1896
M. Littre, of Paris, who recently investigated a number of alleged miraculous cures, says that they can be accounted for without supposing a miracle. He explains that in many of such cures there is a muscular action of the affected part. The muscle contracts energetically; it breaks down the pathological adhesions, if they exist, and restores the bones violently to their place.
In commenting on this, the New York Medical Record says: "What the surgeon has to do with his hand is here done by an influence exerted on the muscles themselves, and in a far more beneficent manner than surgery can effect. The exciting cause of these energetic contractions is that which we find in all miracles of this sort — a strong persuasion, a complete confidence. It is the brain and feeling generated by the mind which give strength to the person who thinks strongly. A gouty man, who has long hobbled about on his crutch, finds his legs and power to run with them if pursued by a wild bull. The feeblest invalid, under the influence of delirium or other strong excitement, will astonish her nurse by the sudden accession of strength she may exhibit."
Deaf and Dumb Couple Converted
It seems to be a striking compliment to fervent eloquence, or some other peculiar power of persuasion, that among the converts made by a revivalist at Tekonsah, Michigan, recently, were two deaf and dumb persons, a man and his wife. — New York Sun.
Showing posts with label deaf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deaf. Show all posts
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Where the Deaf May Hear
1896
Many an old lady goes to church of a Sunday and sits through the service in a frame of mind devout to a degree, but never hears a solitary word of the sermon.
There is a preacher in Syracuse, Rev. George B. Spalding, D. D., who has changed all that. Dr. Spalding is pastor of the first Presbyterian Church, a religious body made up in the main of wealthy folk to whom money is no particular object.
Moved at first by the lamentations of some of his aged parishioners that they could not hear his preachments — Dr. Spalding was a newspaper man before he joined the clergy, and is a practical soul withal — he arranged, for the better delivery of the Gospel to those deaf brethren and sisters, speaking tubes which ran from a large metal receiver — really a megaphone immediately in front of him on the pulpit, down under the flooring of the auditorium and up into the pews.
The megaphone is built into the front of the pulpit, so that when reading or speaking the doctor addresses it directly.
So successful did the clergyman's device prove, that speaking tubes were put into every pew in the great auditorium. Any person, who is hard of hearing and happens to be a visitor to the church, will find means at hand of hearing the sermon.
One deaf old lady, who went to Dr. Spalding's church the other day, having heard of the speaking-tube system, burst into tears when she put the transmitter to her ear and caught the sound of the preacher's voice. She said it was the first sermon she had heard in over a quarter of a century. — New York Journal.
Many an old lady goes to church of a Sunday and sits through the service in a frame of mind devout to a degree, but never hears a solitary word of the sermon.
There is a preacher in Syracuse, Rev. George B. Spalding, D. D., who has changed all that. Dr. Spalding is pastor of the first Presbyterian Church, a religious body made up in the main of wealthy folk to whom money is no particular object.
Moved at first by the lamentations of some of his aged parishioners that they could not hear his preachments — Dr. Spalding was a newspaper man before he joined the clergy, and is a practical soul withal — he arranged, for the better delivery of the Gospel to those deaf brethren and sisters, speaking tubes which ran from a large metal receiver — really a megaphone immediately in front of him on the pulpit, down under the flooring of the auditorium and up into the pews.
The megaphone is built into the front of the pulpit, so that when reading or speaking the doctor addresses it directly.
So successful did the clergyman's device prove, that speaking tubes were put into every pew in the great auditorium. Any person, who is hard of hearing and happens to be a visitor to the church, will find means at hand of hearing the sermon.
One deaf old lady, who went to Dr. Spalding's church the other day, having heard of the speaking-tube system, burst into tears when she put the transmitter to her ear and caught the sound of the preacher's voice. She said it was the first sermon she had heard in over a quarter of a century. — New York Journal.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Priest Makes a Deal with Coughing Congregation
1874
The Tablet relates a story of a priest who had a coughing congregation, and who cured them thus: No sooner had he ceased to speak than, singular to relate, one cough after another died out until soon there was absolute silence in the church. Whereupon the father said something to the following effect: "My friends, I know that in this weather colds abound, and therefore it is difficult for you to refrain from coughing. Still it is impossible for me to preach and for you to cough at the same time. Let us come, then, to a mutual agreement, so that you may cough and I may preach without disturbing each other. I will speak say for five or ten minutes at a time; when I raise my handkerchief there will be an interval allowed for coughing. As soon as I let it fall I will resume my sermon, and your silence." The plan succeeded admirably.
Couldn't Blow His Horn in That Church
An organist, for many years engaged in one of the noted churches in this city, tells this:
A strange man was acting as sexton. An old gentleman who was deaf took his seat in a pew, and produced from his pocket an ear-trumpet of curious shape, and to the dismay of the temporary sexton, raised it toward his face. The sexton sprang to his side, and said something in a low voice, whereupon the gentleman endeavored to raise the trumpet to his ear, but was prevented by the sexton seizing his hand. With increasing voice and excitement, he said, "You mustn't, Sir. You mustn't blow that horn in here. If you do, I shall be obliged to put you out!" And the good old man, pocketing the bugle, heard nothing of the service or sermon.
The Tablet relates a story of a priest who had a coughing congregation, and who cured them thus: No sooner had he ceased to speak than, singular to relate, one cough after another died out until soon there was absolute silence in the church. Whereupon the father said something to the following effect: "My friends, I know that in this weather colds abound, and therefore it is difficult for you to refrain from coughing. Still it is impossible for me to preach and for you to cough at the same time. Let us come, then, to a mutual agreement, so that you may cough and I may preach without disturbing each other. I will speak say for five or ten minutes at a time; when I raise my handkerchief there will be an interval allowed for coughing. As soon as I let it fall I will resume my sermon, and your silence." The plan succeeded admirably.
Couldn't Blow His Horn in That Church
An organist, for many years engaged in one of the noted churches in this city, tells this:
A strange man was acting as sexton. An old gentleman who was deaf took his seat in a pew, and produced from his pocket an ear-trumpet of curious shape, and to the dismay of the temporary sexton, raised it toward his face. The sexton sprang to his side, and said something in a low voice, whereupon the gentleman endeavored to raise the trumpet to his ear, but was prevented by the sexton seizing his hand. With increasing voice and excitement, he said, "You mustn't, Sir. You mustn't blow that horn in here. If you do, I shall be obliged to put you out!" And the good old man, pocketing the bugle, heard nothing of the service or sermon.
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