How a Thief Came to Salvation

CAUGHT BY A FRIEND
A True Story From The May Issue Of
The 1858 Primitive Methodist Magazine

A man had been in the habit of stealing corn from his neighbour who was a member of the Society of Friends. Every night he visited the corn store and filled his bag with the grain which the good old Friend's toil had placed there for preservation. Every morning the old gentleman observed a diminution of his corn. This was very annoying, and must be stopped. But how? many a one would have said, "Take a gun, conceal yourself; take a gun, wait till he comes, and fire." Others would have said, "Catch the villain, and have him sent to jail."

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But this pious Friend was not prepared to enter into any such severe measures. He wanted to punish the offender, and at the same time bring about his reformation, if possible. So he fixed a sort of trap close to the hole through which the man would have to thrust his arm in getting the corn.

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The wicked neighbour proceeded on his unholy errand at the hour of midnight, with a bag in which to carry off his spoil. Unsuspectingly he put forth his hand to get the corn, but, lo! he found himself unable to withdraw it. In vain he tugged and pulled, and alternately cried and swore, his hand was fast, and every effort to release it only made it the more secure. After a time the tumult in his breast partially subsided; he gave over his useless struggles, and began to look around him; all was silence and repose. Good men were generally sleeping comfortably in their beds, while he was compelled to keep a dreary, disgraceful watch through the remainder of that long and tedious night, his hand in constant pain from the pressure of the clamp which held it, his tired limbs, compelled to sustain his weary body, would fain have sunk beneath him, and his heavy eyes would fain have closed in slumber—but lo! there was no rest, no sleep for him; there he must stand and watch the progress of the night, and at the same time he desired and dreaded the return of the morning. Morning came at last, and the person whom he had been attempting to rob, looked out of his window, and found he had "caught the man."
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What was to be done? Some would say, "Go out and give him a good beating, just as he stands, and then release him; that will cure him." But not so said this Friend, such a course would have sent the man away embittered, and perhaps meditating revenge. The good old man hurried on his clothes, and started at once to the relief and punishment of his prisoner.
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"Good morning, friend," said he, as he came within speaking distance. "How dost thou do?"
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The poor culprit made no answer, but burst into tears.
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"Oh fie," said the Friend, as he proceeded to release him; "I'm sorry that thou hast got thy hand fast. Thou put it in the wrong place, or it would not have been so."
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The man looked crestfallen, and begging forgiveness, hastily turned to make his retreat.
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"Stay," said his persecutor—for he was now becoming such to the offender, who could have received a blow with much better grace, than the kind words that were falling from the lips of his injured neighbour. "Stay, friend, thy bag is not filled. Thou needs corn, or thou wouldst not have taken so much pains to get it. Come, let us fill it." And the poor fellow was obliged to stand and hold the bag, while the good old man filled it, interspersing the exercises with the most pleasant conversation imaginable—all of which were like daggers in the heart of his chagrined and mortified victim. The bag was filled, the string tied, and the sufferer hoped soon to be out of the presence of his tormentor; but again his purpose was thwarted.
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"Stay," said the good old gentleman, as the man was about to hurry off, having muttered once more his apologies and thanks, "Stay, Ruth has breakfast ready ere this; thou must not think of going without breakfast. Come, Ruth is calling."
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This was almost unendurable. This was "heaping on coals" with a vengeance. In vain the mortified thief begged to be excused, in vain he pleaded to be released from what would be to him a punishment ten times more severe than stripes and imprisonment; his friend was inexorable, and he was obliged to yield.
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Breakfast over, "Now," said the old farmer, as he helped his victim to shoulder the bag, "if thou needs any more corn, come in the daytime, and thou shalt have it."
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With what shame and remorse did that guilty individual turn from the dwelling of the pious man. All, we presume, who have read this article will be ready to say that they suppose he never again troubled the Friend's corn heap.
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No, I have something still better to tell you, he at once repented, was reformed, and my informant tells me that he afterwards heard him state, in an experience meeting, the substance of what I have related, and he attributed his conversion, under God's blessing, to the course the Friend had pursued to arrest him in his downward course.—From the "Friendly Visitor."
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