He remembered that he was in a small room with two men, that they all took off their clothes (he remembered that one man, very stout and red, looked funny without his clothes), that they put on long white night-shirts, that his was too long for him and that he tripped over it, that they all three walked down the centre of the Chapel, which was filled with eyes, mouths and boots, and that he was very conscious of his toe-nails, which had never been exposed in public before, that they came to a round stone place filled with water and into this after the two men he was dipped, that he didn't scream from the coldness, of the water although he wanted to, that he was wrapped in a blanket and finally carried home in an ecstasy of triumph.
What happiness followed! The vitality of it swept down upon him now, so that he seemed never to have lived since then.

He was the chosen of God and every one knew it.

What a little prig and yet how simple it had all been, without any consciousness of insincerity or acting on his part.
God had chosen him and there he was, for ever and ever safe and happy.
It was not only that he was assured that when the moment arrived he would have, in Heaven, a "good time"-- it was that he was greatly exalted, so that he gave his twopence a week pocket-money to his school-fellows, never pulled Amy's hair, never teased his mother's canary.

He had been aware, young though he was, of another life.

He prayed and prayed, he went to an endless succession of services and meetings.