Anecdotes of the Deaf The Deaf Mute's Faith
One day a minister's servant brought a subscription book and ...
Portobello Swimming Club
On the mornings of Wednesday and Thursday the deep-diving med...
Poor Sam Tranter
The lot of the uneducated deaf and dumb in this world is a pi...
The Indians And Deaf And Dumb
We are quite sure the Indians were delighted by the recept...
Half A Score Deaf Mutes
On Tuesday evening last the Stamford Corn Exchange was crowde...
A Deaf And Dumb Boy Not Afraid To Die
Bernard Grimshaw, a little deaf and dumb boy, lay seriously i...
Observations Of Deaf & Dumb Children
A gentleman called to see some little deaf and dumb girls who...
At the great Exhibition in 1851 there was exhibited a set of ...
The Queen And The Deaf And Dumb
Not far from Osborne House, Isle of Wight, there lives a poor...
I Must Help
The following little incident will show how interested the...
The Age Of Deaf Mutes
The question is frequently asked, "Is there a greater mortali...
A Will Made By Pantomime
The Supreme Court of Maine recently, after a six days trial, ...
Probable Numbers Of The Deaf & Dumb
There is an increasing desire on the part of the various Gove...
A Happy Death Bed
Not long ago there died in the county Wexford, in Ireland, a ...
A Deaf And Dumb Girl's Dream
(WRITTEN BY HERSELF.)
I had a dream on the 26th of January...
A Deaf Mute's Ideas Before Instruction
The following extract from the correspondence of a deaf and d...
Like The Copy
Florence B----, a little girl in the Deaf and Dumb Institutio...
On entering the school room one morning, one of the little de...
A Deaf And Dumb Boy's Devotion
Under the trees standing by the left bank of the Thames, a...
Helen Silvie was a Scotch girl. She was born in the villag...
An Interview With Laura Bridgman
We presume most of our readers will have read of Laura Bridgman, who is
without any perfect sense except that of touch. A correspondent of the
"Christian Union" gives an interesting account of an afternoon spent
with her, from which we make the following abstract:--
If any one supposes that by reason of her deprivation she is queer or
awkward in person or manners, he is altogether in error. There is
nothing at all singular in her appearance. When I entered the parlour, a
member of the family with whom she lives was playing on the piano, and
close behind her, on a low seat, there was a very slight, very erect,
quiet, self-possessed looking person, who seemed to be listening to the
music, while her hands were busy over some crocheting or some similar
work. She would have been taken for a guest who was fashioning some
pretty article whilst being entertained with music. The expression of
her face was bright and interested; and one watching her satisfied look
would have been slow to believe that she did not hear. The green shade
over her eyes indicated that she was one of the blind. She had on a
brown dress, a blue ribbon at the neck, a gold ring and chain, and a
watch or locket in her belt--a neatly attired, genteel, lady-like
person, looking about thirty-five (though her age is not far from
forty-four), with soft, brown hair, smooth and fine, a well shaped head,
fair complexion, and handsome features. That was Laura. As soon as she
learned that she had a visitor who knew people in the town where her
nearest kindred live, she came swiftly across the room, leaving her work
on the centre table as she passed it, and grasped my hand, laughing with
the eagerness of a child. Then she sat down face to face with the lady
who has charge of her, and commenced an animated conversation, by the
manual alphabet, easily understood by one who has practised it; but the
slight-of-hand by which the fingers of the friendly hostess,
manipulating on Laura's slender wrists, communicated with that living
consciousness shut in there without one perfect sense except of taste
and touch, was something mysterious, inscrutable to my duller sense. Yet
that the communication was definite, quick, missive, so to speak,
manifest enough, for Laura's face beamed, and she was all alert. Partly
by the letters and partly by signs she said a great deal to me. She
"ought to be at home to be company for mother," she said; and, once or
twice, she fashioned the word "Mamma" very distinctly with her lips. She
asked if I knew a member of her family now dead, and said "that was a
long year after Carl died." She seemed brimming over once with things to
tell me, and wanted me to know about her teaching some of the blind
girls to sew, which she takes great pride in, threading the needle, and
making her pupils pick out their work if it is not done nicely. She is a
good seamstress herself, does fancy work, and can run a sewing machine.
Next, she caught hold of my hand and led me up two flights of stairs to
her room to shew me her things; but the first movement was to take me to
the window, where she patted on the glass and signified that I should
see what a pleasant prospect there was from it. And there she, who had
never seen or heard, waited by my side in great content while I looked
and listened. Yet her face was radiant, and she stood there as if she
both saw and heard. I wish I could bring before all those who are
discontented with their lot, repining because God has withheld something
from them or taken something away, the cheerful face of this lady, who
has so little, but who accepts it as though she had all, who has never
seen a human countenance or heard a human voice, who in the infinite
glory and beauty of this outward world has no part, shut in by herself
in that silent, dark, unchanging, awful loneliness. Next she showed me
how springy her bed was. Then she took off my shawl, and showed me all
the pretty things and conveniences she had in her room, opening every
box and drawer, and displaying the contents. Her jet chain she laid
against her neck, her bows and collars and embroidered hand-kerchiefs
were taken up one by one, and deftly replaced in their proper
receptacles. Her writing materials, sewing implements, little
statuettes, trinkets, large Bible--I had to see them all. Lastly she
took out a sheet of paper, pressed it down on a French writing-board,
examined the point of the pencil, and wrote her autograph, "God is love
and truth. S. N. Bridgman." And then from her needle-case and spool-box
produced a cambric needle and fine cotton, and showed me how to thread a
needle, which was done by holding the eye against the tip of her tongue,
the exquisite nicety of touch in it guiding her to pass the thread
through. It was done in an instant, though it seemed impossible to do it
at all, and then she presented me the threaded needle triumphantly,
having secured it by slipping a knot. Going down to the parlour again,
she told me how kind it was in Dr. Howe to fit her up such a pretty
room; and then I must go into the school room, whither she led me by the
hand, and introduced me to several of her friends among the pupils, and
when I took my departure she would have the teacher go with me to the
door to tell me which car to take.
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