’Yesterday he was in school and more quiet, but did not kneel down at prayers, and seemed like a little beast beginning to be tamed.  So, after school, I called him to me, and putting him before my knees asked him some questions very kindly:  “Did he know who God was?  Had he never been taught to kneel down and say his prayers?  Of course he had not, but it gave me the proper opportunity of speaking to his parents.  So having now considered the matter for two or three days previously, having ascertained all the facts about the people, after an hour among some others in the village, I went right into their cottage, and luckily found father and mother and grandmother at home, besides one or two more (who are lodgers) in a room adjoining, with the door open.  “I am come to talk to you about William,” I began, whereupon I saw the woman turn quite red.  However, I spoke for about ten minutes slowly and very quietly, without any appearance (as I believe) of anger or passion at all, but yet speaking my mind quite plainly.  “I had no idea any child could be so neglected.  Did they suppose the school was a place where any parent might send a child merely to get it out of the way (of course they do, you know, most of them)?  Was it possible that a child could be made good as if by magic there, when it learns nothing but wicked words at home?  Do you think you can or ought to get rid of the duties you owe your child?  Do you suppose that God will not require from you an account of the way you have behaved towards him, you who have never taught him to know who God is, what God is, what is prayer, what is the church, who have taught that little mouth, which God created for praise and blessings, to curse and blaspheme?  I know that many children do and say wicked things, but it is in most cases owing to the neglect of their parents, who do not speak kindly to their children, and do what they can to keep them out of temptation, but this is a different case.  Your boy is not fit to come into the company of little Christians!  Awful as it is to think of, he is already, at his early age, the very dread of the parents who live near you.”

’They had not a word to say, not a syllable beyond the objection which I had already met, that other children were bad too.  I did not say what I might have said with truth, because it is only from Gardiner’s report, not from my own knowledge—­viz., that neither father nor mother ever come to church, and that their house is the centre of evil to the young people of the village.

’"Now,” I said, in conclusion, “I fully meant to send back your boy, and tell you I would examine him six months hence, to see if he was fit to be brought into the school, but as I do trust he may behave better, and that this may be the means of recovering him from this sad state, I shall take him still, unless he behaves again very badly.  But remember this—­this is the turning point in the boy’s life, and all, humanly speaking,