Father for so loving a father and mother; nor to my earthly father for so many opportunities others, more worthy, are longing for and cannot have. And, father, I do want to put my thanks in a tangible shape, by being a thorough, industrious student, and a good son; but, knowing I cannot accomplish this by my own strength, I have once more afresh given myself wholly into Christ’s care, and He, I am sure, will keep me from the many temptations which are acknowledged to beset us here on every side.”
On the T 7th he wrote to his” Auntie Lill ’ ‘:
‘* My very dear Auntie:
**Few letters were ever more acceptable to me than thy last. It came the night after I had arrived here; and all day, not knowing a person to speak to, I had been feeling very lonely, and very much shut out from almost everything; and then came thy letter, and I read it and re-read it, and it seemed to be so pleasant to be reminded that the dear people at ‘Ivy Lodge * were remembering me. Of course, I knew in a general way that you were thinking of me and praying for me, but thy letter seemed to bring it home with a great deal of force. It was so comforting to know, that, although the people around me did not care for
at. 17.] THE RECORD OF A HAPPY LIFE. 1 35
me in the least, yet there was some one who did, and who was kind enough to say so just when I felt so lonely. I am getting acquainted gradually, but thee knows it is a slow process for me.
*’One thing I enjoy more in consequence of being such a stranger, and that is communion with Christ. He seems like such an old and tried Friend now. I know He is watching over and guiding me, and so I do not fear but that all will turn out right.
‘’We have Class prayer - meetings and College prayer-meetings, both of which I expect to attend. As the first one comes to-night, I am praying for help and strength to take whatever part in them it may be the Lord’s will I should take; and I am sure He will enable me to do it. It is a great comfort to me to think that thee is praying for me, and I will indeed do. as much for thee.”
After this meeting, Frank wrote to me:
‘’The prayer-meeting our class had to-night was very good indeed; almost every one spoke or prayed, although it was the first; there was no holding back nor reluctance. With Christ helping me, I was enabled to pray. One thing I noticed, their prayers were too roundabout and general — not so much for themselves as for every one else. ’ *
On the 24th he wrote to me:
“My stove is put up in my room, and a stock of wood laid in, and I have had a fire the last few days. This is really quite cheerful. I love to put out the light, and sit down in front of the open draught, and watch the fire flickering, and then dream about home and you all, and my future prospects, and my present work, — such work as the Lord, I humbly believe, has appointed for me, but for which, alas! I am all too unworthy. I have often thought that the reason God gives some of His work to the weakest of His children, is to show them their absolute need of Him, — that they can do nothing without His aid. I believe thee was right in saying it was my privilege to preach the * Higher Christian Life ’ here. But, oh, I feel so utterly unable to do it in the right way! And so I have just resigned it all into the Lord’s hands. When He wants me to speak for His glory, He will tell me what to say and then I need fear no blunder. It is such a comfort to remember, that, if I am under His guidance, He will not let His cause suffer.
“I am getting gradually acquainted, but have not yet found the fellow I would care to be intimate with. He is here, though, I suppose. This life, where I have to back myself socially, is bringing me out somewhat, I hope. Father told thee, I. suppose, about our cane-fight; how we Freshmen undertook to carry canes, and the Sophs tried to take them away. And how we held on to them, and how I came out victorious, though with a broken cane and scratched hands. Oh, it was jolly fun!”
On the ist of October, he wrote:
‘’The prayer - meeting, last Sunday, was very interesting. I said a little about trusting Christ. But there are so many older Christians there, that I hardly like to say anything that seems like giving advice. My own experience, during the past week, has been very restful, more so than ever before. I am trying, all the while, thy plan of a total surrender. It seems so wonderful to have my every action guided by the Lord, and to be enabled to follow that guidance.”
In my reply to this letter, I wrote:
‘’I rejoice over thy experience, my dear boy. It only remains for thee now to keep thy heart with all diligence. And the way to keep it, is to aba7idon it to the care and keeping of thy Lord. I am so thankful thee knows the rest of faith. This always comes when there is a childlike confidence in Jesus, which clings to His word, and will not give heed to a doubt. Of course He will save thee, for this is just what He came to do. And when all thy cares are cast on Him, He will keep thy heart and mind in perfect peace. I am very glad thee spoke in the prayer-meeting about it. Thy youth need not hinder thee in the least, because we are told that God has ordained praise out of the mouths of babes. Thee will invariably find that confession will greatly strengthen thy faith. And the clearer and more definite thy confession can be, the better for thy own soul. I find a bold, clear, confession is one of the surest ways of baffling Satan, when he comes with his suggestions of doubt and discouragement.”