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your curiosity on any little scientific question which may occur to you in your reading or

important phenomena your own. Do not hesitate to leave the history of England for a while, and glance over those interesting chap-your thinking, for in tracing it you may be

ters in Gibbon, which describe the rise and progress of the Crusades. You will thus find yourself engrossed in a work which you might have approached only as a task, if you had had no particular object in view. Nor will your curiosity leave you here. New and interesting paths will open in every direction, and invite you to pursue them to broader and more noble fields of research. Thus, without any formal course of reading, your stock of historical knowledge will become valuable and available. At first, you will feel strong on particular periods only, but if you continue the plan, you will be surprised to find after a while all your knowledge closing together into a complete history. What you gain in this way will have the advantage of being much clearer, and much more at your command, than that obtained in the ordinary manner.

drawn on to a love for scientific literature. Thus go on reading subjects, rather than volumes. What your memory is not strong enough to retain, note in a common-place book. Preserve in this not only the choice passages you find in your reading, but especially your own thoughts, suggested in connection with it. That was a good rule which Gibbon observed, never to read a book till he had noted down what he already knew upon the subject. Thus his curiosity was kept always alive by the comparison of what he knew before with what the author taught. It is in such subsidiary works as these that you can practice patience and self-denial with a certain hope of a noble recompense. Patient study is sometimes required also in mastering themes, such as abstract questions in philosophy, about which we yet have a real curiosi ty. It is truly wonderful to observe how a little patience, thus judiciously applied at the right time, will spread a fresh zest and pleasure over our reading for a long time to come.

But there may be some who do not feel any curiosity about historical allusions, who still wish to acquire a taste for useful reading. Let not such despair so long as they take If there were needed any other incentive to pleasure in any sort of reading whatever. reading than the intrinsic pleasure of the purEven "story newspapers," and all that class suit, I could point you to many instances of miserable literature may serve a useful where high stations have been gained and held purpose in awakening your curiosity about with honor by great readers. Without going something worth knowing, if you are only beyond our own time, I could speak of the earnest enough to gratify that curiosity while present head of the educational department of it is strong. If you meet with some little gem Massachusetts, who has fitted himself for his of poetry, which pleases you, do not rest till position almost entirely by his private reading, you have found out all about its author, and or of the present mayor of Providence, the his other works. Then very likely you will auroral freshness of whose literary producbe tempted to read about contemporary authors and their works, and will be building up the perusal of his favorite authors, or of the tions tell of the early morning hours spent in quite a knowledge of English literature without once forcing your reading farther than curiosity prompts. In the same way, if you have a general desire to increase your scienfic knowledge, do not hesitate to gratify

"little giant" of Illinois, who, with limited advantages in early life, has brought himself to his present eminence almost entirely by his private application. The present president of our University, perhaps more learned in phi

losophy and in theology than any other man in the state, has acquired the greater part of his extensive erudition by the perusal of the works in his own extensive library. The chief justice of this state has become distinguished for his early morning reading. Mr. Buckle, the last historical Minerva, has taken the reading world by storm with his references to six hundred works, which he has consulted in composing the first volume of his History of Civilization. These are only a few instances taken at random, but they are sufficient to indicate the reward which results from a satisfactory answer to the question,

"What shall we read?"

For the Schoolmaster.

The Forsaken.

It was an old gray mansion

Dim with the shades of departed years.
The grass of many summers rankly grew
Round the old door-stone where in former years,
Bright children gamboled in their merry sport.
O'er the arched portal, and the turrets gray
The wild vines twined in gay fantastic wreaths,
As if to hide their seeming desolation.
Not always was it thus: there was a time
In the gay olden days, when music thrilled
Through the long corridors, and merry feet
Went bounding through its halls; the sound of

song

Arose from many voices, and the wine Sparkled in splendor to the pine-knot's blaze.

But things were changed.

The heavy oaken doors no longer swung,
To greet the returning lord, nor gay plumes
danced

Within the courtyard now o'ergrown with weeds,
The antique helms of chivalry still hung
Upon the mouldering walls, and banners drooped
In crimson folds around the dusty pillars:
But now no sound of song, of dance, or feast
Or childhood's merry mirth might linger there.
A shade of mystery wrapped the gloomy place;

"Twas said by some that laughing voices rung
At the charmed night hour through its lonely
halls,

And fires arose upon the hearths where long
The ashes had lain cold. Bright forms, the gay,
The loved of other years, clustered around
The well heaped board, and in their white robes
held

Their revels as of old.

One lonely, sad old man, The last descendant of a noble race, Dwelt there alone. 'Twas a long story of The old man's wrongs. He had a daughter once, A fair and gentle girl, whose love was more To him than life. She was a dreamy child; She saw a spell of beauty in each soft And lovely scene in nature; the song-bird's note, The hum of insects, and the joyous flowers, All had a charm for her unknown to other Minds. Her's was the noble gift of genius; She would sit for hours in the old hall Where the rich sunlight fell half lovingly O'er some historic painting dim with age, And there recounting all her father's tales Of knights and warlike deeds, weave fairy dreams Out of their wild romance. The very waves That beat their surf upon the sandy beach Spoke to her heart a deep and earnest language Of joyous voices, and of sunny climes, And childish mirth beyond the swelling sea. The full, deep passion of her early youth, The tide of song which overflowed her soul, O'er mastered all her thoughts. In the rich light Hope shed around her way, fair visions came Of all earth's glorious things-the golden fame, Which was to her as sunlight to the soul, Bright hopes of future years. She left her sire, He who had loved her more than all the world, To join in festive scenes of dance and mirth. Yet there is joy in revelry and wine To charm away remorse.

Oh! 'tis a sad And fearful thing to be alone; to feel There is no heart in all the wide, wide world, To beat in love with ours. To him, the earth Was changed as was the faithless love he mourn'd,

Yet even now he smiled. "She will come back,"
He said, "in golden autumn when the sheaves
Are bound with songs of merry harvest home."
Alas! for human hope! that vainly thinks
To trace through darkening clouds a dawning
day.

Only within the far off better land

The broken heart shall live and love again.

"There was a church-yard

And an open grave." There was no pomp,
No sable badges or funereal plumes.

It was the old man's grave, and who should care
That he had passed life's bourne and slept at last.
The simple-hearted peasants reared a cross
Above his humble dust, and shed a tear
For him who had no mourner.

Long years had passed,

The clinging vines had shed a deeper gloom
Over the portal of the ruined house,

No longer cheered by laughter or glad song.
By many a fireside hearth a tale was told, —
A strange, wild tale, - how when the lingering
day

Waned to its close, and sunlight tipped the hills
With golden light or kissed in rosy streaks
The bosom of the vale, in the lone hall
The old man's spirit sought his long lost child.
The moss had grown upon the ancient cross.
Above the old man's grave, while tangled grass,
The running ivy, and the golden rod,
Had choked the flowers the pitying villagers
Had planted there. It was a glorious day
In golden autumn, such an one as that
In which the old man thought to meet his child.
The murmur of the brook, the whispering leaves,
Mingled with all glad sounds of bird and bee,
Made light and joyous music. A woman knelt
Upon the mossy turf, and bathed the stone
With bitter tears of anguish and remorse.
A shade of sorrow was upon her face,
A shade they only wear to whom the earth
Has been a weary place, a land of graves,
Of secret heart-aches, and of blighted hopes.
It was the old man's daughter. She had come
To find, where once was joy, a scene of woe.
Oh! not in scenes of revelry and mirth

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*We are happy to give place to this brief notice of the Indiana Deaf and Dumb Institution. It will be intesesting as showing the character and exercises of such a school. Our readers must have been interested in the several articles which have appeared from the pen of our Jersey friend. We would assure them that these articles were written - as - as indicated by the caption by a deaf mute. The author is Mr. Joseph Mount, a teacher in the Philadelphia Deaf and Dumb Institute. He is, besides being a teacher, a spirited contributor to several of our best monthlies, both educational and literary. We commend his articles to all, with especial reference to the mode of thought of a deaf mute, and to the literary culture which can be acquired by one laboring under such difficulties.-ED.

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"To Cornelia Trask, "
"Anna B. Very,

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Divine worship is performed in the chapel

on the Sabbath at 8 o'clock A. M., and at 2 P. M. There are no exercises on Saturday afternoon, as in our institution.

Cornelia Trask and Anna B. Very teach a

kind of an infant school, judging from their wages; but they are paid on equal terms with many hearing female teachers. I happen to know something of Miss Very. She is a very well educated woman. May God bless her, and her fellow teacher, Miss Trask, also. Mr. Willard, if I mistake not, is the founder of the establishment where he is now employed. Appended to the report, is a large list of newspapers and magazines which have been sent to the pupils gratuitously during the past year.

The principal's report sets forth the difficulties in which the institution was involved, in consequence of the failure of the legislature to make its accustomed appropriations in 1856. It was obliged to suspend, the pupils returned to their homes, and, to make a long matter short, the cause of deaf mute education was involved in "confusion worse confused." But, thank Heaven, the institution after six months' suspension, has resumed operations,

The corps of instructors consists of the fol- although it finds much difficulty in keeping lowing named gentlemen and ladies :

its head above water for any length of time. In view of the distressing circumstances in which the establishment is placed, it is not a

William Willard, (a mute); II. S. Gillet, A. M.; W. II. Latham, A. M.; W. K. De Motte, A. M.; Philip A. Emery, A. M.; Cor-little strange that the trustees should have

nelia Trask, (a mute); Anna B. Very, (a mute); and B. R. Nordyke.

The trustees place the mute male teachers on an equal footing with their hearing colleagues, so far as remuneration is concerned; for I find the following items of payment in the trustees' report:

66

the moral courage to mete out justice* to Mr. Willard in the matter of compensation, without regard to that which constitutes his phys

ical defect.

Mr. McIntire, the principal, is one of the kind who go about doing good. I wish him

abundant success in the noble work in which

he engages. He has a happy faculty for im

To William Willard, teacher, per year, $1,000 "Horace S. Gillet, 66 1,000 "William II. Latham, " 1,000 In a future number I shall speak of the "Wm. H. De Motte, " 1,000 wrongs of the deaf and dumb as times go.

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parting instruction to the young minds entrusted to his care. He talks of establishing a high class, similar to the one which has been organized in the Connecticut asylum,

So remarkable was Mr. Gallaudet's success in the sign-language, as frequently to astonish strangers, and we quote an extract from his Memoir in his own words, in illustration of his skill. One of his pupils was a lad of

The report contains much that is well worth an attentive perusal. Page 43 is occupied much intelligence, with whom he made frewith short specimens of the pupils' composi-quent experiments to ascertain how far he tions, most of which show a remarkable com- could communicate ideas to him without the mand of language on the part of the pupils. use of words spelled to him on the fingers, or The following piece, written by a little boy of any signs made by the arms and hands, under instruction eight months," strikes us as but solely by expressions of the face, motions of the head, and attitudes of the body.excellent: North American Review.

"A woman is churning. The mother goes to get some salt. An ape comes to the churn, The ape takes a cat. The ape puts the cat in the churn. The ape runs and climbs on the tree. The woman calls the apc. She tries to whip the ape."

The report is accompanied with the manual alphabet and numerals which belong exclusively to the language of the deaf and dumb.

Sign-Language.

FROM THE LIFE OF THOMAS H. GALLAUDET.

"One day our distinguished and lamented historical painter, Colonel John Trumbull, was in my school-room during the hours of instruction, and on my alluding to the tact which the pupil referred to had of reading my face, he expressed a wish to see it tried. I requested him to select any event in Greek, Roman, English or American history, of a scenic character, which would make a striking picture on canvas, and said I would endeavor to communicate it to the lad. Tell him,' said he, that Brutus (Lucius Junius) condemned his two sons to death for resisting his authority and violating his orders.'

"I folded my arms in front of me, and

or of spelling any words on my fingers, and proceeded, as best I could, by the expression of my countenance, and a few motions of my own head and attitudes of the body, to convey the picture in my own mind to the mind

IN the summer of 1818, a young Chinese passed through Hartford, and spent an evening with Mr. Gallaudet. He was so ignorant of the English language that he could not ex-kept them in that position, to preclude the press it in his simplest wishes. Mr Gallaud-possibility of making any signs or gestures, et introduced him to M. Clerc, a deaf mute from birth, who did not know a single word of Chinese. No two persons, therefore, could possibly be brought together more disqualified for colloquial intercourse. The result, however, surprised all present. M. Clere of my pupil. It ought to be stated that he learned from the Chinese many interesting was already acquainted with the fact, being facts regarding his birth-place, his parents and their family, his occupations at home, and his ideas of God and a future state. By the aid of proper signs, also, M. Clere ascertained the meaning of about twenty Chinese

words.

familiar with the leading events in Roman history. But when I began, he knew not from what portion of history, sacred or profane, ancient or modern, the fact was selected. From this wide range, my delineation on the one hand, and his ingenuity on the other, had

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