Extent of his Obstinacy.

5

leave his seat, and come and stand near me, before the door of the pew. He obstinately refused. Laying my hand upon his shoulder, to produce compliance, I perceived, as he struggled to resist me, that he was preparing for one of his tremendous shrieks, which, if uttered at the time, and under the circumstances of the occasion, would have electrified the whole assembly. I knew this from my familiarity with the foreboding movements and expressions of countenance that always accompanied this practice.

I dreaded such an explosion exceedingly, and saw that there was but one way to prevent it. In an instant, I took his hat and my own, and ordered him to go with me out of the church. The unexpectedness of the command, and the strong and stern air of authority with which I enforced it, to my agreeable surprise, (for, I confess that I had fears of not succeeding,) produced immediate obedience.

We went, with all possible expedition, to my study in the Asylum, adjoining which was a large closet. There I bade him be seated on a chair, and proceeded to tie his hands behind him with a silk handkerchief, and his feet together, in the same manner. All this was done with so much despatch, and with such an air of determination on my part, that he seemed not to have the time necessary to collect and array his turbulent feelings into a confirmed opposition. Had he done this, there is not much probability that I could have accomplished my object, single-handed; for his muscular strength and eel-like lubricity of motion, under the direction of his inflexible obstinacy, when it was once fairly roused to effort, would, I think, have proved an over-match for me.

I hoped, by tying him as I did, to make him feel that he was in my power, and, in addition to this, to produce, by the restraint, some more quietness of nerves, and possibly a subdued spirit.

I waited a sufficient time to have the effect follow, which did in a good degree, so far as bodily composure was concerned. There was evidently, also, some composure of mind; but whether it was accompanied with any compunctions of conscience and a willingness to yield the obedience of the heart, or was only the calm to forebode a new storm, I was at a loss to determine.

I stood before him, and secured his fixed and steady attention. With all the mild yet firm expression of countenance that 1 could assume, exhibiting, what I really felt, a deep sorrow for his misconduct and a parental longing of soul, to convince him of it, and make him sensible of his guilt, I began to tell him, by

6

Appeals to his Conscientiousness.

signs and gestures which he perfectly understood, what I conceived his offence to be.

He had been long enough with us, to have learned something of God and of our accountability to him; of the object of the Christian Sabbath; and of the nature and design of public worship. He had behaved improperly at church before, and often been admonished on the subject. He knew why he had been removed to the pew in which I sat, and that he was, thus, under peculiar obligations to notice my directions and to yield to them.

I set all these things in order before him, clearly, affectionately, and impressively. During the whole of the admonition, he kept his eye on me with a steady, unwavering gaze, while the muscles of his countenance gave no disclosure, as yet, of the internal workings of his soul. He had an eye and a countenance capable of the strongest expression of purpose and emotion. I made a short pause, and asked him what he thought of his conduct in the church. He gave no reply. I repeated the inquiry, again and again; and there he sat, like a little statue, literally mute, so that not a breath, or motion of any kind, escaped him.

'Do you think you did right, to behave as you did?'

'Yes,' said he, 'yes, yes, yes;'-moving his head affirmatively, with a look that showed his whole soul felt the force of the declaration.

Thinking it barely possible that he might not have understood me, I repeated the inquiry in a different form.

'Was it not wrong for you to behave as you did, at church ?' 'No, no, no;' was the immediate and prompt reply, with equal emphasis.

Will you be guilty of such conduct again?'

Yes, yes, yes;' with an expression of countenance that indicated the fixed purpose of his soul.

What was to be the issue of this contest I knew not, or what expedient I should resort to, in the hopes of inducing a better state of feeling. I felt it to be a duty to let him see that such conduct could not escape with impunity. I demanded his attention, and he gave it immediately, with the same settled and stern look of composure that he had exhibited before.

'You are a very bad boy, and I must punish you in some way severely. I am thinking seriously of keeping you confined in this room, perhaps for several days, and giving you nothing but bread and water. Do you not think it would be just what you

deserve?'

No, no, no.'

Final Resort to Prayer.

'Would you like to be confined so?'

'Yes, yes, yes.'

7

One other resort occurred to me. It is that which is vouchsafed to us in all times of extremity. I fear we do not seck it with any thing like the fidelity or the frequency which we ought.

Look at me,' said I, 'I am going to pray for you. You are a poor, wicked boy; and if God does not have mercy on you, and shew you that you are a sinner, and lead you to repentance, and help you to do better, I do not know what will become of you. I am afraid, you will keep on growing more and more wicked, till your Father in Heaven becomes so much displeased with you, that he will abandon you to your own course in sin. I will beseech him, for Christ's sake, to have mercy on you. Look at me, while I pray for you.'

He seemed quite disposed to do so; and, standing directly before him, with my eyes closed, and my arms extended upwards, I offered a short prayer in that expressive language of signs and gestures, which, to the deaf and dumb, is fully as significant, for all the purposes of devotion, as speech is to us.-I have often thought, that it is more so. For it is the language of feeling, deep and strong, and of picturesque thought. Prayer,at least a great proportion of it,-is conversant with those spiritual objects, which can be presented to the mind only by the aid of sensible analogies and symbols. To be sincere and fervent, it must flow from the heart, and mingle with the contemplation of such objects its purest and most hallowed emotions.

The petitions offered at this time, I have already stated, in substance, in the remarks which I made to the boy when I invited his attention.

I trembled to open my eyes, and ascertain the result; for if he would not be moved now, what could I hope for? Imagine, then, my astonishment and delight, to see tears trickling down a softened and subdued face, the expression of which clearly showed, that the fountains of feeling within were broken up, and that I might now use a moral influence with the prospect of success.

I released him from his bonds. He acknowledged that he had done wrong. I went into a renewed course of admonition, which he received, apparently, with a docile and contrite temper. He promised entire amendment, in the particular in which he had offended. He hoped God would forgive him, and enable him to do better in future.

My end was attained; and if my recollection is correct, his conduct, at church, was not afterwards deserving of censure. Another instance occurs to me, illustrating with equal force,

6

Appeals to his Conscientiousness.

signs and gestures which he perfectly understood, what I conceived his offence to be.

He had been long enough with us, to have learned something of God and of our accountability to him; of the object of the Christian Sabbath; and of the nature and design of public worship. He had behaved improperly at church before, and often been admonished on the subject. He knew why he had been removed to the pew in which I sat, and that he was, thus, under peculiar obligations to notice my directions and to yield to them.

I set all these things in order before him, clearly, affectionately, and impressively. During the whole of the admonition, he kept his eye on me with a steady, unwavering gaze, while the muscles of his countenance gave no disclosure, as yet, of the internal workings of his soul. He had an eye and a countenance capable of the strongest expression of purpose and emotion. I made a short pause, and asked him what he thought of his conduct in the church. He gave no reply. I repeated the inquiry, again and again; and there he sat, like a little statue, literally mute, so that not a breath, or motion of any kind, escaped him.

'Do you think you did right, to behave as you did?'

'Yes,' said he, 'yes, yes, yes;'-moving his head affirmatively, with a look that showed his whole soul felt the force of the declaration.

Thinking it barely possible that he might not have understood me, I repeated the inquiry in a different form.

'Was it not wrong for you to behave as you did, at church ?' 'No, no, no;' was the immediate and prompt reply, with equal emphasis.

Will you be guilty of such conduct again?'

'Yes, yes, yes;' with an expression of countenance that indicated the fixed purpose of his soul.

What was to be the issue of this contest I knew not, or what expedient I should resort to, in the hopes of inducing a better state of feeling. I felt it to be a duty to let him see that such conduct could not escape with impunity. I demanded his attention, and he gave it immediately, with the same settled and stern look of composure that he had exhibited before.

'You are a very bad boy, and I must punish you in some way severely. I am thinking seriously of keeping you confined in this room, perhaps for several days, and giving you nothing but bread and water. Do you not think it would be just what you deserve?'

'No, no, no.'

Final Resort to Prayer.

'Would you like to be confined so?' 'Yes, yes, yes.'

7

One other resort occurred to me. It is that which is vouchsafed to us in all times of extremity. I fear we do not seek it with any thing like the fidelity or the frequency which we ought.

Look at me,' said I, 'I am going to pray for you. You are a poor, wicked boy; and if God does not have mercy on you, and shew you that you are a sinner, and lead you to repentance, and help you to do better, I do not know what will become of you. I am afraid, you will keep on growing more and more wicked, till your Father in Heaven becomes so much displeased with you, that he will abandon you to your own course in sin. I will beseech him, for Christ's sake, to have mercy on you. Look at me, while I pray for you.'

He seemed quite disposed to do so; and, standing directly before him, with my eyes closed, and my arms extended upwards, I offered a short prayer in that expressive language of signs and gestures, which, to the deaf and dumb, is fully as significant, for all the purposes of devotion, as speech is to us.-I have often thought, that it is more so. For it is the language of feeling, deep and strong, and of picturesque thought. Prayer,at least a great proportion of it,-is conversant with those spiritual objects, which can be presented to the mind only by the aid of sensible analogies and symbols. To be sincere and fervent, it must flow from the heart, and mingle with the contemplation of such objects its purest and most hallowed emotions.

The petitions offered at this time, I have already stated, in substance, in the remarks which I made to the boy when I invited his attention.

I trembled to open my eyes, and ascertain the result; for if he would not be moved now, what could I hope for? Imagine, then, my astonishment and delight, to see tears trickling down a softened and subdued face, the expression of which clearly showed, that the fountains of feeling within were broken up, and that I might now use a moral influence with the prospect of success.

I released him from his bonds. He acknowledged that he had done wrong. I went into a renewed course of admonition, which he received, apparently, with a docile and contrite temper. He promised entire amendment, in the particular in which he had offended. He hoped God would forgive him, and enable him to do better in future.

My end was attained; and if my recollection is correct, his conduct, at church, was not afterwards deserving of censure. Another instance occurs to me, illustrating with equal force,