i7- 
 
THE 
 
 Woi^LD AS T HeAI\ T 
 
 Containing Reminiscences of Institution Life, How Do the 
 
 Blind See, Night Thoughts, Gold Worshippers, and 
 
 other Productions in Prose and Verse never 
 
 before Published in Book Form. • 
 
 By LANSING Y. HALL. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 
 FIRST EDITION. 
 
 DANSVILLE, N. Y., 
 
 A. O. BUNNELL, PRINTER, ADVERTISER OFFICE. 
 1878. 
 
Copyright, 
 
 1878, 
 
 By L. V. HALL. 
 
 

 DEDICATION. 
 
 When I find a book that has no dedication page, I i^ery 
 naturally infer that the author has no friends. To avoid 
 this suspicion, I have been searching about among my 7iu- 
 merons relatives and acquaintances, to find some one who 
 would bear modestly and gracefully the honor which might 
 be tims suddenly heaped upon him. From among many who 
 have shown themselves worthy of my gratitude and esteem, 
 by their sympathy, benevolence, courtesy, and uniform kifid- 
 ness, I have selected my long-tried, faithful friend and 
 classmate, the trusted confidant of my youth, the disci'eet 
 counselor of my manhood, the co-partner and felloiv laborer 
 of majiy of my literary toils, and the cheerful, hopeful 
 Christian companion of my age, William Artman of East 
 Sparta, to whom is inscribed this little volume. 
 
 By his grateful friend, 
 
 LANSING V. HALL. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A FORMAL introduction to a stranger is always more 
 or less embarrassing, because we do not know his tastes 
 and feelings, nor what topic of conversation will please 
 him. But if we wish to make a favorable impression, 
 we usually put the best foot forward, and turn out the 
 brightest side of our characters. This kind of uncer- 
 tainty, diffidence and trepidation, I always feel in com- 
 ing before the public with a new book. Aware that the 
 first impressions of my readers will have much to do 
 with their judgments and opinions of the whole work, 1 
 find the preface the most important, and most difficult 
 part of my book to write. 
 
 It has long been customary for authors to apologise 
 for afflicting the world with their productions. This 
 has always seemed to me a ridiculous custom. Why 
 should writers be more modest than other men ? When 
 farmers and manufacturers bring their products into 
 market, they do not hesitate to recommend them even 
 above their real merits. Why then should not artists, 
 thought-venders, and book-mongers, praise their own 
 
6 Preface. 
 
 wares ? I have labored hard with body and mind, and 
 under the most trying circumstances, to prepare what I 
 trust will prove to be a very readable book ; and have 
 written every line with my own hand, without help or 
 suggestion from any one ; and if I must offer any apol- 
 ogy whatever, it should be for publishing a new book 
 just at this unpropitious time. But shall I wait for bet- 
 ter times and lie idly on my oars while those depending 
 upon my efforts are denied the comforts and privileges 
 that others enjoy ? Should I not put forth every exer- 
 tion to secure means requisite for the support and edu- 
 cation of my young family, or Micawber-like shall I 
 "wait for something to turn up?" Surely, my friends 
 would not advise a delay that must prove so disastrous. 
 My first design was to collect my contributions to the 
 newspapers for the past few years, and publish a neat 
 little volume of poems ; but remembering that I had 
 reached a period of life when the fires of poesy begin to 
 burn more dimly, when stars and flowers look less invit- 
 ing than bread and beef; remembering that I had wan- 
 dered through nearly every state in the Union, that during 
 my intercourse with men I have been asked many thous- 
 and questions about the blind, and that my life in some 
 respects had been rather rich in experiences, I changed 
 my plan materially, and concluded to publish a miscel- 
 
Preface. y 
 
 lany of prose and verse, replete with my own observa- 
 tions, and embodying answers to many important ques- 
 tions. I do not expect it will please and interest every- 
 body, for the author, I find, does not. 
 
 I have felt from time to time impelled to publish 
 either in book form, or through the newspapers my 
 ideas and impressions of the world, and of my surround- 
 ings, because I know that people have an excusable cu- 
 riosity to learn what blind persons can find to think 
 about. 
 
 Besides, I meet with less natural obstacles in selling a 
 book, than in any other pursuit, and less difficulty in 
 bringing men to understand that a person without sight 
 may think as profoundly, reason as logically, and arrive 
 at conclusions quite as just as those who possess the 
 organs of vision, provided his mind is well stored with 
 facts and useful knowledge. 
 
 Finally, as my chances in manual labor, and in the 
 various business pursuits, are not equal to the opportu- 
 nities of men with sight, I have been induced to publish 
 occasionally my productions in book form, to offer them 
 to the public in person, not intending to force my writ- 
 ings upon the world, but to sell the products of my 
 mind, as other men bring into market the produce of 
 their land, or any article of manufacture or workmanship. 
 
8 Preface. \ 
 
 Should the reader find in these pages faults and 
 errors, he need not take to himself too much credit for 
 the discovery, for the author is painfully conscious of 
 their presence, and hopes they will not be charged to 
 his lack of sight, as is sometimes done when great faults 
 appear in the writings of the blind, but rather to a lack 
 of artistic skill, and power to produce what a refined 
 taste approves, — in a word, to his misfortune in not hav- 
 ing been born a Milton or a Homer. 
 
 L. V. Hall. 
 Dansville, N. Y. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 IJN TR OD UCTION. 
 
 REMINISCENCE OF SIGHTLESS CHILDHOOD.— Poem. 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC— 
 
 Importance of Employment— Gratitude — Appeal for Justice. 
 
 GOLD WORSHIPPERS.— Poem. 
 
 THE WORLD AS I HEAR IT— 
 
 My Mother's Voice — First Fiddle — Voice^ an Index of the Mind — 
 Voices of Great Men— Speech of Henry Clay— Voice of Jenny Lind 
 — Henry Ward Beecher—E. H. Chapin— Frederick Douglass — Ne- 
 gro Voices. 
 
 EYES OF THE SOUL,— Poem. 
 
 HOW DO THE BLIND SEE?— 
 
 How the Deaf Hear — Mental Magjietism-Sense of Smell as Guide 
 —Senses of Hearing and Touch as Guides— Finger Training— Feel- 
 ing Colors— Harmony of Colors — Natural Desire to See and Hear. 
 
 GATHERING SHELLS.— Poem. 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS.— 
 
 Laura Bridgman — Her condition — Education Commenced — Finger 
 Talking— Recognition Through the Sense of Touch— Visit of Lau- 
 ra's Mother— Parting with her Mother, Touching Description- 
 Form Without Color — Flowers Without Color— Dreartis of the Deaf 
 and Blind— What do the Deaf Think of Sound ? 
 
 THE DESERTED CHAPEL. 
 
lO Table of Contents. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN. 
 
 LITTLE HANDS AND FEET. 
 
 THE TURKEY. 
 
 PIGS IN THE PULPIT. 
 
 DANGERS OF COURTSHIP. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL SNOW. 
 
 MISERABLE MUD. 
 
 MISS SUE PREME SELFISH AT HOME. 
 
 CELESTIA CHARITY AT HOME. 
 
 PAT AND THE FROGS. 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE GATE. 
 
 CHRONIC GRUMBLER. 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF INSTITUTION LIFE — 
 
 Initiation of Pupils — Bell Clapper Fever — Table Talk — The In- 
 vestigation — Cutting the Belt-Rope — Visit to the Kitchen— Shower 
 Bath — Locked Out — Theft — Plain Fare — Corned Beef — Negro 
 Equality — Rule First — Hole in the Partition — Love Making — Pear 
 nut Courtship — Habits of Intemperaiice — Smuggling and Confisca- 
 tion — Brown Sugar Joke — Hanging Cats — Narrow Escape — Pla- 
 cards Burned — Hoiv the Blind Eat — Liberal Donation — Ridiculous 
 Blunders— The Bird that Could Sing but Wouldn't— Fighting — 
 Funny Mistake — Waxed Ends — Corporeal Punishine^it — Visit of 
 General Scott— His Reception— Surrendering his Sword. 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I KNOW of no better way to introduce a book to the 
 public, than by introducing its author. I seldom read a 
 book of character and worth, without feeling a keen de- 
 sire to know something more of the author, of his sur- 
 roundings, his habits, his temperament, and the incidents 
 of his life which have set in motion particular trains of 
 thought, without falling or rising into sympathy with all 
 his moods of mind, and wishing to learn more of his in- 
 dividuality than I can gather from his works. 
 
 We who find ourselves in a world of solid material, 
 stubborn facts, and rough experiences, without the im- 
 portant sense of sight to keep us from bumping our 
 heads against walls, or snubbing against lamp-posts, or 
 dropping suddenly into yawning cellars, are compelled 
 to adopt expedients and methods that people with perfect 
 sight have no occasion to use. We have, therefore, a 
 life history peculiar to our condition. It would not be 
 possible for me in this brief sketch, to enter into a detail 
 of all the many devices employed by us, for the accom- 
 
1 2 Introduction. 
 
 plishment of those things that Seem so inexplicable to 
 oiM" friends, and to the world of eyes ; and, indeed, if I 
 were to try, I should find it impossible to make myself 
 understood. 
 
 I am frequently stopped on the street by men who 
 only wish to inquire if I know just where I am, where I 
 am going, and whom I have the honor of talking with. 
 This would provoke a saint to open profanity, if he did 
 not take into consideration the fact that men have very 
 inquiring minds, and women a curiosity that must 
 be gratified. Again, my hand is seized by some one 
 who wishes to be recognized, but does not choose to 
 speak, knowing that the voice would betray his identity. 
 In this way I am often held in speechless suspense for 
 many seconds, and even minutes, which, as may be well 
 imagined, is very embarrassing. Sometimes a friend 
 assumes a false tone of voice, to test my ability to recog- 
 nize persons by their voices ; but in which, I am happy 
 to say, they seldom succeed in misleading me, — my ear 
 detecting certain sounds which they do not know how 
 to conceal. This always seems to me about as absurd, 
 as it would be for a person on meeting a friend, to dis- 
 tort his countenance into a horrible grimace, to see \{ 
 his friend would recognize him. Of these little pleasant- 
 ries, however, I do not complain, but only mention them 
 
Ifjtroduction. 1 3 
 
 to show how little the mental condition of the blind is 
 understood and appreciated. 
 
 I trust it will not be thought an unpardonable egotism, 
 if I speak in this connection of the methods by which I 
 arrange my thoughts, ideas and sentiments, into prose 
 or verse ; and how it may be supposed I am able to 
 gain a knowledge of the many grand and beautiful 
 things in nature, that light and color can only reveal to 
 those who see. Very much of this knowledge, I appre- 
 hend, is received from books, from public lectures, and 
 from the conversation of well informed, refined, and cul- 
 tured people ; but mainly through the other senses, 
 which I possess in great perfection. Besides, there is a 
 world of fancy in every mind, corresponding to the 
 physical or outer world. This may be filled with beauty 
 and harmony, aye, — even lighted up with imaginary sun, 
 moon and stars. My method of preparing a poem, or 
 any article for the press, has always been by dictation to 
 an amanuensis; having first arranged in my mind, and 
 committed to memory, the entire performance. Of late, 
 I have found it easier to write my thoughts as they oc- 
 cur to me, in my own hand, with a pencil, to be copied 
 in ink. The art of literary and musical composition is 
 not beyond the reach of the blind. Correct and elegant 
 language may be acquired, by which original thoughts 
 
14 Introduction. 
 
 may be expressed, and so complete a knowledge of the 
 science of harmony may be had, and skill to execute the 
 most difficult composition, that true genius is often 
 shown both in the musical and literary productions of 
 the blind. Poetic or musical inspiration may be drawn 
 from an ideal world, as well as from a real one. Milton 
 sung of heaven, and filled it with creations of his own 
 fancy. Blind Tom peoples his world with beings quite 
 as wonderful, and draws inspiration from nature, as she 
 comes to him in the sounds of singing brooks, sighing 
 winds, and whispering leaves. 
 
 If I have succeeded in introducing myself to the read- 
 er, I now beg leave to introduce my little book, and be- 
 speak for it a kind reception. Should you find it dull, 
 tame, insipid, or even stupid, do not throw it aside, wipe 
 your critical glasses and say : " Well, that is just what 
 one might expect from a writer who has never seen the 
 world he attempts to describe. His imagery is unnatu- 
 ral, his ideas obscure, his words ill chosen, and indeed 
 the whole work is indicative of his condition." Please 
 do not say this, but rather say, " Hall is not a born poet ; 
 he has never felt the fervor of poetic inspiration, and de- 
 serves not a place among the illustrious blind, whose 
 sublime thoughts and grand conceptions gem the pages 
 of classic literature." Be just without prejudice, and I 
 will abide the result. 
 
REMINISCENCE OF SIGHTLESS CHILDHOOD, 
 
 I KNEW a child near forty years ago, 
 
 To whose blue eyes the light but dimly came ; 
 Whose lonely lot was rendered doubly so, 
 
 By finding few companions who could claim 
 His confidence, or share his childish play. 
 
 For well he loved the sports of other boys, 
 And often whiled the tedious hours away 
 
 By singing, jumping, and by boisterous noise. 
 His parents were poor but honest country folk, 
 
 Who lived far out from city's busy hum. 
 Among the hills, whose echoes never woke 
 
 With the boom of cannon nor the beat of drum, 
 fie never heard the organ's solemn swell. 
 
 Nor merry bells ring out the Christmas chime; 
 His music came from meadow, grove and dell, 
 
 From rushing flood, and thunder's voice sublime. 
 His lack of vision made his hearing keen ; 
 
 What others could not hear his ear took in ; 
 The pleasure others found in landscape scene. 
 
 He found in noisy Nature's ceaseless din; 
 
1 6 Reminiscences of Sightless Childhood. 
 
 In song of birds, in crash of falling trees, 
 
 The summer torrents and the brumal blasts, 
 The chirp of insects and the hum of bees, 
 
 And rustling leaves where light-winged zephyrs passed. 
 All these to him suggested themes for thought, 
 
 And to his struggling mind gave forms and facts. 
 He knew the groaning tree to the ground was brought 
 
 By sharp, resounding blows of the woodman's axe. 
 He traced its 'cumbent trunk from limb to butt, 
 
 And felt the stump on which the giant stood ; 
 He found its glossy leaves and toothsome nut. 
 
 And named the hickory monarch of the wood. 
 He climbed the hills, and measured with his mind 
 
 Their hight above the level land below ; 
 He climbed the trees and felt their fruits, to find 
 
 How the apple, peach and pear and cherries grow. 
 And he would sit, on many a summer night. 
 
 And listen to the sounds from meadow marsh ; 
 The piping frog and newt gave him delight. 
 
 While to all other ears their songs were harsh. 
 He thought the distant stars were silver bells, 
 
 With golden tongues that tinkled as they swung ; 
 That e'en the moon where airless silence dwells, 
 
 Her minor music on the night air flung. 
 
Reminiscences of Sightless Childhood. ij 
 
 -And he did hear, and now records with care, 
 
 Strange voices in the silent winter's night, 
 Sweet music floating on the pulseless air, 
 
 When snow lay on the meadows, still and white. 
 When all the brooks were bound in icy chains, 
 
 When all the leaves had fallen from the trees, 
 When all the birds had flown to summer plains, 
 
 And not a whisper floated on the breeze ; 
 Yet strains of marvelous music filled his ear. 
 
 Like angels chanting round the throne of God; 
 "Now soft and low, again so full and clear, 
 
 That words were almost heard and understood. 
 Ah ! can it be that heaven was then so near 
 
 That sounds celestial reached that sinless soul ? 
 That this untaught and sightless child could hear 
 
 The rivers of eternal pleasures roll ? 
 If so, oh. Father! bring the wanderer back 
 
 To the sweet Eden of his childish bliss. 
 He asks not day upon his darksome track, 
 
 But light divine; oh. Father! grant him this. 
 
ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 I DO NOT profess to be a representative man, and may 
 not express in every particular the sentiments of my 
 class, but in behalf of those with whom I have conversed 
 upon the subjects i wish here to present, and who agree 
 with me in opinion, I make this appeal. Do not dis- 
 courage by underrating, by indifference, or by severe 
 and unjust criticism, the literary efforts of those who are 
 forced to mental labor, because some bodily infirmity 
 precludes the possibility of their competing successfully 
 with other men in the industrial pursuits. Let every 
 one use his own talent. If it prove to be gold, help him 
 to place a true value upon it. If it be silver, teach him 
 that the world has use for such ; and if it be only brass, 
 let him know that even the baser metals have a com- 
 mercial value. I do not insist that the public should 
 buy trash, either in a musical or literary form, because 
 they are the pro,ductions of unfortunate people. But if 
 they are readable, or playable, if in conformity with 
 rules of rhetoric or thorough bass, if they afford inno- 
 cent pleasure and instruction, then it is well, indeed, it 
 
Importance of Employment. 19 
 
 is best to purchase them. After many years of experi- 
 ment, trial and adaptation of machinery to the uses of 
 the bhnd, it has been shown that many useful articles 
 can be manufactured by a class of persons who for ages 
 were supposed to be helpless, and must live as pension- 
 ers upon public charity. Many of these articles will 
 compare favorably in quality and workmanship, with 
 goods of the same class made by seeing mechanics. 
 There is one drawback, however ; we cannot work with 
 the same celerity, hence we can never compete success- 
 fully with seeing labor. For this reason we ask public 
 favor to compensate for the obstacles we have to en- 
 counter. It seems to me there is a wise policy in ex- 
 tending patronage to the industrious and enterprising 
 blind, and indeed to every person who is trying under 
 difBculties to be useful. If you have a man living in 
 your community who has lost one or both arms, but has 
 a fine voice, and a thorough knowledge of music, give 
 him a place in your church choirs and pay him liberally. 
 Employ him in your families and in every way encour- 
 age him to use his remaining faculties for self-support. 
 , And if there is a man or a woman among you without 
 sight, who has been educated as a music teacher, or to 
 any of the professions, arts, or trades that come within 
 the scope of possibilities for the blind, give him or her 
 
20 Address to the Public. 
 
 employment. It is sad to be surrounded by " ever dur- 
 ing dark," but sadder still to be unemployed, — to sit 
 and brood over misfortunes that grow more intolerable 
 as we reflect upon them. Cheerful and pleasant friends, 
 steady employment, a consciousness of self-dependence 
 and respectability, are the best antidotes for despond- 
 ency and melancholy. By all means give the blind 
 something to do. Ascertain how their capabilities can 
 be utilized. If they are limited to only one or two pur- 
 suits, encourage them to manly exertions in those direc- 
 tions. Help them to feel that they are numerals, not 
 ciphers in society. If they are educated and refined in 
 feelings, manners and deportment, if they possess good 
 moral character, are trying to maintain honorable and re- 
 spectable positions among men, and endeavoring to rise 
 above the shadows of the great calamity that rests upon 
 them, I see no reason why they should not be received 
 into good society, and treated in all respects like other 
 men and women. When you meet them do not pass 
 them by in silence, fearing they will not recognize you ; 
 for we have many ways of identifying our friends. 
 Speak frankly and cordially, in your natural tone of 
 voice. Do not try foolish experiments upon us to see if 
 we will recognize you. They make us feel awkward 
 and unpleasant. Do not indulge in coarse jokes at our 
 
Gratitude. 2 r 
 
 expense, about the blunders we are liable to make, or 
 the language we use to express our ideas. For exam- 
 ple, if I wish to communicate the fact that I have visited 
 and examined (in my way) a public building, or any ob- 
 ject of interest, I say I have seen that house, or that 
 thing. If I make the acquaintance of any distin- 
 guished man, I say I have seen that man. This may 
 not be strictly true, and yet custom compels us to adopt 
 phrases in common use. Should I use the word feel for 
 see, which would be much nearer the truth, my language 
 would be thought indecent, and would be justly the sub- 
 ject of ridicule. Indeed, with my mind's eye I do see 
 all these things, and they go to make up my world of 
 imagination. The aim of the blind should always be to 
 talk and appear as nearly like other people as possible ; 
 and in this I feel we ought to be encouraged. The 
 blind as a class have been charged by some writers with 
 moroseness, irritability and ingratitude. Now I repel 
 this charge as false and groundless ; and had I space, 
 would try to vindicate my brothers in affliction from this 
 accusation. It is often remarked that persons without 
 sight are more cheerful than could be expected. We 
 are sometimes sensitive, and show proper resentment 
 when our feelings are trifled with ; but are seldom un- 
 grateful to our friends for favors kindly bestowed. This 
 
22 Address to the Public. 
 
 brings me to speak of the uniform kindness I have 
 always received from the people among whom I have 
 lived. But more especially from the citizens of Dans- 
 ville, who have always given me liberal patronage in the 
 various enterprises in which I have been engaged, and 
 have many times furnished material aid which has 
 greatly helped me to bear my responsibilities. In all 
 my wanderings, through nearly every state in the union, 
 and the Canadas, I have received only the kindest treat- 
 ment, and many, very many assurances of respect and 
 esteem. I am convinced that the true passport to the 
 society and confidence of ladies and gentlemen all over 
 the world, is intelligence, moral worth, and correct de- 
 portment. Doubtless the magic key that opens men's 
 hearts is gold, but they will open at the touch of human 
 sorrow, borne with cheerful submission. There are 
 born noblemen in free America, as certainly as there are 
 born kings in Europe, — Nature's princes, whose great 
 hearts throb with kindliness and sympathy. Many such 
 men have I met in my wanderings, and will cherish 
 them in my memory while I live. I have often felt, 
 while in the magnificent presence of such men, and while 
 listening to their words of tender regard and disinterest- 
 ed counsel, as Peter must have felt on the Mount of 
 Transfiguration, when he . exclaimed, ** Lord, it is good 
 
Plea for yustice. 23 
 
 for us to be here." The world in general is not so bad 
 as dyspeptic people think it, and no class of persons 
 have greater evidence of this, than the blind. 
 
 We have been the pets of public beneficence. We 
 have institutions of learning, of which the nation has 
 reason to be proud. Nor are we ungrateful for them. 
 We may not have come up to the people's expectation, 
 but great progress has been made, and the condition of 
 the blind, both in this country and Europe is wonder- 
 fully improved. Whether we shall be able to utilize the 
 knowledge we have thus received, will depend very 
 much upon public confidence in our capabilities. If 
 you have work that we can do as well as seeing men, 
 give us a fair show. If its accomplishment depends up- 
 on a correct and cultivated ear, or on light and sensitive 
 fingers, our chances are more than equal. But should 
 we fail, do not always charge it to a want of sight, but 
 to our stupidity, if I have failed as a writer, do not say 
 it is because eyes are indispensable to mature thought, 
 inventive genius, and a healthy imagination. Read the 
 history of the illustrious blind, and say if mind, heart 
 and soul can not be developed in the darkness. 
 
GOLD WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 Within a faded volume, dim and old, 
 I find this musty maxim tersely given : 
 
 " The magic key to human hearts is gold ; 
 
 But love unlocks the crystal gates of Heaven." 
 
 Our homes are not so happy as of old, 
 Our hearts are not so merry as of yore ; 
 
 We find that naught can purchase love but gold, 
 That Virtue begs a pittance at the door. 
 
 There was a time when Beauty bore the sway ; 
 
 There was a time when Wit the world controlled ; 
 There was a time when Valor won the day; 
 
 But now the noble knight that wins is Gold. 
 
 The ancient Ghebers worshipped light and fire ; 
 
 The Brahmins bowed to gods of wood and stone ; 
 But now, 'neath marble dome and gilded spire. 
 
 The deity adored is gold alone. 
 
 It overlays the altar and the cross ; 
 
 It dignifies the monarch and the clown ; 
 The wealth of moral worth is counted dross ; 
 
 The million miser wears the golden crown. 
 
Gold Worshippers. 25 
 
 'Tis time this mad idolatry should cease ; 
 
 'Tis time her prophets and her priests were slain ; 
 Let earth do homage to the Prince of Peace, 
 
 And the reign of gold shall be the golden reign. 
 
 The Christ came not with pomp and princely show ; 
 
 His followers were lowly and despised ; 
 He courted not the high nor shunned the low; 
 
 A very God, in human flesh disguised. 
 
 He brought a marvelous message from above, 
 A gift of grace and pardon from the King ; 
 
 He claimed no tithe or tribute but of love, — 
 A penitent and contrite heart to bring. 
 
 He banished brokers from the house of prayer. 
 He raised the dead and made the dumb to speak, 
 
 Unsealed the blinded eye, unstopped l4ie ear, 
 He fed the poor, and lifted up the weak. 
 
 The way to life, He said, is plain and straight. 
 It leads to joy, and peace, and heavenly light : 
 
 The way to death is through a golden gate. 
 
 And broad the way that leads to endless night. 
 
 Shall we accept the sacrifice He made, 
 
 And enter in the Shepherd's sheltering fold ? 
 
 Or like the Judas who his Lord betrayed. 
 Sell soul and heaven for the miser's gold ? 
 
26 Gold Worshippers. 
 
 Say, which is best, true piety or gold ? 
 
 This metal worship or the living God ? 
 Ye can not have them both, as we are told, 
 
 See to it, then, which pathway shall be trod. 
 
 Array your idol in his robes of state; 
 
 Set up his image on his golden throne; 
 Throw open wide the temple's gilded gate, 
 
 And thus proclaim that gold is God alone. 
 
 Or else array yourselves in plain attire, 
 Set up the love of Christ in every heart, 
 
 Let each affection feel its fervent fire, 
 
 And with this money-worship bear no part. 
 
 Now make your choice between your gold and heaven, 
 Buy all the sinful pleasures wealth can bring. 
 
 Increase them through the years to mortals given, 
 And die at last — a beggar, not a king. 
 
 Yes, make your choice between your gold and heaven. 
 Find peace and pardon in a Savior's blood ; 
 
 Freely bestow what free to you is given, 
 
 And meet at last the welcoming smile of God. 
 
THE WORLD AS I HEAR IT, 
 
 In my perambulations through a life of nearly fifty 
 years, not altogether barren of events, I have heard 
 some things that people who have longer ears than 
 mine, do not hear; much that would not be proper to 
 record here, and much that would not do credit to man- 
 kind in general. It is a curious fact that people often 
 say ridiculous things in the presence of those who can not 
 see, under the impression that they can not hear. There 
 is also another curious fact, that men and women do not 
 learn how to dissemble with their voices, as they do 
 with their faces. They go about their business, or du- 
 ties, with a smile of amiability on their faces, while every 
 tone of their voices tells the ear of perplexities, irritabil- 
 ity, and a thoroughly sour temper ; or that there is sor- 
 row, disappointment, or hatred, deep down in the heart. 
 There are some, however, who think they have learned 
 how to hide their thoughts and feelings from the ear as 
 well as from the eyes, but they do not often succeed 
 well with us whose ears are trained to the most occult 
 qualities, and finest intonations of the human voice. 
 
28 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 Dogs, horses, and other domestic animals possess this 
 power of discrimination, so I do not claim for my class 
 any great amount of credit. 
 
 The first sounds that probably greeted my ears, came 
 from the bronchials of a kind old aunt, whose voice re- 
 sembled the raspings of a katydid, or the squeaking of a 
 gate, rather than a vox humana; but no doubt it then 
 sounded melodious to my infant ears. I remember that 
 when a child I used to go to this same old aunty for a 
 sweet baked apple, or a nutcake, a bird cooky, or a 
 double-fist full of real old Yankee pumpkin pie. Even 
 then her voice sounded melodious ; but in later years 
 when she used to scold me and the other boys for steal- 
 ing her bell pears, I thought her voice rather harsh, and 
 her temper not so sweet as the bell pears. I always 
 thought my mother's voice mild and pleasant ; and so 
 it was, — blessings on her sweet memory. She was one 
 of the dearest, kindest, and best mothers that a poor 
 sightless boy ever had. Her tones were full of tender- 
 ness, love and sympathy, such as I may never hear 
 again this side of heaven. The labors and cares of such 
 a family as hers, would have made most women fretful 
 and impatient ; but cold duty was not her incentive to 
 action ; hers was a labor of love. She was not dignified, 
 queenly, nor positive, in her manner, but friendly, famil- 
 
My Mother's Voice. 29 
 
 far and very gracious toward her children, and ready to 
 make allowance for all our little foibles. Her early ed- 
 ucation having been somewhat neglected, her vocabula- 
 ry was limited, but her flow of words was copious, and 
 her conversation cheerful. Her words of reproof to me 
 were always mild, and her voice gentle, unless I had 
 been engaged in some outlandish piece of boyish mis- 
 chief, such as committing depredations upon her maple 
 sugar, preserves, or honey, making raids on my sister's 
 work-basket or flowerbed, putting split sticks on the 
 dog's tail and ears, the cat's head in a stocking, pins in 
 the chair-bottoms, or thistles in somebody's empty boots. 
 For these and similar pranks, she would often reprove 
 me with words so kind, and in tones so full of sorrow, 
 that they reached my heart more effectually than it 
 could have been reached through my back. Her pa- 
 tient, cheerful christian life, has never lost its influence 
 upon me. The tender, sympathetic tones of her voice, 
 come to me even now in my dreams ; and I seem to lis- 
 ten as of old to her counsel, and mild reproof 
 
 I am not a believer in spiritual materialization, but 
 familiar voices of the dear departed sometimes come to 
 me so distinctly as to startle me from a deep revery, or 
 waken me from a protracted dream. 
 
 I believe that children have a keener relish for food 
 
30 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 than we whose mouths are seared, and nerves or taste 
 blunted by the use of tobacco and other stimulants ; 
 and I believe they enjoy pleasant sights and sweet 
 sounds better than we whose senses are satiated, and 
 taste rendered fastidious by too much culture. The first 
 musical sounds that thrilled my soul to its center, that 
 filled my whole being with the most ecstatic joy, that 
 charmed my young heart as it never has been charmed 
 since, were the tones of a cheap two dollar fiddle ; and 
 that, too, in the hands of one who at that time could not 
 play a single tune on it. But the new, shrill tones of 
 the catgut were enough for me. I was fascinated, trans- 
 ported, — could only laugh and rub my hands with su- 
 preme delight. I was about seven years old, and re- 
 solved then and there to learn how to fiddle. This res- 
 olution I have kept to the letter, having never made 
 proficiency enough on that instrument to call it violin 
 playing. I have since heard this king of musical instru- 
 ments played by Ole Bull, and other master performers. 
 I have heard Jenny Lind, the Black Swan, and other 
 popular singers, I have heard oratorios, operas, phil- 
 harmonic concerts, and many first-class musical enter- 
 tainments in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Wash- 
 ington and other large cities ; but I have never heard 
 any thing that so thoroughly delighted me, that so 
 
First Fiddle. 3 1 
 
 thrilled and tickled me, from the very roots of my hair 
 to the tips of my toes, as that two dollar fiddle. I 
 would give my interest in the new pipe organ of the 
 new M. E. church of this town to be so tickled again. 
 
 It is thought by some scientists that insects, and some 
 of the brute creation can hear sounds that we of the 
 human species can not hear. This may be true. Many 
 of the animals and insects which we think are silent, 
 may have voices perceptible to finer ears than ours. 
 The human ear cannot hear a tone above a certain pitch. 
 The vibrations are too quick to act upon the tympanum, 
 or to be appreciated except by a fine organism. I ap- 
 prehend that this may be attained to some extent by 
 culture. I think, too, that a want of sight from birth, 
 creates such a necessity as to force the cultivation of the 
 ear, to that extent that we can hear sounds, and quali- 
 ties of sound that others do not hear. 
 
 On meeting with a stranger I have been frequently 
 prepossessed as to the character of the person, some- 
 times favorably, and sometimes unfavorably. These 
 impressions a better acquaintance has sometimes proved 
 false, but almost invariably proved correct. My opinion 
 is made up, mainly, I think, from what I hear in the 
 tones of the voice. There are oral qualities of the voice 
 that indicate the moral and mental status of the man or 
 
32 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 woman, as emphatically as the visible expression of the 
 face can do it. It may be difficult for me to define this 
 test, so that the reader will catch m}^ meaning. If he 
 has ever observed that a long-nosed, sharp-chinned, 
 black-eyed woman, with a spit-fire expression on her 
 whole visage, has usually a husky, waspish voice, that 
 she speaks with a rapid, spiteful utterance, making each 
 word sound as if it had been spit at you ; if the reader 
 has given this subject any thought, he will have some clue 
 to my meaning. Rapid, or slow utterance, indicates the 
 temperament ; but the quality of the voice tells the con- 
 dition of mind. When I meet with a man or woman of 
 scholarly attainments, with broad and liberal views, a 
 large heart and tender sympathies, I commonly find a 
 voice in keeping with such a character, — a full, round, 
 resonant voice,"^deep, and often grave in a man ; a rich 
 contralto, or pure soprano in a woman, with a sound of 
 thought and culture about it, that makes every tone tell 
 of the lady or gentleman. When I meet with a person 
 of a satirical, or sarcastic mold of mind, whose wit is 
 made a weapon, and whose words sting like bees, I 
 usually find a sharp, cold, ringing voice, with no sympa- 
 thy in its tones, and no mercy in its accents. A humor- 
 ist, who uses his wit to excite mirth, has a different qual- 
 ity of voice. It is commonly clear and ringing, but 
 
Voice an Index of the Mind. 33 
 
 warm, sympathetic, and often tender. It is cheerful, and 
 capable of many modulations. A pious voice has still 
 other qualities of tone that can easily be heard. A man 
 or woman who wishes to make a show of his or her re- 
 ligion, falls naturally into the habit of speaking in a 
 sanctimonious tone ^3f voice. It has a sorrowful, melan- 
 choly tinge, but usually so thin that the devil shines 
 through. I have often heard such people talk at love- 
 feasts, when to my ear, every word had the hiss of the 
 serpent that lay coiled in the heart. I find that the 
 voices of people who enjoy their religion, are cheerful, 
 hopeful, kind, merciful, and sympathetic ; while those 
 who regard religion as a cross and a burden, have a 
 sound of weariness and apprehension about their voices, 
 as if they lived in constant fear of coming short in some 
 duty, known or unknown. Of course the opinions we 
 may form of people, whether from voice or face, will 
 always be more or less affected by our prejudices, or by 
 what we may have heard of the fruits they bear. But 
 when we meet with a total stranger, of whose antece- 
 dents we know nothing, whose record is with God, and 
 not in our reach, then our opinions will be unbiassed. 
 In pursuing my business as a book agent, it has been 
 my privilege to meet and converse with thousands 
 of men and women of all classes and conditions. The 
 
34 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 necessity of learning something of their character and 
 feelings, has made me a close observer of the human 
 voice. I believe that the blind are as capable of reading 
 character, as they who see ; and that the analysis of 
 voices would be an interesting study for any one. I get 
 my knowledge of the world of mankind, mainly through 
 this medium ; and although I often make egregious 
 blunders in forming my conclusions, I find that other 
 men do the same. 
 
 The first great orator I ever heard was Daniel Web- 
 ster, in an address to the people of Charleston, South 
 Carolina, in 1847. ^ ^o not now recall a single word 
 that he said, but his voice still rings in my memory. It 
 was one of those deep, baritone voices, that not only 
 fills the ear, but fills the soul, and sends its echoes to the 
 most sacred chanjbers of the heart. I have since heard 
 the voices of Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, Thomas H. 
 Benton, Lewis Cass, Stephen A. Douglass, Frederick 
 Douglass, Gerritt Smith, Joshua R. Giddings, Tom Cor- 
 win, Salmon P. Chase, Charles Sumner, and many more 
 of our great American orators and statesmen, but I have 
 never heard a grander, or more impressive voice, than 
 that of Daniel Webster. The immortal Clay had a 
 very deep, dignified voice, that expressed great strength 
 and nobility of character, and so had the great Benton, 
 
Voices of Great Men. 35 
 
 and General Cass, and Gerritt Smith. All these men of 
 mighty intellect and high purposes, had voices indicating 
 great will-power, coupled with great vital force and 
 physical endurance. One thing I have observed that 
 may be worthy of mention. I have rarely heard rich, 
 resonant, or even cheerful voices come from puny, sickly 
 people, however well cultivated. There must be health 
 of body and mind, — there must be cultivation of the in- 
 tellectual faculties, and of the moral sentiments, to have 
 a full, round, rich, melodious voice. Where there are 
 great bodily infirmities, I seldom find that cheerful, me- 
 tallic ring about the voice, and yet I did know one ex- 
 ception to this general rule. A late deceased clergy- 
 man of this town, who labored for the Master to the 
 very last moment of his life, had a voice which was al- 
 ways clear and pleasant, even cheerful and happy ; and 
 yet a post mortem showed nearly all his vital organs 
 badly diseased, and he must have suffered great bodily 
 pain ; but I never heard a peevish or complaining tone 
 in his voice. 
 
 It would be well for students of law and theology, to 
 remember that if they want full, rich, resonant voices, 
 they must have bodies in proportion to their minds. 
 Can we expect as much power, volume, compass and 
 variety, from a small reed organ, as from a large pipe 
 
36 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 organ, with all the pipes, keys, stops and combinations 
 necessary to perform one of Handel's grand choruses ? 
 Can we expect a thin, bent-backed, narrow chested man 
 or woman, whose lungs have been sacrificed to brain 
 making, to have as much volume of voice as a man who 
 stands erect as God made him, who inhales and respires 
 pure air with a capacity of lungs like a blacksmith's 
 bellows, whose voice like Goliath's can be heard in the 
 camp of his enemies, or modulated to the tender tones 
 of a nursery song? I believe there is nothing short of 
 the archangel's silver trump so grand, so stirring and 
 awakening as the great voice of a great man. 
 
 I have made the tones of the human voice, as a medi- 
 um of thought and feeling, the study of my life. When 
 but a child I knew when my parents and others were 
 pleased or displeased with me, if I could but hear the 
 slightest sound of their voices, without a word of re- 
 proof It has always been an open door to the heart 
 and conscience of those with whom I have come in con- 
 tact. It tells the ear of every mood of mind, and im- 
 pulse of the heart; of every dormant passion and lust, 
 of moral excellence, or low and sensual tastes, of refine- 
 ment or grossness of feeling, and in fact, every phase of 
 character. 
 
 While a pupil at the New York Institute for the blind, 
 
speech of He my Clay. 37 
 
 I had an opportunity to study character as manifested 
 through the voice. Not only of the officers, teachers 
 and pupils, whose salient points and weaknesses I knew, 
 but the great minds, hearts and sympathies of illustrious 
 men and women, who used to visit our Institution. We 
 were always delighted to have celebrities come to see 
 us, and to let us see them through their voices. Among 
 such notables as I can remember were the it^mortal 
 Clay, James K. Polk, General Winfield Scott, Thomas 
 H. Benton, members of the New York and New Jersey 
 legislatures, Forrest, the great tragedian, and Martin F. 
 Tupper, the small English poet. Of all these, we 
 thought that Mr. Clay made us the best speech, and Mr. 
 Polk the poorest. I well remember the contrast be- 
 tween their voices, and manner of addressing us. Mr. 
 Clay confessed himself embarrassed, for almost the first 
 time in his life. He said, as nearly as I can recall his 
 kind speech, " My dear young friends, I feel, for some 
 reason inexplicable to myself, a degree of awkwardness 
 and embarrassment that I have never felt in the presence 
 of any public assembly. I can see your thoughtful and 
 emotional faces, but you cannot see mine. This makes 
 me feel sad. I can see that many of you are educated 
 men and women, — that you are not ignorant, as persons 
 of your class must be without an Institution of learning 
 
38 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 like this. Of your way of seeing me, I am ignorant, 
 except it be through this poor, worn-out, broken-down 
 voice of mine. But I know you can hear my words, 
 and I feel that you can penetrate my thoughts and mo- 
 tives, and the hidden chambers of my heart better than 
 people can whose eyes I can look into." I do not claim 
 to give Mr. Clay's words verbatim at this late date, but 
 it contained so much that was inspiring and encourag- 
 ing to us, so few reminders of our common misfortune, 
 so much genuine appreciation of the progress we were 
 making against the obstacles that hedged up our way, 
 that I have never forgotten it. Mr. Polk accompanied 
 Mr. Clay, and after we had sung The Star Spangled 
 Banner in full chorus, the little ex-president, in a light, 
 thin voice, which we all thought in admirable keeping 
 with the caliber of the man, addressed us. I will not 
 attempt now to give even a synopsis of this speech. 1 
 remember it was kind, but humiliating to us ; full of 
 commiseration for our sightless condition, and in a gen- 
 eral way depreciating. I remember that in answer to 
 the comments and criticisms made by the boys on the 
 comparative greatness of the two men, and the difference 
 between their voices, a chum of mine made this apolo- 
 getic remark : " You can not expect a pistol to give 
 as loud a report as a cannon." 
 
 y 
 
Voice of yenny Lind. 39 
 
 I think we were favorably impressed with the magnif- 
 icent voice of Mr. Forrest, with its great depth, power 
 and flexibihty, the capabihty of its modulation to pro- 
 duce the highest histrionic effects, and so transparent as 
 to show every shade of feeling. It was a voice both 
 emotional and devotional. I have never heard the 
 Lord's prayer given with such power by any clergyman 
 as by Edwin D. Forrest. 
 
 We had also the good fortune, about this time, to 
 hear the magnificent voice of the Swedish Nightingale, 
 Jenny Lind. I had long heard of her as a popular fa- 
 vorite ; of the gratulations she had received in England 
 and America, amounting almost to adoration, and I had 
 tried to imagine what her voice must be like. I had 
 fancied that a voice so powerful, so rich and harmonious 
 as hers, must be like the diapason of a great organ, 
 loud, full and rapturous, with no tones of tenderness, for 
 the heart bowed down with sorrow. But almost the 
 first sound of her voice dispelled this illusion, and 
 showed me how tame had been my conception of her 
 remarkable genius, her artistic skill, and her vocal pow- 
 ers. She visited our Institution with but few friends 
 and attendants, with no show of ostentation or pampered 
 conceit, expressed a desire to see the pupils, to hear us 
 sing, and to gratify us in return by singing for us. I 
 
40 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 well remember when it was announced to us that Jenny 
 Lind was in the parlor and wished to see us in the 
 chapel ; what expressions of wild delight, what trans- 
 ports of joy and pleasure we all gave vent to. We were 
 soon seated in the chapel, in a very orderly and decor- 
 ous manner, and were requested to sing Mendelssohn's 
 " Beautiful Primrose." Jenny Lind was then introduced 
 to the officers and pupils by the Superintendent who 
 said: "Teachers and pupils, we have the honor to re- 
 ceive a visit from a lady of whose musical powers you 
 have heard much, and whom you will now have the 
 pleasure to hear for yourselves. The justly celebrated 
 vocalist, Miss Jenny Lind is present, and has consented 
 to favor us" — Here the speaker's voice was drowned in 
 a storm of applause, such as I have seldom heard from 
 the inmates of our Institution on any great occasion. 
 Without ceremony the great singer threw her bonnet in 
 a vacant chair, seated herself at the piano, and with her 
 own accompaniment, poured out such a flood of rich 
 and sparkling melody as I had never supposed could 
 come from any human throat. She trilled and warbled 
 like a bird, she executed the most rapid and difficult 
 runs and shakes, she produced the crescendo, from the 
 faintest murmur to a tone of the most wonderful power 
 and volume I have ever heard. She also had the ven- 
 
Voice of yenny Lind, 41 
 
 triloquist's faculty of throwing her voice so that it 
 seemed to come from above. To me, it was all celes- 
 tial, — all divine. I could have fallen down that moment 
 and worshipped her. After the song was ended, in a 
 few simple words, with a Swedish accent, she said, (as 
 nearly as I can now remember,) ** My dear young 
 friends, it has given me great pleasure to visit your 
 beautiful home ; to see you, and to hear you sing ; and 
 I hope my little song has pleased you." 
 
 Her voice in speaking was not clear and sweet as I 
 had anticipated, but it was one of those mild, pleasant, 
 contralto voices, that speaks of a great, noble and gener- 
 ous soul, of a loving heart, of quick sympathies, of kind 
 impulses, and of domestic tastes and habits. 
 
 I heard her sing once afterward under more favorable 
 circumstances, at one of her inimitable concerts, before 
 a delighted New York audience. This was a musical 
 feast that seldom falls to the lot of mortals to enjoy. In 
 rendering " I know that my Redeemer liveth," from 
 Handel's " Messiah," her purity and flexibility of voice, 
 her evident conception and transmutation of the great 
 master's thoughts and feelings, so charmed and melted 
 the hearts of her hearers, that nearly the entire audi- 
 ence were in tears, and many of the old musical vete- 
 rans in the orchestra wept like children. I heard but 
 
4 2 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 one unfavorable criticism. After she had sung her fa- 
 vorite song, "I have left my snow-clad hills," I heard a 
 lady sitting just behind me remark, with all a mother's 
 fondness in her voice, ** I believe my Mary can sing 
 almost as well as that. She has a slight cold in her 
 head, but when her voice is clear, it is almost as sweet 
 as Jenny Lind's, and I believe in my soul I had rather 
 hear her." 
 
 In the winter of 1856-7, I visited Washington, where, 
 during the few weeks I remained there, I found frequent 
 opportunities to be present at the grave deliberations of 
 the senate, and the stormy, indecorous debates of the 
 house of representatives. Here I continued my study 
 of voices, with much interest and profit. In the senate 
 I heard a great many noble voices, as indicative, I doubt 
 not, of large minds, broad views, high attainments, and 
 exalted character as could have been seen in those 
 grave, dignified faces. In the house, the qualities of 
 voices differed somewhat. There were a few electric 
 voices that fascinated and held the ear a willing captive, 
 but more of the fulminating, stormy kind, that made up 
 in noise what they lacked in logic and intellectual force. 
 
 The most magnetic voice I have ever heard is that of 
 Henry Ward Beecher. There is something about it, as 
 indescribably and indisputably original, as the man him- 
 
Henry Ward Beecher. 43 
 
 self. It fascinates you by its magnetism, it astonishes 
 you by its compass and distinctness, it impresses you 
 with its pathos, it charms you with its musical cadences, 
 and holds you spell-bound with its endless variety of 
 changing modulations. I have heard this prince of pul- 
 pit orators many times, both in Plymouth church and in 
 lecture halls. If he has an equal for magnetic power of 
 voice, and for natural and forcible illustrations, for the 
 sudden surprises he gives one by introducing a new 
 thought in a new place, — if there is another orator com- 
 bining all these remarkable qualities like Mr. Beecher, 
 it has never been my good fortune to hear him. 
 
 It is several years since I have heard Dr. E. \\. Cha- 
 pin, but the echoes of his full, clear, sonorous voice, still 
 linger in my memory. He is an eloquent speaker, 
 earnest and stirring, and brings his hearers into the 
 closest sympathetic relations with him. His style of 
 oratory is unique and faultless, but his voice is not 
 magnetic like Beecher's. It has a great compass, is 
 flexible, and under complete control. It has in it the 
 qualities that speak of benevolence, charity and all the 
 Christian graces, but it does not excite to mirth, or melt 
 to tears, like the magical voice of Henry Ward Beecher. 
 
 The reader may be curious to know whether we who 
 are without sight can hear any difference between the 
 
44 J^he World as I Hear It. 
 
 qualities of a negro's voice, and the voices of the white 
 race. Whenever I am asked this question I answer em- 
 phatically, yes. There is a thin, empty, fuzzy tone 
 about a negro's voice, that denotes shallowness of char- 
 acter, feebleness of intellect, and grossness of tastes and 
 feelings, while the voice of a white man is commonly 
 clear, ringing, resonant, or deep, firm and commanding. 
 These qualities of voice indicate brilliancy of intellect, 
 nobility of character, a rich inheritance of moral pro- 
 clivities, courage, high aspirations, &c. Of course there 
 are exceptions to these general rules, and the grandest 
 I ever knew is the cultivated voice, mind and manners, 
 of Frederick Douglass. For scholarly attainments, in- 
 ventive genius, vigorous intellect, and impressive style 
 of oratory, he is acknowledged the peer of our best 
 American journalists and lecturers. I read his paper, 
 published in Rochester, N. Y., for many years, and 
 thought it very ably edited. I have heard him speak 
 many times, and on many interesting occasions, and 1 
 have never heard an orator that so warmed my heart, 
 and stirred my feelings as Frederick Douglass. I have 
 long wished for an opportunity to express my admira- 
 tion for this wonderful man ; for his grand achievements 
 under difficulties, for his victory over cruel prejudices 
 and oppression, for the ingenious manner in which he 
 
Voice of Frederick Douglass. 45 
 
 escaped from a bondage worse than death, and for the 
 energy and talents by which he has raised himself to an 
 equality with his white brothers. 
 
 Although Frederick Douglass is a cultivated man and 
 is half Caucasian, yet his voice is decidedly negro. The 
 fuzzy, husky qualities, that denote strong animal pas- 
 sions and lusts, are smoothed out by culture, and a gen- 
 eral refinement of his whole nature ; but that thin, reedy, 
 empty tone of voice, so characteristic of the race is still 
 observable, and to my ear detracts somewhat from the 
 pleasure of hearing him speak. I have heard him, how- 
 ever, discourse on his favorite theme, viz.: the injustice 
 and cruelty of human bondage, when his soul seemed 
 all on fire, when his voice rung like a clarion, when his 
 great heart seemed ready to break with the wrongs and 
 sufferings of his people, when his yellow skin seemed 
 ready to burst with the flood of eloquence that poured 
 from his throat ; and I thought, surely a w^hite soul may 
 dwell in a black body. 
 
 I have traveled much in the southern states, conversed 
 with the colored people, heard them sing, pray, preach, 
 and swear, and I have always been able to distinguish 
 between the voices of white men and colored men. In 
 women the difference is still more noticeable. The 
 voice of a negress is commonly coarse, rough and 
 
46 The World as I Hear It. 
 
 spongy, indicating a coarse nature, sensual desires, and 
 strong animal passions; while the voices of white wo- 
 men though sometimes pitched low in the scale are usu- 
 ally firmer, purer, sweeter and more musical, with a bell- 
 like ring, that tells the practiced ear of a finer organism, 
 purer thoughts and desires, and of a more exalted na- 
 ture. The difference between the voices of a pure 
 minded woman, and of one with low, sensual tastes and 
 feelings, is as strikingly perceptible to my ear, as the 
 difference between the tones of a silver bell, and one 
 cast from the coarsest brass. I have sometimes heard 
 mulatto girls speak with quite pretty, feminine voices ; 
 but these are the exceptions, and they doubtless inher- 
 ited their sweet voices as well as their beauty from their 
 white progenitors. 
 
 The funny friend of my childhood was an old negro 
 man, who had been the slave of my uncle, and was the 
 general favorite of all the children in the neighborhood. 
 His voice was as fuzzy as the skin of a peach, and I 
 used to think the wool on his head made it so. He had 
 a regular negro laugh, that always ended in a short, 
 hacking cough. He could sing songs, and tell the 
 most impossible ghost and witch stories that ever fright- 
 ened a poor nervous boy into the belief that an invisible 
 something was lurking in every dark corner to catch 
 
/ Negro Voices. 47 
 
 him by the heels. This negro was a fair specimen, in 
 voice, mind and character, of the superstitious and un- 
 educated men of his race, as I have since learned. 
 
 Dr. McCune Smith, who was chairman of the radical 
 abolition convention in Syracuse in 1858, had a mild, 
 pleasant, tenor voice, that sounded very scholarly. He 
 is nearly white, however, and no trace of the negro 
 qualities of voice remains. 
 
 I did not hear the Black Swan speak, but her voice 
 in singing had a marvelous compass and power. It was 
 said she could sing down to G, the first line of the bass 
 staff. 
 
 Blind Tom has all the characteristics of the negro, 
 both in speech and action. His voice is thin and crack-' 
 ed, and his pronunciation anglo-African. 
 
 I think also, that men and women of different nation- 
 alities, have voices peculiar to each ; that an Irishman's 
 voice differs from a German's, and an Englishman's 
 from a Frenchman's, an American's from a Chinaman's, 
 and that these differences can be distinguished by the 
 sound of their voices, without hearing a word of their 
 vernacular. It is possible that climate may have some- 
 thing to do with the qualities of voices. I have observ- 
 ed that in humid localities the people speak with a nasal 
 twang, while in places where the air is hot and dry, their 
 voices are low, faint, and feeble, and where the atmos- 
 
48 The World as I Hem- It. 
 
 phere is dry and cool, a man will shout in one's ear in a 
 stentorian voice as clear and ringing as a bugle note. 
 
 If the eye is love's tell tale, the voice is as surely the 
 messenger of anger. I need not hear an oath or a spite- 
 ful word, to know that a man or woman is angry. The 
 agitation and huskiness of the voice tell it in language 
 plainer than words. This is true of all the passions. 
 
 I come lastly to speak of the world as I hear it in the 
 song of birds and insects, in the voices of the brute cre- 
 ation, in the murmuring brooks, the whispering winds, 
 the rustling leaves, the roaring floods, the dashing 
 waves, the howling storm, and the crashing thunder. 
 All these sounds are to my ear significant of natural 
 beauty, order, harmony, grandeur, majesty, and sublim- 
 ity. They speak of the infinite power, wisdom and. 
 goodness of God. They tell me that God made all his 
 creatures to be happy. That order is the great law of 
 the universe. That pleasure, not pain is God's benison 
 to man. That as morning succeeds the night, as sun- 
 shine succeeds the shadows, as calm succeeds the storm, 
 so our troubles and sorrows, pains and afflictions are 
 but the passing chord in the great harmony of nature, 
 whose modulation shall resolve at last into the sweet 
 peace and everlasting joys of heaven, where the key note 
 is praise to God who hath made us and given us life, and 
 to Him who hath redeemed us from death by giving his 
 life for us. 
 
EYES OF THE SOUL. 
 
 What shall we think that hath not been thought ? 
 Or, what shall we teach that has not been taught ? 
 Or, what shall we bring that has not been brought 
 
 From the mystical depths of mind ? 
 One fact I find, that has not been lifted 
 From a cloud of doubt that has not been rifted ; 
 'Tis this, that the human soul is gifted 
 
 With a sense that is never blind. 
 
 It can see, though the organ of sight be dead; 
 Can perceive, though all light from the eye be fled ; 
 Can behold, though each nervous fibre and thread 
 
 Be torn from the mortal eye. 
 It is not confined to its temple of clay, 
 But reaches out into glorious day, 
 And throbs with the thrust of each vibrant ray, 
 
 As it darts from the sunlit sky. 
 
 It is not encased in a dungeon drear, 
 
 But surrounds the man like an atmosphere ; 
 
 Ah, who hath not felt its presence near, 
 
 When a noble heart is found! 
 We name its influence magnetism ; 
 Its manifestation spiritism ; 
 And naught but the grossest skepticism 
 
 Will dare dispute the ground. 
 
50 Eyes of the Soul. 
 
 This spiritual atmosphere, or soul, 
 
 Is subject to the mind's control, 
 
 And grows or shrinks as the seasons roll, 
 
 As knowledge is sought or refused. 
 The works of God are its daily food, 
 His universe its latitude ; 
 And when its powers are understood, 
 
 Its laws will be less abused. 
 
 The small-souled man may walk the earth, 
 And boast his titles, wealth, or birth ; 
 But his heart finds one perpetual dearth, 
 
 And his hungry soul no food. 
 The large-souled man may walk the world, 
 His flag of love and truth unfurled, 
 And never a lip of scorn is curled ; 
 
 That man is the friend of God. 
 
 Blot out his vision — yet he sees ; 
 Doom him to silence — the world is his; 
 Rob him of freedom — yet he lives. 
 
 And moves the mighty throng. 
 His noble presence still is felt. 
 His magic words inspire or melt. 
 And all his blows are at evil dealt, 
 
 With either sword or song. 
 
HOW DO THE BLIND SEE f 
 
 This may be regarded by some as a paradoxical ques- 
 tion ; and yet it is not, if we accept the word see, in its 
 fullest and broadest sense. Webster defines the verb to 
 see, as follows : " To perceive by mental vision ; to 
 form an idea or conception of; to discern ; to distin- 
 guish ; to understand ; to comprehend." True, we do 
 not see tlirough the same medium that you do who 
 have perfect organs of sight, but we certainly perceive 
 and comprehend the relation and condition of things 
 about us. The Creator has so wisely made, and beauti- 
 fully adjusted the external organs of sense one to an- 
 other, and each to all, that when one is lacking, the 
 others are made able by greater exercise to perform the 
 functions of the missing one. For example ; if one loses 
 his hearing, sight is rendered keener, and the nerves ac- 
 quire a sensitiveness almost painful. Dr. Kitto, who 
 was deaf from twelve years of age, speaks of this pecul- 
 iar sensitiveness as follows : " The drawing of furniture 
 as tables or chairs over the floor above or below me, 
 the shutting of doors, and the feet of children at play, 
 
5 2 How do the Blind See ? 
 
 distress me far more than the same causes would do if I 
 were in actual possession of my hearing. By being 
 unattended by any circumstances or preliminaries, they 
 startle dreadfully; and by the vibration being diffused 
 from the feet over the whole body, they shake the 
 whole nervous system, in a way which even long use 
 has not enabled me to bear." 
 
 In the same interesting chapter on percussions he says : 
 '* A few days since, when I was seated with the back of 
 my chair facing a chiffonier, the door of this receptacle 
 was opened by some one, and swung back so as to 
 touch my hair. The touch could not but have been 
 slight, but to me the concussion was dreadful, and al- 
 most made me scream with the surprise and pain, — the 
 sensation being very similar to that which a heavy per- 
 son feels on touching the ground, when he has jumped 
 from a higher place than he ought. Even this concus- 
 sion, to me so violent and distressing, had not been no- 
 ticed by any one in the room but myself" 
 
 This physiological phenomenon is analagous to the 
 sensations experienced by the blind, on approaching 
 any tall or broad object. We feel their presence when 
 we are several yards from them. I have sometimes 
 been startled by the sudden impression produced by a 
 lamp-post, or tree, when in fact it was a yard or more 
 
Hozv the Deaf Hear. 53 
 
 from me. The sensation is somewhat like receiving a 
 smart blow in the face. I am frequently aware of pass- 
 ing a building while riding along a country road, and 
 the proximity of trees, fences, and other objects is quite 
 perceptible. 
 
 This is not a latent sense developed by circumstances 
 as some have supposed, but a wonderful acuteness of 
 the nerves of the face, and more particularly of the eye- 
 lids. These phenomena may, I think, be explained in 
 this way. When one of the superior senses is absent, 
 the perceptive force that has watched at the eye, or list- 
 ened at the ear, is now transferred to the other nerves 
 of sensation. In other words, a deaf person is all eyes, 
 and extremely alive to tangible percussions, as will be 
 seen in the case of Dr. Kitto and others. The blind are 
 all ears and fingers, and certain of the inferior animals 
 are said to be all ears and heels; I am not sure but 
 there is some neck in both cases. Since it has been 
 shown that new perceptions and conditions are devel- 
 oped in the absence of one or more of the superior sen- 
 ses, that the deaf are so keenly cognisant of vibration or 
 jar, which is the father of sound, that the blind can feel 
 the presence of objects at short distances, which is anal- 
 agous to sight, it should not be thought strange that we 
 make such frequent use of the word see, or that the deaf 
 
54 How do the Blind See f 
 
 should make use of the word hear, and that these words 
 are not without significance or import. 
 
 Besides this there is a mental perception, (doubtless 
 through a magnetic medium), of the presence or near- 
 ness of other minds. This accords with the experience 
 of man}/ persons. I have frequently entered rooms that I 
 supposed to be unoccupied, judging from the silence that 
 reigned, but on taking an inventory of my feelings, I found 
 a consciousness of some one's presence, and this I have 
 done when not the slightest sound aroused my suspicions. 
 A little incident that occurred while I was a teacher in the 
 New York Institution for the blind, will perhaps better 
 illustrate this point. I called one evening at the ma- 
 tron's room, to ask her to read a letter which had just 
 been handed me. Supposing it to be a confidential one, 
 and wishing to make sure that no one else was in the 
 room, I inquired of the matron if she was alone. On 
 receiving an affirmative answer, I handed her the letter, 
 requesting her to read it. But feeling a consciousness 
 that some other mind was present, — a strange mind, 
 with which I had no sympathy, I walked round to the 
 other end of the table, and placed my hand on a lady's 
 shoulder, remarking to the matron that I felt sure there 
 was some one in the room beside herself, and asked that 
 the letter might be returned to me unopened. 
 
Menial Magnetism. 5 5 
 
 From the long known existence of this perception or 
 intuition, has grown the old adage, " The devil is always 
 near at hand when you are talking about him." I am 
 not sure that this magnetic condition is more largely 
 developed in us than in those who see, but I am led to 
 think it is for this reason : eyes are of paramount im- 
 portance to those who have them ; and we who have 
 them not, search for other media of communication. 
 Mental presence is either inspiring and assuring, or de- 
 pressing and embarrassing. I have observed that when 
 in the presence of some people I have felt comfortable 
 and assured, while in the presence of others I have felt 
 diffident and uneasy. 1 allude here to persons with 
 whom I had no previous acquaintance. Minds are felt 
 in a ratio proportionate to their will-power. Shallow, 
 conceited minds are not magnetic. I have been told by 
 blind preachers, public lecturers, and concert singers, 
 that they always feel the difference between an intelli- 
 gent and appreciative audience, and one made up of 
 coarse and uncultured people; and this consciousness 
 they have felt before any demonstrations of applause or 
 disapprobation were made. I have had many opportu- 
 nities to experiment on my own feelings, in relation to 
 this magnetic influence, or mental recognition. I was a 
 concert singer in my younger days, and could always 
 
56 How do the Blind See ? 
 
 tell whether I was singing to a large or small house, 
 and whether my audience was in sympathy with me or 
 not. If it is urged that I gained this knowledge 
 through the ear, and not through the magnetic medium 
 that I suppose to exist, I will add other experiences that 
 may be more convincing to the reader. In pursuing 
 my business as an itinerant bookseller for many years, 
 I have frequently called at offices when their occupants 
 were out, and on entering have often said to my guide, 
 " Oh, there is no one here, let us go, and call again." 
 On the other hand, I have often been conscious when 
 entering a room, that there was not only one mind, but 
 several minds present. If I should be asked to de- 
 scribe this consciousness, or mental recognition, I should 
 not know what language to employ. These are some of 
 the compensations which the blind receive for the great 
 loss they have sustained. The sense of smell is ranked 
 as the least important of all the senses ; yet it is of great 
 value to the blind. Through this avenue to the mind 
 come many pleasurable sensations. By it we are aided 
 in the selection of our food, in choosing ripe and health- 
 ful fruits, in detecting decomposition, dirt and filth, and 
 in ascertaining much that eyes discover to those who 
 have them. Without it, flowers would have no attrac- 
 tion for us, and life would lack many of its pleasures. 
 
Sejtse of Smell as Guide. 57 
 
 At the risk of being classed among dogs and vultures, I 
 acknowledge that I am often guided by my olfactories 
 in doing things that seem so very unaccountable to my 
 friends. In passing along the business street, my atten- 
 tion is continually attracted by the odors that issue from 
 stores, shops, saloons, etc. ; and these peculiar smells 
 often direct me to the very place I wish to find. From 
 groceries come the odors of spices, fish, soaps, etc. 
 From clothing and dry goods stores the smell of dye 
 stuffs. From drugs and medicines, the combined odor 
 of many thousand volatile substances, — such as per- 
 fumes, paints and oils, asafcetida, etc. From shoe stores 
 comes the smell of leather ; and from books and station- 
 ery, the smell of printer's ink. Hotels, saloons and liq- 
 uor stores, emit that unmistakable odor of alcohol, the 
 prince of poisons. To me the smell of alcohol, wines, 
 etc., has ahvays since my earliest recollection been 
 grateful and fascinating ; -and had I cultivated an appe- 
 tite for strong drink, it would be as difficult for me to 
 pass a liquor saloon, as for a man whose eyes are tempt- 
 ed by a magnificent display of mirrors and bottles. I 
 have often been made aware of open cellar doors, by a 
 damp, musty smell that commonly proceeds from un- 
 derground rooms, and have, I think, been saved from 
 falling by this odd warning. I should have fallen how- 
 
58 How do the Blind See? 
 
 ever, only a few days ago, into one of these yawning 
 horrors, had it not been for my ever watchful wife who 
 was providentially near, and called to me in time to save 
 me from injury. Some workmen were laying a patch 
 of sidewalk on Main street, in the town in which I re- 
 side, and had opened a cellarway near which some of 
 them were at work but did not warn me, doubtless be- 
 cause they did not see me, for workmen are always very 
 kind to me. 
 
 I am guided and governed more by the ear, however, 
 than by either of the other organs of sense. If I wish 
 to cross the street, it tells me when teams are coming, 
 how far they are away, at what rate of speed they are 
 traveling, and when it will be safe to cross. If I find a 
 group of men conversing, it tells me who they are. If I 
 wish to enter a store or any place, it tells me where the 
 door is, if open, by the sounds that issue therefrom; but 
 in this I have sometimes been misled, by going to an 
 open window, which always makes me feel awkward. 
 Sound to me is as important as light is to the seeing, 
 and brings to the mind a great many facts that are gath- 
 ered through the eye when sight is made the prime 
 sense. 
 
 Much of my information, however, is received 
 through the fingers. They are properly the organs of 
 
Sense of Touch as Guide. 59 
 
 touch; although this sense is distributed over the whole 
 body, even to the mucous membrane that lines the 
 mouth and covers the tongue. When the fingers' ends 
 have been hardened by labor, or from any cause, the 
 lips and tongue are the most sensitive, and are often 
 used in threading needles, stringing beads, etc., — very 
 innocent uses surely to put the tongue to. This sense 
 of touch is of necessity cultivated by the blind, until it 
 often reaches a state of perfection seldom if ever found 
 in the seeing. Of course its development is gradual, as 
 is the growth of all the faculties. When I was quite a 
 little child, and my fingers were soft, I could readily 
 distinguish all the varieties of flowers that grev/ in my 
 sister's flower garden, and could call them by name. 
 From touch I knew all the common fruits, from the 
 peach with its velvet skin, to the strawberry in the 
 meadow, for which I used to search diligently with my 
 fingers, and sometimes find, as I well remember, thistles, 
 which were never quite to my taste. One thing among 
 my childish sports and amusements, (for they were lim- 
 ited), always gave great pleasure, and does even now. 
 I loved to play along the brook or lake shore, to feel 
 for smooth and odd shaped stones, for pretty shells, &c. 
 Their beauty to me existed only in the great variety of 
 shapes they presented, and in their smooth, pearly sur- 
 
6o How do the Blind See ? 
 
 faces, as they never suggested to my mind any idea of 
 color. Winter afforded me few opportunities for culti- 
 vating my love for the beautiful. Summer was my 
 heaven with its singing birds, its tinkling brooks, and 
 its fresh and delicious fruits. I took great pleasure in 
 examining with my fingers flowers, leaves and grasses, 
 because their great variety of shape and texture, fed an 
 innate longing after something that I could not then 
 comprehend. When but an infant, I am told, nothing 
 amused me so well as a branch of green leaves. My 
 early boyhood was spent in rambling through the 
 woods, hunting nuts, squirrels, chipmunks, &c., with 
 other boys of my own age ; in climbing trees, digging 
 for woodchucks, skating, coasting, and in performing all 
 the feats common to boyhood, such as standing on my 
 head, hopping, jumping, whistling, shouting, &c. I 
 shall regret to have this page come under the eyes of 
 my boys, for in noisy mischief they already exceed my 
 most sanguine expectations, and need not a record ot 
 their father's boisterous childhood to encourage them. 
 This kind of life, however, had fitted me to enter upon 
 a systematic and thorough course of study, which I did 
 at the age of sixteen. I was received as a pupil of the 
 New York Institution for the blind, in 1844. I entered 
 in a good healthy condition of body and mind. Found 
 
Finger Trainmg. 6 1 
 
 there boys and girls like myself without sight, yet earn- 
 estly engaged in pursuing the various branches of Eng- 
 lish education. Many of them were like myself full of 
 life, fond of fun and mischief Many laughable incidents 
 and anecdotes characteristic of such an institution are 
 fresh in my memory, which I should be pleased to re- 
 late, did they illustrate the subject in hand. Here I 
 found sight, which I had always supposed so necessary, 
 somewhat at a discount. I discovered that books, 
 slates, maps, globes, diagrams, &c., could be seen 
 through the fingers, and that children could learn quite 
 as rapidly in this way as with sight. I was not long- 
 either in discovering that the older pupils and graduates 
 were intelligent, accomplished and refined; that they 
 were treated more as equals by the officers, and that 
 they were trotted out to show off the merits of the In- 
 stitution, while we young blockheads were kept in the 
 background. This I think did much toward inspiring 
 me with ambition. My progress at first was slow, hav- 
 ing to learn how to use the appliances. My fingers 
 must be trained, my memory disciplined, and my habits 
 of inattention corrected. No effort was made, however, 
 to take the mirthfulness out of me, and I doubt if any- 
 thing could have succeeded in this. My first introduc- 
 tion to tangible literature, was in placing my hand on a 
 
62 How do the Blind See ? 
 
 page of the Old Testament in embossed print. At first 
 I could feel nothing like letters, or any regular charac- 
 ters; only a roughness as though the paper had been 
 badly wrinkled. A card was then placed in my hand, 
 on which the alphabet was printed in very large type, 
 and my attention called to each letter. My fingers, then 
 soft and supple, were not long in tracing the outlines of 
 each character, and my memory being naturally retent- 
 ive, I was soon able to distinguish each letter and give 
 its name, as my finger was placed on it. Another card 
 was then given me in smaller type, which I mastered in 
 the same way; and so on till I could read our smallest 
 print. 
 
 I have been thus minute in describing the rudi- 
 mentary process of finger training, that my little readers 
 may understand how it is possible for the fingers to be 
 made useful to the blind. To show how quick is the 
 perception through this avenue to the mind, it should 
 be known that we cannot feel a whole word at once, 
 but a single letter. And yet some of us are able to read 
 more than a hundred words per minute, and to trace on 
 raised maps, boundary lines, rivers, mountain chains, 
 lakes, straits, gulfs, bays, to find the location of towns, 
 islands, &c. It would seem that the fingers are capable 
 of grasping almost everything that the eye embraces, 
 
Feeling Colors. 63 
 
 though of course more slowly ; and from the wonderful 
 acuteness of which they are susceptible has grown the 
 popular impression that the blind can feel colors. I 
 have been asked this question many thousand times, and 
 have invariably replied that we can no more feel colors 
 than the deaf can see sounds, or the dumb sing psalms. 
 I am aware that it is stated by some eminent writers 
 that the sense of touch in some persons has reached this 
 perfection, but I have many reasons to doubt it. I have 
 no personal object in contradicting this statement, other 
 than to correct a popular error. Should be glad if it 
 were true. It has been accounted for by scientific men 
 upon this hypothesis : that colors differ in temperature ; 
 that red is warmer than yellow, and yellow warmer than 
 green, and so on through the spectrum. That violet is 
 a cold color, as its rays are less refracted; that these dif- 
 ferences are appreciable to delicate fingers. I have tried 
 many experiments both with my own fingers, and with 
 persons at our several institutions, who like myself were 
 born without sight, and have never yet found one who 
 could form the faintest idea of colors, from impressions 
 received through the fingers. Indeed there is nothing 
 in tangible qualities that suggests color, except differ- 
 ences in texture. We may feel that a piece of broad- 
 cloth has a harsh texture, and call it black ; or a soft 
 
64 How do the Blind See ? 
 
 texture and call it drab or brown. In this we may 
 guess right, for it is only a guess, after all. Wool buy- 
 ers and dealers in cloth judge frequently of their quali- 
 ties by touch ; and it is true that we who are without 
 sight, come to be very expert in judging the quality of 
 cloths, furs, &c. But to one who has never seen light, 
 there is no suggestion of color through finger percep- 
 tion. 
 
 Between sound and color there is a much closer 
 
 analogy traceable, as both are the result of vibration. 
 
 The same language is used to express the qualities of 
 
 each. We talk of harmony in sounds, and harmony in 
 
 colors ; of lights and shades, of chromatics, blending, 
 
 softness, sweetness, harshness, high, low, bright, dull, 
 
 &c. May not a grand anthem or chorus be to the mind 
 
 of one who has never seen light, what a fine picture is 
 
 to one who has never heard sounds ? I should not be 
 
 surprised to hear that some blind Yankee or Frenchman 
 
 has invented a telephone, through which he can hear in 
 
 the rippling brooks and bubbling fountains, the color of 
 
 their waters ; in the songs of birds, the gorgeous tints 
 
 of their plumage ; and in the distant roar of Niagara, 
 
 the mighty grandeur of its scenery. To an imaginative 
 
 mind, a well tuned, well voiced organ, may be made to 
 
 represent all the colors of the rainbow, from the faintest 
 
Harmony of Colors. 65 
 
 violet of the piccolo, to the darkest crimson of ihe sub- 
 bass. Some blind person on being asked what he sup- 
 posed red to be like, answered, " Like the sound of a 
 trumpet." He might also have said, " Like a flame of 
 fire." I once asked a blind boy, who had never seen 
 light, if he could imagine a house on fire, and how he 
 supposed it would look. He answered, " If it was a big 
 fire it would look like a thousand trumpets all blowing 
 in a different key." 1 then asked him what a pfcture is 
 like. ** Like anything in shape you may wish to paint," 
 he said, ** but in color, (if it is a fine picture), like one of 
 Mozart's grand symphonies." I have many times asked 
 my blind lady friends how they knew in what way to 
 arrange their colors so as to make their fancy work 
 look tasty and attractive. How they knew what colors 
 blended, and what were discordant; and I have often 
 received this answer: "By associating the names of 
 the seven primary colors with the seven sounds of the 
 diatonic scale, placing red as No. i, or key^ note, orange 
 next, yellow next, then green, and so on to violet. 
 Thus, red will not blend with orange, being the first and 
 second of the scale, but red and yellow harmonize bet- 
 ter, being thirds in the scale; red and green still better, 
 and so on to red and deep violet, which are sevenths in 
 the scale and do not harmonize. Thus we get the tetra- 
 
66 How do the Blmd See ? 
 
 chord, red, yellow, blue and violet, which may be repre^ 
 sented by the flat seventh of the chord C." But I leave 
 this theory for some one to elaborate or refute, who has 
 seen color, and return to my Institution life. 
 
 The ear and voice are also trained at these schools 
 for the blind, and music is made one of the chief arts. 
 Piano tuning is also taught in a practical way. If this 
 business is not taught in all the Institutions, it ought to 
 be, for it comes fairly within the scope of our capabilities. 
 And I will here say for the benefit of my brothers in 
 the dark, that I have been very successful as a piano 
 tuner, and the business is a practical one for the blind. 
 Any one with a good ear may learn to tune well, but no 
 one should undertake to repair so delicate a piece of 
 machinery as a piano action, without long experience, 
 mechanical ingenuity, great caution, and good judgment, 
 having had opportunity to acquire the requisite skill. 
 It was not my intention at the outset to write a 
 sketch of my own life, but to demonstrate by my own 
 experience that the inferior senses may be made to per- 
 form many of the offices of sight. The eye has some 
 functions, however, which the ears and fingers cannot 
 perform. For example, if a piece of silk or woolen 
 goods be handed me for examination, the nerves of my 
 fingers will tell me whether it is fine or coarse, whether 
 
Natural Desire to See. 67 
 
 it has a harsh or soft texture, whether it is highly finish- 
 ed or rough and uneven ; but they bring me no intelli- 
 gence of color. I may pronounce the goods beautiful, 
 because I find in it certain qualities that address them- 
 selves to my taste, but it is not beauty addressed to the 
 eye. Light and color, to one who has never seen, is as 
 inconceivable, as music to the deaf. V/e may get some 
 faint idea of what light is as a medium of communica- 
 tion, or why color pleases the eye, as qualities of texture 
 please the touch ; but the conception is vague and un- 
 satisfactory. 
 
 I have often had the remark made to me, " Well, if 
 you have never seen, it is not so bad after all; you have 
 less desire to see." This I think is a mistake and a poor 
 consolation. Has the man who has never visited the 
 great Niagara cataract, but has many times heard and 
 read of its wonders, less desire to see it than one who 
 has witnessed those grand displays of God's power in 
 the flood ? Has the boy who loves to read of travels 
 and strange adventures less desire to see the glaciers of 
 the Alps, the skies of Italy, or the jungles of Southern 
 Africa, than the traveler who described them ? How- 
 ever well we may see with our mental vision, however 
 well suited to our taste may be our surroundings, how- 
 ever pleasant may be our family relations, and however 
 
6S How do the Blind See ? 
 
 kind may be our companions, we can not help that irre- 
 pressible desire to know what there is about light and 
 color, about the indescribable beauty of a sunset, the 
 splendor of an evening sky, the glory of a cloudless day, 
 and the awful grandeur of a storm. There is yet one 
 thing we greatly desire to know, which the fingers can 
 not grasp. We are told in poetry and romance that the 
 human face divine is an index of the spirit. That its 
 ever changing lines express every mood of the mind, 
 and every emotion of the soul, from a smile of ineffable 
 beauty to a midnight frown ; from the sunshine of hope, 
 and joy, and gladness, to clouds of wrath and hatred. 
 That the spirit looks out through the eye and melts you 
 with a beam of tenderness, or pierces your heart with a 
 flash of electric love, or charms you by revealing in its 
 crystal depths the pearl of purity, or transfixes you with 
 a glance of displeasure. Is all this talk about sunlit 
 faces and starlit eyes, fine sentiment only, or does the 
 face really express feeling as unmistakably as we hear it 
 in voices ? To show that the deaf have as great a de- 
 sire to hear the music of the human voice as we to see 
 the language of the face, I quote from Dr Kitto the fol- 
 lowing touching passage of personal history: 
 
 ** Is there anything on earth so engaging to a parent, 
 as to catch the first lispings of his infant's tongue, or so 
 
Natural Desire to Hear. 69 
 
 interesting as to listen to its dear prattle, and trace its 
 gradual mastery of speech ? If there be any one thing 
 arising out of my condition, which more than another 
 fills my heart with grief, it is this: it is to see their 
 blessed lips in motion, and to Jiear them not; and to 
 witness others moved to smiles and kisses by the sweet 
 peculiarities of infantile speech which are incommunica- 
 ble to me, and which pass by me like the idle wind." 
 
 Although there are but few experiences in common 
 between the deaf and the blind, I am able to sympathize 
 fully with this eminent deaf author, in the intense desire 
 he felt to hear the sweet voices of his children. There 
 is no other object this side of heaven I so ardently wish 
 to see, as the faces of my family. A feeling sometimes 
 comes over me, akin, I fancy, to the impotent rage of a 
 caged lion, who vainly tries to break his prison bars and 
 gain his liberty. The moral certainty that I must finally 
 leave this world of beauty, without having enjoyed 
 many of its highest blessings and purest delights, often 
 so oppresses me that I can only find relief in prayer, for 
 grace to say, " Thy will be done, O God." I hear the 
 merry voices of my children, know their step, figure, 
 contour of their heads and faces, and in my day-dreams 
 I see them around me full of life and health, fun and 
 frolic, and I know their little hearts are full of love for 
 
JO How do the Blind See? ' 
 
 me ; I know, too, God has given them to me as some 
 compensation for other blessings he has withheld. Let 
 me trust then in his great mercy, that in the far future I 
 may see the faces of my dear ones in the light of eter- 
 nity ; of her who gave me birth, but whose fond look of 
 affection and yearning tenderness, I was never able to 
 return ; and the face of her who is now to me even more 
 than a mother, who helps me to bear my many burdens 
 with Christian patience and fidelity. Then if I am per- 
 mitted to behold the glorified face of Him who hath re- 
 deemed us, I shall rejoice that I have lived and suffered, 
 and wept and prayed, that I might dwell with Him 
 forever. 
 
GATHERING SHELLS. 
 
 A HAPPY child roamed by the sea-side, 
 
 Her hands full of beautiful shells; 
 She had gathered them out of the blue tide, 
 
 Where the spirit of mystery dwells. 
 She laughed with the rippling waters, 
 
 She danced on the pebbly shore, 
 But vanished like all of Earth's daughters, — 
 
 I never have seen her more. 
 
 A youth, next to find ocean's treasures, 
 
 Came wistfully wandering that way ; 
 He knew not that Earth's fleeting pleasures 
 
 Were born but to last for a day. 
 He gathered bright shells and smooth pebbles, 
 
 And many he purposed to keep. 
 But soon found his treasures but troubles. 
 
 And threw them all back in the deep. 
 
72 Gathering Shells. 
 
 An aged man tottering and feeble, 
 
 Came wearily next on the strand; 
 He searched not for shells or smooth pebbles, 
 
 But for jewels and gold in the sand. 
 What he found must remain a sad mystery ; 
 
 He carried no jewels away, — 
 The ocean had closed his life's history, 
 
 The tide gave him up the next day. 
 
 We are gathering shells on the sea shore, 
 
 On the boundless ocean of time; 
 We hear the sad surf on the beach roar 
 
 With warning prophetic, — sublime. 
 We are gathering pearls for adorning. 
 
 That sparkle but for a day ; 
 That melt like the dews of the morning, — - 
 
 We carry no jewels away. 
 
 Are we gathering gems of true beauty, 
 
 To ornament mind and soul? 
 Are we gathering diamonds of duty 
 
 To last while ages shall roll ? 
 Are we gathering pearls for the Master 
 
 Like the pearl of great price he paid ? 
 The tide rises faster and faster, — 
 
 Soon the treasures of earth shall fade. 
 
NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 It may not be a correct thing for me to say, but I 
 shall say it nevertheless, that some of the brightest 
 thoughts that illumine the pages of classic literature are 
 emanations from minds entirely shut in from the light 
 of day. You cannot imprison the active mind any more 
 than you can extinguish an active volcano. It will find 
 outlets in some direction. It is always pleasant and 
 profitable to watch the growth and development of in- 
 tellect under the most favorable circumstances ; but to 
 study the manifestations of mind when some of its ave- 
 nues of communication with the outer world are closed, 
 is much more interesting and instructive. There is no 
 condition of life so destitute of resources, that it may 
 not be improved, and even made productive of positive 
 blessings and comforts. 
 
 The case of Laura Bridgman, the blind and deaf mute 
 who is so justly celebrated for her wonderful achieve- 
 ments under difficulties, shows that intellect will shine, 
 though surrounded by impenetrable darkness ; that the 
 soul may learn of God and heaven, though wrapped in 
 
74 Night Thoughts. 
 
 unbroken silence ; that the Ijeart may be made to re- 
 joice not only in the innocent pleasures of this life, but 
 in the hope of a life to come, in a world of light and 
 song, though it find this world a voiceless solitude. I 
 may be pardoned, therefore, if I copy a few of the lead- 
 ing incidents of the life of this wonderful woman. The 
 public should not lose sight of a character so remarka- 
 ble. Her memory should not be lost in the debris of 
 time. Her name and achievements, with that of her 
 noble teacher. Dr. Howe, and the process by which he 
 educated her, should be handed down to the latest gen- 
 eration. 
 
 " Laura Bridgman was born at Hanover, in New 
 Hampshire, in December, 1829. She is described as 
 having been a very sprightly and pretty infant, with 
 bright blue eyes. She was, however, so puny and fee- 
 ble until she was a year and a half old, that her parents 
 hardly hoped to rear her. She was subject to severe 
 fits, which seemed to rack her frame almost beyond the 
 power of endurance, and life appeared to be held by a 
 very feeble tenure. But when a year and a half old her 
 dangerous symptoms subsided ; and at twenty months 
 old she was perfectly well. Then her mental powers, 
 hitherto stinted in their growth, rapidly developed ; and 
 during the four months of health which she enjoyed, she 
 
Laura Bridgman. 75 
 
 appears to have displayed a considerable degree of in- 
 telligence. But suddenly she sickened again. Her 
 disease raged with great violence during five weeks, 
 when her eyes and ears were inflamed, suppurated, and 
 their contents were discharged. But although sight 
 and hearing were thus gone forever, the poor child's 
 sufferings were not yet ended. The fever raged during 
 seven weeks. For five months she was kept in bed in a 
 darkened room. It was a year before she could walk 
 unsupported, and two years before she could sit up all 
 day. It was then observed that her sense of smell was 
 almost entirely destroyed, and subsequently, that her 
 taste was much blunted. It was not until four years of 
 age that the child's bodily health was restored, and she 
 was able to enter upon the apprenticeship of life and the 
 world. 
 
 " * But what a situation w^as hers !' says Dr. Howe. 
 ' The darkness and silence of the tomb were around her : 
 no mother's smile called forth her answering smile, no 
 father's voice taught her to imitate his sounds : they, 
 brothers and sisters were but forms of matter which 
 resisted her touch, but which differed not from the fur- 
 niture, save in warmth and in the power of locomotion ; 
 and not even in these respects from the dog and the cat.' 
 
 " But the immortal spirit which had been implanted 
 
^6 Night Thoughts. 
 
 within her could not die, nor be maimed, nor mutilated ; 
 and though most of its avenues of communication with 
 the world were cut off, it began to manifest itself 
 through the others. As soon as she could walk, she be- 
 gan to explore the room, and then the house. She became 
 familiar with the form, density, weight, and heat of every 
 article she could lay her hands on. She followed her 
 mother, and felt her hands and arms as she was occupied 
 about the house; and her disposition to imitate led her 
 to repeat everything herself She even learned to sew 
 a little and to knit. 
 
 " Dr. Howe was first made acquainted with the case of 
 Laura in 1837, when she was nearly eight years of age. 
 He found her with a well formed figure; a strongly-mark- 
 ed nervous-sanguine temperament ; a large and beautiful- 
 ly-shaped head; and the whole system in healthy action. 
 The parents were easily prevailed upon to allow her to be 
 placed in the Institution for the blind at Boston, to 
 which she was taken in October of the same year. Here 
 the process of her education was at once commenced. 
 In this there was only one of two courses to be taken ; 
 either to carry out and perfect the language of signs 
 which she herself had already commenced, or to devise 
 some means of imparting to her a knowledge of the 
 alphabet in common use. Dr. Howe wisely. decided to 
 try the latter. 
 
Method of Teaching. 77 
 
 ** The first experiments were made by taking articles 
 with which she was familiar, such as knives, forks, 
 spoons, keys, &c., and pasting upon them labels with 
 their names printed in raised letters. These she felt 
 carefully, and soon, of course, discovered that the 
 crooked lines * spoon ' differed as much from the crooked 
 lines * key ' as the spoon differed from the key in form. 
 
 '' Then small detached labels, with the words printed 
 on them were put into her hands; and she soon observ- 
 ed that they were similar to those pasted upon the arti- 
 cles. She showed her perception of this similarity by 
 laying the label * key ' upon the key, and the label * spoon ' 
 upon the spoon ; and she was encouraged to persevere 
 in such discoveries by the natural sign of patting her 
 head. The same process was then repeated with all the 
 articles she could handle; and she very easily learned 
 to put the proper labels upon them. It was evident, 
 however, that the only intellectual exercise was that of 
 imitation and memory. She recollected that the label 
 'book' was placed upon a book, and she repeated the 
 process first from imitation, next from memory, but 
 apparently without any discovery of the relation between 
 the name and thing. 
 
 " After a while, instead of labels, the separate letters 
 were given to her on detached bits of paper ; they were 
 
7^ Night Thoughts. 
 
 arranged side by side, so as to spell book, key, &c. ; then 
 they were mixed up in a heap and a sign was made for 
 her to arrange them herself, so as to express the word 
 book, key, &c., and she did so. 
 
 " Up to this point the process had been merely me- 
 chanical, not differing materially from that under w^hich 
 a knowing dog may be taught a variety of tricks. The 
 poor child had sat in mute amazement, and patiently 
 imitated everything her teacher did. But now the truth 
 began to flash upon her ; her intellect began to work ; 
 she perceived that there was a way by which she could 
 herself make up a sign of anything that was in her 
 mind ; it was no longer a dog or a parrot ; it was an 
 immortal spirit, eagerly seizing upon a new link of 
 union with other spirits. 'I could almost fix upon the 
 moment,' said her teacher, * when this truth dawned 
 upon her mind, and spread its light to her countenance; 
 I saw that the great obstacle was overcome ; and that 
 henceforward nothing but patient and persevering, but 
 plain and straightforward efforts were to be used.' 
 
 " The result thus quickly related, was not obtained 
 until some weeks of apparently unprofitable labor had 
 been expended in following out the sound principle on 
 which it was commenced. A set of metal types was 
 procured, with the letters of the alphabet cast upon their 
 
Method of Teaching. 79 
 
 ends; and also a board, provided with square holes in 
 which she could set the types, so that the letters on 
 their ends could alone be felt above the surface. By 
 this means, when any article was presented to her, she 
 could select the letters which formed its name, and 
 arrange them on her board. 
 
 "She was exercised for several weeks in this way, 
 until her vocabulary became extensive; and then the 
 important step was taken of teaching her how to repre- 
 sent the different letters by the position of her fingers, 
 instead of the cumbrous apparatus of the board and 
 types. She accomplished her task speedily and easily, 
 for her intellect had then begun to work in aid of her 
 teacher, and her progress was rapid." 
 
 The first report of her case, issued when she had been 
 about three months under instruction, states that she 
 had then just learned the manual alphabet as used by 
 the deaf-mutes ; and that it was a subject of delight and 
 wonder to see how rapidly, correctly, and eagerly she 
 proceeded with her labors. The process is thus de- 
 scribed : — " Her teacher gives her a new object, for 
 instance a pencil, first lets her examine it, and get an 
 idea of its use ; then teaches her how to spell it by 
 making the signs for the letters with her own fingers : 
 the child grasps her hand, and feels her fingers as the 
 
8o Night Thoughts. 
 
 different letters are formed ; she turns her head a little 
 on one side, like a person listening closely ; her lips are 
 apart ; she seems scarcely to breathe, and her counte- 
 nance, at first anxious, gradually changes to a smile, as 
 she comprehends the lesson. She then holds up her 
 tiny fingers, and spells the word in the manual alphabet; 
 next, she takes her types and arranges her letters ; and 
 last, to make sure that she is right, she takes the whole 
 of the types composing the word, and places them upon, 
 or in contact with, the pencil, or whatever the object 
 may be." 
 
 It may be doubted by some if the progress here de- 
 scribed was possible in so short a time and in the face 
 of such difficulties. But it should be remembered that 
 Laura had little to distract her thoughts or attract her 
 attention in other directions. Her intellect was new and 
 bright, her memory retentive, and her fingers soft and 
 delicate. The whole force of her mind was therefore 
 concentrated upon the single object of learning this new 
 method of communicating with the world about her. It 
 must have all seemed very wonderful to her, and the 
 friends who were thus trying to feed her hungry mind, 
 were doubtless very dear to her. It is much to be 
 regretted that she has never given her own account of 
 her life and experiences. At the end of the succeeding 
 
La2ira Bridgman — Cheerfubiess. 8 1 
 
 year another report was issued, which contains the fol- 
 lowing passages : 
 
 " It has been ascertained beyond the possibility of a 
 doubt, that she cannot see a ray of light, cannot hear 
 the least sound, and never exercises the sense of smell, 
 if she have any. Thus her mind dwells in darkness and 
 stillness, as profound as that of a closed tomb at mid- 
 night. Of beautiful sights, and sweet sounds, and 
 pleasant odors she has no conception ; yet she seems as 
 happy and playful as a bird or a lamb ; and the employ- 
 ment of her intellectual faculties, or the acquirement of 
 a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure, which is plainly 
 marked on her expressive features. She never seems to 
 repine, but has all the buoyancy and gaiety of child- 
 hood. She is fond of fun and frolic ; and, when playing 
 with the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds 
 loudest of the group. 
 
 " When left alone she seems very happy if she have 
 her knitting or sewing, and will busy herself for hours : 
 if she have no occupation, she evidently amuses herself 
 by imaginary dialogues or by recalling past impressions ; 
 she counts with her fingers, or spells out names of 
 things which she has lately learned in the manual alpha- 
 bet of the deaf-mutes. In this lonely self communion 
 she seems to reason, reflect, and argue : if she spell a 
 
82 Night Thoughts. 
 
 word wrong with her right hand, she instantly strikes it 
 with her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disapproba- 
 tion ; if right, then she pats herself upon the head and 
 looks pleased. She sometimes purposely spells a word 
 wrong with the left hand, looks roguish for a moment, 
 laughs, and then with the right hand strikes the left as 
 if to correct it. 
 
 " During the year she has attained great dexterity in 
 the use of the manual alphabet ; and she spells out words 
 and sentences so fast and so deftly that only those ac- 
 customed to this language can follow wJth the eye the 
 rapid motion of the fingers. 
 
 " But wonderful as is the rapidity with which she 
 writes her thoughts upon the air, still more so is the 
 ease and accuracy with which she reads the words thus 
 written by others ; grasping their hands in hers, and fol- 
 lowing every movement of their fingers as letter after 
 letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in this 
 way that she converses with her playmates, and nothing 
 can more forcibly show the power of mind in forcing 
 matter to its purpose, than a meeting between them. 
 
 " When Laura is walking through a passage way 
 with her hands spread before her, she knows instantly 
 every one she meets, and passes them with a sign of 
 recognition ; but if it be a girl of her own age, and 
 
Lau7'a Bndginait — Dreams of the Deaf, 83 
 
 especially if it be one of her favorites, there is instantly 
 a bright smile of recognition, and a twining of arms, a 
 grasping of hands, and a swift telegraphing upon the 
 tiny fingers, whose rapid evolutions convey the thoughts 
 and feelings from the outposts of one mind to those of 
 the other. There are questions and answers, exchanges 
 oi joy or sorrow, there are kissings and partings, just as 
 between little children with all their senses. 
 
 " It is a curious fact, and one in a philosophical point 
 of view most important, as displaying the natural ten- 
 dency to make language the vehicle of thought, that 
 when she supposes herself alone, she often soliloquizes 
 in the finger language. It might at the first view appear 
 doubtful whether she might not be repeating some les- 
 son or exercise : but the fact that she thinks on her fingers 
 is placed beyond question by the extraordinary circum- 
 stance that she us^s the finger language in her dreams ; 
 and it has been ascertained that when her slumber is 
 broken and much disturbed by dreams, she expresses 
 her thoughts in an irregular and confused' manner on 
 her fingers, just as we should mutter and murmur them 
 indistinctly in our dreams." 
 
 After Laura had been eighteen months in the Institu- 
 tion she was visited for the first time by her mother. 
 The touching account of this meeting, as given in one 
 
84 Night Thoughts. 
 
 of the Institution reports, I will here copy as it exhibits 
 some interesting phases of Laura's character. 
 
 " The mother stood some time gazing with overflow- 
 ing eyes upon her unfortunate child, who, all uncon- 
 scious of her presence, was playing about the room. 
 Presently Laura ran against her, and at once began feel- 
 ing of her hands, examining her dress, and trying to 
 find out if she knew her ; but not succeeding in this, 
 she turned away as from a stranger, and the poor wo- 
 man could not conceal the pang she felt that her beloved 
 child did not know her. 
 
 ** She then gave Laura a string of beads which she 
 used to wear at home, which were recognized by her at 
 once, who with much joy put them around her neck, 
 and sought me eagerly to say she understood the string 
 was from home. The mother now tried to caress her, 
 but poor Laura repelled her, preferring to be with her 
 acquaintances. Another article from home was now 
 given her, and she began to look much interested ; she 
 examined the stranger much more closely, and gave me 
 to understand that she knew she came from Hanover ; 
 she even endured her caresses, but would leave her with 
 indifference at the slightest signal. The distress of the 
 mother was now painful to behold ; for, although she 
 feared she would not be recognized, the painful reality 
 
Visit of Laura s Mother. 85 
 
 of being treated with cold indifference by a darb'ng child 
 was too much for a woman's nature to bear. 
 
 "After a while, on the mother taking hold of her 
 again, a vague idea seemed to flit across Laura's mind, 
 that this could not be a stranger ; she therefore felt her 
 hands very eagerly, while her countenance assumed an 
 expression of intense interest ; she became very pale, and 
 then suddenly red ; hope seemed struggling with doubt 
 and anxiety, and never were contending emotions more 
 strongly depicted on the human face ; at this moment 
 of painful uncertainty, the mother drew her close to her 
 side, and kissed her fondly, when at once the truth 
 flashed upon the child, and all mistrust and anxiety dis- 
 appeared from her face, as with an expression of exceed- 
 ing joy she eagerly nestled to the bosom of her parent, 
 and yielded to her fond embraces. 
 
 *' After this the beads were all unheeded ; the play- 
 things which were offered her were utterly disregarded ; 
 her playmates, for whom but a moment before she 
 gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove to pull her 
 from her mother; aud though she yielded her usual 
 instantaneous obedience to any signal to follow me, it 
 was evidently with painful reluctance. She clung close 
 to me as if bewildered and fearful ; and when, after a 
 
86 Night Thoughts. 
 
 moment, I took her to her mother, she sprang to her 
 arms and clung to her with eager joy. 
 
 " The subsequent parting between them showed alike 
 the affection, the intelligence, and the resolution of the 
 child. Laura accompanied her mother to the door, 
 clinging close to her all the way, until they arrived at 
 the threshold, where she paused, and felt around to 
 ascertain who was near her. Perceiving the matron, of 
 whom she is very fond, she grasped her with one hand, 
 holding on convulsively to her mother with the other ; 
 and thus she stood for a moment ; then she dropped her 
 mother's hand, put her handkerchief to her eyes, and 
 turning round, clung sobbing to the matron ; while her 
 mother departed with emotions as deep as those of the 
 child." 
 
 From Laura's final recognition of her mother, some 
 may infer that she retained some impressions of her 
 babyhood, that some rays of light and echoes of sound 
 may be still lingering in her mind. But in view of the 
 statements made to me by many persons who lost their 
 sight in early childhood, that no impressions of light 
 and color remain in after years, I am forced to this con- 
 clusion by the circumstance of Laura's meeting with 
 her mother : that the pure sunlight which beamed in 
 upon her infant soul, faded into midnight darkness, and 
 
Form Without Color. 87 
 
 the sweet lullaby of her mother's voice no longer echoes 
 in the chambers of her memory. 
 
 The success that crowned the efforts thus made to 
 cultivate a mind so completely shut in from all sur- 
 rounding objects, demonstrates some of the propositions 
 made at the commencement of this article, and shows 
 that few minds are so hampered and imprisoned by im- 
 perfect organism, that some thoughts of God and his 
 beautiful creations may not reach them. By analyzing 
 my own conceptions of the material world, I know that 
 thoughts and ideas take form, if not color, in the mind 
 of those who have never seen nor heard. I can think of 
 a horse, dog, cat, or any animal which I have had the 
 privilege of examining with my fingers, and — what will 
 seem strange to my readers — I can think of them with- 
 out color. That is, I can picture to my mind any object 
 with which I am familiar, of the shape, size, texture, or 
 any quality appreciable to the sense of touch, without 
 giving the mental picture any color; and what has 
 always been perfectly unaccountable to me is, these pic- 
 tures seem to be printed on my eyelids rather than 
 formed far back in the mind. This is not purely imag- 
 inary as some may suppose. The brain has the power 
 of locating impressions, and does so with unerring cer- 
 tainty when the nerves are intact ; but if severed it still 
 
88 Night Thoughts. 
 
 refers to their termination. If the stub of an amputated 
 arm be pierced with a pin, the pain seems to be felt in 
 the hand or fingers, just where the nerves had termin- 
 ated before they were severed. I have often heard peo- 
 ple who had lost a leg, complam of pain in their toes, 
 or of an itching in the sole of their foot, and vainly tried 
 to find relief from this disagreeable sensation by scratch- 
 ing an artificial foot. The province of the eye is to see, 
 and if it fail from any cause to perform its functions, 
 the mind still refers to the retina as the location where 
 images should be formed. It has no doubt been ob- 
 served that blind persons always turn their faces toward 
 any object toward which their attention is called. This 
 is not from force of habit, — for those who have never 
 seen do the same, — but because the mind refers to the 
 eye for impressions. If there is no truth in this hypoth- 
 esis then the fact above mentioned is still unaccountable. 
 If I am told that a horse is black I at once associate 
 with his figure some property of night, and if I am per- 
 mitted to feel him, and find his coat smooth and glossy, 
 my presumption is that it shines. I suppose this idea 
 of shining 1 have received from a slight perception of 
 light which I have always enjoyed. How any one who 
 has always been surrounded by total darkness can get 
 any impression of shining, or beaming, or shimmering, 
 
Form Without Color. , 89 
 
 or sparkling, or scintillating, is more than I can com- 
 prehend. If I am told that a horse is gray, there comes 
 to my mind a vague impression of twilight, — half light 
 and half darkness, or a mixture of white and black, and 
 so on through all the shades of color. But in my ideal 
 world these imaginary colors are secondary, and may 
 be called up at will or banished at pleasure. 
 
 If a rubber ball be placed in my hand, I at once rec- 
 ognize its globular form, and call it a ball, but my mind 
 does not necessarily endow it with color. I can think 
 of it as black, or white, or red, or of its shape without 
 color. This you who enjoy perfect sight cannot do. If 
 my reader wishes to experiment upon this phase of 
 mental philosophy, let him imagine a vase of flowers on 
 a table before him. First, let him think of the porcelain 
 vase with its smooth glassy surface and its rude repre- 
 sentation of vines and leaves in green and gilt. Second, 
 imagine in this vase a well arranged bouquet, with fine 
 green leaves for a background, then delicate flowers of 
 every shade from snowy white to darkest red. Now 
 let him try to think of this thing of beauty without 
 color ; of the vase with its smooth, polished surface, its 
 graceful form, its vines and leaves; and then of the bou- 
 quet, with its soft delicate leaves, its tuberoses, its gera- 
 niums, verbenas, hyacinths, pansies, mignonette, forget- 
 
go Night Thoughts. 
 
 me-nots, fuschias, carnations, &c., with a fragrance 
 peculiar to each. This is the way fancy presents such 
 an object to us who have never seen colors. How mea- 
 gre then, you will say, must be the blind man's concep- 
 tion of beauty. But you forget that the impressions 
 he receives through his fingers, his smell, his taste, his 
 hearing, &c., are greatly intensified. Therefore it would 
 not be fair to infer that his natural descriptions of the 
 beautiful are only imitations ; and that his language, 
 often so well chosen and felicitous, is to him but a mu- 
 sical cadence. 
 
 I come now to speak of the dream-life or sleep of the 
 blind. There is perhaps no essential difference between 
 the slumbers of the blind and the seeing, except the 
 workings of the mind, or the involuntary exercise of 
 fantasy or imagination. The same comfortable feeling 
 of drowsiness comes over us; sounds and objects seem 
 to recede ; there is a confusion of ideas and images ; the 
 eyelids droop, the powers of voluntary motion are sus- 
 pended ; the avenues of sense are closed ; and sleep is 
 profound, but not always dreamless. The living, think- 
 ing principle is ever awake ; and although we are not 
 always conscious of its operations, it is doubtless as 
 busy when we are asleep, as when we are awake, in 
 reproducing images, new combinations of thought, and 
 
Dreams of the Deaf and Blind, 91 
 
 in echoing voices and sounds long since forgotten. 
 This wakeful, thinking power cannot, however, be the 
 immortal principle or spirit of man, for the lower ani- 
 mals seem to dream. 
 
 Sleep is at all times mysterious and awe-inspiring. It 
 is the nearest approach to death of any healthful condi- 
 tion ; but it is doubtless nature's opportunity for replen- 
 ishing exhausted energies. I never hear the slow, reg- 
 ular respirations of a sleeping enemy without feeling 
 ready to forgive all past offenses unless he snore, then 
 my animosity returns. 
 
 How little different must have been the real life from 
 the dream life of Laura Bridgman. But one avenue of 
 sense to be closed, the bodily powers suspended, and 
 she is asleep. And what may we suppose her dreams 
 to be ? Very much like her thoughts and imaginations 
 while awake. She thinks of her companions and 
 friends, of congratulations or reproofs, of receiving and 
 communicating thoughts and ideas through finger signs, 
 of tender and loving embraces, of joyful meetings, sor- 
 rowful partings, and in short all her little routine of 
 daily duties. To her, day and night, sleeping and wak- 
 ing, would be all the same, were it not for the warm 
 sunshine of the day, and the cool damp air at night ; 
 were it not that the mind, when the faculties are awake 
 
92 Nig Jit Thoughts. 
 
 is able to measure time ; that food is supplied through 
 the day and not at night ; that the hands in coming in 
 contact with familiar objects, assure the mind that the 
 body is awake, and in possession of its powers of mo- 
 tion ; were it not that the heart is assured by expres- 
 sions of love and sympathy, that life is real. 
 
 We who find all our organs of sense in a state of 
 perfection except that of sight, experience greater dif- 
 ferences between day and night, sleeping and waking. 
 Noises help greatly to assure the mind that the faculties 
 are awake. The dreams of persons born without sight, 
 differ essentially from the dreams of those who have 
 once seen, in this particular: we who have never seen 
 colors never dream of them ; nor of faces, nor of any 
 object at a distance as it appears to the eye. We dream 
 of touching or handling familiar objects, of hearing the 
 voices of friends, and other familiar sounds; of music, 
 of the noise of passing carriages, of footsteps, and of all 
 the sounds by which we are guided when awake. 
 
 It has been said by some writers on mental philoso- 
 phy, that sounds are never heard in dreams; but this is 
 not true. I frequently dream of music when no sounds 
 disturb the stillness of the night, and I often dream of 
 meeting with friends of long ago, of hearing their 
 voices, of talking with them, and of being introduced to 
 
Sleep and Dreams. 93 
 
 ladies and gentlemen with whom I have never met. 
 Having myself a faint perception of light, my days 
 are not dark, neither are my dreams. At times they are 
 very vivid and distinct. Those of our class who have 
 lost their sight late in life live it over again in their 
 dreams. Memory calls up scenes and pictures of the 
 past; but what seems sad to record is that these scenes 
 and images, at first so bright, so real and so life-like, 
 gradually fade and after a few years become dim and 
 confused. I have a blind friend, with whom I am very 
 intimate, who lost his sight about thirty years ago. I 
 have frequently questioned him upon this subject. He 
 says his dreams were at first very natural and that soon 
 after losing his sight he enjoyed himself much better 
 asleep than awake. He could then see the faces of old 
 familiar friends and w^alk in dreamland without a guide, 
 fearing no lamp-posts or open cellar- ways. Of late he 
 says his dreams are mixed and confused. Fantasy 
 seems more inclined to reproduce the experiences of 
 the present. If his work through the day has been 
 repairing his buildings or his fences, the work goes on 
 in his dreams, but he does not see the material he is 
 using. He feels for his hammer, boards and nails as 
 when awake. 
 
 I regret that the deaf are not more communicative 
 
94 Night Thoughts, 
 
 about their own thoughts and feelings. That they do 
 not write more and give us clearer gHmpses of their 
 inner life and spiritual condition, and what their intui- 
 tions are of life beyond the boundaries of time and sense. 
 What do they think of sound ? Do colors give them 
 some faint conception of what sounds must be ? Do 
 they think a sweet sound is like a soft color, a loud 
 sound like a harsh color, a brilliant sound like a brill- 
 iant color, and a low, grave sound, like a dark or som- 
 ber color ? What do they think of voices ? Do they 
 think a white man's voice is white, and a black man's 
 voice black? That the bark of a yellow dog must be 
 yellow, and the song of a red bird, red ? That the voices 
 of the sea and sky are blue, and that the moon and stars 
 fill the heavens with their sweet melodies, as they make 
 night glorious with their shining lights? This, I may 
 be told, is only idle speculation, — that the deaf are not 
 so visionary, — that their thoughts are more practical. 
 Well, let them write more, and tell us what they think. 
 Reticence is not excusable even in the deaf Surely, 
 the unbroken silence that ingulfs them is as favorable to 
 cogitation, as the darkness that surrounds us is for 
 reflection. "The proper study of mankind is man," 
 says Pope. Surely, there can not be a more interesting 
 
What do the Deaf think of Sounds. 95 
 
 study, than the development of the powers of body and 
 mind under difficulties. 
 
 If the few facts and suggestions I have here presented 
 shall start in the mind of any of my readers trains of 
 profitable reflection, — if they prove instrumental in lead- 
 ing any one to a closer investigation of the laws which 
 govern mind, — if they show that there are but few con- 
 ditions of life without hope, — if they teach cheerfulness 
 /and submission to those who are inclined to quarrel 
 with providence, — finally, if they help the world in any^ 
 way, I shall feel rewarded for this effort ; and I trust 
 that my thoughts in the night will not be lost in the 
 darkness. 
 
THE DESERTED CHAPEL. 
 
 In the old deserted chapel on the Square, 
 
 Where the spirits of the past in silence brooded, 
 When no sacrilegious sound disturbed the air, 
 
 And no burst of boisterous noise the ear intruded ; 
 In the old deserted church I sat alone, 
 
 Sadly thinking of the friends of long ago ; 
 Thinking mournfully of spirits who had flown. 
 
 And left me still a wanderer here below. 
 
 Gloomily I pondered over many years. 
 
 Thought of wasted energies, and misspent time, 
 How with stirring eloquence, and prayers, and tears. 
 
 Holy men had here proclaimed the truth sublime. 
 Even now I seemed to hear them, — faint at first, 
 
 Like the echoes of sweet music, soft and low, 
 Footsteps round the empty altar as of erst, 
 
 Spirits with familiar voices come and go. 
 
TJie Deserted Chapel. 97 
 
 Hark ! they sing in ancient measure, hymns of old ; 
 
 " Come ye sinners poor and needy, doubt no more ; 
 He hath mercy, He hath pity, — love untold; 
 
 From His heart there flows abundant, boundless love." 
 Now around the altar kneeling, lo ! they bow, 
 
 Praying, wrestling for a blessing. Will it come ? 
 Tears of penitential sorrow, how they flow ! 
 
 Mercy hears, and stoops to answer from her home. 
 
 Every bleeding heart is healed with heavenly balm, 
 
 Every guilty soul is cleansed with Jesus's blood, 
 Every breast from passion's tumult now is calm, 
 
 And each grateful tongue is singing praise to God. 
 Now with snowy hands they beckon to the throng ; 
 
 '• Come ye sinners poor and needy, doubt no more," 
 Up the aisles with solemn tread they move along. 
 
 And around the altar bow, as those before. 
 
 Gradually the vision vanished. All was still. 
 
 In the old deserted church I sat alone. 
 On the buried past and present pondered, till 
 
 I wished me with the spirits that had flown. 
 
BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN. 
 
 Who does not love the beautiful children, 
 So bright and so brisk, so merry and free? 
 
 That heart must be calloused that cannot receive them, 
 With all their sweet ways and innocent glee. 
 
 So fresh from the hand of the merciful Maker, 
 That one almost feels that a message they bring, 
 
 That still on their tongues divine accents linger. 
 Sweet wordlings of praise to the heavenly King. 
 
 Christ said as he blessed them, of such is the kingdom, 
 Forbid not the children to come unto me ; 
 
 His heart though a God's, felt a sympathy for them, 
 He loved the dear children; and so. shall not we? 
 
 In our hearts and our homes let us cherish these treas- 
 ures, 
 
 And guard their young lives from temptation and sin; 
 Let us practice before them the virtues and graces, 
 
 And thus here on earth shall our heaven begin. 
 
LITTLE HANDS AND FEET 
 
 Busy little baby feet ! 
 
 All day long I hear your patter ; 
 Tireless tongues ! with nonsense sweet, 
 
 Still I hear your ceaseless chatter. 
 What but muscle, flesh and bone, 
 
 Could endure such wasteful wearing? 
 Yet how silently goes on 
 
 Nature's process of repairing. 
 
 Restless little hands and feet ! 
 
 Never idle, never weary ; 
 Ever supple, deft and fleet, 
 
 Always fresh, and blithe, and cheery. 
 What is home without a baby } 
 
 Like a day without a sun : 
 Light enough to toil, it may be. 
 
 But dreary when the toil is done. 
 
iOO Little Hands and Feet. 
 
 Sad the man whose home rejoices 
 
 Not in one sweet childish face ; 
 Whose halls resound not with the voices 
 
 Of innocence and youthful grace. 
 Sad the wife whose love is linked not 
 
 With the heart by time estranged, 
 But the cruel cause she thinks not, 
 
 Why his love for her is changed. 
 
 When shall earth become an Eden 
 
 Like the Paradise once lost? 
 When each mother's life is laden 
 
 With the cares she counts not cost; 
 When each father feels a pleasure 
 
 In the work of love bestowed, 
 To fit each little darling treasure, 
 
 For the heritage of God. 
 
THE TURKEY. 
 
 Inscribed to C. R. Kern, Esq., Thanksgiving Day, 187i 
 
 Once upon a morning cheery, 
 While I sat all grim and teary, 
 Wondering what my frugal deary 
 Should cook for our Thanksgiving dinner ; 
 While I dwelt on thoughts most shocking, 
 And drew on our baby's stocking, 
 Suddenly there came a knocking. 
 Knocking at our frontal door. 
 ** 'Tis a boy," said I, " the sinner, 
 Knocking at our frontal door, 
 With a dun, and nothing more." 
 
 Ah ! distinctly I remember, 
 
 'Twas on the thirtieth of November, 
 
 A day when every glowing ember 
 
 Should roast a goose if nothing more. 
 
 But a sad, uncertain feeling 
 
 As to Providential dealing. 
 
 Chilled me with the thought of stealing 
 
 Something for our scanty store, 
 
 When again I heard the knocking; 
 
 " Wife," said I, " undo the locking. 
 
 And open wide our frontal door." 
 
102 The Turkey. 
 
 Sure enough, there stood a clerky, 
 
 With his face all smiles and smirky, 
 
 Holding in his hand a turkey 
 
 Fresh from some one's bounteous store. 
 
 "Bird of Paradise!" (I meant it,) 
 
 " Heaven bestows though you present it ! 
 
 Tell me! what kind friend hath sent it?" 
 
 " Kern," he said, and nothing more. 
 
 This one word he spoke and vanished ; 
 
 And the hungry wolf was banished. 
 
 Banished from our frontal door. 
 
 And that turkey ever flitting, 
 Never sitting, still is flitting, 
 Watching for a comrade fitting, 
 Ready for our Christmas store, 
 And the wolf looks out, it may be, 
 Hungry for a dimpled baby. 
 Drawing nearer, nearer, may be, 
 Ready for a savage roar. 
 And my heart, among the playthings 
 That lie rolling on the floor, 
 Hopes and struggles evermore. 
 
PIGS IN THE PULPIT. 
 
 In a small country town from this city not far, 
 
 The church door one night was left standing ajar; 
 
 When what was the people's surprise, the next day, 
 
 On entering the chapel to sing and to pray. 
 
 To find in the pulpit, asleep on the floor, 
 
 Three vagabond porkers, — there might have been more. 
 
 And doubtless there had been, if mud is a test 
 
 Of the place where tramps have been taking their rest. 
 
 As the worshippers entered, the sexton prepared 
 
 To open the windows and have the thing aired ; 
 
 But seeing the porkers asleep on the floor, 
 
 He determined to turn out the devils before 
 
 The parson should enter, and see how bestained 
 
 With mud and with filth, was his pulpit profaned. 
 
 With sa.^h-rod in hand, he with vigor began 
 
 To stir up the brutes, who immediately ran, 
 
 And squealed as they ran out of pew into pew. 
 
 While the children all laughed, and the women squealed 
 
 too. 
 The men soon discovered that pigs on the race 
 Were too much for the sexton, so they joined the chase. 
 And then, what a squealing and racing and kicking: 
 You'd have thought forty schoolboys were taking a 
 
 licking, 
 But some way, the pigs couldn't see their way out ; 
 They tumbled and jumbled and scurried about, 
 
I04 Pig^ ^'^ iJ"^^ Pulpit. 
 
 Now hither, now thither, then up the long aisles, 
 
 Now backward, now forward, and many the trials 
 
 The men made to head them, and drive them before, 
 
 And hurry them out of the broad open door. 
 
 But pigs have a nature like false pride and sin ; 
 
 They rarely go out the same way they came in. 
 
 At length, a bright thought struck the deacon in season ; 
 
 He did not take time to reflect or to reason, 
 
 But raised a loose board in the floor — the thing needed — 
 
 When out popped the pigs, and the meeting proceeded. 
 
 LESSON. 
 
 Secure your church door against tramps of all ermine ; 
 
 Be wise and content with your pastor's own sermon ; 
 
 Leave not the straight gate of your pulpit ajar ; 
 
 If strangers apply, find out first who they are. 
 
 Remember the pigs and their Sabbath day rout ; 
 
 If the devil gets in, he is hard to get out. 
 
 If you have a dull preacher, why try to endure him ; 
 
 If a better one come, some will try to secure him ; 
 
 If a poorer one prate, you will feel yourselves bored. 
 
 Grow weary and drowsy, and faint, in the Lord. 
 
 Very much that we prize in our homes and our nation 
 
 Is loved and made sacred by association ; 
 
 If we open our churches on every occasion, 
 
 We no longer persuade, but are dupes of persuasion. 
 
DANGERS OF COURTSHIP. 
 
 A CRICKET hopped ki at the open door, 
 
 And found in the wainscot a chink ; 
 A mouse tripped out on the oaken floor, 
 
 And sat in the corner to think. 
 The cricket believing herself alone, 
 
 Tuned up her lyre to sing. 
 And then she chirped in her rasping tone, 
 
 " Oh ! give to my lover a wing." 
 The mouse was charmed with her amorous song. 
 
 And so enchanted was he, 
 That he crept from his hiding place along, 
 
 And gallantly fell on his knee. 
 '' Miss Cricket," he said, " I admire you much, 
 
 And fain would make you my wife." 
 Just then he fell into an enemy's clutch. 
 
 Who snapped the thread of his life. 
 Old Puss lay crouched on his tufted rug. 
 
 And saw with flaming eyes 
 The mouse make love to the bashful bug, 
 
 And quickly secured his prize. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Young maidens beware how you hop about ; 
 
 And boys stop a moment to think. 
 The young lady's pa may be looking out. 
 
 And snap you as quick as a wink. 
 
''BEAUTIFUL SNOW." 
 
 Oh the snow, the beautiful snow ; 
 
 It flies in your eyes when the cold breezes blow, 
 
 It piles in the aisles, along grocery row, 
 
 And loads up the roads so the cartmen can't go ; 
 
 Oh the snow, the redundant snow. 
 
 It packs in the tracks and delays all the trains. 
 It hills up and fills up the alleys and lanes. 
 It heaps and it sweeps o'er the stubbly plains. 
 It sprinkles and tinkles the window panes; 
 Oh the snow, the musical snow. 
 
 It drifts through the rifts and the cracks in your doors, 
 It banks on the planks of your sidewalks and floors, 
 It shakes and it breaks down the awnings of stores, 
 It rollicks and frolics, it rattles and roars ; 
 Oh the snow, the exulting snow. 
 
 If your roof is bomb-proof it may bear the load ; 
 
 If Brown gets to town he must shovel the road ; 
 
 You must scoop from your stoop wdiat last night it 
 
 snowed, 
 Or you're plugged in your jug as tight as a toad ; 
 Oh the snow, the abundant snow. 
 
" Beautiful Snow. " 1 07 
 
 Go out, walk about in the streets if you dare, 
 It trips on your lips, and sifts through your hair, 
 It darts till it smarts every cheek that is bare, 
 And congeals on your heels as you step, so beware! 
 Or down you go in the treacherous snow. 
 
 Of course, if your horse is uncommonly kind, 
 
 A rift through the drift he may possibly find ; 
 
 But he rears up before and kicks up behind, 
 
 Till your load from the road to the ditch is consigned, 
 
 And over you go in the beautiful snow. 
 
 Pretty girls with their curls are there all in a heap, 
 Shouting boys with their noise from their snow caverns 
 
 creep, 
 Laughing eyes with surprise from the window panes 
 
 peep, 
 And you say as your sleigh slides over the steep. 
 Confound the snow! we've got too much snow. 
 
 Then hurrah for a thaw when young April looks in. 
 When rills from the hills with spring showers begin. 
 And the ice that now lies on the rivers grows thin, 
 And quakes as it breaks with a horrible din ; 
 Then away must go our beautiful snow. 
 
MISERABLE MUD. 
 
 All the forces of nature are prone to extremes ; 
 
 When 'tis dry then 'tis parched, when it rains then it 
 streams ; 
 
 When it snows then it piles, when it thaws there's a 
 flood, 
 
 And the world is engulfed in a deluge of mud. 
 
 Oh the mud, the miserable mud ! 
 
 It lies on the crossing, it floats in the street, 
 
 It spreads on the sidewalk, it sticks to your feet; 
 
 It flows through the gutter, the ditch and the sewer, 
 
 And bespatters alike the rich and the poor. 
 
 Oh the mud, the impartial mud ! 
 
 It makes no distinction 'twixt broadcloth and shoddy, 
 
 'Twixt doeskin and fustian, it daubs everybody ; 
 
 'Tis spattered by horses, it flies from the wheels. 
 
 Till you're plastered with mud from your head to your 
 heels. 
 
 Oh the mud, the invincible mud! 
 
Miserable Mud. 109 
 
 By and by when 'tis dry, when you're roasted and fried, 
 When the ground thirsts for water but rain is denied, 
 With mercury at ninety and still on the rise, 
 With dust on your beaver and dust in your eyes, 
 Oh then you'll sigh for th' cool, plastic mud. 
 
 Alas ! how we pas-s from the good to the bad ; 
 
 'Tis strange how we change from the joyous to sad; 
 
 He is wise who can prize the joys of to-day, 
 
 And trusting the morrow be willing to say — 
 
 We thank Thee, good Lord, for rain, snow or mud. 
 
 MISS SUE PRE ME SELFISH AT HOME. 
 
 Miss Selfish sat in her easy chair, 
 
 Her lap-dog lay on the tufted rug ; 
 She watched the world with a listless air, 
 
 And sipped sangaree from a silver mug. 
 
 She glanced at her face in a fine French plate 
 That hung o'er the marble mantle tree, 
 
 And wondered what kept her lover so late; 
 " He's a laggard in love, I fear," said she. 
 
1 10 Miss Sue Preme Selfish at Home. 
 
 *' ' His mother,' he says, * claims much of his care:' 
 Bah ! that is all stuff, but sounds very fine ; 
 
 Then a pet of a sister comes in for a share 
 
 Of a heart that he promised should all be mine. 
 
 *' I'll taunt him to night with his cruel neglect, 
 His double devotion and service slipshod ; 
 
 But then he'll reply with his cant, I suspect, 
 That duty to parents is honor to God. 
 
 " Fie ! duty to sweetheart is my religion. 
 
 Submission to wives should be first in the code, 
 
 Saint Paul's stale opinions need some revision, 
 His doctrine on marriage must soon explode. 
 
 " Most men are captious, fickle and vain, 
 
 They flirt and they flatter, they fawn and caress, 
 
 They are addicted to habits intemperate, profane. 
 Ever fond of display, fine horses, and dress. 
 
 " We women are watchful, and wise in the main. 
 We are faithful, forgiving, forbearing and kind, 
 
 Frail physical forces we balance with brain, 
 
 And what's lacking in muscle we make up in mind. 
 
Miss Sue Preme Selfish at Home. 1 1 1 
 
 Just then a waiting-maid came to present 
 
 The name of a lady — " Home Missions," she thought; 
 " Go tell her I'm out," said Miss Selfish, " I'm bent 
 
 That for this time, at least, I shall not be caught. 
 
 " For heathen and paupers, new churches and schools 
 Not a single day passes without some appeal ; 
 
 Asylums for soldiers, inebriates and fools ; 
 
 The world has gone mad with a misguided zeal. . 
 
 "Of what use are your churches? hypocrisy rules; 
 
 Why lavish such wealth on the ignorant and poor, 
 Why build your asylums and charity schools ? 
 
 The world would be better without them, I'm sure." 
 
 Once more her waiting-maid came to report ; 
 
 A beggar was asking for clothing and meat ; 
 " Go send him away," was her answer in short, 
 
 " Stay, bring me some bits for my poodle to eat. 
 
 " Our city is filled with these tireless tramps, 
 Who beg their living from door to door, 
 
 They are all such pilfering, plundering scamps, 
 That it's nobody's duty to feed them, I'm sure." 
 
1 1 2 Miss Supreme Selfish at Home. 
 
 " He is young, ma'am, and fair," said the maid with a 
 blush, 
 
 " Is willing to work but finds nothing to do." 
 Her mistress replied with an angry flush. 
 
 " Pray send him away, what is that to you ?" 
 
 " With a family of children," entreated the maid, 
 
 " An invalid wife on her scanty bed, 
 No fuel to warm, — with her rent unpaid, 
 
 And four famished little ones crying for bread." 
 
 " You'll do for a preacher," said Miss Sue Preme, 
 " Here's a dime to reward your importunate plea, 
 
 Go give it the man, if so much you deem 
 Him worthy of aid; but for you, not me. 
 
 " I always take pleasure in helping the worthy, 
 
 I made our rector a large donation, 
 I always favor the few who serve me, 
 
 Who try to maintain a respectable station." 
 
 Still once more enters the waiting-maid, 
 
 With an open note on a silver tray ; 
 '' The thanks of the mendicant, madam," she said, 
 
 " I gave him the trifle and sent him away." 
 
Miss Sue Preme Selfish at Home. 1 1 3 
 
 " Great heavens ! girl, pray what is this? 
 
 The name of Bernard, O ! what have I done ? 
 A plot to rob me of earthly bliss, 
 
 Of a prize that I thought so nearly won. 
 
 " I'm overreached, I'm sold, betrayed 
 
 By one who enjoyed my confidence. 
 My love is exchanged for a waiting-maid, 
 
 My hate, my anguish is most intense." 
 
 SHE READS. 
 
 " Charming Sue Preme, 
 
 For such I must ever deem 
 
 You, beautiful as heartless, — fair as cold. 
 
 Thanks for the dime. 
 
 It saved me from the crime, 
 
 The crime of selling hope of heaven for gold. 
 
 And though I wed 
 
 Your waiting-maid instead, 
 
 I've figured up the profit, counted the cost; 
 
 In her I find 
 
 A most congenial mind, 
 
 A treasure richer than the one I lost. 
 
 False one, adieu ! 
 
 Heap your favors on the few ; 
 
 Lavish your treasures on the worldly proud ; 
 
 But close not your door 
 
 To the pinched and hungry poor ; 
 
 An angel may be standing in the crouching crowd." 
 
CELESTIA CHARITY AT HOME. 
 
 Miss Charity sat in her sewing chair, 
 Her work-box stood on a stand hard by; 
 
 She was making a shroud for a millionaire, 
 Gone up to possess his treasures on high. 
 
 She saw not her face in the plain gilt glass 
 That hung o'er the oaken mantle-tree, 
 
 Reflecting clearly each modest grace, — 
 
 For flattering friends ? No ! for angels to see. 
 
 And thus she wrought at her toilsome task. 
 
 From early morning till set of sun; 
 And repined at her lowly lot, do you ask ? 
 
 'Twas a labor of love, and most cheerfully done. 
 
 Her supple fingers were seldom idle, 
 
 Her busy brain was rarely at rest. 
 Her flow of spirits, even, not tidal. 
 
 She trusted in Providence and was blest. 
 
Miss Celestia Charity at Home, 1 1 5 
 
 True, solemn thoughts her work suggested, 
 
 But her mind was cheerful and her work was light ; 
 
 Sweet birds among the branches rested, 
 The sky was fair and the flowers bright. 
 
 'Twas a country house, quite humble but sweet. 
 
 Selected to suit her lowly station ; 
 A purring cat lay at her feet, 
 
 Dreaming, no doubt, of a rat-ification. 
 
 No street organ came to torture the soul 
 
 With the tune of John Brown, or Yankee Doodle ; 
 
 No troublesome tramp or gypsy stroll 
 Frightened the cat or worried the poodle. 
 
 'Twas just the place for sonneteer, 
 
 A paradise for a sanctum scribbler; 
 No discords to vex, no callers to fear, 
 
 No smiles to waste on a jesting ribbler. 
 
 And well Miss Charity loved her home. 
 
 Contented and happy she spent her days; 
 There no contention nor care could come, 
 
 But innocent mirth and Godly praise. 
 
1 1 6 Miss Celestia Charity at Home. 
 
 She believed in prayer and honest labor, 
 
 In faith and zealous works combined ; 
 She loved her Lord and trusted her neighbor, 
 
 And with useful books improved her mind. 
 
 The sun streamed in at the western door, 
 
 And still her weary work went on ; 
 The moon lay white on the ashen floor, 
 
 But the burial robe was not yet done. 
 
 So she sang and stitched, and stitched and sang, 
 Till the stars peeped out from their hiding places, 
 
 And the night-bird's notes through the orchard rang, 
 Till the blossoms hid their frightened faces. 
 
 The crickets chirped in the scented grass, 
 
 The owlet quarreled with the katydid, 
 The light wind through the leaflets passed, 
 
 To find where the sweetest flowers were hid. 
 
 A neighbor called for a pleasant chat ; 
 
 Twas John, a well-to-do farmer's son. 
 Miss Charity rose and took his hat, 
 
 Gave him a seat, and the work went on. 
 
Miss Celestia Charity at Home. 1 1 7 
 
 He talked of his crops and the price of grains ; 
 
 How corn had gone up and rye had gone down ; 
 He spoke of his hopes, of his prosperous gains, — 
 
 Was silent, — and still the stitching went on. 
 
 " I have purchased," said he, " the Macklebe farm, 
 Adjoining my father's place on the west; 
 
 The buildings are new, the cottage is warm, 
 The soil is the richest and very best" 
 
 " Now I need me a wife," said farmer John, 
 " A wife who is frugal, faithful and true, 
 
 A love to encourage and help me on 
 
 Through life, so darling, I've come for you." 
 
 She did not look at her lover's face. 
 
 Nor the blushing glass o'er the mantle-tree. 
 
 But answered with mild, becoming grace : 
 *' So, farmer John, thee has come for me. 
 
 " Thee says thee has purchased many fair acres, 
 And now, thee needs a wife, did thee say ? 
 
 And thee has come for a plain little Quakeress ; 
 Why, John, I should give them all away. 
 
1 1 8 Miss Celestia Charity at Home. 
 
 " I'll marry thee, though, on one condition, 
 That half which those broad acres afford, 
 
 Shall be set apart with thy permission 
 
 And freely given to the work of the Lord." 
 
 ** Nay, not so much," said the wary farmer, 
 " But the tenth of all the land produces 
 
 I will place in the hands of my little charmer, 
 To feed the poor, and for Christian uses." 
 
 *' Not so, not so," the maiden replied, 
 " I will not let thee cheat the Lord ; 
 
 When Ananias and Sapphira lied, 
 
 Swift judgment was their dire reward." 
 
 " 1 yield, I yield, be it as you say ; 
 
 I would not lose thee for earth and heaven ; 
 So have your will, and have your way, 
 
 All that you ask shall be freely given." 
 
 *' Enough," she said, " I ask no more," 
 And love lit up her queenly brow: 
 
 The stars peeped in at the open door, 
 To see them seal their plighted vow. 
 
PAT AND THE FROGS. 
 
 A KNIGHT of the spade and a gin graduator, 
 
 Having taken one night too much of the crayther, 
 
 Went staggering home by a roundabout way, 
 
 And crossing a field where a quagmire lay, 
 
 With shillaly in hand he went blundering on, 
 
 Till he brought up at last at the edge of a pond. 
 
 " Holy mither! what's this?" said our knight of the spade; 
 
 *' Had I betther go round or thry for to wade ? " 
 
 " You'd better go round," said a guttural voice. 
 
 " Hold yer tongue, ye spalpeen, who axed your advice ?" 
 
 " Go round, sir, go round," said a voice to the right. 
 
 " Come on, thin, ye haythens, I'm ready to fight," 
 
 " You'd better go round," said a voice at the left. 
 
 ** Hould yer gab, or bedad !" — and the night air he cleft. 
 
 " Here's a row, here's a row," came in guttural tone. 
 
 " Show yer head, and be jabers, I'll break ivery bone." 
 
 *' Knock him down, knock him down," cried a voice in 
 
 the rear. 
 But just then there fell on his wondering ear, 
 
I20 Pat ajid the Frogs. 
 
 Such a chorus of voices, that Pat stood amazed, 
 And dropped the shillaly that he held upraised. 
 Like the notes of a bagpipe, so shrill and so clear, 
 Came sounds from the swamp with these words to his ear : 
 
 SONG OF THE PEEPERS. 
 
 " Pete, Pete, put in your feet ! 
 Never retreat until you are beat. 
 Sweet, meat, something to eat, 
 Somebody's feet are in the peet. 
 
 " Peep ! leap ! it's not very steep, 
 
 Down in the deep where we peepers keep. 
 
 Peep ! leap ! all in a heap, 
 
 But never asleep where the leeches creep ! " 
 
 "Are ye fairies?" said Pat, "who are spakin' so sweet? 
 
 Come over to Tim's and begorra it's my treat ; 
 
 Or if ye are humans, and mean to be civil, 
 
 Come out till we 'spake, or it's go to the divil ; 
 
 But if robbers ye are, and a murthering crew. 
 
 Then we'll thry what an Irish shillaly can do." 
 
 " Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo," came a voice from the trees, 
 
 And Paddy jumped in fully up to his knees. 
 
Pat and the Frogs. 1 2 1 
 
 " So it's laughin' you'd be, you dirty blackguard, 
 
 Come out till ye thry if me stick is not hard." 
 
 So he struck to the left, and he struck to the right, 
 
 Till the owl from the trees flew away in affright. 
 
 He slashed and he splashed with such hearty good will, 
 
 That soon every peeper and croaker was still. 
 
 But being top-heavy with whiskey and gin, 
 
 His foot gave a slide and he tumbled right in. 
 
 He lunged and he plunged, he floundered and swore, 
 
 Till his brogans walked out on the opposite shore. 
 
 The leeches peeped out from their holes in the mud. 
 
 And begged for a banquet of pure Irish blood. 
 
 He was thoroughly soaked both outside and in; 
 
 With water outside, and inside with gin. 
 
 On taking an invoice, he found that poor Pat 
 
 Was out a shillaly, and minus a hat. 
 
 Exhausted and sobered, he sat down to think 
 
 How the drink in his head got his head in the drink. 
 
 What a brute he had been, what a life he had led ; 
 
 How his children were naked and crying for bread ; 
 
 How his poor, patient Biddy had borne his abuse. 
 
 And tried to reform him but found 'twas no use ; 
 
 How she'd waited and watched through the long weary 
 
 nights, 
 While he was awa}^ in the brothels and fights ; 
 
122 Pat and the Frogs. 
 
 How often she'd found him all bleeding and bruised, 
 
 Had bound up his wounds, and his errors excused. 
 
 For some time he sat thus sad and dejected, 
 
 And on his past life and misdeeds reflected. 
 
 At length, he looked up at the stars overhead, 
 
 And thus to the Spirit that rules them he said : 
 
 " Great Spirit, if through those swate eyes ye can see, 
 
 In pity look down on a sinner like me. 
 
 And if ye have ears, and can hear what I spake, 
 
 Please write down the promise I'm going to make. 
 
 So long as my name is Patrick O'Flynn, 
 
 I'll drink no more brandy, nor whiskey, nor gin, 
 
 I'll be sober, industrious, and truthful, and stiddy, 
 
 And never will bate nor abuse my poor Biddy," 
 
 How Pat kept his promise, the sequel will show. 
 
 He is sober, industrious, and none that we know 
 
 Has a happier face, or a pleasanter cot ; 
 
 But his fight with the frogs he has never forgot. 
 
 And now, he is old and can't work any more, 
 
 He sits on a bench by his own cottage door, 
 
 And tells where the barley and corn shall be grown, 
 
 On the fine, fertile farm that is now all his own. 
 
 He brings from his garden the mercer and rose, 
 
 And the finest of fruit to his neighbor he shows. 
 
Pat and the Frogs. 1 23 
 
 He knows which potato is Biddy's delight, 
 And they often talk o'er the events of that night, 
 Of his fight with the frogs, of his bath in the slough, 
 How the stars and the angels recorded the vow, -^ 
 
 How whiskey had made him a beggar and beast, 
 But temperance had crowned him a king and a priest. 
 And now, when the Master says, "Pat, come up hither," 
 He hopes he and Biddy may travel together. 
 
 THE HOLE IN THE GATE, 
 
 We had a little pig, and he wasn't very big, 
 
 He had a peaked nose and curly pate ; 
 When he slipped through a crack you couldn't drive 
 him back, 
 
 For he couldn't see the hole in the gate. 
 
 He would raise his furtive eye to an object in the sky, 
 
 And run for the entrance very straight, 
 Then he'd slip along the fence with a squealing most 
 intense. 
 
 For he couldn't find the hole in the gate. 
 
124 ^'^^^ //<3/^ in the Gate. 
 
 When once he had a bite of the melons out of sight. 
 
 It didn't take him long to find the bait, 
 And you couldn't drive him out, with his ugly peaked 
 snout, 
 
 For he couldn't see the hole in the gate. 
 
 And we have heard of men who were larger pigs, and 
 then, 
 
 When they had got inside the crib of state, 
 You couldn't drive them out with ballot, threat nor gout, 
 
 For they couldn't see the hole in the gate. 
 
 Most men in this respect, (though I'm sorry to reflect 
 On the honors and the virtues of the great,) 
 
 Have the nature of the swine,— they can see the guineas 
 shine, 
 But they can't see the hole in the gate. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 So there is no use for any one to wait. 
 
 The rats have overrun the crib of state, 
 When once you're fairly in, to steal is not a sin ; 
 
 For money hides the hole in the gate. 
 
CHRONIC GRUMBLER. 
 
 We have read of hypochondriacs, 
 Somnambulists and catalepsy, 
 
 But of all the marvelous mind attacks, 
 The direst is brain dyspepsia. 
 
 Its symptoms multiform, are legion, 
 
 And difficult of diagnosis ; 
 Sometimes a mania on religion, 
 
 Next bordering on metempsychosis. 
 
 But the saddest form physicians find, 
 Is somewhat like a colic rumbling ; 
 
 An aberration of the mind 
 
 Called morbia, or chronic grumbling. 
 
 As when the gastric organs gig 
 And fail to do their chymal duty, 
 
 Just so the mind gets out of rig. 
 And sees deformity in beauty. 
 
126 Chronic Gnunbler. 
 
 As through a green glass all looks green, 
 So by disease is man afflicted ; 
 
 He sees in earth's sublimest scenes, 
 His own deformity depicted. 
 
 The sun puts on a sickly glare, 
 
 The moon looks through a dismal halo, 
 The stars gleam with portentous stare, 
 
 The ruddiest face looks dark and sallow. 
 
 His social sky is overcast, 
 
 His friends are false, his neighbors slight him, 
 The reason he has found at last ; 
 
 He's poor and so they don't invite him. 
 
 " The moral world is going to wreck, — 
 How crime of every kind increases ; 
 
 Some power this tendency must check, 
 Or heaven and earth will go to pieces. 
 
 " But the meanest man in all the land, 
 Is the shrewd conniving politician ; 
 
 A. whiskey bribe is in one hand, 
 And in the other a fat commission. 
 
Chronic Grumbler. 127 
 
 " Re buys and sells the freeman's vote, 
 
 And worms his way to an honored station ; 
 
 He watches the wind and turns his coat, — 
 By craft and fraud he rules the nation. 
 
 " He reaches the presidential chair, 
 
 And soon he gains a fortune ; no wonder! 
 
 For thieves are here and knaves are there, 
 All grabbing for the public plunder. 
 
 ** The public lands are given away, 
 
 Money is squandered on corporations, 
 
 Government officers double their pay, 
 To ape in extravagance foreign nations. 
 
 '* So taxes are up and grains are down, 
 
 The rich are made richer, the poor made humbler, 
 Business is stopped in city and town ;" 
 
 And thus croaks on our chronic grumbler. 
 
 " The churches too are growing proud, 
 
 Too much is spent i^ ornamenting, 
 Some brother shouts or prays too loud, 
 
 Seats should be free," — he's opposed to renting. 
 
128 Chronic Grumbler. 
 
 " Religion goes out as pride comes in, 
 The people spend too much in dressing ; 
 
 Church gambling is a heinous sin, 
 It never can receive God's blessing. 
 
 " The world is sadly out of joint, 
 He hears a low prophetic rumbling, 
 
 The end is near, he sees the point," 
 
 And thus the grumbler keeps on grumbling. 
 
 Let all the blessings of earth be given, 
 Arrange all things to suit his will. 
 
 Give him a seat in the highest heaven, 
 The chronic grumbler will grumble still 
 
A COMMUNICATION. 
 
 Since the preceding pages were put in type, the fol- 
 lowing pertinent communication has fallen into my 
 hands, which for point, force, and elegance of diction is 
 rarely equaled by seeing writers. No reference is made 
 to it in the table of contents, as that was set up and 
 printed before I decided to introduce this letter ; but I 
 find it so fully accords with my own experience, and the 
 spirit of my little book, and so clearly corroborates 
 many of the statements I have previously made in my 
 own behalf, that I feel impelled to reproduce it for the 
 benefit of my readers. 
 
 The writer is evidently a man of some culture, of 
 spirit, and of great force of character. He is painfully 
 conscious of his social and physical disabilities and en- 
 deavors in a masterly way to set the world right. His 
 allusion to over-officious people who want to be kind 
 but do not know how, and who sometimes mistake a 
 want of sight for deafness, and bawl into our ears with a 
 voice that would have waked Rip Van Winkle from his 
 twenty years slumber, is both forcible and amusing. 
 
1 30 A Communication. 
 
 I have many times gone into shops and stores to 
 make a purchase or get a job of work done, and have 
 been greatly annoyed by having men shout at me as if I 
 were too deaf to hear common thunder ; when the fact 
 is, I can hear better than people can who have their 
 sight. This w^ant of thought on the part of many is 
 greatly to be regretted, as we are sometimes led to think 
 that people are angry with us because they talk so 
 loudly, besides it makes us feel embarrassed and un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 Friends, speak to us in your natural tone of voice, 
 and in all respects treat us like seeing men. I may 
 have said something very much like this before, but I 
 wanted to say it again. A truth cannot be too often 
 repeated. 
 
 The writer of the following communication is a native 
 of Plymouth, England, and seems to have found the 
 same misapprehension of his condition, and the same 
 social difficulties to contend with that we experience in 
 this country. It may be necessary to premise that this 
 person at the time of losing his sight was learning the 
 trade of cabinet-making, and had reached the age of 
 eighteen years when he was accidentally blinded in the 
 street, by the explosion of some chemical compound, 
 which he was carrying in his hand. This melancholy 
 
A Communication. 131 
 
 accident eventually drove him to music as a resource 
 for pleasure, and employment for livelihood; and after 
 twenty-two years of total blindness, he is said to be an 
 accomplished musician and the proprietor of a music 
 store. The following is his communication: — 
 
 " In dealing with the subject of blindness, it is neces- 
 sary to distinguish two classes of sufferers : the one, 
 such as never saw at all ; and the other, such as have 
 been deprived of sight, but had lived a sufficient time in 
 the enjoyment of it for the impressions derived from it 
 to have become fixed upon the mind. The latter is my 
 own case ; and, consequently, some of my ideas will be 
 found the same as those of persons who have always 
 been in the enjoyment of their sight. 
 
 " The following may be stated as the facts in my own 
 experience, which appear to meet the questions under 
 consideration : 
 
 " My first feeling, after recovering from three weeks 
 of burning pain and the effects of stupefying opiates, 
 was that of disappointment, and much grief that my 
 prospects in life were utterly ruined. In a short time 
 more I should have been as well qualified as most oth- 
 ers to contend with the world ; but the bright hopes of 
 youth and the pleasurable anticipations of manhood 
 now lay blasted before me. I did not, however, rest in 
 
132 A Communication. 
 
 despondency. The novelty of my situation, and my 
 being able to do certain things by the light of my im- 
 agination only, which those around me could, in some 
 instances, scarcely accomplish by the aid of sight, 
 proved a great encouragement and an incentive to fur- 
 ther exertions. 1 also soon found some amusement in 
 trying my skill in certain branches of my former occu- 
 pation ; but I f©und that although I could handle the 
 tools as expertly as ever, I wanted the eye to mark the 
 proper distance between the edge of the instrument and 
 my own fingers. I could plane a piece of board as 
 smoothly as ever ; but from the want of that which I 
 had lost, could never succeed in adjusting its propor- 
 tions with that geometrical accuracy which was essential 
 to a good piece of work. So, finding that this would 
 not do as a permanency, I sought a resource in the ear; 
 and as music can be brought to bear at once upon the 
 ear and upon the pocket, I betook myself to it as a pro- 
 fession, and applied my physical and mental energies 
 with such intensity to the pursuit, that I fell into another 
 error, and obtained a practical demonstration of the fact 
 that two and two do not always make four; for from the 
 severity of my application to my studies, and not allow- 
 ing myself the needful relaxation, my progress was dis- 
 proportionate to my bodily strength, which became for 
 
A CoinmiLuication. 133 
 
 a time much affected by the war it was constrained to 
 keep up with a mind too active and too ardent for it to 
 cope with long. 
 
 " I have never found satisfaction or enjoyment in any 
 matter which I am not able to reflect upon, so as to 
 understand it in connection with some of its leading 
 principles, or to be led by it to comprehend more fully 
 some other thing with which I was before but partially 
 acquainted. Even in music, with which I am now 
 entirely surrounded, I can find no pleasure unless I am 
 able to associate with it some idea of an intellectual 
 or social character ; but this I can always do, and there- 
 fore I am at all times able to derive much enjoyment 
 from it. 
 
 "Time never hangs heavily upon m}^ shoulders. I 
 have no idle moments, having constant occupation for 
 the mJnd, either in the resources of music, or in some 
 other scientific or intellectual pursuit. These, being 
 mental, belong, as you are well aware, to the highest 
 sources of happiness ; and other enjoyments are avail- 
 able only so far as they refer back to the mind again. 
 The bustle and noise of crowded streets are agreeable 
 rather than otherwise to me ; but only so far as that by 
 this means I become acquainted through the ear with 
 the nature of the pursuits in which my fellow-beings are 
 
134 ^ Communication. 
 
 engaged. In public assemblies, whether for church, 
 platform, or musical purposes, my recollections of former 
 scenes readily, as though but yesterday visible to the 
 eye, picture forth the whole to the imagination, in all 
 the corresponding circumstances of both the speakers 
 and the auditors. 
 
 " I cannot conceive of any shade of difference in any 
 particular, between the ideas of my own mind with refer 
 enceto external objects, and those of persons who have 
 never experienced the absence of sight; and certainly 
 not between my own present notions and what they 
 would have been had I never been called to endure this 
 privation. In walking abroad amidst the verdure and 
 foliage common to rural scenes, the nature of the one is 
 readily intimated by the foot, and the extent and quality 
 of the other by the gentlest breeze, or perhaps the sea- 
 son of the year is indicated by the still stronger gale, 
 the various notes of the feathered tribes changing with 
 the periods of the year; — all these and many more cir- 
 cumstances contribute to give the outline of the picture, 
 or to furnish the materials from which the imagination 
 can supply a complete landscape, even though the spot 
 may be one altogether new to my experience. 
 
 " I am not aware of the possibility of any seeing man 
 ever reading or hearing a description of any place, per- 
 
A Coinniunication. 135 
 
 soil, or thing whatever, without as instantaneously 
 forming an image of the same in his mind as though it 
 had been suddenly presented to his outward vision, and 
 as indelibly remaining there as if he had actually seen 
 the original ; but the correctness of the figure will only 
 be in proportion to the accuracy of the description, and 
 to the ability of the person to understand it and to asso- 
 ciate therewith the characters corresponding to the 
 account received. This power remains when sight is 
 lost. For instance, there is no public character in past 
 or present history with whose name I am familiar, what- 
 ever may hav^e been his distinguishing characteristics, 
 but whenever his name is brought to my mind, an ideal 
 image of him invariably accompanies it. So with my 
 most intimate friends ; those whom I knew in early life 
 still retain in my mind the aspects under which they 
 then appeared to me ; but if it happens that my ac- 
 quaintance with them has been kept up, they are present 
 to my mind with all the corresponding additional marks 
 of increasing age. I am led to think from these facts, 
 and from the vivid freshness with which ideas of form 
 are impressed upon the mind, whether newly or more 
 remotely created, that there cannot be any material dif- 
 ference between my own impressions and those of one 
 
136 A Communication. 
 
 who has always enjoyed the power of viewing objects 
 by the eye. 
 
 " Dreams are to me always replete with images of 
 visible objects. In them I most decidedly see every 
 person and thing which then becomes a subject of cog- 
 nizance ; and they appear under the same aspects, and 
 are invested with the same circumstances, as those which 
 my imagination gives to them when I am awake, unless 
 occasionally distorted or changed in the same way that 
 familiar objects are often modified in the dreams of 
 those who see. It is further remarkable that I do not 
 j-emember to have had, for some years after losing my 
 sight, the slightest consciousness in dreams that I was 
 really in a state of blindness. More recently, my mind 
 has occasionally even in sleep reverted to this fact ; but 
 the consciousness has always been accompanied by the 
 delightful feelings of one surprised to find himself sud- 
 denly restored to the possession of a treasure which he 
 had lost. 
 
 "The sense of touch, like that of hearing, is rendered 
 much more sensitive in the blind than in those who see, 
 from the simple fact of its being kept in constant requi- 
 sition. It is a part of my profession to regulate and tune 
 musical instruments, and when opening a piano-forte for 
 that purpose, a single sweep of the hand over tlje sur- 
 
A Communication. 137 
 
 face of the wires enables rae to detect the absence of a 
 single string ; nor do I find the slightest difficulty in 
 discovering the cause of any derangement in the ma- 
 chinery. I can also tell the time by a watch, nearly 
 enough for all practical purposes ; but in this particular 
 I was greatly outmatched by a person with whom I 
 once resided who had never been in possession of sight. 
 " Touching the very important question as the relative 
 position of the seeing and unseeing man to each other, 
 I do not hesitate to say that all the most painful of the 
 disadvantages with which I have to contend under the 
 absence of sight, have arisen entirely from the former 
 not sufficiently understanding the capabilities and resour- 
 ces of the latter. In dealing with the blind, the person 
 who is in the enjoyment of sight usually falls into one 
 or more of several errors to which he is liable. He 
 shoots too high or too low, too far or too short of the 
 mark, and yet, strange and paradoxical as it may seem, 
 he never fails to hit; and if his victim happens to be one 
 of the sensitive order, he is sure to feel the shaft in his 
 tenderest parts. He is walking in the streets ; some one 
 accosts him, and acting upon the principle that those 
 who cannot see cannot hear, he puts his mouth close to 
 his ear, and bawls as though he were speaking to a deaf 
 man. He proceeds a little farther, and some officious 
 
138 A Coimnunication. 
 
 passer-by catches hold of him, and nearly capsizes him 
 in attempting to lift him over some step or other obsta- 
 cle, which, if left to his own resources, he would have 
 passed with the greatest ease. These things would be 
 trifles did not the class of misconceptions which they 
 indicate, seriously affect the blind man's social position 
 and his prospects in life. 
 
 "Suppose, for instance, the case of a blind man, who, 
 by the most persevering application, has fully qualified 
 himself for some important office connected with his 
 profession — say, of music. He hears of an advertise- 
 ment, and he makes the requisite application, but is told 
 that as he cannot see he cannot play. The next time an 
 opportunity offers, he determines to go in person — say, 
 a hundred mile's, and in winter, too — to show that he can 
 play. He performs in public and in private, and shows 
 himself competent to the discharge of all the duties of 
 the employment which he seeks, but the feeling that one 
 who can see is more competent for it than one who can- 
 not, still stands between him and success. He returns, 
 and endeavors to establish himself in his native town. 
 He introduces himself to those who are most likely to 
 advance his interests; he exhibits himself, so to speak, 
 he is approved, he excites some sensation. People cry, 
 'Wonderful !' they tell him that he plays *as if he had eyes 
 
A Coinmiuiication. 139 
 
 in his fingers' ends;' with much more of the same sort. 
 But then still comes the incredulous inquiry: ' How can 
 you teach ?' He explains, he illustrates, he offers to 
 prove his competency to impart instruction upon their 
 own persons, and on their own terms: and it is only 
 when the fact is thus demonstrated that they at length 
 believe. Thus he goes on, continually working against 
 the prejudice which his condition creates; and thus it 
 ever must be till people generally take the trouble to 
 inform themselves better on the subject, and know fully 
 how to estimate such a being as a man without sight. 
 
 " Let it not be supposed that I speak of these things 
 with censure, or from any disposition to find fault. But 
 these are facts, and experience is daily adding to their 
 number; and they are mentioned as things arising from 
 a want of correct appreciation in others of the blind con- 
 dition, and not as evils necessarily connected with that 
 condition : for I am convinced that there are simple, 
 proper and available means, by which the mind might 
 be brought to feel blindness as no privation at all. It is 
 only from the friction which attends his intercourse with 
 those who see, and not from the sense of privation in 
 himself, that the blind man has cause for grief 
 
 " I should be sorry in any remarks of mine, to fail to 
 recognize a superintending and all-wise Providence : but 
 
140 A Communication. 
 
 the Creator expects men to help one another along in 
 the path of life ; and, in the present case, the remedy- 
 can only be applied by the same hands which ignorantly 
 and innocently deal the mischief. To this end, the real 
 position of the blind, and the nature of their resources, 
 must be better understood by those who can see ; and 
 truly happy shall I be, if the remarks which I have here 
 put together, should be made in any degree instrumental 
 in helping other blind persons over the difficulties which, 
 by the help of God, I have been enabled to surmount." 
 
POETRY OF THE DEAF. 
 
 Although my publisher has facetiously reminded me 
 that blanks are sometimes more eloquent than printed 
 pages, yet I am inclined to think that my readers will be 
 better pleased with a closely printed book than with the 
 silent eloquence of blank leaves. Wise words, happy 
 thoughts, and healthy sentiments are always more 
 agreeable and instructive to me than grave silence. It 
 is urged by some that the world is too full of sentiment ; 
 that our literature is burdened with a sort of sickly sen- 
 timentality that enervates the mind, and like modern 
 confectionery, poisons and inflames the imagination with 
 high colors and false flavors. This charge is chiefly 
 made against poetry and romance, and doubtless there 
 is some justice in the pleading. I have never sent a 
 poem to the press without feeling that some apology 
 ought to accompany it. I love true poetry because I 
 love nature ; but because I love nature is no evidence 
 that I can picture her charms tn metrical verse. 
 
 It is not wonderful that the blind should scribble 
 verse ; that we should invoke the aid of the muses, and 
 
142 Poetry of the Deaf. 
 
 feel about us in the darkness for beautiful similitudes 
 and tangible imagery ; and that we should feel our 
 hearts inspired with fine sentiments. We are eminently 
 social and sympathetic. Our ears are tuned to poetic 
 numbers and musical cadences; but that one who has 
 been so deaf from childhood that he could not hear the 
 most terrific peal of thunder, should tune up his lyre 
 and sing to his sweetheart in flowing numbers is to me 
 very marvelous. For the benefit of the curious, and to 
 show that true poetry is the language of the heart rather 
 than of the intellect, that the soul may sing though sur- 
 rounded by unbroken silence, I have selected the fol- 
 lowing poem from several others of less merit. As this 
 effort at versification is severely criticised by the author 
 himself and was originally published under protest, I 
 withhold the author's name. Not that I consider the 
 composition faulty, but because the writer evidently 
 underrated his own ability, and wished only to show 
 that poetry is possible to the deaf. 
 
 Mary. i 
 
 One sparkle from my Mary's eye 
 Would I exchange for gems of Hind, 
 
 Or spices of rich Araby ? 
 
 No : — a clear glowing light hath shin'd 
 
Poetry of the Deaf. 143 
 
 Into the caverns of my mind, 
 To kindle thoughts which lay there cold, 
 And quicken hopes which died of old. 
 
 My soul to other vision blind, 
 
 And casting all its griefs behind, 
 Does count the diamonds and the gold 
 Which Eastern kings have left untold 
 
 But as a beggar's price to buy 
 
 One sparkle of my Mary's eye. 
 
 As the Chaldean from his plain, 
 Upon him saw ten thousand eyes 
 Look down from the unclouded skies ; 
 And deemed them, while he looked again, 
 The arbiters of joy and pain, 
 And from their thrilling glances dre 
 Conclusions most sublime — if true, 
 So I resume my younger lore, 
 And turn astrologer once more ; 
 And happy horoscopes I raise, 
 Replete with cheerful destinies, 
 From the kindly beams that shine, 
 Dear Mary in those orbs of thine. 
 
 'W 
 
44 Poetry of the Deaf. 
 
 m 
 
 In "silence I have walked full long 
 Adown life's narrow thorny vale, 
 
 Deaf to the melody of song, 
 And all music to me mute, — 
 From the organ's rolling peal 
 To the gay burst or mournful wail 
 
 Of harp, and psaltery, and lute. 
 
 Heaven's dread answer I have heard 
 
 In thunder to old ocean's roar, » 
 
 As while the elements conferr'd, 
 
 Their voices shook the rock-bound shore 
 I've listened to the murmuring streams, 
 Which lulled my spirit into dreams, 
 Bright hopes and fair imaginings, 
 But false as all that fancy flings 
 Upon a page where pain and strife 
 Make up the history of life. 
 
 And so beneath o'ershadowing trees, 
 I've heard leaves rustle in the breeze, 
 Which brought me the melodious tale 
 Of the all vocal nightingale, 
 Or else, the cushat's coo of pride 
 Over his own new mated bride ; — 
 
Poetry of the Deaf. 145 
 
 Yes : I have heard thee— Nature, thee, 
 
 In all thy thousand voices speak, 
 Which now are silent all to me : — 
 
 Ah, when shall this long silence break, — 
 And all thy tides of gladness roll 
 In their full torrent on my soul ? 
 
 But as the snows which long have lain 
 
 On the cold tops of Lebanon, 
 
 Melt in the glances of the sun, 
 And, with wild rush, into the plain 
 Haste down, with blessings in their train : — 
 So, Mary, gilded by thine eye 
 
 Griefs melt away, and fall in streams, 
 
 Of hope into the land of dreams, 
 And life's inanities pass by 
 Unheeded, without tear or sigh. 
 
 True, that the human voice divine 
 
 Falls not on this cold sense of mine ; 
 
 And that brisk commercing of thought 
 
 Which brings home rich returns, all fraught 
 
 With ripe ideas — points of view 
 
 Varied, and beautiful, and new, 
 
 Is lost, is dead, in this lone state 
 
 Where feelings sicken, thoughts stagnate, 
 
46 Poetry of the Deaf. 
 
 And good and evil knowledge grows 
 Unguided and unpruned, and throws — 
 Too often a dull sickening shade, 
 Like that by trees of Java made, 
 O'er hopes and o'er desires that might 
 Have lived in glory and delight, 
 Blessed and blessing others, till 
 The gaspings of this life were still. 
 
 But Mary, when I look on thee 
 
 All things beside neglected lie, 
 There is deep eloquence to me 
 
 In the bright sparkle of thine eye. 
 How sweetly can their beamings roll 
 Volumes of meaning to my soul. 
 How long — how vainly all — might words 
 Express what one quick glance affords. 
 So spirits talk perhaps when they 
 Their feelings and their thoughts convey, 
 Till heart to heart, and soul to soul 
 Is in one moment opened all. 
 
 Mary, one sparkle of thine eye 
 I'd not exchange for all the gems 
 That shine in kingly diadems, 
 
 Or spices of rich Araby. 
 
Poetry of the Deaf. 147 
 
 My heart would count th' refined gold 
 Which Eastern kings have left untold 
 But as a beggar's price to buy- 
 One sparkle of my Mary's eye. 
 
 \ am 2i beggar ; poor indeed ! 
 That eye whose glance was ample meed 
 For all the blood-strife that I knew, 
 The toil, the sorrow I went through, 
 No love, no strength, no skill could save 
 From the obstructions of the grave. 
 Was not that glance of heaven ? Oh, why 
 Should things so little earthly die ? 
 Why for the bridal of the tomb 
 Clothe them in loveliness and bloom ? 
 
 Who can these hard things answer ? Thou 
 To whom perforce I turn me now. 
 Oh ! I'm not only deaf but blind — 
 Blind, blind of heart. Oh ! seek me, find 
 Thy lost one — he is prone to stray 
 From that sequestered and cool way, 
 Where thine walk, guided by thine eye 
 And cheered ; — and Thou dost never die. 
 
148 Poetry of the Deaf. 
 
 It seems to me that no one can read this poem with- 
 out being forced to the conclusion that poetic inspiration 
 may reach the heart through the eye, though the ear be 
 dead to the harmony of poetic numbers. The words are 
 evidently not chosen for the sake of euphony, but to 
 convey as clearly as possible the author's sentiment. It 
 is true this effusion is lacking in what is known as 
 rhythmic jingle, but for this reason it is to me all the 
 more agreeable. As I have yet space for another selec- 
 tion, I gladly give place to one more specimen of iambic 
 verse from the same author: 
 
 Alternatives. 
 
 Were all the beams that ever shone 
 From all the stars of day or night, 
 
 Collected in one single cone, 
 Unutterably bright ; — 
 
 I'd give them for one glance of heaven 
 
 Which might but hint of sin forgiven. 
 
 Could all the voices and glad sounds 
 Which have not fallen on my sense, 
 
 Be rendered up in one hour's bounds — 
 A gift immense ; — 
 
 I'd for one whisper to my heart 
 
 Give all the joy this might impart. 
 
Poetry of the Deaf. 149 
 
 If the great deep now offered all 
 
 The treasures in her bosom stored, 
 And to my feet I could now call 
 
 That mighty hoard ; — 
 I'd spurn it utterly for some 
 Small treasure in the world to come. 
 
 If the sweet scents of every flower — 
 
 Each one of which cheers more than wine — 
 
 One plant could from its petals pour, 
 And that were mine ; — 
 
 I would give up that glorious prize 
 
 For one faint breath from Paradise. 
 
 Were all the pleasures I have known, 
 
 ** So few, so very far between," 
 Into one great sensation thrown — 
 
 Not tJien all mean ; — 
 I'd give it freely for one smile 
 From Him who died for me erewhile. 
 
REMINISCENCES OF INSTITUTION LIFE. 
 
 It is now about twenty-five years since I took my 
 clearance at the port of the old Institution for the blind, 
 at New York, in the form of a parchment roll tied with 
 a blue ribbon, weighed anchor in its usually calm and 
 peaceful harbor, and pushed out on the rough sea of life 
 to paddle my own little bark. 
 
 It cannot, therefore, be expected that I shall remem- 
 ber distinctly, and record accurately the many amusing 
 and interesting incidents that occurred during my pupil- 
 age there. I was an inmate of that Institution eight 
 years, — seven years a student, and one year a teacher of 
 music and literature. During the latter part of this 
 term, I was brought into quite intimate social relations 
 with the officers and teachers, and learned something of 
 the workings of such an Institution. If distance lends 
 enchantment to the view, time also mellows the heart, 
 softens asperities, and sweetens all the bitter feelings 
 incident to a student's life. I feel prepared, therefore, 
 after this lapse of time, to look back on my Institution 
 
Initiation of Pupils. 1 5 I 
 
 life without prejudice, animosity, or favoritism. I would 
 not write, or speak a word to injure the feelings of my 
 old class-mates, to save my sorest corn from being step- 
 ped on ; and for the directors, officers and teachers of 
 that period, I entertain the highest regard. 
 
 The process of seasoning new pupils, or hazing, as 
 it is called at college, is much milder than in schools for 
 the seeing, but is always made the occasion of great 
 merriment. It consists chiefly in playing practical jokes 
 on the country greenhorns, (or pumpkin-eaters as the 
 freshmen are called,) for the purpose of taking the rus- 
 ticity off from them, and reducing their self esteem to a 
 healthy temperature. When a new pupil enters the In- 
 stitute, he is generally put in charge of some pious, 
 sedate young man, who is instructed to act as his guide 
 and body-guard, until he has learned the shape of the 
 house, playgrounds, &c., his way to the dining hall, 
 dressing room, dormitories, music rooms, school rooms, 
 water closet, &c. These are sad, gloomy days for him. 
 He has left a pleasant home, perhaps, kind and indulg- 
 ent friends, whose genuine love and sympathy he greatly 
 misses. During this time he is hardly noticed by the 
 older pupils, and if spoken to at all by the principal or 
 teachers, it is done in a very condescending way. The 
 matron, or mother of the establishment, (who has usu- 
 
152 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 ally some heart,) singles out the new comers, and be- 
 stows upon them such little marks of kindness as her 
 arduous duties will allow. In this way the novice is left 
 to season for a few weeks, before he is put through the 
 pickers. He is commonly first attracted by the sound 
 of the great organ, pianos and band instruments, and 
 expresses a great desire to learn to play each and all of 
 them. An old joke in my time was to send the would- 
 be-musician to the old professor of music who could 
 swear fluently in German, French and English, and 
 when annoyed would furnish a specimen of each, or if 
 very angry would mix the three into the most ludicrous 
 profanity I ever heard. He seldom exhibited irritation, 
 however, when a new pupil invaded his music room. 
 He would take him kindly by the hand and say, " Veil, 
 my young friend, vot you vant ?" On being told by the 
 young rustic that he wanted to practice on the chapel 
 organ, or wanted the mouth-piece to the swinette, or 
 would the Prof please lend him a musical ear, that the 
 boys said he kept them, the old professor would laugh 
 and say : " Tem roguish poys vant to fool 5/ou ; it vill 
 be yet some time before you vill blay the pig organ ; be 
 patient, my young frient, you must not believe everyting 
 vot you hear." 
 
 Another game, was to make the new scholar believe 
 
Love of Fun. 1 5 3 
 
 that it was customary to go to supper on Sunday night, 
 in his stocking feet, or without a coat. This afforded 
 the boys an opportunity to step on his toes, or called 
 the Superintendent's attention to his indecorous appear- 
 ance, and he would be sent from the dining room. 
 
 It may be supposed that a school composed entirely 
 of blind boys and girls would be easily governed ; that 
 insubordination to superiors, flagrant violations of rule, 
 and mischievous pranks could not be reckoned among 
 the troubles and perplexities of managing such an insti- 
 tution. But 1 apprehend that the officers and teachers 
 of schools for the blind, can fully sympathise with prin- 
 cipals and professors of colleges and seminaries all over 
 the world. One would naturally think that children 
 whose sightless condition would seem to render them 
 so helpless and dependent, would be passive, tractable, 
 and not disposed to engage in tricks and games for the 
 purpose of annoying and teasing each other, or their 
 teachers ; but this is not the case, human nature is per- 
 verse wherever you find it, and the love of fun and frolic 
 is as strong in the blind youth as in any. 
 
 A piece of mischief that seemed to annoy the Super- 
 intendent more than any other, and never failed to put 
 the whole house in disorder, was stealing the bell-clap 
 pers. This would occur periodically, three or four times 
 
1 54 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 a year, but the perpetrators were never detected. The 
 confusion occasioned by it was extremely amusing. 
 When the French cook, whose duty it was to wake us 
 up in the morning, would climb up to the third story to ' 
 ring the office bell and find it clapperless his rage knew 
 no bounds. He would shake the voiceless bell, and 
 swear in French, English and Dutch, while we were 
 smothering our laughter under the bed-clothes. After 
 assuring himself that the thing wouldn't give down, he 
 would rapidly descend to the kitchen muttering, " I vill 
 tell Mizzer Cham von blind boy he dam rascal," The 
 principal teacher, who usually rung the prayer bell, was 
 a very amiable man, and would have been wise and 
 equal to any emergency \i he could have carried all the 
 volumes of Chambers' Encyclopedia in his coat pocket. 
 He had inventive genius enough, however, to supply a 
 vacant bell with an improvised clapper. This he did by 
 pounding on it with the poker ; but not loud enough to 
 wake up the boys, who were good sleepers, and seldom 
 permitted anything but the danger of losing their break- 
 fast, or the cry of fire to disturb their slumbers. Con- 
 sequently, the chapel services on these occasions were 
 thinly attended. A solemn lecture, however, from the 
 Superintendent, was generally enjoyed by those present. 
 The same difficulty was met by the dining room girls in 
 
Bell- Clapper Fever. 1 5 5 
 
 calling us to breakfast, for it always happened that all 
 the bells were robbed of their tongues in the same night ; 
 but the poker being again called into requisition, the 
 breakfast bell was rung, and we who were ready for the 
 feast of smoky coffee, skippery cheese, rancid butter and 
 stale bread, marched in and took our respective places, 
 behind our respective stools, and waited for a blessing to 
 be invoked upon these bounties. The signal for saying 
 grace, (which was generally done by one of the older 
 pupils in a pious tone of voice, but with rapid utterance,) 
 was a tap of the bell ; but as the bell wouldn't tap with- 
 out the poker, grace was omitted, and we proceeded to 
 business. 
 
 I may as well say here that we did not eat in silence, 
 but freely bandied jokes, related anecdotes, fired squibs 
 of witticism, and speared each other to our heart's con- 
 tent. I was always glad of this laxness in discipline, for 
 I think we enjoyed this feast of mind and flow of soul 
 better than our bread and coffee. During the breakfast 
 hour, the Superintendent sometimes read to us from the 
 morning papers, when order and silence were enforced ; 
 but never on bell-clapper days, — he was too much out 
 of temper. There was a rule that no one should leave 
 the dining room until the bell was struck. This Hannah 
 would do by hitting it against the iron post, which was 
 
156 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 the signal for a general laugh and scamper for the play- 
 ground. 
 
 At nine o'clock, the hour for study and work to com- 
 mence, the bell and poker were again rung ; but before 
 noon the man of all work was sent for and new tongues 
 put in all the bells. The joke was then dropped, and 
 things moved on in the even tenor of their way, until the 
 bell-clapper fever again returned, when it would be 
 found that all the bells in the house were again speech- 
 less, except the belles who used to flirt with the clerks 
 and assistants ; tJieir tongues were never silent. Again 
 the servants and faculty were troubled and exasperated, 
 from the French cook to the President of the board of 
 managers, and renewed efforts were made to detect the 
 author of this mischief Finding that lectures, threats, 
 and intimidations failed, the Superintendent hit upon a 
 a new plan which he thought must discover the culprit. 
 
 All the boys who were thought capable of such mali - 
 cious mischief, or of having any knowledge of the mat- 
 ter, were summoned to the office, and stood up in a row 
 along the wall on one side of the room. The old pro- 
 fessor who believed that a guilty conscience made a 
 guilty face, then took his position in front of the row, 
 where he could see the expression of each countenance, 
 and began to question and cross question, somewhat as 
 
The Investigation. 157 
 
 follows : " John, look me in the face." "I can't, sir." 
 *' Well, turn your face this way." "With pleasure, sir." 
 ** Now, tell me, do you know anything about this bell- 
 clapper business ?" " No, sir." " Have you had no 
 hand in it ?" " No, sir, nor had it in my hand." " You 
 are insolent." " Beg pardon, sir, I didn't intend it." 
 " David, can you tell me who it is that makes a practice 
 of taking the clappers from the bells?" "No, sir, it's a 
 bad practice and makes us fellows a great deal of troub- 
 le." ** Hark, sir ! I did not ask for comments. Joseph, 
 Daniel, Abel, Isaac, are either of you guilty of meddling 
 with the bells ?" " No, sir." " Do you know of any 
 boys bad enough to commit such a misdemeanor ?" 
 " Oh, yes," responded all the voices in concert. "Will 
 you name them?" "Well, let me see, there is Mr. 
 Root," said one, meaning George F., the vocal teacher. 
 "And Robert Elder," said another, " And Mr. Reiff" 
 said the third. " Silence, boys." said the professor in a 
 voice of thunder, " I will have you all punished. Now 
 let me warn you ; if I can find the one who is guilty of 
 this outrage upon the peace and good order of this 
 house, I will have him expelled without a moment's 
 notice. You may go." After this novel examination, 
 the Superintendent came up in the schoolroom, where 
 several of the older pupils and graduates were assem- 
 
158 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 bled, and with tears in his voice, if not in his eyes, 
 entreated the young men to aid him so far as might be, 
 in suppressing this practice of robbing the bells. This 
 was cheerfully promised, and one young man out of the 
 fullness of his heart, offered to send the bells to the 
 hardware and have the clappers restored, paying for 
 them from his own slender purse. This generous offer, 
 I am ashamed to say, was accepted, and had no better 
 effect than to attach suspicion to him, that he was in 
 some way implicated, particeps criminis, as the lawyers 
 have it ; but the real culprit was never detected. The 
 bell-clapper fever still visited the Institution periodically, 
 and no remedy v/as found, until a large bell was pur- 
 chased and hung on the chapel. This was rung for all 
 occasions until the people outside began to regard it as 
 a nuisance. 
 
 One morning this bell had not been rung for break- 
 fast in season, and the French cook, whose irascible 
 temper could brook no delay, rushed into the dining 
 room, grasped the bell rope and gave it a tremend- 
 ous pull. The floor being bare and somewhat icy, 
 the cook's feet flew up, and his head came down, so 
 quick that he had not time to say, " Dieu de del ! jf'ai 
 casse 7na tete f before his back struck the floor with a 
 thud that jarred the mugs on the table, and frightened 
 
Cutting the Bell Rope. 159 
 
 the rats in the cellar. The bell rope, which some sly 
 urchin had cut nearly off was still in his hands, the 
 devil in his heart, fury and vengeance depicted on his 
 countenance. With a muttered curse on " von damn 
 blind boy," and something about poison, he left the 
 room amid explosions of laughter from the waiting girls. 
 And yet this same old Frenchman had a chord of 
 sympathy in his nature, and some generous impulses. 
 He had a few favorites among the boys, and I fortunate- 
 ly was one of them. He used frequently to invite me 
 into his kitchen and pantry, to give me cakes, baked 
 apples, and other nicknacks. He has even brought 
 tarts and pieces of cranberry pie to my bed. This was 
 intended for kindness, but it nearly ruined my digestion. 
 One night after the ten o'clock bell had rung, which 
 was the last curfew, feeling tremendously hungry, I went 
 with a chum of mine over to the kitchen, and we were 
 each rewarded with a huge slice of bread and butter 
 and a hunk of cheese. While we were standing before 
 the fire and munching our lunch, in walked no less a 
 personage than the grave and dignified Superintendent. 
 We heard him coming and knew his step, but there was 
 no escape. Strange to say, however, he did not reprove 
 us, but administered a severe rebuke to John, the cook, 
 ending with his usual admonition : '' Now let this be 
 
i6o Remmiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 the very last time.'' When this comes to the ear of my 
 friend the " Major," he will remember how ardently we 
 wished for a small hole to crawl out at. 
 
 Notwithstanding this old Frenchman's freaks of gen- 
 erosity, he was made the victim of many tricks and 
 pranks, both by the boys and girls. One night as he 
 was locking the screen door, a wash dish of water, tar 
 and flour, was emptied on his bare head. He had long, 
 curly hair, and bushy whiskers, wore a red shirt and 
 white apron. The sorry plight, therefore, in which he 
 appeared before the Superintendent's door, can be better 
 imagined than described. The water was dripping from 
 his clothes, the flour and tar were in his hair and whis- 
 kers, when with frantic rage he rushed into Mr. C.'s 
 presence, gesticulating violently. I will not attempt to 
 describe his language. No one could do it. It was not 
 made up of words, but broken ejaculations in French, 
 English, Portuguese, and a dozen unknown tongues, in - 
 terspersed with coughs, sneezes and oaths, that even an 
 Indian agent could not have interpreted. " Never mind, 
 John, go and wash," said the astonished Superintendent, 
 trying hard to keep down his risibles, but ready to burst 
 with laughter, " I will attend to those bad boys." But 
 the matter was never investigated. 
 
 Another remarkable character at the Institution was 
 
Locked Out. 1 6 1 
 
 John the baker. He was a full blooded Englishman, 
 morose and taciturn, and so cross that no one dared to 
 meddle with him. One ev^ening, several of the older 
 pupils and graduates of both sexes, went out to spend a 
 social hour or two, and as it often happened, they did 
 not return until long after the hour for retiring. So on 
 reaching the Institution grounds they found the house 
 securely locked, and judging from the stillness that pre- 
 vailed, everybody fast asleep. Here was a dilemma. 
 They couldn't get in and they couldn't stay out. At 
 last a happy thought struck one of the young men. He 
 remembered that John the baker kept late hours in 
 order to have hot rolls in readiness for the officers' 
 breakfast. Knowing about the locality of the bake- 
 room, he went around on Thirth-third street and rapped 
 on the window. " Who is there ?" said a gruff voice. 
 " John, please come to the front door and unlock it ;" 
 said Robert in a low voice. " Not to save you from 
 'anging;'" growled the baker. " I 'ave just got my 
 hoven 'ot and I caunt leave it." " Only come and turn 
 the knob," pleaded Rob, ** it will only take a minute." 
 " Well," said John, ** go a'ead hand make 'aste." In a 
 moment he was at the door, threw it open and rushed 
 out. The door, having a spring, immediately closed 
 and the night latch caught. When John found himself 
 
1 62 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 locked out, his rage was terrible. He kicked, he 
 jumped, he swore and ran round the circle like a mad 
 bull, ejaculating with every jump, " Oh my hoven ! 
 my hoven !" The French cook having been at last 
 aroused, the door was opened again, and the baker rushed 
 in like a weasel in a knot-hole. 
 
 I am glad to be able to record this fact, that among 
 so many boys representing the different classes and 
 grades of society, very few had habits of dissipation, and 
 few were mean enough to steal from each other. Pies, 
 cakes, nuts, candy and other edibles were not safe, how- 
 ever, in drawers, trunks or desks, without being securely 
 locked. I have often had tobacco and cigars stolen, and 
 one day missed a bottle of camphor liniment, which con- 
 tained some caustic ingredient. On Sunday I detected 
 the odor of my liniment on one of the boys' heads. He 
 had mistaken it for hair oil. He was a lame boy, and 
 enjoyed the soubriquet of Timber Shin, because 1^ had 
 a wooden leg, for the purchase of which I had contrib- 
 uted my last half dollar, and I thought the stealing of 
 my liniment but a poor return for my charity, and was 
 only sorry it did not take all his hair out. 
 
 One of the graduates who was employed as an assist- 
 ant music teacher, was greatly annoyed by having the 
 lock of his drawer picked and his dinner stolen. He 
 
Theft. 163 
 
 boarded some distance from the Institution, and to save 
 himself the trouble of walking to and from his boarding 
 house, he would bring his dinner in a little pail, and 
 deposit it in his private drawer in the dressing room. 
 But frequently when he went for his lunch, he would 
 find the pail empty. He held several inquests over this 
 lunch-pail, but failed to elicit any evidence that seemed 
 to point to the guilty party. Day after day his lunch 
 would disappear, in the same mysterious and provoking 
 manner. This was too much for even a good-natured 
 Scotchman to bear. He plead, he expostulated, he en- 
 treated, he threatened ; but all to no purpose. It is said 
 there are some things in this world that have no con- 
 science, and a hungry stomach is one of them. The 
 boys would steal his dinner. At last he collected the 
 music-room full of pupils, and announced with terrible 
 earnestness, that he would put poison in his dinner-pail, 
 that the next villain who stole his dinner should die as 
 he deserved. " Well," said a little fellow, "he'll die with 
 a full stomach, that's one consolation." Finally the pro- 
 fessor hit upon the plan of leaving his lunch -pail in the 
 office. This proved to be a safer plan, but even then he 
 sometimes found it empty. 
 
 I do not know that theft is justifiable under any cir- 
 cumstances, but I could never find it in my heart to con- 
 
164 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 demn a poor hungry boy or girl for stealing a good 
 dinner, especially in a public institution or boarding 
 house where the fare is so meager. We had pie but 
 once a year, and turkey or chicken on Christmas only ; 
 but these extras were usually donated by our good 
 friend and patron saint, Nicholas Dean. He should 
 have a monument erected by the blind with this inscrip- 
 tion : " He was eyes for the sightless, he had feeling 
 for their infirmity, sympathy for their sorrows, kind 
 words to cheer, and his heart and purse were ever open 
 to their needs." 
 
 In justice to the committee on supplies, I ought to 
 say here, that an abundance of the staple articles of food 
 were provided, but they were never prepared and brought 
 on the pupils' table in a palatable condition. In plain 
 English they were not properly cooked, and the style in 
 wiiich they were served up would have disgusted an 
 Esquimaux or a Comanche Indian. The officers' table, 
 however, was bountifully furnished with a generous 
 variety of food, well cooked and served up in princely 
 style. The smell of beefsteak, hot cakes, and good cof- 
 fee of a winter's morning would exasperate us beyond 
 measure ; for we knew that the savory odors of these 
 luxuries were all we should have the privilege of enjoy- 
 ing. I used to think, and still believe that a more hygi- 
 
Plain Fare. 165 
 
 enic manner of living, would have been less expensive 
 and less damaging to our digestion. After a hearty 
 dinner of pork and beans, I used to mope about, the rest 
 of the day with about as much life and activity as an 
 anaconda might be supposed to exhibit after swallowing 
 a Ceylcn missionary. Although I have not the statis- 
 tics to compare, I will hazard the conjecture that " Our 
 Home on the Hillside'' will feed the same number of 
 inmates on healthier, more palatable, more nutritious 
 food, for much less money than it costs our Institution 
 to furnish its tables, and while we rarely had a tooth- 
 some morsel, the guests and patients at " Our Home " 
 fare sumptuously every day. 
 
 One winter for some reason the committee had sup- 
 plied a large quantity of corned beef This was worked 
 up into every variety of dish that the inventive genius 
 of a French cook could devise, till the pupils loathed 
 the very smell of it, as did the children of Israel the 
 quails in the wilderness. At last, one of the older pupils 
 who had some faculty for rhyming, went into the office 
 while the Superintendent was at dinner, and by the aid 
 of an amanuensis wrote the following lines on the office 
 slate : 
 
 " Mr. B., we have come to the sage conclusion. 
 That this benevolent Institution 
 
1 66 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 Has searched all over the broad creation, 
 To find the mammoth bull of Bashan ; 
 That he was found some time last fall, 
 And corned, with head, and horns, and all ; 
 Corned beef raw, and corned beef roasted. 
 Corned beef boiled, and corned beef toasted. 
 Corned beef tender, and corn beef tough. 
 Now, Mr. B., we've had corned beef enough." 
 But the corned beef was on hand and had to be eaten. 
 If at this late date, I feel my heart go out in gratitude 
 toward those who proved themselves true friends of our 
 Institution, I find in it no vindictive feeling for those 
 who served the public, as officers of a beneficent Institu- 
 tion, for the salary they received only: and love of petty 
 power, I might have added, for they had the privilege 
 of tyrannizing over a class of persons entirely at their 
 mercy, whose only resources and facilities for education 
 could be found at such a school, who must accept the 
 situation, or go home disgraced, and into the world to 
 do life's battle, not only blind, but ignorant. 
 
 To show that matters sometimes reached a point 
 where forbearance ceased to be a virtue, and that the 
 pupils had spirit enough to repel indignities and insults, 
 I will relate one little incident. Under the state regula- 
 tion, which very justly does not exclude any person 
 
Negro Equality. 167 
 
 from the benefits and advantages of our Institution, a 
 half witted negro boy was received and placed at once 
 on an equality with the older pupils ; that is, one of the 
 best beds was assigned him in the dormitory among the 
 young men, whose olfactories were rather sensitive. 
 Had he been a colored boy of good sense, and cleanly 
 habits, no one would have raised any serious objection ; 
 but he was a poor simpleton, and filthy withal. The boys 
 accordingly called an indignation meeting and voted 
 Cuff out of their bedroom. They resolved that a darkey 
 should not be stuck under their noses, and appointed a 
 committee to remove the nuisance, which was speedily 
 done. He was taken out of his bed and put into the 
 bed of Mr. J., the principal teacher, whose room was 
 only separated from ours by a thin slat partition. At 
 that time Mr. J. was courting the nurse, and did not 
 usually come up to his den until about midnight. Sev- 
 eral of us were lying awake to enjoy the fun. About 
 twelve o'clock the professor came tripping along, heel 
 and toe, with lamp in hand. In breathless silence we 
 listened. He opened the door of his bedroom, but did 
 not go in. He stood for some time on the threshold, in 
 utter amazement. Whether he was angry or frightened, 
 or thought he saw Banquo's ghost, we could not deter- 
 mine. At length he walked cautiously in, put down his 
 
1 68 Reminiscences of Institutio7i Life. 
 
 lamp and stood in mute astonishment, gazing no doubt 
 on the sooty face and woolly head that pressed his 
 downy pillow. " Henry !" said he, shaking the snoring 
 Ethiopian, " what does this mean ? Who put you 
 here?" " I dunno, g'way ! g'way !" said the disturbed 
 darkey. " Henry ! Henry ! wake up, you are in the 
 wrong bed," screamed the professor. ** G'way ! g'way !" 
 growled the idiot. By this time the boys in the dormi- 
 tory were fairly awake and enjoying the sport. We did 
 not dare to laugh aloud, fearing Mr. J. would know our 
 voices, and report us at headquarters. Very soon, how- 
 ever, he took his lamp and went out as he came in, heel 
 and toe, through the hall in search of the chambermaid. 
 Now was our time to laugh, and the bedroom rung with 
 exultant voices. Directly Biddy came up, took th<^ 
 negro to the sick room, and changed the sheets of the 
 professor's bed. This was the last snuff we had of 
 the fragrant African, and no effort was made to detect 
 and punish the offenders. It was doubtless considered 
 a good joke and dropped. 
 
 In order to preclude the possibility of intermarriage 
 among the pupils, and to guard against other direful 
 consequences, the Fathers of the Institution thought it 
 expedient to adopt as the first rule, — " There shall be an 
 entire separation of the sexes." Of course this rule had 
 
Rule First. 169 
 
 some modifications. We were permitted to meet in the 
 public parlor, in the recitation rooms, chapel, &c., but 
 only under the vigilant eye of the matron or some of 
 the teachers. Like other youths, many of us were 
 ardent, and longed to lavish our affections on something 
 human or divine, and were not content to worship our 
 divinities at a distance. There was a partition of matched 
 boards between the girls' and boys' piazza. Through 
 this, some rebel against rule first, had cut a hole large 
 enough to kiss through, and to shake hands with the 
 girls. 
 
 " Through this little chink the lover could greet her, 
 
 And secrecy made their courting the sweeter, 
 
 While Peter kissed Thisbe, and Thisbe kissed Peter, — 
 
 P'or kisses, like folks with diminutive souls. 
 
 Will manage to creep through the smallest of holes." 
 
 One day while the officers were at dinner, we made a 
 battering ram of one of the boys who wore stoga boots, 
 and battered this partition down. It was afterwards 
 replaced by a double thickness of boards, securely 
 nailed, with tin between. Even this barrier would soon 
 have been cut away, had not the culprit been detected 
 and summarily expelled from the Institution. But this 
 did not prevent clandestine meetings, and harmless little 
 
I/O Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 flirtations. I doubt if granite walls and solid iron-fences, 
 horse-high and pig-tight, could have kept the boys and 
 girls apart. 
 
 Love-making among young people who could not 
 even see each other's blushes, would seem ludicrous in 
 the extreme to those who look for manifestations of the 
 tender passion in the expression of the face, or glance of 
 the eye : indeed it was deemed very reprehensible by 
 the officers and teachers, who wanted to monopolize this 
 business themselves. I am glad to be able to record, 
 however, that from all the intimacies which rule first 
 could not suppress, there came no harm, no disgrace, 
 no scandal to the white pupils of our Institution during 
 the eight years I spent there. It was reported that a 
 little misfortune happened to one of the negro girls ; 
 but her ignorance, and her low moral and social stand- 
 ing, should be accepted as some apology in her case. 
 It shows that intelligence, refinement, moral training, 
 and social position, are great safeguards to virtue. 
 
 It may be wondered whether any genuine courtships 
 ever took place among the inmates of the Institution. I 
 overheard one evening a specimen which I am now at 
 liberty to describe, as the loving couple have been mar- 
 ried for many years. The young man had been to town 
 and filled his pockets with peanuts and candy, which he 
 
Peanut Courtship. 1 7 1 
 
 doubtless intended for his sweetheart ; for he came up 
 to the graduates' retreat, then fronting on Eighth Ave- 
 nue, and went directly to the sitting room where he 
 Tound his dulciana waiting for him. She was a most 
 excellent girl, good and conscientious, but would en- 
 courage these clandestine meetings. Besides being 
 entirely without sight, she was partially deaf, and her 
 voice was anything but melodious. When her lover 
 threw a handful of peanuts in her lap, he said, " Lucre- 
 tia, do you love peanuts ?" " Do I love you much?" 
 she repeated, " Why Abel, you know I do." " No ! are 
 you fond of nuts, — peaxi\x\.s ?" he shouted in a louder 
 tone of voice, and blushing so deeply I could almost 
 hear it in the darkness. " I have brought you some 
 peanuts and candy," he said, sitting down close beside 
 her, and lovingly taking her hand, 1 suppose, for this is 
 the medium through which the magnetic currents may 
 pass, when eye cannot signal to eye by tender glances, 
 the emotions of the heart. "Abel, do you like pea- 
 nuts?" she said. "Yes, indeed. I am very fond of them," 
 he replied. "Why, how do you crack 'em ?" she simpered. 
 "With my fingers, just so," — giving one a snap which 
 she must have heard. " Let me crack some for you," 
 she said presently, " and you take some of the candy." 
 " No, I had rather take a kiss, darling." Here the con- 
 
1/2 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 versation became so sweet, that I do not care to record 
 it for the benefit of outsiders who may not feel the same 
 sympathy for the love-smitten couple, that I did just at 
 that period of my life. 
 
 I may truthfully say that many of the blind are ad- 
 dicted to habits of intemperance and dissipation. This 
 is sometimes excused in them on account of their lim- 
 ited resources for pleasure and amusement, But I ask 
 for no such apology in my case ; I think it will not be valid 
 at the day of judgment. As I have said, but few of the 
 boys at our Institute had formed these habits, but there 
 was a laxness in moral sentiment in this respect, as well 
 as in profanity. Many of them would drink when op- 
 portunity offered, and swear as proficiently as if they 
 had been schooled in a navy yard or the U. S. congress. 
 
 There was one young man who worked in the willow 
 shop who loved his toddy and often smuggled himself 
 out, and smuggled himself in with a bottle of the deli- 
 cious in his pocket. There was a rule, however, that 
 prohibited any one leaving the premises without a per- 
 mit from the Superintendent, and the back yard and 
 playground were surrounded by a tight board fence 
 about eight feet high, with sharp spikes driven in the 
 top. But these the boys had pounded down in several 
 places so that they might scale the fence without tearing 
 
Smuggling and Confiscation. 173 
 
 their breeches. This our whiskey smuggler attempted 
 to do one night, but just as he had got one leg over, the 
 other was caught and held with a grip like an iron vise. 
 He kicked and swore, threatened and coaxed, but all to 
 no purpose. At last he changed his base, drew his leg 
 back, jumped down and commenced belaboring his ene- 
 my over the head with his hickory cane. " William ! 
 William ! what are you about?" cried the astonished 
 Superintendent, in an agitated voice. " Do you know 
 whom you are pounding?" "Why, is it you, Mr. C?" 
 growled Bill, " I thought it was one of the boys." This 
 was not " Lord Stanley's " last adventure, however, he 
 continued to go out after his dram and smuggled in 
 many a bottle of blue ruin. 
 
 There was also a rule against bringing in victuals. 
 This was intended as a sanitary measure, to prevent the 
 pupils from injuring their stomachs with pastry, confec- 
 tionery, &c. ; but I used to think that the half-cooked 
 food, the tainted meats and rancid butter they gave us, 
 were more damaging than the little pies, cakes, and 
 other nicknacks we sometimes bought at the city bakery, 
 Ninth Avenue. 
 
 One Saturday when our breakfast was slimmer than 
 usual, (and which in truth some of us had missed by not 
 being present at morning prayers,) a few of us, the 
 
174 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 " Wild Scotchman " among the rest, made up a purse 
 and sent out to the bakery for rusk, gingerbread and 
 cheese. " Honest George," a boy who had partial sight, 
 was commissioned to purchase the provisions. On his 
 way in, with his well-laden basket, he was captured in 
 the front hall by the Superintendent, and compelled to 
 disgorge. In the meantime we were anxiously waiting 
 with our appetites whetted to a razor edge, and when 
 George came up, and announced that our provender had 
 been confiscated, our rage was fearful to behold. The 
 " Wild Scotchman " cursed the Superintendent for a 
 fool, — hoped the Lord would never forgive him, — said 
 he would not if he was the Lord. Suffice it to say, we 
 never got that basket of contraband provisions. 
 
 At breakfast one morning we received a very liberal 
 supply of brown sugar. This was so unusual that it 
 excited comment, and many opinions were hazarded as 
 to the cause. Some were suspicious that the sugar was 
 not clean, and refused to eat it. Soon after breakfast a 
 large number of us were assembled on the piazza to 
 enjoy the sunshine, and the sugar question was again 
 brought up and discussed. " Bedad, boys, I can explain 
 that;" said Murphy in his rich Irish brogue, " but it's a 
 delicate matter, and I'll not be afther betraying me 
 friends." This hint excited our suspicions, and we were 
 
Brown Siigar Joke. 175 
 
 determined to ascertain, if possible, what Tom knew 
 about it. " Oh tell, please tell us, Tom," chimed in 
 several voices. " Ye'll tell the girls, said Tom, " the 
 swate crayters, and they'll turn their delicate stomachs 
 inside out." This confirmed our worst suspicions, and 
 we insisted on hearing what Tom knew about the sugar. 
 " Well, now, bedad, boys, I'll tell ye," said he, " if ye'll 
 promise not to tell the ould Professor," We promised, 
 *' Hannah whispered to me not to ate a bit of the sugar, 
 for one of John's cats had a litter of kittens on the cloth 
 that was spread over the sugar barrel. It made a nice 
 nest for the cat ; do you see ?" By this time several 
 stomachs were emptied of their contents, and others 
 were heaving, some were spitting, some swearing, others 
 vowmg vengeance on John the cook, and his cats. 
 Meantime Tom had vanished from the crowd, and hav- 
 ing gotten beyond our reach, he shouted from the shop 
 door : " Boys, it's all a lie. Hannah didn't say any 
 such thing." " Come back, Tom, you rascal," shouted 
 a dozen voices. But Tom was gone. 
 
 Whether this story of Tom's was true or not we had 
 great cause of complaint against these same cats. They 
 were the only privileged characters in the house. They 
 had access not only to the kitchen and pantry, but the 
 dining rooms, and were allowed to run over the tables, 
 
1/6 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 to nibble the bread and to scent the rooms like a petro- 
 leum refinery. Against this cat worship we had pro- 
 tested many times, both to the matron and to the Super- 
 intendent. We had presented a long category of com- 
 plaints, — that our bread and butter tasted of cats, — that 
 the dining room smelled of cats, — that our sleep was 
 disturbed by cats, and that a great catastrophe would 
 soon happen if John did not take care of his cats. 
 
 As a cataplasm for our wounded feelings, we were 
 promised that if we would destroy the cats we should 
 have an oyster supper. This we knew would be a diffi- 
 cult task to perform, as they were John's pets and he' 
 could not be persuaded to kill them, so we resolved to 
 do it ourselves. We accordingly erected a gallows in 
 the alley and agreed with Sammy, a little Indian boy, to 
 pay him sixpence for every French cat he would bring 
 us. In a few days all but one had paid the penalty of 
 their offenses against cleanliness and good order. 
 Counting nine lives to each cat, sixty-three lives had 
 been scratched out. The last one was difficult to cap- 
 ture. He was a large, spotted animal, rather shy, and 
 the prime favorite of his master. John had noticed the 
 disappearance of his pets and suspected the conspiracy. 
 He therefore kept an eye out for his favorite. One sun- 
 ny day Sammy saw grimalkin slumbering on the grass 
 
Cats. 177 
 
 in the bleach yard, but unfortunately around this enclos- 
 ure was a high picket fence. Cautiously our little Indi- 
 an scout climbed the paling, and crept across the lawn. 
 He seized the cat and ran for the fence, but John's vig- 
 ilant eye saw him. With a fearful oath he rushed from 
 the kitchen and across the lawn like a whirlwind. Sam- 
 my had secured his prize and was running at the top of 
 his speed ; but the race was unequal. The Indian had 
 short legs and a heavy cat to carry. The Frenchman 
 was barefoot, bare-headed, and under a high pressure of 
 fury. Sam reached the fence ; dropped the cat, threw 
 himself over, and struck square on the top of his head. 
 ^' Envoyez au diable T hissed the Frenchman as he 
 picked up his cat and returned to his kitchen. That 
 cat we never got, nor the oyster supper, but we did get 
 a clean dining room, and slept without the nightly ser- 
 enades of a cat concert. 
 
 In taking a retrospective view of my Institution life, 
 I now see things in a very different light from the 
 medium through which I then saw them. I now see the 
 wisdom, justice and importance of rules and restrictions 
 which then seemed unwise, oppressive, and cruel. 
 Some of the best measures adopted for our comfort and 
 convenience, were regarded by us as tyrannical, humili- 
 ating, and insulting to our sense of propriety. Why 
 
178 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 cannot students see and understand that there must be 
 discipline, or there can be no order? In an open resist- 
 ance to authority, we could not hope to be successful, 
 so we resorted to strategy and conspiracy. In one 
 instance that I remember we came off victorious. 
 
 It was found that the pupils were subjected to impert- 
 inent questions, and other interruptions during study 
 hours. Large placards were therefore printed and hung 
 up in the school and music rooms, work-shops and halls. 
 The letters were big and black, and read as follows : — 
 " Visitors are particularly requested not to interrupt the 
 pupils when they are engaged in work or study." This 
 was intended for our protection, and why any one 
 should have felt aggrieved I do not now understand ; 
 but for some reason both the boys and girls felt offend- 
 ed, and determined by a concerted action to show their 
 displeasure, by turning all the cards with their faces to 
 the wall. This hint was disregarded and the cards were 
 again turned print side out. Resolved that the obnox- 
 ious cards should not interfere with our pleasure and 
 privilege of talking with visitors, we took them all down 
 and burned them. For this we received a severe lecture. 
 New cards were printed and put up, but they shared 
 the same fate. At last the plan was abandoned as im- 
 practicable, and we were jubilant. 
 
How the Blind Eat. 179 
 
 The blind are eminently social in their nature. We 
 were fond of company, and always delighted to have 
 people from the outside world come to see us. They 
 amused us with their curious questions and we found 
 pleasure in chatting with them, and wished to learn as 
 much as possible of the great world in which we hoped 
 some day to make a sensation. 
 
 It is astonishing what absurd questions are sometimes 
 put to the blind by people of ordinary intelligence on 
 any other subject. A lady once came to me in the music 
 room, where I was practicing the piano. After listening 
 for a moment she said, " I don't see how you find the 
 keys." " Well, I don't see, either," said I. " I don't 
 see," she continued, ** how you blind people learn music 
 at all." *' We don't see, either," said I, " we do it by 
 hearing." " Oh, how wonderful ! but I don't see how 
 you learn the way through this great house." " We 
 don't see, either," said I, '' we walk by faith." " Oh, how 
 wonderful !" she repeated in a thoughtful tone. I had 
 learned my catechism and was prepared for the next 
 question. " What do you blind folks do when you get 
 hungry ? " *' Why, we eat," said I, '* if we can find any- 
 thing fit to eat." "Oh, how can you ? how do you find 
 your victuals ? " " Oh, that is easy enough," said I, 
 '* we eat nothing but spoon victuals from large mugs, 
 
l8o Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 with one end of a string tied to the handle and the other 
 to one of our front teeth. This serves to guide the 
 spoon, so that we are able to find our mouths." " Oh, 
 how wonderful ! " she repeated as she left the room. 
 
 To show what liberal souls there are in this world I 
 will mention one incident, every word of which is true. 
 One day I was called from the chemistry class and re- 
 quested to go up to the chapel and play the organ for 
 some ladies. This flattered my vanity, for although I 
 practiced the big organ I was by no means a proficient 
 on that instrument. So up I went, drew out the grand 
 organ stop and made the thing toot to the entire satis- 
 faction of the ladies. As they were leaving one of them 
 took my hand and dropped into it a coin which I at 
 once recognized as an old-fashioned penny. " We are 
 not allowed to accept such large donations," said I, 
 throwing the copper after them as they left the chapel. 
 
 We were always glad, however, to entertain company, 
 and nothing pleased us better than to be called from the 
 work-shop to sing, or play in the band. One day some 
 ladies of distinction came and desired to hear the famous 
 Institution band. The members were soon assembled 
 in the large music room, and seemed to be waiting for 
 the ladies to come in, and for a signal from the leader to 
 strike up the hurdy-gurdy with the inevitable Star 
 
Ridiculous Blunders. i8i 
 
 Spangled Banner, Hail Columbia, and Yankee Doodle. 
 While we were thus waiting the door stood wide open 
 and a strong breeze was blowing through the room. 
 This I determined to stop by closing the door, but in 
 trying to find the knob I placed my hand square upon 
 the full round breast of a plump little lady who stood 
 leaning against the door. With a little scream of sur- 
 prise she slipped out into the hall and I slipped back to 
 my place in the band with cheeks as red as a peony. 
 
 These ridiculous blunders, however, were not so com- 
 mon among us who were entirely without sight as with 
 the purblind, or those with partial sight. The young 
 man who played the leading instrument in the band was 
 one of this kind. He was v^ry tender-hearted, and if 
 by accident he hurt any one his very soul bubbled out 
 in apologetic expressions like, " Oh, dear ! " "I beg ten 
 thousand pardons ! " " How awkward ! " ** Excuse me ! " 
 One day Charley was going down the Eighth avenue at 
 a pretty high rate of speed. A bevy of little girls were 
 on the sidewalk and did not see Charley coming. As 
 he ran against the first she fell against the next, and so 
 on, until they lay in a heap like so many ninepins. 
 Aware of the mischief he had done, with his heart brim- 
 ming over with sorrow, he stooped down, and finding 
 what he supposed to be a pair of bare arms he set the 
 
1 82 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 little one square on the top of her head. " Poor little 
 dear," said he, *' are you hurt ?" 
 
 Many of us were in the habit of travelling about the 
 city alone, as I do in Dansville, but accidents of that 
 kind rarely happened. 
 
 As I have said, vi^e had frequent opportunities to en- 
 tertain visitors. The Institution v/as flooded with them 
 on visiting days. The elite of New York and Brooklyn 
 came with their fine equipages, and strangers to the city 
 in search of strange sights and wonderful things were 
 sure to visit the Blind Asylum, as they called it. Guides 
 were selected from among the blind girls, who were po- 
 lite and chatty, to show strangers through the building 
 and over the grounds. One day one of the guides 
 brought a bevy of young ladies into the music room 
 where Mr. A., an old friend and classmate of mine was 
 practicing the piano. He had made just progress 
 enough to accompany his voice in one song, — The Sil- 
 ver Moon, — but had learned only the first verse of it. 
 The ladies asked him to sing, which after some coaxing 
 he consented to do. He said he knew but one song, 
 that it was a very long one, and feared the ladies would 
 grow weary before he finished. After receiving many 
 assurances of their patience, he began as follows : 
 
 " As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day, 
 To gaze on the beauties of June," &c. 
 
The Bird that Could Sing but Wouldn't. 183 
 
 After he had sung the first verse he stopped to com- 
 ment, as he could not play an interlude, — said the next 
 verse was much finer in sentiment, and sang the same 
 one again. The ladies did not seem to notice the repe- 
 tition, taking it for granted that a blind gentleman 
 would not hoax them^. After he had sung it three times 
 over they began to " smell a mice," and went laughing 
 out of the room. 
 
 Mr. A. was a general favorite with all the inmates of 
 the house, especially on the ladies' side. He was ami- 
 able, affable, fat and funny. One day he was sitting at 
 his desk in the young men's school room, busily en- 
 gaged with something that kept him silent and demure. 
 It was on Saturday and the boys were engaged in play- 
 ing cards, checkers, dominoes, &c., and several times 
 invited Mr. A. to take part in their games and sports ; 
 but he as often excused himself with the plea that he 
 was busy. Finally a motion was made that Mr. A. sing 
 a song in his Dempsterian style. This motion was car- 
 ried unanimously, and a committee of three appointed 
 to wait on the recluse, and compel him to sing in case 
 he refused. I was on the committee and appointed 
 chairman, or spokesman. We approached Mr. A.'s 
 seat, and I said with assumed dignity : " Sir, we repre- 
 sent the brain and muscle of the N. Y. Institute for the 
 
184 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 blind, and we have been instructed to wait on the great 
 T^'coon, and to ask his excellency to favor us with a 
 song. In case he refuses we are to enforce the rule of 
 the house that * a bird that can sing and wont sing must 
 be made to sing.' " " Wait a moment," said Mr. A., 
 closing his desk, " and 1 will consider your message." 
 Planting himself on the top of it he said, ** Boys, I warn 
 you to let me alone. I am a dangerous man. I weigh 
 one hundred and seventy-five pounds, and my fist weighs 
 more than I do. I shall not sing. What are you going 
 to do about it?" I slipped along on the desk beside 
 him, took hold of his left arm, and said : " Old fellow, 
 you are not angry, are you ?" " No, sir ; never better 
 natured in my life ; but Hall, I advise you to keep 
 away. You may get hurt." Just then a little nervous 
 fellow, who was on the committee, came up in front to 
 catch him by the legs. At that moment his fist came 
 down like a sledge-hammer, and struck the fellow 
 plumb on the top of his head, knocking him down as 
 quick as if a thunderbolt had struck him. Anticipating 
 a flank movement on my part he gave me a sling which 
 sent me half way across the floor. The other member 
 of the committee was an Irishman, who thinking matters 
 were taking a serious turn, pitched in to fight in good 
 earnest ; but as he had no shillaly, he made but little 
 
FiDiny Mistake. 185 
 
 impression on the works, and the hundred -and-seventy- 
 five pounder soon silenced his battery. Having thus 
 achieved his independence, Mr. A. resumed his seat and 
 went on with his work as serenely as if nothing had 
 happened. This account is strictly true, and shows 
 that life in those Institutions is not such a very tame 
 affair after all. 
 
 Two young men had a fight one day in the hall, as 
 we were going to dinner. No officers were called, fair 
 play was allowed, and the fight was finished. 
 
 We had one boy who had rather fight than to eat his 
 dinner; but the pugilistic element 1 am glad to say, was 
 not common ; most of us had rather eat. 
 
 Our fare was so plain that we used to look forward 
 with great anxiety to our vacation time when we might 
 go to our homes and from the plenteous stores of our 
 friends, fill up the waste places in our jackets. 
 
 Having gone through with our annual examination at 
 the close of the term of 1847 we were jubilant, hilarious, 
 — and hardly knew how to contain ourselves. Several 
 of us big boys were in the school room. Some were 
 lying on the desks, others were sitting on their stools. 
 I was sitting on a chair behind the teacher's desk, and 
 all in the dark. Two of the boys whom I shall call by 
 their first names, William and Abel, were scuffling 
 
1 86 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 about on the floor. They were feeling gay. Vacation 
 had commenced. The next day we were to leave for 
 home. Abel wore slippers, and slipped behind the door 
 which stood wide open. William was feeling for him, 
 when the matron tripped in. He heard her footsteps, 
 and supposing her to be the fellow he was searching 
 for, grabbed her rather roughly, saying, " Now I've got 
 you, I'll make your bowels yearn !" The voice of the 
 matron as she inquired if Canisky was in the room, 
 showed Will his mistake, and he let go of her, slinking 
 away in the dark, without one word of apology. 
 
 To show that persons without sight can sometimes 
 see the point of a joke as well as other people, and that 
 retaliation is as necessary in peace as in war, I will 
 mention one more little circumstance in which I was 
 personally interested, and for which I have never yet 
 felt like upbraiding myself. I had obtained permission 
 to go down town one Saturday to purchase a new coat. 
 Having selected what was then called a business coat, 
 made with a capacious pocket on each side, I put it on, 
 found it a good fit, and came up to the Institution just 
 as the supper bell was ringing, went in and took my 
 place at the table. I was seated between two of the 
 students who were as full of mischief as our tea was of 
 flies. Under pretence of examining my new coat, they 
 
Waxed Ends. 187 
 
 slipped several slices of buttered bread into its yawning 
 pockets, at the same time praising the quality of cloth 
 to divert my attention. Having occasion to use my 
 handkerchief, I discovered the conspiracy, put the bread 
 back on the plate, and mildly informed the young gen- 
 tlemen that a day of retribution was coming, — that hard 
 jokes like hard bullets sometimes rebounded and hurt 
 the very ones that fired them. Here the matter was 
 dropped, and nearly forgotten by the two rogues who 
 played the trick on me. 
 
 On showing the coat to the matron, I found it had 
 been badly greased, and resolved to retaliate. One of 
 the young men was very dressy, and had lately pur- 
 chased for himself a pair of very fine doeskin breeches, 
 of which he was extremely proud. Having provided 
 myself with a piece of shoemaker's wax, I waited for an 
 opportunity to give him what I called a waxed end. 
 One Sunday when I knew he had on those seven-dollar 
 pants, I hurried down to the dining room at the first tap 
 of the bell and had just time to spread a nice plaster on 
 the stools each side of me, before the boys came in and 
 took their accustomed seats at the table. By the time 
 the meal was over, the wax was so well warmed that it 
 adhered as firmly to the seats of their pants, as to the 
 stools on which they sat, and which I was told came up 
 
1 88 • Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 with them when they rose to leave the dining room. 
 Anticipating the storm of invectives that must soon 
 break over my head, I shpped from the room before the 
 bell sounded the signal to leave, — at the risk of being 
 called back by the Superintendent, — and found shelter 
 in some quiet corner where I listened with exultant sat- 
 isfaction to the amusing comments made by the boys on 
 the uses of the waxed end. Should this truthful ac- 
 count of our schoolboy days find the ear of J. B., who is 
 still alive and prosperous, he will doubtless remember 
 the sad end of those doeskin breeches. 
 
 It will hardly be credited when I say that unlimited 
 power of corporeal punishment was permitted by the 
 managers of an Institution so humane in its designs, so 
 noble in its aims, so Christlike in its missions, as the N. 
 Y. Institution for the blind ; and yet it is true. I have 
 known boys and even young men to be whipped until 
 the coats on their backs were cut in strips. I came very 
 near being whipped several times, and that too for very 
 slight offenses. Once for refusing to pump water for the 
 laundry, on the plea that " I came to learn books and 
 not how to pump ; I had already served my apprentice- 
 ship at that business." I was summoned to the office, 
 charged with insubordination, and narrowly escaped a 
 sound thrashing. 
 
Corporeal Pu nishment. 1 8 9 
 
 The last straw that broke the camel's back, and ban- 
 ished the rod from the Institute, was an event so impor- 
 tant, and had in it so much of the ludicrous, that I must 
 not pass it over. We were in the habit of talking, 
 laughing, and keeping up a racket in the dormitory for 
 some time after retiring. This had been forbidden. 
 One night when we were joking, telling stories and 
 having our fun, the Superintendent slid slyly in and lis- 
 tened for some time to the noise and confusion. Dur- 
 ing a slight lull in the storm one of the boys heard a 
 footstep, and supposing the Frenchman had come to lock 
 the doors he called out, '* Halloo, John, have you 
 brought my saddle home? " " David ! David! " came 
 in a familiar voice, " where are you ? " but David was 
 silent. His bed was found, however, the clothes stripped 
 off, and the ratan brought down with terrible precision 
 on his bare skin, raising a ridge at every blow. By this 
 time it was very still as well as very dark in the bed- 
 room. " George ! George ! " spoke out the same familiar 
 voice, "where are you?" "Here 1 am, Mr. C, right 
 this way." And there he was, sure enough, and in a 
 moment the ratan was there too. The bed clothes were 
 stripped off and his back and bare legs were cut in ridges. 
 The storm of passion having now spent itself the Super- 
 intendent walked quietly over to his own room, to 
 
190 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 repent, I hope, for this piece of cruelty, and to pray for 
 moderation and Divine grace, which he and we all so 
 much needed. He was naturally a kind-hearted man, 
 and tried, I believe, to be a Christian, but he had great 
 faith in the rod. The boys who had been so unmerci- 
 fully castigated brought their complaint and flagellated 
 backs before the managers, who at once relieved the 
 Superintendent of his whipping prerogative, if not of 
 his propensity. 
 
 I think corporeal punishment is not now permitted in 
 any of our Institutions ; at least I hope it is not. Other 
 and more humane modes of punishment should be 
 adopted. Flogging is so debasing and humiliating that 
 it should be resorted to only under the most desperate 
 circumstances. Obedience to parents may sometimes 
 be enforced by this kind of discipline, but it should 
 always be done with moderation, and without show of 
 anger. Passion begets passion. When it becomes 
 necessary to punish a child, let him feel that you do it 
 in sorrow, and not in anger; that as our Heavenly 
 Father chastises in love, so it is sometimes the duty of 
 earthly parents. But this prerogative of parental gov- 
 ernment should seldom if ever be delegated. 
 
 Another instance in which strategy triumphed over 
 what seemed to us to be rigorous rule, when open hos- 
 
Choh' Practice. 1 9 1 
 
 tility must have proved disastrous, may be here men- 
 tioned. The Superintendent, who knew about as much 
 of music as a horse does of philosophy, made a rule that 
 the band and choir should each practice two evenings 
 every week, during the hours from prayers till bed-time, 
 — or from eight to ten o'clock This we regarded as an 
 infringement upon our rights, as this time had always 
 been allowed us for recreation ; and we resolved to 
 get as rhuch fun out of it as possible, and ultimately to 
 defeat the project Accordingly, when the choir met for 
 practice, we spent the time in laughing, talking, flirting, 
 and occasionally singing a piece, just to keep the lion, — 
 as we called the Super, — in his den. But he, having 
 received reports of this kind of practice, appointed Miss 
 Kate, one of the assistant music teachers, (who it was 
 believed curried favor with the officers by reporting 
 mischief,) to take charge of the choir, and to keep us 
 singing, and to give us no time for chatting or flirting. 
 On the next evening for choir practice. Miss Kate was 
 on hand and took her position as leader. She ordered 
 the organist to play Jackson's Te Deum, and us to sing 
 it. Having improvised a short prelude, the organist 
 started in with a full organ, but no one sang except 
 Kate, who could hardly make her shrill, piping voice 
 heard. She persevered however, to the end, and then 
 
192 Reminiscences of Institution Life, 
 
 ordered the organist to play the Gloria in Excelsis, with 
 3 light organ, which he did on the upper bank of keys, 
 pianissimo. Having sung this through alone, she de- 
 manded to know why we refused to sing. We replied 
 that she was not our leader ; that we believed in a 
 republican form of government, and had elected our 
 leader by a unanimous vote ; we must decline, therefore, 
 to be directed by any other. At this she left the chapel 
 in high dudgeon, and doubtless reported the indignity 
 she received, at headquarters : and we went on practic- 
 ing in the old way, and were never afterward interfered 
 with. 
 
 In our band practice we followed out very much the 
 same program. We spent most of the time in talking, 
 telling stories and cracking jokes at each others' expense. 
 One evening when we were having rather more lun and 
 making rather more noise about it than usual, the Super 
 came up to the music room and with some asperity in 
 his voice announced that hereafter the band would prac- 
 tice in the large school room, and that he himself would 
 be present and oversee the matter. This was good 
 enough. We entertained the highest respect for the 
 Super's literary attainments, but we knew he had no ear 
 for music, and couldn't tell Hail Cadoodle from Yankee 
 Columbia. So we agreed to give him one of the loudest 
 
Band Practice. 193 
 
 serenades he ever heard. We notified the boys who 
 beat the drum and cymbals to be on hand, and to get as 
 much noise out of those instruments as possible. On 
 the next evening, true to his promise, the Super was 
 there, and took his place behind the teacher's desk, with 
 the evening paper, intending to improve the time by 
 looking over the city news and gossip while we were 
 blowing our wind away on some old march or quickstep 
 that we had played over hundreds of times. The band 
 was composed often instruments — a piccolo, three clari- 
 nets, two French horns, two trombones, a drum and 
 cymbals. At the signal of the leader, who played the 
 E flat clarinet, we all struck in on Yankee Doodle with 
 a blast that would have astonished a Chinese mandarin. 
 The piccolo screamed, the clarinets shrieked, the horns 
 bellowed, the trombones cracked, the drum thundered, 
 and the cymbals slashed and clanged like a pair of Chi- 
 nese gongs. Over and over we played the same piece, 
 from forte to fortissimo, faster and faster, until the Super, 
 finding it impossible to read in such a din, began to cry, 
 " Stop ! stop ! " But his voice was drowned in a raging 
 sea of music, — in the blast of the horns, the booming of 
 the big drum and clash of cymbals. We blew until we 
 could see stars, and rushed through the measures like 
 so many race horses. At last he sprang to his feet, 
 
194 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 pounded on the desk, and shouted, " For heaven's sake, 
 stop this noise ! " This time the leader heard and sig- 
 naled " down brakes," but not until after several meas- 
 ures could the trombones and horns call in the brass 
 they had so liberally issued. When silence was restored 
 Mr. C, said: "Boys, I am not much of a judge of 
 music, but it seems to me you make more noise than 
 necessary, and that your pieces are very monotonous." 
 *' William," said he, addressing my friend who blew the 
 tenor trombone, "don't you manage to get more noise out 
 of that thing than music ? Hereafter you will practice in 
 the music room as before, and I guess one evening in the 
 week will be sufficient for us and for the neighborhood." 
 Whether our Superintendent saw the point of the joke 
 and knew that he was sold we were never able to deter- 
 mine, but one thing is certain, it was a big note, and well 
 played. 
 
 The school room was in the second story and directly 
 over the Superintendent's office. One evening a number 
 of us older boys were in the room singing, dancing, and 
 laughing very loud. Not that we had anything in par- 
 ticular to laugh at, but more because there seemed to be 
 so little to laugh about. In the midst of our hilarity 
 the Superintendent came in and shouted, "Silence! 
 silence, boys ! Why, you act like a pack of heathen. 
 
Visit of General Scott. 195 
 
 What do you suppose the people outside think of us ? 
 If I could have my way about it this minute, I'd have 
 you all in the Lunatic Asylum." This effectually 
 silenced us for the time, but the mischief was in us, and 
 would break out occasionally. 
 
 Having drawn out this article to a much greater 
 length than I intended at the outset, I ought here to 
 bite off the thread of my narrative ; but one event wor- 
 thy of record is still quite fresh in my memory and 
 deserves at least a passing notice. Sometime in the 
 early part of the summer of 1847, it was announced to 
 us that General Winfield Scott was in the city, and 
 would pay a flying visit to the Institution. We had 
 heard of the daring deeds of this brave man at the bat- 
 tles of Lundy's Lane, Chippewa, Queenston Heights, 
 &c., and of his ability as Commander-in-chief during the 
 late war with Mexico, and we anticipated his coming 
 with pleasure. The band practiced Hail to the Chief 
 The Star Spangled Banner, Hail Columbia, and the 
 American Doodle we could have played with our eyes 
 shut, had we been deaf and dumb. Miss Crosby and 
 Miss Bullock, who were the poets of the Institute, pre- 
 pared reception speeches, praising the General's prow- 
 ess in flowing numbers. In order to receive this gigan- 
 tic military chieftain with all the honor and display of 
 
196 Reminiscences of InstiUition Life. 
 
 which the Institute was capable, we, — the members of 
 the band, were stationed in the front yard, at the en- 
 trance of the great hall door. A number of the young 
 ladies were dressed in white, and placed in a semicircle 
 on the other side of the entrance. Floral decorations 
 beautified the parlors, halls and chapel. When the 
 General and his attendants alighted from their carriage, 
 we were ready at the signal to strike up Hail to the 
 Chief, which we really played very well, and with great 
 enthusiasm. The General came up, was introduced to 
 the faculty, shook hands with each member of the band, 
 bowed and gave his hand to the ladies, and then march- 
 ed up into the chapel. After a short and very appro- 
 priate address of welcome by the Superintendent, the 
 choir and singing classes accompanied by the great 
 organ, sang in chorus, Hail the Conqueror of Many 
 Battles. The General's rather pompous reply I cannot" 
 now recall ; but he said in substance : " I did not antici- 
 pate this cordial greeting. It is as unexpected as unde- 
 served. If I have served my country, I have only done 
 my duty. But I am happy on this occasion, to see so 
 many bright faces, and to hear so many cheerful voices 
 where I supposed sorrow clouded the brow, and grief 
 filled the heart." After some complimentary remarks 
 to the officers, the tall General, who stood six feet five 
 
Visit of General Scott. 1 97 
 
 inches in his military boots, — sat down, but was even 
 then as high as many of the city magnates who stood 
 about him. Miss Fanny Crosby then delivered an orig- 
 inal poem in her usual felicitous style, after which the 
 gallant General arose, and presented his sword to the 
 facetious Fanny, saying, " I have never surrendered this 
 sword to any man, but to the charms and witchery of 
 woman, I always surrender, — not only my sword, but 
 my heart." 
 
 I regret, now, that I did not keep a journal of my 
 Institution life, so that I might have given to the public 
 fuller, and more accurate reports of those great occa- 
 sions. I had intended in these pages, to give my read- 
 ers some account of the routine of duties and labors at 
 such an Institution ; — of the studies pursued, of the 
 various methods of instruction adopted, of the progress 
 we were able to make in the arts, sciences, literature 
 and mechanics ; — of the sports and amusements in 
 which we engaged ; how we danced with the dining 
 room girls, flirted with the seamstresses, and took clan- 
 destine strolls and promenades with the girls by imagin- 
 ary moonlight; but the limit of this present volume 
 will not allow. 
 
 I trust that what I have here written, will not be con- 
 strued into any invidious design on my part, to take 
 
iqS Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 sides against the officers, or to place them in a false 
 light before the world. J have written only what I 
 believe to be the truth. I had a strong affection for the 
 old Institution, and my attachments lasted for many 
 years. Its spacious rooms, its echoing halls, its shaded 
 walks and play-grounds still live in my dreams. While 
 a pupil, I looked forward with a sort of dread, to the 
 time when I should be obliged to cut loose from the 
 fostering care and protection of the old home in which 
 I had spent eight of the happiest years of my life, when 
 I must leave its safe and quiet harbor, and push out into 
 the rough sea of life to paddle for myself Many of the 
 graduates had the same feeling, and lingered within 
 hailing distance of the old ship ; but I manned my little 
 bark with all the fortitude I could muster, and pushed 
 boldly out for myself It is now more that twenty-five 
 years since I thus weighed anchor and started on the 
 voyage of life alone. I have had some smooth sailing, 
 and some rough seas and adverse winds. At the age of 
 thirty-five I entered the harbor of matrimony, and took 
 in a mate who has bravely done her part to keep the 
 craft afloat. We have picked up little waifs from time 
 to time, which the angels let drop from their wings, 
 until we have now five, — making in all a crew of seven, 
 — which I fear would swamp my little bark if the Lord's 
 
Conclusion. 1 99 
 
 hand were not beneath us, and his loving arms around 
 us. Sometimes the skies seem very dark and threaten- 
 ing, for the competition between eyes and fingers is all 
 unequal, the balance being largely in favor of eyes. 
 
 The world is slow to believe that a man without sight 
 can do any thing as well as a man who can see. Nor 
 do I wonder at this. Men who rely so entirely on their 
 sight for all that they do, cannot understand how these 
 same things can be as well done without sight. I am 
 often astonished that people place so much confidence 
 in us as they do. I bring no complaint against the 
 American people, having always received a reasonable 
 amount of patronage in my enterprises. Therefore I 
 am not misanthropic. I believe in God and humanity, 
 and at fifty years of age, with nothing to fall back upon 
 but my own efforts, and the help of my noble wife, I 
 write with my own hand a new book, hoping by its sale 
 to support my family, clothe, feed and educate my 
 children. If in this I fail, God only knows what I shall 
 do. Would that I might fully accept the wise counsel 
 of the inspired poet, who says: "Cast thy burden upon 
 the Lord and he shall sustain thee." 
 
 Should I never be permitted to write another line, or 
 to speak another word of solemn warning to my friends 
 
200 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 
 
 and children, I would say with my last breath, " Trust 
 in God, and try to lift up fallen humanity." 
 
 Whoever lives for self, and self alone, 
 
 Shall die at last in debt to Earth and Heaven ; 
 
 To Earth, for countless blessings shared by none ; 
 To Heaven, for grateful tributes never given. 
 
 But he who lives to elevate his race. 
 
 To lift the fallen and the poor down trod, 
 
 Shall see the Savior in his mirrored face. 
 And walk the world with Charity and God. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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