BV 
 
 4915 
 W87 
 1677a 
 
The oligiri^Pof this book is in 
 the Co?R^fl^lyJ^iversity Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924050939804 
 
WONDERFUL WORKS OP GOD. 
 
 A NARRATIVE 
 
 WONDERFUL FACTS 
 
 C^^^ os< S;K^s^^ Soif^;^'s^, 
 
 WEST SHELBY, ORLEANS CO., N. Y. 
 
 WHO, IN THE MIDST OF OPPOSITION TO THE OHKISTIAN EBLIGION, WAS 
 
 SUDDENLY STEUCK BLIND, DUMB AND DEAF ; AND AFTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 DAYS WAS groDENLt AND COMPLETELY EESTOEBD, IN THE 
 
 PEESENOB OF HUNDREDS OF PERSONS, IN THE 
 
 OIIEISTIAN OHAPEL. AT WESTERLY, ON 
 
 THE 15th of NOVEMBEE, 185'?. 
 
 ^ATRITTEN UNDER HIS DIRECTION. 
 
 FALL RIVER, MASS. 
 
 WM. S. BoBEBTSON, steam PEIKTEB, 6 MAIN STREET. 
 
 1877. 
 
Uj27 
 
 ^<h^S^>iy^-. 
 
 '^.; 
 
 V'-2 \ I 
 
^1 
 
 f WONDERFUL WORKS OF GOD. 
 
 
 A NARRATIVE 
 
 WONDERFUL FACTS 
 
 c^^% 0^ ^ji^^i^ ^o\J^^% 
 
 WEST SHELBY, ORLEANS CO., N. Y. 
 
 WHO, IN THE MIDST OF OPPOSITIOIT TO THE 0HEI8TIAN BBLIGION, WAS 
 
 SUDDENLY BTEUOK BLIND, DTTJCB AND DEAP ; AND AFTEE EI&HTEEN 
 
 DATS WAS aUDDENLT AND COMPLETELY BESTOBED, IN THE 
 
 PBESENOE OF HUNDBEDS OF PEB80NS, IN THE 
 
 OHBISTIAN OHAFEL, AT WE8TEBLT, ON 
 
 THE 15tH OF NOTEKBEE, 1857. 
 
 WRITTEN UNDER HIS DIRECTION. 
 
 FALL RIVER, MASS. 
 
 WM. S. BOBBBTSON, BTKAX PRINTER, 6 MAIN STBKST. 
 1877. 
 

 Entered accordmg to Act of Congress, in t&e year 1858", by 
 
 ANSEL BOURNE, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern Distrie* 
 of the State of New York, 
 
 
THE N^J^RRj^TIVE 
 
 OP 
 
 ANSEL BOURNE. 
 
 Ansel Bourne was born in the City of New York, on 
 the 8th of July, 1826. His father, Thomas Bourne, was a 
 native of Sandwich, in the State of Massachusetts. His 
 mother, whose maiden name was Betsy Green, was a 
 native of Warwick, Rhode Island. 
 
 At the tender age of seven, Ansel was deprived of a 
 father's care and protection. His mother, at the same time, 
 was subjected to the trials incident to poverty- Three 
 children, of whom the subject of this narrative was the 
 youngest, were dependent upon her, and these circumstances 
 naturally contributed to decMe the measure and character 
 of their education. Their privileges at school were some- 
 what abridged by the stern necessities which controlled the 
 mother, and the education which she was able to give her 
 children partook largely of practical ideas. 
 
 At the age of ten, Ansel was sent to Dartmouth, Mass., 
 where he remained with a family by the name of Phillips 
 about three years Here his privileges to obtain an education 
 were such as to( ften falls to the lot of poor boys. The 
 precious time j sed away without affording him those 
 privileges of it ovement, which were the most desirable 
 as a preparatio or after years. 
 
 From Dartn ch he went, with his mother, to Olncyville, 
 Rhode Island, which vicinity he remained about two 
 years, all of wuich was spent in labor in factories, with no 
 privilege of attending school. At the age of fifteen, he 
 went to live with Mr. George J. Harris, of Olneyville, as an 
 apprentice to the trade of a Carpenter, where he remained 
 about three years. While with Mr. Harris, Ansel enjoyed 
 no other privileges of study or learning than those inseparably 
 
connected with his trade. During his stay with him, his 
 attention was called to religious subjects, in the midst of a 
 powerful revival of religion, under the labors of Rev. Martin 
 Cheney. With some hundreds, who, at that time, united 
 with the Free-Will Baptist Church, he was one On the 
 day of his baptism, sixty-three participated in submission 
 to the ordinance. 
 
 He thinks that he was, at that time, sincerely devout, and 
 intended to lead a christian life. But the time of his life 
 was that in which the passions of nature are most active, 
 the future of life most flattering and deceitful, and all moral 
 resolutions most likely to be overcome by surrounding 
 influences. He was under the necessity of working and 
 iissociatiug with all kinds of persons, and was deprived of 
 the benefits of those regular habits and religious companions, 
 which it is the good fortune of many to enjoy. Under 
 these circumstances, he lost sight of his religious vows, 
 and failed to be reminded of his first duty, and his soul's 
 great interest, by those whose brotherly care, at such a 
 time, would have been as valuable as the visits of angels. 
 
 After leaving Mr. Harris, realizing that without education 
 a man is unfitted for the services of this world, or even to 
 escape its innumerable snares, he became anxious for 
 improvement in that direction. He desired to master his 
 business, and for this purpose he applied himself to the 
 study of mathematics, and to useful reading, during the 
 leisure or evening hours This being all the opportunity 
 afl'orded him he used it to the utmost of his ability. 
 
 On the 14th of October, 1844, he gave his hand in 
 marriage to Miss Sarah A. Woodmansee, of Richmond, 
 Rhode Island. The marriage took place in South Kingston. 
 Soon after they went to the City of Providence, and there 
 established their residence. ^ 
 
 Within the two following years he built a house, fo lis 
 future home, at Cranston, Rhode Island, into whic ae 
 moved and lived for a time. Through the dishonesty a 
 man, who has since sufiiered much for his crimes, he as 
 deprived of his intended and coveted home. It is s in 
 this world, that the innocent often seem to suffer moi or 
 the crimes of the guilty, than do the guilty themselves. 
 This wicked man professed to be a pious man, and thus, at 
 the same time, dishonored the name of religion and the 
 humanity of man. 
 
 In the year 1847, Mr. Bourne removed again to the city 
 
of Providence, where he remained only for a very few 
 mouths, when he removed to Pawtuxet. 
 
 While in that place there was an imusual religious interest 
 in connection with the Free Will Baptist Church, and he 
 became again religiously awake He had once fallen away 
 before, which he so far attributed to brotherly neglect, that 
 he now thought to remain separate from any church. He 
 did not, therefore, unite with the church This unfortunate 
 idea and presumption — that one can live a christian and 
 keep aloof from christians — served to prepare the way for 
 a deeper fall into the ways of unbelief. When a man 
 derives no strength nor encouragement from the sympathy 
 and brotherly advice of christian familiarity, but mingles 
 with those outside of the church, he will feel the full influ- 
 ence of the world's estimate of the church, which is alv^ys 
 false. The world sees the church with an eye of enmity 
 and envy. The imperfections of church members are judged 
 without chai'ity by the world. And pure and holy as Christi- 
 anity is, many who profess it will prove wicked and unprin- 
 cipled. If a man will be surrounded by christian influences , 
 therefore, he should not go out into the world to secure them. 
 
 The corruptions among christians — the enmities existing 
 and perpetuated between professed brethren — the easy virtue 
 of whole churches — all presented the idea of almost an 
 embodiment of evil. The church was contemplated in a 
 fearful, terrible light. Its sectarianism — how it put to shame 
 its great profession of love and unity ! Its dishonest mem- 
 bers — how they denied the worth and principle of holiness ! 
 Its toleration of popular wrongs- ow it put all its pleas 
 of virtue to reproach 
 
 With such a fearful view of t church — a view which 
 every man must take, who sees n its worst light — how 
 easy it is for skepticism to assut in honorable position and 
 character. She even seizes th' m of each looker on, and 
 says — " See you not that the cL ih is the very place where 
 the being of a God is disproved ! Would a holy God allow 
 people to assume his name and character, and then conduct 
 in such a manner ! Is there a God above us ?" 
 
 Such questions always seem but suggestions of reason, to 
 a troubled and dissatisfied mind, when urged on by the spirit 
 and voice of the world. They seem to be the voice of com- 
 mon sense, in the minds of the irreligious, the passionate, 
 and the proud ; but they are entertained, after all, because 
 of a false view of the relation of God to his earth-born 
 creatures, and of the nature of bis government over men. 
 
They are really predicated upon the idea that God should 
 have prevented all moral evil, by allowing men no possible 
 power of doing wrong. If this were true, a discoverable 
 fault in our existence must be this ; we ought not to have 
 had any power of volition or will ; nor power of moral 
 election or choice. We should have been made incapable 
 of planning anything, of designing or of executing any de- 
 sign, except as mere machines. 
 
 Deistic fatalism ascribes all things to the determinate 
 counsel and wisdom of " a great first cause" ; but to a soul 
 so deeply dissatisfied with the things that are, as that soul 
 is which has fallen from a condition of christian love to the 
 restless gnawings of a backslidden spirit, it is impossible 
 to contemplate the crimes of men in the light of deistic 
 charity — that their reckless rascalities were made a positive 
 duty by the laws of eternal destiny, stereotyped in nature from 
 all eternity. Such a soul sits in judgment, upon a throne 
 of burning fire, to condemn the wickedness of the church 
 as entirely inexcusable, and as doubly — almost infinitely — 
 hateful. It cannot accept of deism, nor the apology which 
 it makes for sin, including sin in the church. Its hatred 
 rises up like a volcanic fire, and pours a stream of death 
 upon everything around. It breaks all the bands of faith 
 asunder and stamps indignantly upon the very idea of a God. 
 It cannot tolerate the crimes of professed christians, and 
 denies that a God of goodness can exist, who will permit 
 them ; thus denying that forbearance can be an attribute of 
 divine wisdom and goodness. 
 
 Mr. Bourne had experienced that treatment in his first 
 church connection, which continually arose in his mind, to 
 urge him onward toward atheism. When he had become 
 cold in his religious interests, and neglectful of his church 
 duties, his afiections for the church were weakened. Then 
 the case was aggravated by his learning, that not merely his 
 faults were freely commented upon by his professed brethren 
 but some of them descended to assail and injure him by 
 false and slanderous representations. It was the season of 
 fearful storms to his soul. 
 
 The memory of what he had experienced at the hand of 
 those who professed to be christians, in other places, con- 
 tributed to hasten his course to positive atheism. For about 
 eleven months, the question, " Is there a God?" was con- 
 stantly before him, his mind inclined more and more to 
 answer, " There is no God 1" If christian professors could 
 realize what a fearful power their words and actions have. 
 
when saying or doing evil, to ui^e such a person into athe- 
 ism, they would be more watchful. If. they would consider 
 what a power of influence they possess, in the simple per- 
 formance of the attentions of love, to the weak, the wavering, 
 and the tired, they would shudder to think of their enor- 
 mous sins of omission and commission. Mr. Boubne has 
 experienced the dreadful consequences of disappointment, 
 when expecting of christian professors, the full exhibition 
 of christian principles and christian love. He now desires 
 to exhort all the professed followers of Christ to attend 
 faithfully to the duties of christian brotherhood. 
 
 After about eleven months, his mind became fully estab- 
 lished in atheism. In the secret chambers of his cloud- 
 covered soul, he wrote, as with a pen of iron, the sentence 
 of fearless and yet fearful unbelief— " THERE IS NO 
 GOD !" 
 
 The time has been when he only allowed hi mself to be 
 careless of christian obligations — neglecting the Bible, the 
 prayer-meeting,the closet,and the meetings and communions 
 of the church. From this condition he had travelled in the 
 dovimward road, until he despised the church. Then wicked 
 men said to him, "Bourne, were I a member of that church 
 I would leave it " This advice was not without its influence. 
 He soon got down so low that words of profanity tasted 
 sweet upon his lips. He feared not to profane the name of 
 God. All this came from neglecting christian privileges and 
 duties, hastened by the sight of so many crimes among pro- 
 fessed christians. Think of it, christian professor, when you 
 neglect the Bible, the prayer-meeting, or the ordinances of 
 God ! Think of it, indeed, when you cheat your brethren, 
 or speak evil of them, or in any way do them injustice ! 
 you are driving them towards atheism. It will not hurt 
 their faith for infidels to treat them so , but it will for you 
 to do it, because you profess better things. 
 
 After being revived at Pawtuxet, and then again turning 
 back to doubt — and after a fearful struggle for the most of 
 a year, questioning, "Is there a God?" he had come to 
 the fearful answer, " There is no God." Then the question 
 arose in his mind, " Are you willing to preach this to 
 others?" To this he readily answered, " No I" For, after 
 all his struggles, his doubts and his unbelief, he knew that 
 true christians were the best people in the world and the 
 happiest. So he made no proclamation of his unbelief, be- 
 ing willing that all should enjoy their own minds. He nev- 
 er even told his wife how he had settled the great question. 
 
His mind was deeply locked in unbelief; but he yielded 
 uot to the demon of, intemperance. He says that he does 
 not think he ever drank a pint of liquor in all his life ; and 
 he has seldom even tasted cider. He vrishes this to be un- 
 derstood, because he has been represented as having be- 
 come dissipated. 
 
 When he became so thoroughly athesistic, he still said 
 within himself, " If there is a God, and he will show me 
 from his hand, I will believe." This seems almost like the 
 conduct of the murderers of Christ, who exclaimed, as they 
 crucified him, "If he be the Sou of God let him come down 
 from the cross and we will believe him." It would not 
 seem that such a request could be granted, after all the 
 evidences which surrounds the gospel had been trodden 
 under foot ; and the soul with all its powei-s and faculties 
 had settled down into thn deep and dismal darkness of a 
 terrible unbelief. But the cup of divine mercy sometimes 
 seems perfectly to overflow : when he not only ehooses to 
 save a soul, but selects an instrument to use in the plans 
 and purposes of his wide-spreading benevolence. This 
 was the case when he called Saul of Tarsus to be a witness 
 for him And perhaps thousands may yet be convinced 
 that it has been so in the case of Mr. Bourne. Every true 
 christian will desire that it may prove so. 
 
 For nearly ten years his mind was under the dark and 
 apparently impenetrable cloud of unbelief. His affections 
 were chilled under its inlluence His unbelief grew stronger 
 and stronger. Nine times was he brought seemingly very 
 near to death's door, but never did he desire prayer — never 
 did he think of God. To him, life was all here, and the 
 grave was an eternal sleep. Afllictions fell frequently upon 
 him ; but were never received as a chastening. They were 
 attributed to chance. 
 
 He hated churches, ministers, and professors, and some 
 of them most bitterly. He often worked so hard, to get 
 along in the world, when not well, as to very greatly exhaust 
 his strength and weary his system. 
 
 On Thursday, August 6, 1857, he was brought home from 
 South Kingston, in a condition of sickness, perhaps induced 
 by laboring beyond his strength at the place of Mr. Row- 
 land G. Hazard. It has been reported that Mr. Bourne 
 had been subject to fits. He does not sanction these reports 
 or acknowledge any truth in them. They are stories coined 
 by persons whose motives were best known to themselves. 
 After reaching home, (accompanied by Mr. J. E. Brown,) 
 
he rested thi'ough Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and was 
 very much restored Feeling well and comfortable on 
 Monday morning, August 10th, he was disposed to return 
 to his work at South Kingston, a distance of near thirty 
 miles. But Mrs. Bourne persuaded him to relinquish the 
 idea, and remain at home that week. He therefore re- 
 mained and occupied himself with labors of improvement 
 upon his own place — painting and so forth, until Thursday 
 night. On Friday, August 14, the hottest day of the season 
 he went to work in his garden. Between the hours of one 
 and two p. m., he experienced much pain in his head, and 
 was obliged to relinquish his work and go into the house. 
 After staying perhaps three-quarters of an hour the pain 
 left him and he returned to his work in the garden. He 
 worked until it was dark, at night, when -he went into the 
 house ; and enjoyed refreshing sleep through the night. In 
 the morning, on Saturday, he felt considerable pain in his 
 head, which continued through the day. At night the pain 
 ceased so that he again enjoyed a good night's rest. On 
 Sunday morning pain again returned, but at noon it passed 
 oft', and he determined to return to South Kingston on the 
 next morning. 
 
 On the afternoon of Sunday, which was the 16th of Au- 
 gust, having no scruples about working on Sunday as freely 
 as any day, he went to work preparing to leave home again 
 for awhile. About 4 o'clock he went out to cut some wood, 
 where, having some feeling in his head which he does not 
 remember so that he can describe it, he put his hand to his 
 head, and this was the last that he can remember that took 
 place, or of which he was conscious at the time, until 
 Tuesday the 1 8th From Tuesday morning until Wednesday 
 in the afternoon he was perfectly conscious of his condition, 
 except as friends affirm that he was a little delirious on 
 Tuesday night. He ran down rapidly and his restoration 
 or recovery became very doubtful. This was uiider.«t()od 
 to be the judgment of his physician, Dr. Thurston. On 
 Wednesday his mother visited him. She asked him if ho 
 was ready to die. He answered that he was. But this 
 answer was given without a single thought of (iod,or a state 
 of existence beyond the grave. All his thoughts of anxiety 
 were about his family. To leave them was painful. 
 
 Soon after,a change took place, and he rapidly recovered. 
 In about three weeks he was able to return to his work at 
 South Kingston. It was on Monday, September 7, that he 
 went to that place. He was able to work by day, but could 
 
inot rest at nigEt, on account of neuralgia and a severe- paiia 
 inhis head. On Friday, by advice of his friends, he returned! 
 home again. On Monday, September 14th ^ Dr. Thurstom 
 visited him, and continued his attendance by frequent visits- 
 until about the first of October. During this time, Mr. 
 Charles Maxon, of Westerly^ a* Seventh-Day Baptist, came- 
 to him on Sunday and wished him to go to South Kingston 
 on some business which required his presence in order ta 
 settlement. When be camse, Mr. Bourne had got ready to 
 go and spend the afternoon, together with his wife and 
 family, at the house of Mr. James Gavitt,aboutthree^fourths 
 of a mile distant. He went to Mr. Gavitf^s, and drew his. 
 youngest child, which so entirely exLausted and overcame 
 him that he got no rest that night. On Monday morning^ 
 he got ready aud went with Mr. Maxon to South 
 Kingston. When be got there he went through the various 
 apartments of a new house on which he bad been employed. 
 The house had recently been plastered, and was cold and 
 damp throughout. When he got through the house he was 
 too much exhausted and overcome to attend any business, 
 and went to the boarding house and laid down for some 
 little time. A cold chill or spasm came upon him there, 
 which deprived him of his strength. Dr. Hazard was 
 called and administered to him. During this illness he was 
 perfectly conscious of everything around him. (Mr. 
 BouENE wishes to be particular upon all these points, so that 
 friends or foes, infidels or christians, may have the whole 
 case just as it is, to consider upon and judge.) On the 
 same day he was carried home, weak and helpless. He soon 
 began to improve, and in about a week was a^yain able to 
 go out. He continued to improve until about the 28th of 
 October, when he thought himself about well. 
 
 Oil Sunday the 25th of October he spent the day and 
 evening at his own bouse, playing at cards. He was so 
 settled in his ideas of right and privilege to do as he 
 pleased on that day, that if the christian minister who lived 
 next door to him. Rev. John Taylor, bad come into his house 
 he is sure he should not have moved from his seat. Some 
 of those who thus spent the day with him have since united 
 with the Christian Church in Westerly. This playing was 
 not for money, but merely for amusement. He has never 
 jjlayed for money. 
 
 At the same time a protracted meeting was in progress 
 in the Christian Church, where Rev. J. Taylor preached 
 Mr. Bourne did not go to any of the meetings, nor pay 
 
11 
 
 tany attention to them, only so far as, occasionally to ma"kte 
 «uch remarks about them as his dislike for them prompted^ 
 To Mr. Taylor he felt no disposition to show any favor,, 
 ■but cherished a decided feeling of enmity. Towards a 
 ■certain member of that church^Mr. Joshua Thompson, 
 •Jr. — he also felt and openly avowed his hatred and eumitys 
 He had told Mr. Thompson, some four years before, oil 
 ■occasion of a settlement, that he would injure him in his 
 business whenever he could, and would never speak to him 
 ■again. He treated the revival which was in progress with 
 ■contempt, and kept aloof from all its influences as much 
 as it was in the power of man to do. 
 
 On the 28th of October he started for the village of 
 Westerly, about one mile to the north of his house. He 
 ■designed to make arrangements so as to return again to his 
 work at South Kingston, TVhen about leaving his house, 
 having got to the door, his little daughter, not three years 
 old, seemed to be animated with a new and peculiar spirit. 
 Unaccustomed so to act, she followed, and took her father 
 by the hand, and bade him " good bye." When he opened 
 the door, and was about to pass out, she renewedly seized 
 him by the hand and urged him to go and bid her mother 
 *' good bye," He yielded to her entreaties and returned 
 to give his wife a parting salutation. After this he left the 
 house to go to to the village. The i-oad towards Westerly 
 village, after leaving his house, first rises gradually for a 
 short distance, then continues at about the same altitude for 
 some distance, when it begins to descend towards the village. 
 When he had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, and had 
 begun to descend towards the village, he was perceived by 
 some persons to be walking quite fast, as though feeling 
 quite well. He was conscious of no unusual feelings, until 
 a thought came up vividly in his mind that he ought to go 
 to meeting. This thought was connected with no conscien- 
 tious feeling of duty to go to meeting, but seemed a mere 
 internal and unaccountable suggestion. To the suggestion 
 he answered, " Where V To this inquiry he was answered 
 in the same manner, " To the Christian Chapel." To this 
 idea his spirit rose up in decided and bitter opposition, and 
 he said within himself, "I would rather be struck deaf and 
 dumb forever, than to go there." He continued onward 
 for eighteen or twenty rods, when a friend of his passed 
 by him on a lumber-reach, to whom he bowed as the man 
 passed. Immediately afterwards he felt dizzy, and desired 
 to sit down. Looking ahead he saw nothing that he could 
 
12 
 
 sit down on.' Turning back he saw at a little distance a 
 flat stone close to the side of a stone wall. He went to 
 that immediately and sat down. He leaned his head against 
 the wall and felt immediately relieved of his dizziness ; 
 and supposed he should be able in a minute or two to 
 proceed on his business. He then looked up the road, to- 
 ward home, and saw an aged man, Mr. John Thompson, 
 approaching him, on foot, beside a wagon. Mr. Thomp- 
 son was near the place where he had been a few minutes 
 before, when the idea was suggested to him that he ought 
 to go to meeting. In an instant after beholding Mr. 
 Thompson, it seemed as though some powerful hand drew 
 something down over his head, and then over his face, and 
 finally over his whole body ; depriving him of his sight, 
 his hearing, and his speech ; and rendering him perfectly 
 helpless. Yet he had as perfect power of thought, as at 
 any time in his life. His mind instantly went back to the 
 conflict of his thoughts, some eight or ten minutes before. 
 The terrible decision and choice, " I would rather be struck 
 deaf and dumb forever, than go to the Christian Chapel," 
 ciime before him with awful significance. It seemed that 
 God had truly taken him at his word, and given him what 
 he had chosen. The decision of ten years before, " If 
 there is a God, and he will show me from his hand, I will 
 believe in him," now came to memory. In this, too, it 
 appeared that God had taken him at his word. He trem- 
 bled, and his soul, as though sinking in deep waters, 
 acknowledged, "There is a God." The sins of a whole 
 life-time came before his mind in an instant, like a flash of 
 lightning. And how awful was everything. He was not 
 only deaf and dumb, but, more dreadful still, he was per- 
 fectly l)lind. He saw no one — he heard no one — he could 
 call no one — and all his strength was gone. Then the 
 dreadful question, "Am I to remain in this condition ?" 
 He thought that he was about to die. And he dared not in 
 his secret soul ask God to take him to himself. It appeared 
 to him that such a request would be a greater insult to a 
 holy and just God than even all his former sins. He dared 
 not to think of so insulting God. It appeared to him that 
 if he must die, it became him to take the cup of God's 
 eternal displeasure, without so far objecting as to ask God 
 to turn it from him. He acknowledged the justice of his 
 terrible judgments ; but now he had no power even to 
 confess to men that he believed in that God whom he had 
 dishonored. He could not speak to ask forgiveness of 
 
13 
 
 those whose forgiveness he would have gladly sought. His 
 soul was wholly and terribly imprisoned, where no sympa- 
 thizing friend could come to give words of comfort or hope. 
 The last interview at home, not half-an-hour before — how 
 significant it was now ! The movements of that dear little 
 daughter — so entirely unusual — how they now "revealed 
 the workings of an invisible power ! She had been made 
 as one of God's angels, for the time, to convince her 
 unbelieving father. And oh 1 how that extorted "good- 
 bye" sounded anew upon the very ears of his soul ! " And 
 is it true, that I have given to my loved wife, and my dear 
 little daughter, the last and final salutation ! Is it possible 
 for any one who has experienced no such awful condition — 
 smitten of God, and shut out from the light and hearing of 
 this world — to realize anything of the anguish of that hour. 
 Let no impious trifler dream that these circumstances could 
 be easily endured. Yet they must be endured . They were 
 endured, and have left their burning foot-prints in the soul 
 that then seemed s'nking under a weight of dreadful guilt 
 and condemnation. 
 
 After the brief space of what he thinks could not have 
 been more than two or three minutes, he was taken up, and 
 put in a wagon, and carried away. He was perfectly sensi- 
 ble of all this, although he could hear nothing, see nothing, 
 and communicate nothing. He felt the motion of the wagon 
 and the touch of hands, and supposed he was being carried 
 towards home, which was the case. He knew and realized 
 perfectly when he was carried into the house and placed in 
 a chair. He wondered why they should have placed him 
 in a chair rather than on a bed. In a little time after, he 
 felt the touch of hands again, which took him from the 
 chair and placed him on a bed. He afterwards learned that 
 his wife was not in the house when he was brought in, and 
 this accounts for his being first placed in a chair. 
 
 Dr. William T. Thurston was called immediately. In a 
 letter which he wrote to the Providence Journal, under date 
 of November 20th, he says of this visit, " I heard nothing 
 more of him (after the 2d of October) till the 28th of that 
 month when in haste I was summoned to him. On reaching 
 his bedside, I found him perfectly insensible — very much 
 in the condition of a person in a fainting fit. The pupils 
 of his eyes were quite insensible of light, wildly dilated 
 and not contracting on the application of sudden and vivid 
 light. He was, in fact, perfectly insensible." 
 
14 
 
 Mr. BotTENE does not wish to question the honest}'' and 
 sincerity of Doctor Thurston, when he sa_ys, " He was, in 
 fact, perfectly insensible." He supposes the Doctor might 
 have thought so, for he gave him no evidence to the contrary. 
 Yet, he says, ho was perfectly sensible to the touch of 
 hands, which he supposed at the time to be those of Dr. 
 Thurston. He knew perfectly well when his eye-lids were 
 touched and drawn ; yet he saw nothing, he heard nothing, 
 and lay helpless as aninfant. When different hands touched 
 him he reasoned with himself, and thought he knew 
 which was the doctor, and which was his wife, when they 
 were handling him in any way. When touched, at certain 
 times, he felt confident that it was by his children. He 
 was not insensible, as the Doctor seems to have supposed. 
 His mind was perfectly active all of the time, but he was 
 unable to communicate any thought or feeling which he 
 had to others, so that they could know that he was sensible 
 of what was passing. About him all was as silent as 
 though there wore neither a God, nor life, nor motion, in 
 the whole wide universe. This silence was as though the 
 soul had been cast into a deep, bottomless and shoreless 
 sepulchre, where dismal silence was to reign eternally. 
 And it was also night there, without a single ray of light. 
 As one justly cast off from God, he felt the horrors of that 
 dreadful idea — " cast into outer darkness." He fully 
 acknowledged the justice of God in his condemnation, and 
 spurned from his soul the thought of insulting God by ask- 
 ing mercy for such a siuner. The only offering he could 
 think to make of himself was a victim of sins too great 
 for even the mercy of God, and as an offeriug fit only for 
 the fiery sword of justice. There was to him no terror in 
 the thought of being eternally condemned and lost, for it 
 seemed as though the justice of God must require it. He 
 did not love God, but he honored his justice, and consented 
 in his heart to the full execution of the decisions of his 
 majesty. The night, so dismal and awful, wore on. The 
 sins of the past life flashed up as fiery thoughts, streaming 
 out, in terrible lights, from a land which had been passed. 
 He scorned to ask for mercy when it was not due. The 
 sentiment of his soul was, " Let me be broken under the 
 rod of his displeasure 1 I fully merit it ! I acknowledge 
 that God is righteous, though he takes vengeance on the 
 guilty 1 To all my crimes I will not add that of insulting 
 God with a plea for mercy. It is proper that his majesty 
 should remain unchanged 1" 
 
15 
 
 The mercy of God, to the penitent, is greater than the 
 sin-sick soul can comprehend. When he hates sin so that 
 he would call down the judgments of God upon his own 
 guilty soul, and exclaims, " Though I be damned, yet will 
 1 bear the cross of Christ, and cling to his blood-stained 
 arms !" it is then the scepter of pardon is presented to his 
 ligs, aud the star-gemmed crown is presented to his eye. 
 
 During the night, he gained some strength, and atatime 
 which he supposes to have been near morning he was 
 anxious to know where he was, and whether he had really 
 been placed in his own house, and among his friends. But 
 how could he know ? He recollected the form of the bed- 
 stead posts, and the position which the bed occupied, upon 
 which he supposed he was then lying. He felt of the posts 
 and thought he was certain of their identity. He reached 
 out near the head of the bed, to see if there was a window, 
 and found there was. He was then fully satisfied that he 
 was in his own house. 
 
 Everything was so perfectly still at times, and he seemed 
 so entirely alone, that his very existence seemed so myste- 
 rious as to suggest a doubt whether he existed in the body. 
 He would feel about himself, and take hold of his own 
 limbs, to settle the doubt. 
 
 Completely shut out from all communication with mortal 
 beings, he read over the history of his life, as that alone 
 which could be of any interest to him. He felt entirely 
 shut out from communication with God, because of sin, 
 and knew the dreadful reality of being separated from all 
 intercourse with his fellow beings. He was shut up in the 
 dismal dungeon of despair. 
 
 At a certain time which he supposed to be morning, he 
 felt movements on his bed, and soon was satisfied that his 
 little children were with him and were kissing him. Their 
 familiar expression of "Pa !" he could no longer hear, nor 
 any sound which their movements made. He could see 
 nothing of these loved ones, but he was sure they were 
 there, and that they were addressing him as they had done 
 before. But the silence was too deep to be broken, and 
 appeared too awful to be endured. 
 
 In the afternoon, about twenty-six hours from the time 
 he was stricken down, when subject to no unusual sensatiou 
 or feeling in his head, his sight was restored in an instant. 
 He saw his wife and one of his neighbors standing near, 
 with their lips in motion. They appeared to be addressing 
 him, as though unconscious of his inability to hear. It 
 
16 
 
 appeared to him then, that they were ignorant of his deaf- 
 ness. He made signs of writing on his hand, when his 
 wife immediately procured a pen and paper. "While she 
 was gone after pen and paper, the question arose in his 
 mind, " Are you now willing to ask forgiveness of all 
 those whom you have injured?" To this question he an- 
 swered affirmatively. When she came to him he took pen 
 and paper and wrote that he could not hear. 
 
 When he had informed her thus, that he could not hear 
 anything, a flood of tears from her eyes told him of her 
 deepanguish; and she continued to weep, as though suffer- 
 ing the bitterness of grief, through the night. This again 
 brought him to consider the awful sinfulness of a life which 
 had been brought by the hand of God to such circumstances. 
 It so far affected him that he thought but litttle of further 
 communication to his wife at that time. 
 
 At the time his sight was restored his children had gone 
 to bed, although it was much earlier than they usually 
 retired. In the morning, they came from the room where 
 they had slept, and crawled into bed with their father, one 
 on each side. This was the first time he had seen them 
 since the little Melissa had taken him by the hand and led 
 him to her mother. All was silence. Their movements 
 and their kisses of love were noiseless. He could see 
 them, and feel them, but their expressions to him were lost 
 upon vacant air. He heard nothing. He could utter no 
 thought to them. How dear were they, and yet, how sep- 
 arated. He was completely overcome. He felt that he 
 was separated from his children, while yet with them. He 
 was denied all intercourse with them, and yet they were 
 about him as they had ever been. He felt that it was the 
 hand of a just God which had been laid upon him, and 
 which had closed his ears against the sweet tones of child- 
 ish love. It was God vvho had fettered his tongue that he 
 should not speak to them. And he felt that in all this God 
 had only taken him at his word. He had only answered 
 the prayer of a rebel creature. It was justice inlaid with 
 mercy. It was mercy bearing a scepter of wrath. He 
 felt hemmed in on every side — condemned, stricken, cast 
 down, rendered powerless to replj'^ against God ; yet he 
 lived. He lived to see his children approach him, gliding 
 noiselessly along like shadows, and fondly caressing him ; 
 but they seemed as other beings to him, although he knew 
 them so perfectly, there was something so awful in their 
 unnatural silence. 
 
17 
 
 During the forenooa, remembering the enmity he had 
 cherished toward Rev. John Taylor, lie wrote upon a slate 
 requesting that he might be sent for This request was 
 complied with, and Mr. Taylor came immediately. Mr. 
 BouRSTE asked his forgiveness by writing. Mr. Taylor 
 seized his hand, pressing it so earnestly, and with evident 
 sympathy, that he felt fully assured that his enmity was 
 freely forgiven. Mr. Bouene inquired of him if he would 
 go after Mr. Joshua Thompson, Jr. — toward whom he had 
 cherished so much enmity, that he had said if he saw him 
 drowning he would not help him. Mr. Taylor readily con- 
 sented to go. Before going he asked Mr. Boukne if he 
 was ready to die. He answered, " I am ready that God's 
 will should be done ; but I am not a christian." Mr. Taylor 
 then wrote, requesting him to pray. Mr. Boukne wrote, 
 " I cannot pray. I cannot offer such an insult to God as to 
 ask him now to take the remnant of my life," or words to 
 that eflfect, Mr. Taylor then asked, " Are you willing 
 that I should pray?" He was answered, " I cannot hear nor 
 speak, but I can see and feel." Mr. Taylor then took hold 
 of his hand and kneeled down to pray. The mo3< dreadful 
 feelings now arose with Mr. Boxjrne, He felt as though 
 he had consented to the greatest insult being offered to 
 God of all in his life, in allowing Mr. Taylor to pray for 
 him, that God would take him. If he had possessed worlds 
 he would have given all, at that moment, to have been able 
 to take back his consent to that prayer. 
 
 When he closed his prayer, which Mr. Bourne could 
 understand no more than he could judge from the motion 
 of his lips, he went away, and Mr. Bouene supposed he 
 would go immediately aftei Mr. Joshua Thompson, Jr. Mr. 
 Taylor did not so understand, and the day wore on without 
 the appearance of Mr. Thompson. This was a disappoint- 
 ment to Mr. Bouene, and he was led again to review his 
 past life. It seemed to him that he had said and done so 
 much that Mr. Thompson could not forgive him. The 
 dreadful anguish, which he had before experienced, was 
 then renewed, and his remorse was awful indeed. How 
 awful is the thought of having sinned until the mercy of a 
 good man is forfeited and lost! How much more terrible 
 is the thought of having sinned beyond the reach of God's 
 mercy ! Forbearance cannot last forever. Mr. Bourne 
 felt this. He feared that it had been his case. He more 
 than feared it. He felt it. In the sight of God and men 
 he felt that he was condemned. 
 
18 
 
 Toward evening, Mr. Charles W. Thompson, a brother 
 of Mr. Joshua Thompson, Jr., came in, and took him by 
 the hand. He inquired after his health, and then added, 
 "Will not your brother come?" Just as Mr. Botirne 
 wrote this question, and put it to Mr. Thompson, his brother 
 entered. He saw him approach, and he seemed to glide 
 up to him like a shadow, for to him his approach was as 
 noiseless as though the man had been a spirit only. He 
 then took the slate and wrote, "Will you forgive me?" 
 The answer of Mr. Thompson relieved him greatly. He 
 felt that if he must die, and die unforgiven of God, he 
 wished to be forgiven by every man he had injured. Those 
 whose forgiveness he had asked had so readily manifested 
 a willingness to forgive, that it afforded great relief to his 
 anguished soul. 
 
 As soon as he had become reconciled to his fellow-men, 
 with whom he had been at enmity, he began to feel as 
 though there was a way open for him to approach God. 
 This is one of the truest evidences of divine influence upon 
 the sinner's soul that he connot hide any evil concluct 
 toward his fellow-men and come before the Lord. The 
 artillery of God's fearful displeasure is pointed against the 
 man who has sinned against his neighbor, and will not make 
 recompense, as far as it is possible for him to do it. God 
 will not suffer such a man to approach the throne of his 
 mercy. No man can love God, and be accepted of him, 
 while he hates and injures his fellow-men ; or, having injured 
 them, will not make restitution. Sins against man, hatreds, 
 and enmities, are a deep ditch around the temple of divine 
 mercy, which prevent all access. As God loves men, and 
 sent his Son to seek and save the guilty ; he will require 
 every sinner to love those they have injured, and those by 
 whom they have been injured ; and forgive injuries suffered 
 and repair injuries inflicted ; and it must be so, or they must 
 remain away from his presence, and unforgiven. 
 
 IVIr. Bourne, with his ears closed against the hearing of 
 the gospel, and with the influence of ten years of atheism 
 upon him, perceived his first duty in a manner which it is 
 most wonderful to contemplate ; and with a clearness of 
 moral vision which seems little less miraculous than would be 
 the resurrection of a dead man from the grave. He dared 
 not to think of approaching God until he had become recon- 
 ciled to his fellow-men. 
 
 As soon as he had effected a reconciliation with his fellow 
 men, he felt a great measure of relief. He then felt em- 
 
19 
 
 boldened to approach God. He began, in the solemn and 
 silent depths of his soul, to offer unutterable prayer. His 
 tongue was chained to his teeth when he attempted to utter 
 words. He could use it freely, when eating, to move his 
 food. He could use it to clean his teeth, as freely as need 
 be, but when he attempted to form words it was as though 
 chained to his forward teeth. He says that the idea of his 
 having no use of his tongue is wholly erroneous. But he 
 could not use it for speech. He could pray. But his 
 prayers were the supplications of the mind ; his bodily 
 powers not participating in the act of supplication. 
 
 For three or four days after this, he could not meet his 
 neighbors without weeping. They were all exceedingly kind 
 and obliging. Not only those who have before been 
 mentioned as visiting him, but others ; among whom were 
 Mr. James Gavitt, who has since become a member of the 
 Christian Church in Westerly ; and Mr. Charles Pendleton, 
 whose kindness he shall remember with gratitude, and for 
 whose salvation he will have strong and fervent desires. 
 
 Mr. BoDENE then requested a prayer-meeting at his house, 
 Although he could lend no listening ear to the supplica- 
 tions of those present, yet as he saw their faces turned to- 
 ward heaven, and their lips in motion, he felt assured that 
 they were praying for him. 
 
 He became calm. He considered the past and saw that 
 his desires had been granted, although the fact was terrible 
 in its character. He could have met his mother with more 
 calmness than when he met her last. He became self-pos- 
 sessed, and was able again to meet his friends without being 
 overcome as he was at first. He wrote letters to his friends 
 signifying his decision to be henceforth ou the Lord's side. 
 In this way he sought to confess Christ. To these letters 
 he received kind and affectionate replies. 
 
 On Wednesday, November 11, just two weeks from the 
 time that he was stricken down, he was carried to the 
 Christian Chapel. As he passed along, he could see the 
 people moving and receive visible tokens of their recogni- 
 tion, but it was all in silence. All appeared strange and 
 deeply impressive. He could no longer hear the sweet and 
 melodious sound of the human voice, when raised for 
 friendly salutations. People seemed gliding about so noise- 
 lessly, that to him it was as though he was among the 
 moving dead. Passing into the chapel his mind reverted 
 to the circumstances and feelings he had experienced two 
 weeks before. The effect was overwhelming. His feelings 
 
20 
 
 were very deep as he entered the vestry among the people 
 he had a little time before so much despised. 
 
 As he entered the house he was introduced to Rev. 
 Moses Cummings, of Irvington, New Jersey. The intro- 
 duction was then no more than a face-to-face recognition of 
 a stranger, whose name and residence he afterwards learned. 
 He wrote a brief message upon his slate which was read to 
 the assembly. He then wished to signify to the people 
 his determination to live for the honor of God, by standing 
 up before the congregation, and holding up his hands. He 
 was then informed that the privilege was free for him to do 
 so. The appearance of Mr. Botjene at fhat time is described 
 in the Christian Messenger, edited by Mr. Cummings, as 
 follows : " He was carried to the Church, his communica^ 
 tions were read, after which, with streaming eyes, he arose 
 and lifted his arms towards heaven, and his thoughts on 
 him who reigns there, aud expressed, as best he could, his 
 gratitude for God's mercy." 
 
 On the next (hiy he went again to the church and pre- 
 sented the following communication, which he had written 
 before leaving home : 
 
 " Mr. Taylor: — Will you please read the following? — I 
 thank God for another privilege of meeting with you, and 
 iilthongh I do not expect to do much good by coming here, 
 as I cannot speak, it does me a great deal of good to see 
 others praise God. I know that he has promised where two 
 or three have met together to serve God, there he will be, 
 and that to bless. I feel as though I have been one of the 
 worst of sinners on his footstool. I once knew his goodness 
 and then departed from it ; but I hope the time has come 
 when I may serve God with all my heart, and, oh, may I 
 ever be found working for God , and never again be ashamed 
 to bear my cross and follow him ! and I hope the time is not 
 far distant when I can hear and speak and tell what God 
 has done for me ! But God's will be done ! Christian 
 friends, pray for me ! Remember my companion ! As we 
 live together here may we not be separated in heaven ! Oh, 
 may my children be brought up in the love of God I" 
 
 After this was read, he again desired to lift up his hands 
 towards heaven, as a sign of his continued determination ; 
 and this he did as before. The effect upon the people was 
 great. The sight of a man, who stood before them as one 
 smitten of God for his impiety, and still bearing in life 
 evidences of the divine displeasure, was to them a visible 
 manifestation, such as they had never witnessed before. 
 
21 
 
 Whatever intei'pretation they might put upon it, miraculous 
 or only marvellous, every one, who believed the scriptures, 
 must acknowledge that it had not taken place without his 
 knowledge and power. 
 
 On Friday, he again attended meeting, made communi- 
 action by writing upon his slate, and again held up his 
 hands towards heaven, in the audience of the people. He 
 desired to attend the evening service, which was for preach- 
 ing, although he could not hear. To accommodate this 
 wish, Mr. Horatio Berry, a member of the Seventh-Day 
 Baptist Church, kindly welcomed him to his house, and to 
 his hospitality. With Mr. Berry he communicated freely, 
 by writing upon his slate, and then felt it his duty to go, 
 the next day, to the meeting where Mr. Berry wor- 
 shipped, and make known his mind concerning Christ. 
 After the evening service, he was carried home. 
 
 On Saturday morning, Mr. Berry came after him, accord- 
 ing to his wish, and carried him to the meeting of the 
 Seventh-Day Baptist Church, where a short communication 
 from him was read, and he was permitted to lift up his 
 hands towards heaven, in token of his reverence aud love 
 for God. The people knew what he had been, and how he 
 had been stricken down. The sight of him in such a con- 
 dition produced a great effect. 
 
 He returned, and in the afternoon attended meeting again 
 in the Christian Chapel, and was received as a member of 
 the Church. Concerning these things, the editor of the 
 Christian Messenger, who was present, remarks: — "He 
 attended a number of days in succession, during our tarry, 
 and expressed his wish to be received as j. member of the 
 church, which was granted, and he expressed every grati- 
 tude in his power for their christian confidence. The effect 
 was great upon those present. Overflowing sympathy 
 seemed to be the order of God's house ; and many earnest 
 and most fervent prayers were offered for the return of his 
 hearing and speech, and strong faith was entertained that 
 God would hear and answer," 
 
 On the morning of Sunday, November 15th, Mr. Boukne 
 says he felt more anxious than ever to speak. His distress, 
 because he could not speak, was exceedingly great, and he 
 tried harder than ever to speak to his wife ; but he found 
 it impossible. When he considered that he had .the most 
 free use of his tongue for everything else but to speak with, 
 and was unable to utter a single word, it seemed to him 
 more than he could endure. In his distress, he tried, but 
 
22 
 
 in vain. His children came about him, and it seemed to 
 him that he must die if he could not speak to them. Im- 
 mediately, in the same style as the suggestive thoughts just 
 before he was stricken down on the 28th of October, it 
 seemed as though his thoughts spake to him, saying, " Thou 
 art murmuring ! Be still, and all will be well !" He knew 
 and felt at once that he was murmuring, and endeavored 
 to dismiss all such feelings. 
 
 He went to the morning prayer-meeting at the Christian 
 Chapel, and while there, he felt a strong desire to go to the 
 First-Day or Calvinist Baptist meeting, and hold up his 
 hands for the Lord. He went in the forenoon, made a 
 communication, which was read, and then held up his hands 
 to signify to all the people that he would he on the Lord's 
 side. After the service, he started to go to the water, 
 where baptism was to be administered, but was obliged to 
 turn back on account of cold. He went to the Christian 
 Chapel in the afternoon, and informed Mr. Taylor, the 
 pastor, that he felt it his duty to go into the pulpit, and do 
 all in his power to praise the Lord. Mr. Taylor informed 
 him that the privilege would be granted him at the close of 
 the service. He, with others, was to be welcomed to the 
 church, by the right hand of fellowship, that afternoon. 
 During the service, unable to hear, he wrote on his slate 
 what will be hereafter presented. At the close of the 
 discourse, on giving him the right hand of fellowship, 
 Rev. Mr. Taylor wrote and presented to him the follow- 
 ing: " According to the usuages of this church, I give 
 you ray hand in token of our faith in you as a chris- 
 tian. Though you cannot hear, you cannoc feel ; if you 
 speak, you can live. The Church pledge themselves to 
 watch over and pray for you, and expect you to live as 
 becometh a child of God ; and may God restore speech and 
 hearing, and enable you to use your tongue in his praise." 
 
 He then went into the pulpit, where were Messrs. Tay- 
 lor and Cummings, when Mr. Taylor read for him the 
 following, which he had finished writing but a few minutes 
 before : — " I have been led to think, while sitting here, 
 why I have been called from the ranks of sinners, and I 
 have been led to think that God has something for me to 
 do. Why I have come up here to the place of all others 
 which three weeks ago I would have shunned, I know not. 
 But oh ! how marvelous are the ways of God 1 But here I 
 am, for what, I know not. But oh God I show me what 
 thou wouldst have me to do, and with thy help, O God, I 
 
23 
 
 will do it ! O sinners ! you cannot say this is excitement ! 
 
 no ! for I had not attended any of the meetings ! No, I 
 have heard no preaching — no prayers ! No, all has seemed 
 still to me ! Oh, if you cannot believe now, you would 
 not if one had risen from the dead ! Oh, I feel as though 
 the prayers of the dumb had been heard ! Why I feel as 
 
 1 do this afternoon, I cannot tell, but I do feel as though 
 God was about to speak to Westerly, in what way I know 
 not — but oh, may God's will be done." 
 
 The effect produced by the reading of this communica- 
 tion upon the audience, was very great ; but the effect of 
 what immediately followed was extraordinary beyond de- 
 scription. At the suggestion made by jVIr. Taylor for him 
 to rise as he had desired to do, he arose in the pulpit, with 
 the most evident calmness, and lifted up his hands toward 
 heaven. He then, feeling happy, clapped his hands with- 
 out hearing the least sound. He then extended his hands 
 apart, as at first, when, in an instant, every manner of 
 sound which came from the moving things of nature broke 
 upon his ear, distinct as a peal of thunder, and his tongue 
 was unloosed instantly, his countenance changed, and he 
 exclaimed, in the heai-ing of the whole crowded assembly. 
 Glory to God and the Lamb forever." Big drops of per- 
 spiration chased each other downward from his temples. 
 
 What immediately followed, is described by the editor 
 of the Christian Messenger, who has before been referred 
 to as being present, as follows: " He fell upon his knees, 
 and soon commenced praying in a soft, clear tone of voice, 
 and praising God for what he had done. He then gave a 
 most feeling exhortation to his friends, neighbors, and all 
 present, urging them to seek the salvation of their souls, and 
 live for God. We do not think it an exaggeration when we 
 say there was not a dry eye in the house. How wonderful 
 are the works of the Almighty 1 We were ready to exclaim, 
 as some said, when Jesus cured the sick of the palsy : ' We 
 have seen strange things to-day.' All seemed to be amazed, 
 and many glorified God for his mighty work, which he did 
 in the presence of them all. His hearing and speech were 
 both returned, and many hundreds witnessed a most solemn 
 vow from him to spend the remnant of his days in doing 
 the will of God, so far as he could know it." 
 
 Mr. BouKNE had proposed to return home and spend 
 Sabbath eyeijing with his wife and children. But he could 
 now hear, and to him the privilege of hearing that gospel 
 which he hg,d so recently derided constrained him to 
 
24 
 
 remain, and enjoy to him the first discourse of the series 
 of meetings. On the evening of that day he listened with 
 rapturous joy to the preaching of the gospel. 
 
 One circumstance sent a thrill of joy through his 
 heart on that evening. He saw, among those who then 
 manifested a desire to become christians, one come forward 
 who had been with him, at his house, playing at cards all 
 day, the Sabbath before he was stricken by the hand of the 
 Lord with deafness and dumbness. A little while ago 
 associates in sin, but now looking to the same Jesus for 
 life ! O, how his heart went out in love ofter that man ! 
 And how he rejoiced and breathed the veryspirit of thank- 
 fulness to God, when he saw him seeking the way of peace 
 and life ! The true disciple of Christ rejoices as much at 
 seeing others drinking at the fountain of life, as he does in 
 pressing the cup to his own lips. That professed christian, 
 or pretended convert, who is all joy and no love, is a 
 deluded being. To every true convert, his love for God 
 and men is the foundation and principal source of his peace 
 and joy. Faith, hope, and divine consolation, give joy ; 
 but love is the very source and spirit of peace and joy. 
 
 Mr. BouKNE says he has often played games of cards 
 with those who professed to be christians. He never played 
 for money, but he wishes to caution all young persons, not 
 only against the fascinations of the game, but more : against 
 it as leading to other and very destructive vices. He 
 would warn professed christians against the fearful effects 
 of such an example as they are setting, when they engage 
 in such games as find so near an association with gambling, 
 drunkenness, and other crimes. Although some may in- 
 dulge in such a game, as he did, without becoming drunk- 
 ards or gamblers, yet the number who are ensnai-ed in 
 these vices is fearfully great. The only safe course is to 
 avoid, entirely, what will tempt one into the ways of 
 danger and destruction. 
 
 At the close of the Sabbath evening's services, he went 
 home, to his own house, to be permitted to speak once 
 more to the loved ones there. Eighteen days had passed 
 over him since his house became to him as a spectral prison ; 
 where was heard no voice nor sound, but beings were mov- 
 ing to and fro with a noiseless tread. As he approached 
 with his ear attentive to each whispering or breaking sound, 
 he could hear, as it were, the voice of the Lord in each 
 rustling leaf. He opened the door, but it now no more 
 swung upon its hinges in gloomy silence, like the door of 
 
25 
 
 death. He entered, but not to cry out in exultant joy to 
 his wife and children. He passed the threshold, and bowed 
 in prayer and thanksgiving to God. What a surprise to 
 his wife, and yet how agreeable the surprise ! What a 
 meeting after so strange a separation for eighteen days ! 
 What a happy night ! And the morning that came — with 
 the voice of children, with the song of praise to God, and 
 with the warm outgushings of a thankful heart toward the 
 Great, the Gracious, and the Holy One, who inbabiteth 
 eternity 1 A morning of joy for a night of weeping ! A 
 garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness I God was 
 acknowledged as the head of the family, and hearts bowed 
 before him in worship. Happy, indeed, — whatever may 
 be their earthly condition — is that family over which God 
 presides. 
 
 The slate, with the writing upon it — just as it was pre- 
 sented to Mr. Taylor the day before — was now an object 
 of special care. The last words of that communication 
 assumed a significance at once important and deeply 
 impressive. It now glowed with the fiery light of a 
 prophecy, and the fulfillment had already come. The place 
 had been made fearful by the manifest presence of the 
 angel of God's power. The slate was carefully put away 
 with the writing upon it, to remind its owner that what he 
 had written, in the fear of God, had been answered by 
 God in the way in which he chooses to make manifestations 
 of his matchless love. All the circumstances of the case 
 made that Monday morning one of new and thrilling reali- 
 ties. Never did the light of day seem more fully to bear a 
 silent testimony to the goodness of God. Nature seemed 
 all at peace with God ; and grace flowed out freely from 
 his throne of light and love. The heart made answer, 
 " God is love."" 
 
 Mr. Bourne continued to gain strength from day to day, 
 and rejoiced in the great mercy of God. He soon caused 
 the stone, upon which he sat when he was stricken of 
 the Lord, to be brought and placed in his front yard ; that 
 it might ever remind him of the stroke of the Almighty 
 upon him, when he had chosen judgments from his hand 
 rather than submission to Christ. There the stone now 
 remains, and may be seen by every one who passes that way. 
 When Mr. Boubne comes in from his walks or journeys 
 abroad, memory and understanding unite in one voice, and 
 say to him, " This is the stone upon which you were made 
 to feel that God is great, and that you are nothing. 
 Remember the Lord's doings with you." 
 
26 
 
 He continued to improve until Saturday, the 28th of 
 November. He attended meeting, and during the meeting 
 he was suddenly taken ill. He felt great weakness, and it 
 seemed to him as though he had reached the time when he 
 must die. Time seemed narrowed to that hour, and life 
 seemed a bubble which was about to be broken. He felt 
 that he had no claim upon God's forbearance, no hold upon 
 lift', but by His will. He parted with his brethren at the 
 meeting as though to meet no more. His parting words 
 were uttered in weakness, and he was carried home so 
 prostrated, and so impressed with the brevity of his time, 
 tliat he was unable to suppose that he should live any longer 
 than that night. He took his papers and accounts, and 
 delivered them to his wife, explaining what he thought 
 iieccissary in order to their se'ttlement. He retired to his 
 room ; but his thoughts flew away to his children. He 
 went and took them in his arms and kissed them, and bade 
 his mother-in-law farewell. He again went to his bedroom ; 
 but he could not compose himself, to lie down. He re- 
 turned, and taking his companion by the hand, giving the 
 parting salutation — " Farewell." He then laid himself 
 down, to die, if it were the will of God ; or to live, if it 
 should prove to be his pleasure. He was at rest. What a 
 heavenly calm comes over that soul which can lie down quietly 
 in death's open gate ! What an unnatural condition is that 
 in which a man peacefully lays down his life without dying. 
 
 During the night he fell asleep, and slept, as he suppos- 
 ed, about two hours, and then tound his strength greatly 
 restored. Life was a surprise — its continuance was some- 
 what of a disappointment. As when a great American 
 statesman, awakening for a moment from what he suppos- 
 ed would be his last sleep, said, " I yet live ! " so he awoke 
 with surprise, to say to himself, " I yet live! " 
 
 He arose. It was one of those sunny mornings which 
 to the christian's e^'e, open with more than common beauty 
 and loveliness. It was the morning of the Christian Sab- 
 bath. To the devout believer that morning is doubly 
 adorned. A more glorious sun arose on that morning than 
 the grand lumiiiarj'^ which God has hung in the midst of 
 the heavens as the center of our sphere. The light rays 
 which dart away from that great central sun of the moral 
 universe are burnished with a richer and brighter than a 
 golden luster. Its radiant lines are life-giving, and its 
 brightness is the glory of God . 
 
 On that day, Sunday, November 29th, he attended 
 
27 
 
 meeting three times. It was refreshing to a weary soul, 
 which seemed permitted to wait a little longer in this outer 
 court of being, to bathe itself anew in the gospel waters of 
 life. How grand were the facts of the gospel ! How just 
 and righteous altogether were its precepts and commands ! 
 How cheering were its promises ! In all its characteristics, 
 how full of life 1 The day was a day of waiting, aad the 
 voice which seemed speaking out from within the veil which 
 rendered spiritual things invisible to mortal eyes, said, 
 "Be still, and know that I am God." 
 
 Twice had the sun risen to salute the opening " Day of 
 the Lord," and twice had it gone down upon the day of the 
 resurrection, since his enlightened eyes had beheld himself 
 an object of divine compassion in the restoration of his 
 powers of speech and hearing. Cheered and cheerful, he 
 felt at home with the Lord and yet present with his family ; 
 while the last lingering hours of a blessed Lord's day were 
 departing to the shades of the oblivious past. 
 
 " And it shall come to pass in the last-days," saith God, 
 " I will pour out of my spirit upon all flesh ; and your sons 
 and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young meL 
 shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams ; 
 and on my servants and on my hand-maidens I will pour 
 out, in those days, with my spirit, and they shall prophesy." 
 
 On that Sunday night, Mr. Bourne and his family re- 
 tired to rest between the hours of eleven and twelve. Be- 
 tween the hours of twelve and one, as he lay with his back 
 towards the forward side of the bed, suddenly his room 
 seemed all lighted up with most extraordinary brightness, 
 brighter than the light of day. He started with surprise, 
 and saw an image or appearance, like a man in form, stand- 
 ing by the side of his bed. There appeared nothing like a 
 face, but in place of it there was an appearance like the 
 sun, shining in his brightness. A voice, which seemed to 
 proceed from the image before him, said, " Settle up your 
 worldly business, and go to work for me." 
 
 He saw that the image held in eachJiand a crown. In 
 his left hand was a crown which was perfectly plain. In 
 his right hand was another crown, surpassing in splendor 
 and beauty anything he ever saw. After he had spoken, 
 uttering his command, he disappeared, and all was dark 
 and silent in the room. Mr. Bourne then awoke his wife, 
 and asked her if she had seen anything. She said she had 
 seen nothing, but had been asleep. 
 
 He began to reason upon these fearful circumstances, and 
 
28 
 
 to ask, '♦ Why am I called in this way? I am ignorant of 
 the Bible — ^I am in debt — I have a family to provide for." 
 Thus he reasoned and argued in his mind against the idea 
 of being called to any unusual work for Christ. He heard 
 the clock strike one and two ; and immediately after two, his 
 room was lighted up as before. The same image, with the 
 same crowns, and the same brightness, appeared again. He 
 spake again, as follows : " Settle up your worldly busi- 
 ness, and go to work for me. Your family shall be taken 
 care of, and yourself looked out for. Go, open your 
 mouth, and I will fill it." 
 
 He then said that he should appear to him again before the 
 judgment day, and immediately departed. Then again all 
 was dark. Mr. Bouent: again awoke his wife and inquir- 
 ed of her if she had seen anything. She said she had not. 
 She inquired, anxiously, why he had twice questioned her 
 in that way. 
 
 He reflected upon what he had seen and heard, and con- 
 cluded that at some time before his death — perhaps at the 
 distance of many years — he should see the same appear- 
 ance again. He lay for a length of time, considering these 
 things, not imagining that he should see anything of it 
 again at present. After thus remaining in thought for about 
 half an hour, suddenly and unexpectedly to him, the room 
 became again lighted up, and the same image appeared 
 with the plain crown only. At the instant, he had hold ol 
 the hand of his wife. He asked her if she saw anything, 
 to which she answered " No !'" In a moment, he felt a sing- 
 ular sensation, and became unable again to speak or move. 
 Neither could his wife detach her hand from his. Hf -was 
 then addressed in these words — " Settle up your worldly 
 business, and go to work for me. Your family shall be 
 taken care of, and yourself looked out for. Go, open your 
 mouth, and I will till it. Go, tell the world what your 
 eyes have seen, and your ears have heard." 
 
 He then told him to study the third chapter of Matthew, 
 the third of Mark, and the third of John. After which he 
 put the plain crown upon his head, and told him if he 
 would have the other crown he must win it. He then re- 
 peated as before, " Go, open your mouth, and I will fill 
 it." 
 
 When these words were finished, all became dark and 
 sileut. The strange sensation, which came over him when 
 he asked his wife if she saw anything, and which seemed 
 to hold him in its imprisoning power, passed off, and he 
 
29 
 
 was again in the full use of all his powers. Mr. 
 Bourne is positive that he was fully awake, all of the 
 time of these visions, although he is sure that he was be- 
 comiug sleepy — almost asleep — immediately before the 
 first one. But in an instant he was completely aroused, 
 and after that he was not able to sleep during the night. 
 
 The power of the visions appears to have been upon him 
 only, for while every object in his room appeared perfectly 
 visible to him, and the light of the room transcending the 
 brightness of the clear day, to his wife all was dark. He 
 cannot, therefore, suppose that the power of the Lord so 
 affected the room, or the atmosphere of the room as to 
 cause this appearance, but that his own powers of vision 
 were so enlarged that he saw every object distinctly, with- 
 out the aid of natural or artificial light, and, at the same 
 time, he was permitted to see what he may call the glory 
 of God, in the representation of Christ. He knows that 
 he saw and heard with great distinctness, and he testifies 
 to what he saw and heard. 
 
 He feels constrained — notwithstanding his conscious de- 
 fects of education, and other circumstances which to him 
 seemed to forbid — to go out into the world, and tell the 
 facts in his case as they transpired. 
 
 The doctor who attended Mr. Bourne, to stop the in- 
 tense excitement about the case, in five days after his res- 
 toration, wrote the following letter to the Providence 
 Journal — 
 
 Westerly, R. I., Nov. 20th, 1857. 
 
 On a visit in a neighboring village, a day or two eince, my atten- 
 tion was directed to the articles in your journal of the 17th and 
 18th instants, relating to the " Singular Case," the" Tough Story," 
 the " Strange Story from Westerly." A singular case it certainly 
 was, but when shorn of the eiBbellishments attached to the narra- 
 tive, it ceases to be either a tough or a strange story. 
 
 The case of Mr. Ansel Bodkne passed under my professional 
 notice and care, and, with your permission, I will give a truthful 
 description of the same. 
 
 I have known Mr. Bourne for seven years past, and during that 
 period, he has invariably conducted himself with propriety in the 
 community, so much so as to merit and retain the respect of his 
 fellow citizens. In the early part of August last, or rather about 
 the middle of the month, Mr. Bourne suffered a " coup de soliel," 
 which was of a very formidable character, and from its effects he 
 nearly lost bis life. Having nearly recovered from the illness, he 
 thought himself able to return to bis occupation, that of a house 
 carpenter. Contrary to my advice, and without my knowledge, he 
 
30 
 
 left his home, and went to South Kingston to superintend the con 
 pletion of a dwelling-house he had been engaged upon. On tt 
 14th of September, he was brought home again ill, and sufFeric 
 from a severe cerebral disturbance. My attendance was continue 
 till the 2d of October, and I heard nothing more of him till tl 
 28th of that month, when, in haste. I was summoned to him. 
 reaching his bed-side. I found him (perfectly insensible) — vei 
 much in the condition of a person in a syncope, swoon or faintin 
 fit. The pupils of his eyes were quite insensible to light, widel 
 dilated, and not contracting on the application of sudden and vivi 
 light. He was, in fact, (perfectly insensible). Powerful counte: 
 irritants were applied, to which he gave no evidence of feelini 
 Various, and I may say. judicious remedies were resorted to, whic 
 as this is not intended to be a medical treatise, it is not necessai 
 to enumerate. Suffice it to say, that on ray visit to him on tl 
 following Friday. I found consciousness had, in a measure, bee 
 restored. ( His sight was then evidently perfect, but there sti 
 continued great disturbance of his brain, confusion of intellec 
 with vacant staring. I mention these circumstances, to show t^ 
 fact that Mr. Bourne's case is clearly attributable to a disturbe 
 and disordered condition of the functions of the brain, and, if po 
 sibie, to do away with the absurd and superstitious notion th 
 there is anything marvelous or miraculous in the case.) 
 
 (The loss of hearing and of speech was owing to a paralysis 
 the motor nerve of the tongue, known as the hypoglossal nerve, an 
 of the auditory nerve.) The recovery was owing to no wonderf 
 nor miraculous power, but may be accounted for in a very ration 
 and philosophical manner. Mr. Bourne had been treated active' 
 by electro-galvanism and those remedies which intelligent physi 
 ians resort to in the treatment of paralysis. 
 
 (The letjitimate result of the treatment was recovery. It w 
 not sudden nor unexpected.) (The opinion expressed to the p 
 tient and his friends, that the remedies used were well calculate 
 to restore him, and, in my judgment, would do so, was realize< 
 and to the sober-minded and rational portion of the communi 
 created no emotions, save those of pleasure, in hearing of tl 
 restoration to comparative health of a fellow citizen, whose depri 
 ations of speech and hearing had elicited sympathy and regret.) 
 
 Mr. Bourne is a sensible and intelligent man, and views his ov 
 case in a rational and christian-like manner. 
 
 On conversation with him, since Sunday last, at which time 1 
 hearing and speech were restored, 1 find that there is no desire i 
 his part to encourage the absurd opinion that he has been the su 
 ject of a miracle, but attributes his recovery, by the blessing of G' 
 Almighty, the author and giver of every good and perfect gift, 
 the means and measures adopted by his physician. 
 I am, sir, very respectfully yours, 
 
 WILLIAM TORRE Y THURSTON, M. D. 
 
ADMISSIONS OF DOCTOK THUESTON. 
 
 1. That such a case was known at Westerly, R. I,, on 
 the 28th day of October, 1857, as that a man whose name 
 was A^rsEL Boxirne, suddenly became deaf, dumb and 
 blind. 
 
 2. That for seven years, as a citizen, he had enjoyed the 
 respect of his fellow-citizens 
 
 3. That the physician called to him, found him in such a 
 condition that he judged him to be " perfectly insensible." 
 
 4. That his eyes were " insensible to light." 
 
 5. That two days after the physician was first called to 
 Mr. BouENE, he found his sight " evidently perfect." 
 
 6. That Mr. Botxrne's powers of speech and hearing 
 were restored, without the Doctor's being present, on 
 Sunday, November 15th, although he assumes to know 
 that it '^as not sudden, which Mr. Bouene affirms was 
 sudden and instantaneous, and to which hundreds also were 
 witnesses. 
 
 7. The representations made of the case produced a 
 great excitement in Rhode Island, so that one paper, pub- 
 lished forty-five miles distant, had three different articles 
 relating to the subject, within the space of a very few days 
 
 8. That Dr. Thurston conversed with Mr. Boxirne, who 
 then only attributed his recovery to the blessing of God 
 Almighty, and his physician. Mr. Bouene says that at 
 that time he hesitated, not desiring to attribute to the 
 miraculous power of God what could by any possibility be 
 accounted for upon natural principles, and he was slow to 
 assume that he had been the subject of miraculous power. 
 But his doubts upon that subject have since been taken 
 away. 
 
 MISSTATEMENTS OF DE. THUKSTON. 
 
 In the letter of Dr. Thurston, are distinct errors, which 
 Mr. BouENE would correct ; not wishing, however to charge 
 the Doctor with intentional falsehood, or intentional misre- 
 presentation ; but only as trying, " if possible, to do away 
 with the notion that there was anything marvelous or mi- 
 raculous in the case." Of course Dr. Thurston must make 
 such a statement — in opposition to the opinions which he 
 
32 
 
 admits to have prevailed, that there was something mirac 
 ulcus in the case — as might serve the purpose he had i 
 view. Mr. Bourne has the kindest feelings toward Di 
 Thurston, and, as a physician, has confidence in him. Bi 
 in relation to the subject now in question he must spea 
 the truth : 
 
 1. The Doctor says that, on the 28th of October, h 
 found Mr. Boukne " perfectly insensible." To the Doctc 
 this doubtless appeared so. But, although he was helplesi 
 he was perfectly sensible of all around him, which, deprive 
 of his powers, he could recognize. His thoughts wei 
 free and unrestrained. 
 
 2. Doctor Thurston says that " the loss of his hearin 
 and speech was owing to a paralysis of the motor nerve ( 
 the tongue, known as the hypoglossal nerve, and of tl 
 auditory nerve." Had this been so he could not have use 
 his tongue at will, for anything. But he had a free use i 
 his tongue for everything but to speak with. 
 
 . 3. Dr. T. says — speaking of the medical treatment ( 
 the case — «' The legitimate result of the treatment wf 
 recovery, it was not sudden nor unexpected." The answer I 
 this must be plain and simple. The recovery tookplace intl 
 presence of several hundred persons, and was as sudden ; 
 thought. It was at a moment, and in a place when and whe: 
 several hundreds of persons all had their eyes fixed direct 
 upon him, and witnessed the immediate proofs of the fac 
 
 Whether those who were constrained to believe that 
 was by divine power that these things took place are to I 
 considered as irrational, every one must judge forhimsel 
 liJvery man who is rational must judge of the story, evt 
 with all of Dr. Thurston's modifications admitted, that it i 
 after all, rather '• a strange story." But the facts know 
 by hundreds of christian people in Westerly, deny tl 
 verity of his modifications. Mr. Boukne has considen 
 his letter entitled to more notice than any other of tl 
 many reports in the case, because Dr. Thurston has the s 
 of giving a scientific explanation. Therefore he has givi 
 it this notice and review. 
 
 Mr. Bourne knows what has taken place with him, ai 
 feels the influence of these dread realities, too much 
 desire to contradict any man who may be skeptical as 
 the depth of what he has experienced ; but he considers 
 his duty to testify fully and distinctly to what he has sei 
 and heard ; and also to the real facts in his case. He do 
 it, hoping that honest persons will consider and profit 1 
 the lessons of his experience. 
 
33 
 
 It is the everywhere prevalent plea of the professed 
 people of God, that all miraculous manifestations from God 
 have ceased. It is said, '• They are uo longer necessary." 
 It is admitted by all that miracles have once been necessary 
 to confirm to men the power of Christ. But they say it 
 is not so now. It is but reasonable that we ask, to what 
 end were they ever necessary, that they are not now ? The 
 answer anticipated is this, " Miracles were necessary when 
 the gospel was firat preached, as a direct confirmatiouj of 
 its truth ; and of the power of its Author. But when 
 Christianity became established, its fruits, in the reforma- 
 tion and christianization of men, confirmed its character, 
 and the divinity of its Author." This is, certainly, an 
 important argument. Had it an application to the professed 
 church of God now, it would stamp as a strong argument. 
 But the corruption, the impurity, the worldliness of the 
 church, in our times, hurts the argument dreadfully. 
 
 God, in his great mercy, gives to those of every age 
 lights which are equal to the darkening influences which 
 surround them ; if they seek after truth. And was there 
 ever a time when the darkening influences of spiritual wick- 
 edness were greater than now? And where, we ask, are 
 those churches which are so christianized that the purity 
 of their lives serve to convince infidels and the world that 
 Christianity was of a divine origin — that Christ was divine? 
 Is not the light of the church — professing though it does to 
 be christian — a mere shadow of moral darkness, compared 
 with the life, the temper, and the character of the founder 
 of Christianity? If the world could see the church pre- 
 senting before it the life-character of Jesus, ic would be 
 more convincing, and more persuasive, than the mightiest 
 miracle which the ages of time have ever presented. The 
 greatest and noblest wonder which God has ever given to 
 the scrutiny of eyes, is a person of Christ-like char- 
 acter. The life of such a man is an enigma that no infidel 
 or wordly philosopher can solve. 
 
 The present age presents a church with very many pro- 
 fessors, and with but few christians. The waj' that Jesus 
 made narrow, men have made wider. The gate which he 
 made strait, men have made broader. 
 
 The world seems intoxicated with all manner of spiritual 
 and Satanic delusions, working wonders, which, were it 
 possible, would deceive the very chosen ones of God. 
 Church-novelties havetaken the place of godliness, humility, 
 care for the poor, and works of practical goodness, such as 
 
34 
 
 Jesus exhibited in his life. What light does the church 
 present, with its sectarian sinnings, its tinselled viinity, its 
 pomp of parade, its shameless scandals, and its secreted 
 sins, to convince unbelievers that God is ? Is not a corrupt 
 church the most effectual machine for the manufacture of 
 infidels and infidelity ? If so, shall not God, in his full- 
 ness of mercy, stretch forth his hand, and manifest his 
 power, to save the unbelieving, when they become bold 
 and confident in their unbelief? It certainly appeals 
 consistent with the character of God, as he is revealed in 
 the Bible, that he should manifest his hand in power, when 
 his professed people are so given to their own ways and 
 vanities, that they show no christian example, and thereby, 
 when they preach Christ in word, deny him in their works. 
 
 The circumstances which attend miraculous manifesta- 
 tions are not such that those who are not eye-witnesses of 
 them all, could not pretend to any other explanation. 
 When Jesus arose from the dead, the Jews could pretend 
 to account for the absence of his body from the sepulchre. 
 They persuaded the guards to say, "His disciples came by 
 night and stole him away while we slept." It was a wicked 
 lie, for if his disciples had stolen him away, they would 
 never have believed in his resurrection, and have hazarded 
 their lives continually by preaching it. If the Jews had 
 stolen his body, they would readily have produced it, to 
 disprove the preaching of the Apostles. But any pretence, 
 however untrue, would be accredited by many, raiher than 
 believe truth which declares the strong working of God. 
 So it has always been. So it was when Jesus was in the 
 world. So it was when the prophets prophesied in the 
 name of the Lord. Human nature runs in its old channels 
 even now. 
 
 The lights which shine around the gospel are not such 
 as to con)pel people to believe who will deal dishonestly 
 with evidence. God shades his hand-writing, in these 
 things, so that those who are disposed to close their 
 eyes against truth, can see nothing. The truths of Christ 
 never really take root, except in honest hearts. 
 
 When Jesus appeared in the world, the religion of men 
 was nearly all mere profession and pretence. The votaries 
 of varying sects, multiplied and multiform, were zealously 
 devout, each in their way. God manifested his power and 
 presence by working. Men wickedly persecuting the 
 Church of Christ were smitten with blindness. So was it 
 with Saul of Tarsus. And so it was with one whom Paul 
 
35 
 
 rebuked for his sins of opposition. The eyes of honest 
 inquirers were opened to the light by miracles. So it was 
 with the praying Saul. So it was with the begging 
 Bartimeus. So it was with those who wept by the wayside. 
 And God is the same being of mercy now that he was 
 eighteen hundred years ago. If men desire truth — if they 
 seek it honestly — if really they are honest in unbelief, 
 being driven into darkness by his professed people's cor- 
 ruption, he will not leave them without sufficient witness 
 to throw the responsibility on them. 
 
 The circumstances of the case of Ansel Bourne are 
 worthy of close and candid consideration. On the 28th 
 day of October, 1857, he was an atheist, despising the 
 Christian religion, and disregarding its claims. In the 
 hour and moment of his bitterest reasonings against God, 
 disputing within himself against showing any respect for 
 the Christian Church, in the place where he lived, and 
 choosing in his own mind most fearful judgments, rather 
 than so to meetiua:, he was taken at his word and rendered 
 deaf and dumb. Blindness also fell upon him, and he was 
 utterly cast down. It is certainly very strange that such 
 an awful and very unusual calamity should have fallen upon 
 a man just at the moment when it must appear to him as a 
 dreadful reply to his thoughts of rebellion. He can read 
 over and over again the hand-writing of that moment's 
 angry thoughts, and remember what befel him there. And 
 how can he believe that the powerful response to his internal 
 expression of preference for judgments, was by chance? 
 When, in the secrecy of his heart, he said, "I would rather 
 be deaf and dumb than go to the ChristiauChapel" the answer 
 came forthwith in the silent api)lication of a most fearful 
 power, " You shall be deaf, and dumb, and blind, for a 
 season." God wrote out that sentence on the inner table 
 of his conscious being, and left him in the deepest darkness 
 to read it by reason's lamp. He read it — at first in fear, 
 asking himself, is it possible that the iVIost High God has 
 come so near to me?" He read afterwards, holding it 
 calmly, and reading it carefully — and he believed that the 
 sentence upon him was in the hand-writing of God. 
 
 Then he acknowledged God as righteous — holy — wise, 
 but the acknowledgment ran out only upon bis silent, trem 
 bliug thought-lines. Men — men whom he had injured — 
 stood before him in his blindness, and he wanted to ask 
 their orgiveness. How could he? His thoughts were 
 unutterable. God had put his hand over his eyes, and he 
 
36 
 
 could not see to write ; over his mouth that he could not 
 speak. His faculties of utterance were all shut up in the 
 deep dungeon of darkness. Would the hand, that was 
 upon him, release his tongue, thsit he might speak? No, 
 not yet I Oh, how painful ! Could he not be allowed, at 
 least, to see, that he might communicate his desire for the 
 forgiveness of those he had injured? 
 
 When he was humbled, to regard men, and to desire a 
 reconciliation with men, he was permitted again to look 
 upon men, and to communicate his wishes to them. His 
 sight was restored, instantaneously. 
 
 Look upon these circumstances, skeptics, unbelievers I 
 Does it not comport with the character of a good and holy 
 being, that be should have met the stricken sinner with a 
 measure of relief, right there ? — that be should have granted 
 him a wish so necessary to his full repentance, as that of 
 humbling himself before his fellow men? — of asking the 
 forgiveness of those he had injured? 
 
 And what shall we say of the medical experiments ? Did 
 they penetrate the system, and, lightning-like, drive palsy 
 from the optic nerve, almost before the application began : 
 restoring perfect sight in twenty-six hours from the moment 
 of blindness? Did those judicious remedies pinch out a 
 perfect paralysis from the optic nerve, or the eye, in an 
 instant of time — for sight came to Mr, Bockne instantane- 
 ously — and did they yet play away in vain upon the auditory 
 nerve, and the motor nerve of the tongue, for more than 
 two full weeks afterwards? These questions certainly 
 involve the subject of scientific success in the case in some 
 difficulty. Even Doctor Thurston admits that his sight 
 was perfect, two days after he was taken blind. Does it 
 look like something gradually brought about? Let every 
 honest-hearted man and woman consider well that the 
 works of God are great, glorious, and consistent with the 
 nature of his designs. 
 
 Is there any reason for supposing that a paralytic — espe- 
 cially one who is suffering a suspension of natural faculties 
 like those of speech and hearing — would remain unaffected 
 while the prescribed remedies were applied from day to 
 day, and then a perfect cure took place, at a time when 
 there was no reason from the nature of the remedial agents 
 to expect it, if these agents produced the cure. For 
 eighteen days Mr. Bohene continued without the least 
 power of speech or hearing, notwithstanding all medical 
 applications. From Wednesday to Sunday, he had been 
 
37 
 
 attending public meetings, tallying only through a slate and 
 pencil, and hearing only through the same medium. There 
 was no gradual recovery of his powers of speech or hear- 
 ing ; yet, this would have been the case, in a cure of 
 paralysis by electro-galvanism, according to the best 
 evidences. But there was no progress toward this end ; 
 and to the admissions of Dr. Thurston, which have already 
 been specified, must now be added this : 
 
 The Doctor admits, in his letter of November 20th, 
 that the restoration of the hearing and speech of Mr. 
 BouENE took place on Saturday, November 15th — not all 
 along the time, upon a graduating scale. His language is, 
 *' Ou conversation with him, since Sunday last, at which 
 time his hearing and speech were restored," — in which he 
 admits the fact, which is a fact, that it took place at a 
 definite time ; not all along the way, through the whole 
 course of eighteen days. 
 
 What power was there, electro-galvanic, in a religious 
 congregation? — what in a pulpit?— what in the pious 
 sympathies of a praying, weeping congregation? What 
 was there in the singular prophecy which remained written 
 on the slate, and which a moment before had been read 
 without its author being able to hear anything of it? The 
 time, the place, the circumstances of the moment, when 
 the cure was effected, were all most suitable to a manifes- 
 tation of divine power. They were by no means suited to 
 the idea of a medical success. 
 
 As his sight became perfect (the Doctor admits it) at a 
 particular time, so his powers of hearing and speech were 
 restored (the Doctor admits it too) at a specified time. 
 
 Mr. Bourne's powers were taken away, as he testifies, at 
 a moment when his heart rebelled in a most defiant wrath 
 against God. They were fully and completely restored in 
 the very moment when he sought to do the utmost in his 
 power to honor God and confess him before men. He was 
 stricken down when the eyes of other men were upon him, 
 and it was in an instant. He was restored, in an instant, 
 when hundreds were gazing upon him — very many of 
 whom were praying for the recovery of his powers. Before 
 he was stricken down he was decidedly irreligious. Since 
 his restoration he has shown the deepest devotion to the 
 service of God, and the conversion of his fellow-men. 
 
 There is not to be pointed out, in all his wonderful 
 experience — admitting it to be altogether miraculous— a 
 single circumstance which is unworthy of the character of 
 
38 
 
 God. " These things have not been done in a corner." It 
 has all been open to the criticism of men. It has been no 
 slight change — no humbug — wonder — but a veritable series 
 of facts, witnessed by many, and which have become 
 greatly noised abroad. It has not been some wonder per- 
 formed by some cunning and deceitful priest; but a work 
 of dreadful power — positive and unmistakable — upon a 
 known infidel, a man as determined in opposition to Chris- 
 tianity as Saul of Tarsus was ; and by it he has been brought 
 to acknowledge God and submit to him. 
 
 If any are disposed to scoff, that shall be their business, 
 if they seek no better. Candid persons will consider, and 
 judge reverently before the Lord. 
 
 The visions which are related by Mr. BooKifE, are not 
 unworthy of Christ. If the blindness, the dumbness, and 
 the deafness, and the recovery from all of these are mirac- 
 ulous — and how can they be otherwise — the visions are 
 wholly consistent therewith. If Christ has been miracu- 
 lously manifested, it cannot be that it was altogether for 
 the benefit of one unbeliever. lu the visions Mr. Bourne 
 is commanded to go and tell what he has seen and heard. 
 He is to go and tell the impressive facts of God's dealings 
 with him. God wants a witnessing church — a church, 
 which will testify convincingly to the truth, either in its 
 experience of God's deliverance, in times of great trial, or 
 in its high and holy character. " He chooses the weak 
 things of the world to confound the wise ; and things that 
 are not to bring to nought the things that are ; that no flesh 
 should glory in his presence. 
 
 Mr. Bourne allowed himself to be driven to atheism by 
 the corruptions among professed christians — by the un- 
 christian character of the professed church of Christ. The 
 language of the Great Master to his ancient disciples — " If 
 the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that 
 darkness?" — should be repeated again in those days, to 
 bis professed people. The good work of ancient christians 
 convinced unbelievers that Christ was divine — Christianity 
 the true religion. • Now, shall it be, must it be, that the 
 evil works of professed christians shall drive honest men 
 into unbelief? 
 
 If God hits stretched forth his hand, as it seems, it is a 
 fearful indication to his professed people, at the same time 
 that it is glorious to contemplate. Will ho ne.xtrain snares 
 and terrible judgments upon his professed people, because 
 of their selfishness, their pride, the sectarian bigotry, their 
 
39 
 
 neglect of the poor, their contempt of faithfulness among 
 his ministry, and their multiplied excuses for the great and 
 giant wrongs of society ? What will he do next. 
 
 Mr. Bourne has left his worldly occupation — a Carpen- 
 ter — to work for Him who was once known on earth as 
 " the Carpenter's Son." He goes out, trusting iu God, to 
 tell his story of what he has seen and heard. He is afraid 
 to neglect, yet he loves to obey. He feels all the diflScul- 
 tes of his position, the lack of literary attainments, the 
 incredulity of men ; and yet he goes with the confidence 
 that he will be sustained, if faithful, in that way which 
 shall be best for him. 
 
 The writer of this sketch has taken from his lips, and 
 from others who were eye-witnesses, the facts as now pre- 
 sented. He has followed the recital of these things, to be 
 astonished at the full evidence of connection and harmony 
 between all the parts ; and fully believes in the perfect 
 sincerity of Mr. Bourne, in the representations which he 
 has given. And so far as this expression of his conviction 
 of Mr. Bourne's deep sincerity of conviction is due to 
 him, and to the work in which he is engaged, it is now 
 cheerfully given over his own signature. 
 
 A. G. COMINGS, 
 . Minister of the Gospel. 
 
 Office of the " Christian Messenger," 
 Irvington, New Jersey, January, 1?58. 
 
 It does not seem necessary to add any testimonials to the 
 facts narrated in this work. The Press has taken extensive 
 notice of it, and none have ever pretended to deny the 
 great leading fact of the occurrence of this strange event. 
 But, not knowing what may transpire to render other testi- 
 mony important, or to say the least more satisfactory, I 
 take great pleasure in adding the following to what has 
 been already said : 
 
 I was laboring in Westerly while Mr. Bourne was de- 
 prived of his speech and hearing, and can testify to the 
 truth of what is related of him after he first came to the 
 church, until his speech and hearing were restored, . It was 
 at the close of my discourse, on the afternoon of the 15th 
 of November last, when this most remarkable circumstance 
 took place. All that is related in reference to it is strictly 
 true. 
 
40 
 
 This offering is made to the public with the hope that it 
 may be useful to mankind. If, after all that has been 
 presented, any person should rise up so in lore with unbelief 
 as to discredit the statements made of his case, we refer 
 them to the following persons, well known in Westerly, 
 who, with hundreds of others, would cheerfully testify to 
 their truthfulness, if called on to do so : 
 
 KEV. JOHN TAYLOR, 
 DEA. TAYLOR PENDLETON, 
 JOSHUA THOMPSON, JR., 
 CHARLES W. THOMPSON, 
 DEA. BERNARD W. PIERCE, 
 AARON PIERCE, 
 JAMES L. GAVITT, 
 HORATIO BERRY, 
 ' AMOS ADAMS, 
 HALSEY GREENE, 
 WILLIAM GREENE, 
 BURRILL THOMPSON, 
 OLIVER D. HALL, 
 
 Or any other person who has liyed in Westerly the past 
 year, 1857— all of which is most respectfully submitted to 
 a candid public. 
 
 MOSES CUMMINGS. 
 
CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 3 1924 050 939 804 
 
w