'Then Buchman, because that's who it was, told a light theatrical story to put me at my ease. "But think," he added, "what a force for God the theatre could be in the world!" He was brisk and trim, with rimless glasses and a tweed suit, and he was very obviously American.

'When I got to know him a little, I thought he was nice but slightly maladroit, a good man who'd do useful work if only he understood Oxford better. He'd say things like, "The banana that leaves the bunch always gets skinned." "But, Frank," I said, "that's the whole purpose of a banana," but he just chuckled and repeated it four times. Then he used to say P-R-A-Y stood for Powerful Radiograms Always Yours. Such appalling taste, I used to think!'

Despite Buchman's lack of outward charisma, more and more people began to be intrigued by the changes which they could see taking place in the lives of their friends or pupils. As the interest grew, however, so did the opposition.

By the early months of 1928, the numbers of young men and women coming to meetings were so large that, in February, Buchman's friends decided to hire the ballroom of the Randolph, Oxford's biggest hotel. The Daily Express got wind of this and on 27 February ran a story under the headlines 'Revival Scenes at Oxford. Undergraduates' Strange New Sect. Prayer Meetings in a Lounge', which carried unmistakable echoes of Princeton.

The reporter said that 'a sensational religious revival is causing excitement, and some consternation, among Oxford undergraduates'. The main focus, he wrote, was a group which met every Sunday evening in the private lounge of Oxford's largest hotel, and the public confession of sin had been a feature of these meetings.

'Such an ordeal', he went on, 'naturally involves a violent emotional strain and, in the case of one or two young men of nervous temperament, the unfortunate results of their "conversion" have provoked severe comment, and are said to be attracting the attention of the university authorities.'

However, there was, apparently, little sign of these violent strains at the meeting he attended, nor could he report a single juicy confession made, or any specific unfortunate result. There were, he reported, fully 125 men present, almost all undergraduates. 'Their baggy grey trousers and the cigarettes which they smoked freely helped to create the atmosphere of informality which characterised the whole meeting. There was as much devotion as discussion during the two hours that they spent there, but an absence of even the elementary ceremonial of standing or kneeling. They just sat about in easy chairs, even when speaking.'2

The Express also carried, on the same day, a largely approving editorial saying that it was inspiring that there should be signs of a 'deep stirring of religious feeling' at Oxford, and that, while it was easy to deride such youthful quests into the reality of things spiritual, 'these are the adventures that, when undertaken with earnestness and sincerity, leaven life, keep materialism at bay and fortify the soul of the coming Generation'.3

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