always in a state of childishness, and they are remarkable for their credulity. They feel kindness, and are very grateful for it, but their gratitude is neither very great nor very lasting. They form attachments, but their fondness for any one is neither deep nor permanent. They are afflicted at their own sorrows, and at the sorrows of those around them, but their grief soon passes away. They have no emulation, and, therefore, no envy. They are particularly irritable, which is owing probably to their having less moral restraint over themselves, and partly perhaps to their state rendering them incapable of active labour or continuous employment. It is a popular mistake to consider muteness as at all allied with idiocy. There are idiots who cannot speak, because they cannot understand, and therefore cannot imitate or employ language; the silence of the deaf and dumb arises from a very different cause. They have also a peculiar appearance, arising from the non-exercise of the organs of hearing and speech, and the increased use of those of vision. Most of our readers will remember the manner in which Sir Walter Scott describes it: She had at once all that could mark the imperfection of hearing, and all that could show the wonderful address with which nature so often makes up for the deficiency. There was the lip that trembled not at any sound-the seeming insensibility to the conversation that passed around; while, on the other hand, was the quick and vivid glance, that seemed anxious to devour the meaning of those sounds, which she could gather no otherwise than by the motion of the lips.'

Nothing would seem more difficult than to instruct such beings; and, until about four hundred years ago, we have every reason to believe that the attempt was not made. About that period, we have what may be regarded as an authentic account of a dumb man being taught to write. Since then, considerable attention has been paid to their education, and with so much success, that the deaf and dumb can now be nearly as well instructed as their more fortunate neighbours, and they can become as qualified for filling many stations in society.

Our readers are aware that the dumbness of the mute flows from his deafness. Unable to distinguish the various sounds which constitute speech, he is unable to imitate and apply them. Indeed, if the power of hearing be lost late in life, it is wonderful how soon, unless great care be taken to prevent it, the articulation becomes indistinct and unintelligible. We knew a gentleman who was advanced in life, and who had become deaf but a few years before we became acquainted with him, and yet, so imperfect was his speech, that it was with difficulty his friends could understand him, while strangers could not do so at all. A similar privation befel an officer, who, by the bursting of a shell, lost his hearing at Waterloo. This, however, does not always happen. Had either of these individuals carefully and repeatedly practised speaking, they would not have become dumb. We are acquainted with the case of a clergyman in England, who is almost stone deaf, and yet, as a preacher, he is celebrated for his correct enunciation and beautiful delivery. Indeed, strange as it may seem, one of the means taken to render the dumb capable of communicating with those around them, is to make them talk. The dumb are made to speak. This plan is followed in many of the institutions for the deaf and dumb, and probably would be in all, were it not one that requires more time and more preceptors than it is in the power of these establishments to afford. The letters of the alphabet are classed, and the nasal, lingual, labial, guttural, and dental sounds, are so brought before the pupil that he may distinguish differences in them. At the same time, we believe that pictures of the organs of speech are shown to him, drawn in all the positions requisite for the emission of the different sounds. The almost closed lips, hiding the teeth and tongue, show the posture in which u is pronounced. The mouth open, showing part of the tongue and the lips widening, express the condition of the mouth in pronouncing a. Similar drawings will represent the manner in which the other sounds are produced. Then

the pupil is made to feel the organs of his master while articulating each sound, and led on into attempts to imitate them; this he does, and in time succeeds.” Although we believe there is no instance of a dumb person having acquired a proper modulation of his voice, yet, though speaking in a monotonous tone, his articulation is often sufficiently distinct, and, with care, intelligible.

The natural language of the deaf and dumb is gesture, or the use of natural signs. In an uneducated state, they make use of these to a considerable extent, and indeed it then forms their only mode of communicating with each other. To the mere expression of the various passions and affections, as they appear and are observed upon the countenance (which constitute the chief part of the language of natural signs in the uninstructed) are added other signs descriptive of objects, of facts, and of occurrences. Great pains have been taken by the teachers to add to this catalogue, so as to form a conventional language, by means of which conversation of almost every kind can be carried on. They have, in a great measure, succeeded, and by means of this language of natural signs, ¦ the mutes can carry on long conversations, and that, too. with a rapidity which is almost equal to those carried on orally. It is to be regretted, however, that these signs differ very much in different institutions, and thus pupils of one institution cannot, without difficulty in this way, converse with those of another. This, too, proves that these signs are not altogether natural; indeed, there are many ideas requiring to be expressed for which there are no natural signs. What natural sign could express the f difference between singular and plural? In the Abbé l'Epée's system the elevation of the right thumb denotes the singular, and the motion of several fingers the plural. In the same system, gender is distinguished by placing the hand to the hat for the masculine, and to the ear, where the female head-dress extends, for the feminine. In other schools, the hand is placed upon the chin or beard to indicate the masculine gender, and to the forehead, in allusion to the parting of the hair, for the feminine.

We believe that writing is taught in every institution. This is perhaps the language most extensively used. It is the only one which is common to them and to the rest of the world. If, among one another or their teachers, their articulation be indistinct, or their signs be not understood, they have recourse to it. They carry on conversations in writing with great rapidity, much greater than any one not accustomed to it could do. We were much struck with this in a case to which we were lately professionally summoned. The patient was a deaf and dumb girl, under fourteen, and she wrote down her answers to the various questions, which were put to her in writing, without a moment's pause or hesitation. Her responses. too, in point of accuracy and distinctness, excelled the oral ones of almost any child of her age who ever came under our care.

Their written compositions are generally very correct; they all bear a strong resemblance to each other; they are commonly made up of short sentences, have rather sudden transitions, and there is nothing, as we see in ordinary writing, which seems to indicate that one subject treated of is of more importance than others. W quote a little specimen which we have selected almost a random :—

'Sir,—It is with me very much pleasure I write in my composition about language. My natural language is signs. I learn the English language. I conversed with my parents by signs before I came to school, but I can converse with them now by writing, spelling on my fi gers, or signing. I could not understand the English language before I came to school, as I was ignorant. All the inhabitants of the world do not speak the same language, but the inhabitants of almost every country speak a different language. The English speak the French language if they are taught. I do not know the French language, because it is too difficult for me. I found it a: first difficult to learn the English language, but I find it easier now.'

Drawings, pictures, and diagrams, also form a part of the language of the dumb. We believe they are principally used, however, in the earlier part of their education. A French writer has made use of pictures to represent the various parts of speech, degrees of comparison, &c. Mr Kinniburgh, of the Edinburgh Institution, published, many years back, a little pamphlet of the drawings which he used in that establishment. They are descriptive of various occupations, trades, natural objects, works of art, &c.

The last, and a purely artificial language, is that termed dactylology or finger-talking. It consists, as every one knows, in making the fingers assume certain positions, each of which corresponds to a letter of the alphabet; by means of this, conversation can, by adepts, be carried on with considerable rapidity. Any one can, in half an hour, acquire a knowledge of the different letters, but few can, without considerable practice, converse by this means with sufficient quickness. It is to be lamented that there is not an uniform alphabet used in all the institutions. In most parts of Europe, we believe, the one employed in this country, in which the two hands are used, prevails; but in America, one in which one hand only is required is made use of. This very simple contrivance for expressing thoughts is by no means a very ancient one. The first intimation of it with which we are acquainted is given by old Bulwer: he says, 'A pregnant example of the officious nature of the touch, in supplying the defect or temporary incapacity of other senses, we have in one Master Babington of Burntwood, in the county of Essex, an ingenious gentleman, who, through some sicknesse becoming deaf, doth notwithstanding feele words, and, as if he had an eye in his finger, sees signes in the dark; whose wife discourseth very perfectly with him by a strange way of arthrologie, or alphabet contrived on the joynts of his fingers; who taking him by the hand in the night, can so discourse with him very exactly; for he feeling the joyntes which she toucheth for letters, by them collected into words, very readily conceives what she would suggest to him.'

The first person who is known to have composed a manual alphabet is George Dalgarno, a native of this country. Born in Old Aberdeen, and receiving his education in the new city of that name, he early settled as a schoolmaster in Oxford. Here he appears to have acquired the friendship of the learned inhabitants of that great school of education, and the reputation of a man of large acquirements and very considerable natural ingenuity. He is the author of several works, in one of which he treats of the education of the deaf and dumb. All his treatises have, we believe, been reprinted of late by one of the societies, but we never saw the work. His merits called forth the eulogium of Dugald Stewart, who, in his account of the boy who was blind, deaf, and dumb, speaks of him in the highest terms.

We will in our next number give a short account of the manner in which the first ideas and notions of language are communicated to the deaf and dumb. In conclusion, we may say that if their condition be, as Dr Johnson defines, one of the most desperate of human calamities,' the treatment which has been successfully adopted for their amelioration forms one of the most striking instances of the triumph of art and human intelligence over the defects of nature.

HOURS IN HINDOSTAN.

WE had been playing all the evening at whist. Our stake had been gold mohur points, and twenty on the rubber. Maxey, who is always lucky, had won five consecutive bumpers, which lent a self-satisfied smile to his countenance, and made us, the losers, look anything but pleased, when he suddenly changed countenance, and hesitated to play; this the more surprised us, since he was one who seldom pondered, being so perfectly master of the game that he deemed long consideration superfluous.

Play away, Maxey; what are you about ?' impatiently demanded Churchill, one of the most impetuous youths that ever wore the uniform of the body-guard. 'Hush! responded Maxey, in a tone which thrilled through us, at the same time turning deadly pale. Are you unwell?' said another, about to start up, for he believed our friend had suddenly been taken ill. For the love of God sit quiet!' rejoined the other, in a tone denoting extreme fear or pain, and he laid down his cards. If you value my life, move not.' 'What can he mean?-has he taken leave of his senses?' demanded Churchill, appealing to myself. 'Don't start-don't move, I tell you! in a sort of whisper which I never can forget, uttered Maxey. If you make any sudden motion I am a dead man!' We exchanged looks. He continued— 'Remain quiet, and all may yet be well. I have a cobra capella round my leg.'

Our first impulse was to draw back our chairs; but an appealing look from the victim induced us to remain, although we were aware that should the reptile transfer but one fold, and attach himself to any other of the party, that individual might already be counted as a dead man -so fatal is the bite of that dreaded monster.

Poor Maxey was dressed as many old residents still dress in India, namely, in breeches and silk stockings; he therefore the more plainly felt every movement of the snake. His countenance assumed a livid hue; the words seemed to leave his mouth without that feature altering its position, so rigid was his look, and so fearful was he lest the slightest muscular movement should alarm the serpent, and hasten his fatal bite.

We were in agony little less than his own during the scene.

'He is coiling round!' murmured Maxey; 'I feel him cold-cold to my limb: and now he tightens! For the love of Heaven call for some milk! I dare not speak loud. Let it be placed on the ground near me; let some be spilt on the floor.'

Churchill cautiously gave the order, and a servant slipped out of the room.

'Don't stir, Northcote-you moved your head; by everything sacred, I conjure you do not do so again! It cannot be long ere my fate is decided. I have a wife and two children in Europe; tell them I died blessing themthat my last prayers were for them-the snake is winding itself round my calf. I leave them all that I possess I can almost fancy I feel his breath!'

The milk was brought and carefully put down; a few drops were sprinkled on the floor, and the affrighted servants drew back. Again Maxey spoke :

'No-no! it has no effect; on the contrary, he has clasped himself tighter-he has uncurled his upper fold. I dare not look down, but I am sure he is about to draw back, and give the bite of death with more fatal precision. Receive me, O Lord! and pardon me; my last hour is come!—Again he pauses. I die firm; but this is past endurance;-ah! no-he has undone another fold, and loosens himself. Can he be going to some one else?'-We involuntarily started.-For the love of Heaven, stir not! I am a dead man ; but bear with me. He still loosens ;

he is about to dart!-Move not, but beware! Churchill, he falls off that way. Oh! this agony is too hard to bear! -Another pressure, and I am dead. No! he relaxes! he relaxes!'

At that moment poor Maxey ventured to look down: the snake had unwound himself; the last coil had fallen, and the reptile was making for the milk.

'I am saved!-saved!' and Maxey bounded from his chair, and fell senseless into the arms of one of his servants. In another instant, need it be added, we were all dispersed: the snake was killed, and our poor friend carried, more dead than alive, to his room.

That scene I can never forget: it dwells on my memory still, strengthened by the fate of poor Maxey, who from that hour pined in hopeless imbecility, and sunk into an early grave.-Bentley.

MILTON.

Whoever is powerful in virtuous faculties, and exercises them as he ought, must necessarily feel a great and proud delight from the exertion; but in the noble employment of the mind there is unmingled delight: hours become like minutes, and days like hours. Sitting in the humble porch of his humble house, blind, poor, meanly clad, unattended, how great must Milton have felt above all kings and conquerors of the earth-above the possessors of the wealth of the world, the inhabitants of marble palaces and golden saloons! He knew his own dignity; and it was among his glories that he knew it. He never shrunk from the assertion of his own ascendancy. It did not lower his self-esteem to hear the popular shouts bestowed on his inferiors-on Waller, and Cowley, and Denham, and the wits that basked in the sunshine of the court-while he was neglected, and his sublime strains unfelt and untasted; he knew the day would come when all that was wise and great must acknowledge his supremacy.-Sir E. Brydges, Bart.

BEN JONSON'S BURIAL-PLACE.

The words, 'Oh, rare Ben Jonson!' inscribed on the wall near the Poets' Corner [in Westminster Abbey], remind us that Jonson, though not housed in the Corner, lies in the Abbey, in the north aisle of the nave; and a curious story is told as to the grave. The Dean of Westminster rallied the poet about his burial in the Abbey vaults. I am too poor for that,' answered Jonson, and no one will lay out funeral charges upon me. No, sir; six feet long by two wide is too much for me; two feet by two will do for what I want.' 'You shall have it,' replied the dean, and so the conversation ended. On the poet's death a demand was made for the space promised, and a hole made in it eight feet deep, and the coffin therein deposited upright.-Knight's Old England.

HAPPINESS.

Happiness is the shadow of contentment, and rests or moves for ever with the original.

TYPES OF THE RESURRECTION.

... Nearly allied to these are the examples of peculiar transformations undergone by various insects, and the state of rest and insensibility which precedes those transformations: such as the chrysalis or aurelia state of butterflies, moths, and silk-worms. The myrmeleon formicaleo, of whose larva and its extraordinary history Reaumur and Roesel have given accurate descriptions, continues in its invisible or chrysalis state about four weeks. The libellula, or dragon-fly, continues still longer in its state of inaction. Naturalists tell us that the worm repairs to the margin of its pond in quest of a convenient place of abode during its insensible state. It attaches itself to a plant or piece of dry wood, and the skin, which gradually becomes parched and brittle, at last splits opposite to the upper part of the thorax. Through this aperture the insect, now become winged, quickly pushes its way; and, being thus extricated from confinement, begins to expand its wings, to flutter, and finally to launch into the air with that gracefulness and ease which are peculiar to this majestic tribe. Now, who that saw for the first time the little pendant coffin in which the insect lay entombed, and was ignorant of the transformation of which we are now speaking, would ever predict that in a few weeks, perhaps in a few days or hours, it would become one of the most elegant and active of winged insects? And who that contemplates with the mind of a philosopher this curious transformation, and knows that two years before the insect nounts into air, even while it is living in water, it has the rudiments of wings, can deny that the body of a dead man may, at some future period, be again invested with vigour and activity, and soar to regions for which some latent organization may have peculiarly fitted it ?-Olinthus Gregory.

GREAT MINDS.

Minds capable of the greatest things can enjoy the most trivial-as the elephant's trunk can knock down a lion or pick up a pin.

POWER OF KNOWLEDGE.

What is it that mainly distinguishes a man from a brute? Knowledge. What makes the vast difference between savage and civilized nations? Knowledge. What forms the principal difference between men as they appear in the same society? Knowledge. What raised Franklin from the humble station of a printer's boy to the first honours of his country? Knowledge. What took Sherman from his shoemaker's bench, gave him a seat in Congress, and there made his voice to be heard among the wisest and best of his compeers? Knowledge. What raised Simpson from the weaver's loom to a place among the first of mathematicians? and Herschel from being a poor fifer's boy in the army to a station among the first of astronomers? Knowledge. Knowledge is power. It is the philosopher's stone-the true alchemy that turns every thing it touches into gold. It is the sceptre that gives us our dominion over nature; the key that unlocks the storehouse of creation, and opens to us the treasures of the universe.-Dr Hawes.

STANZAS TO MAY.

BY JOHN ANDERSON.

Come, lovely May-come with thy crown of flowers!
Come, nymph of gladness, with thy sunny hours!
Come, sweet enchantress-glorious, gorgeous May 1—
Come with thy brimming cup of pleasures-come away!
Ten thousand warblers greet thee with their lays,
For every wood is vocal with thy praise-
Thy annual visit to the glad green earth
Thrills every tongue with joy, fills every heart with mirth.
Deep in the dells the lambs bleat out their glee,
And in their sportive gambols welcome thee.
Fair month of promise, jocund blooming queen,
Where'er thy footfalls rest thy cheering power is seen.
Charm'd into life by thy reviving flame,

What beauties live-asleep before you came,
Waving your wand, to bid the sleepers rise,

Lift now their sweet fair heads and ope their beauteous eyes!
The mighty hills, with their deep thrilling tone,
Attest thy presence and thy sceptre own;
And the wide plains, far as the eye can view,
Are weaving laurels, artist month, for you!
By brake and brook, by lake and ruin'd tower,
Is seen thy workmanship, and felt thy power;
The bursting buds, the insect's glittering wing,
Record thy doings and thy prowess sing.
Smile on, kind May, draw out the opening rose;
Unveil the lily, all her charms disclose;
Send forth the bee upon his humming walk;
And rear the martial thistle's noble stalk;
And deck the sward, and sweeten every gale;,
Let song of bird and scent of flower prevail;
Make the rich hawthorn, with its silvery plume,
Hang out its ornaments to tell thou'rt come!
Welcome, young Summer, song-famed empress, hail!
The streams salute thee; and the odorous gale,
Rich with thy benisons, proclaims thee come,
To gild the picture which the Spring begun!
The lark is in his pulpit near the sky,
To tell the world that beauty's passing by,
To claim from all, what all will freely pay,
This name Flower of the Months,' for lovely May!

OUR KNOWLEDGE LIMITED.

While science goes on from step to step in the march of her discoveries, it seems as if her grandest result was the conviction how much remains undiscovered; and while nations in a ruder state of science have been reads to repose on their ignorance and error, or to confound have always been the first to perceive and acknowledge familiarity with knowledge, the most enlightened of men the remaining obscurity which hung around them; just as, in the night, the farther a light extends, the wider the surrounding sphere of darkness appears.-R. Hall.

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No. 17.

CHRISTIANITY AND MEN OF

GENIUS.

SECRET Suspicions against a man may do him far more harm than a direct and open attack upon his character would. Who has not suffered in some degree from being unjustly suspected? Who has not been placed in circumstances which induced him to wish that parties with whom at the time he was dealing would just speak outtell frankly what they had to say against him-so that he might have an opportunity of explanation and defence? Who does not know that much mischief might often be averted, the fair fame of those around him saved, the peace of families and communities spared, were men more candid and straightforward in their intercourse with one another? There is scarcely anything meaner than harbouring a suspicion or grudge against a person, when, by a little honest dealing with him, we might ascertain whether these are well or ill founded.

These remarks apply to systems as well as individuals. As respects Christianity, for example, we are satisfied that its claims as a revelation from Heaven have suffered nearly as much from insinuations and suspicions as from direct assaults. The latter may be repelled, as all of them have fully and fairly been. The former are not sufficiently palpable; they do not stand out before the mind's eye with enough of distinctness; they elude our grasp when we would expose their worthlessness. Who would not rather debate with an open and ingenuous antagonist than with a skulking adversary who takes up no fixed position-the complexion of whose opinions changes as rapidly as the hues of the chameleon ?

The objection, or rather the suspicion, against the Christian faith, derived from the fact that among its avowed enemies may be found many men illustrious from their talents and attainments, belongs to the class we allude to. It may not occupy a very conspicuous place in infidel treatises; it may not be appealed to by the sceptic as a conclusive answer to all we can say in defence of Christianity; it is not, in truth, what we may call a book objection. It is mooted, however, in a covert shape in the social circle, and, which is still more to be regretted, there is too much reason for apprehending that many secretly feel its force though they do not confess it. There are too many in every walk of life who are apt to be led astray by what we usually call the 'first blush of the case.' They are not in the habit of dealing with metaphysical subtleties. They are not addicted to philosophical investigation. They have comparatively little sympathy with the saying of the greatest of the Latin poets-'Happy is the man who can know

PRICE 1d.

the causes of things.' They deal principally with results: the processes that may have led to them are too intricate and perplexing to receive their careful attention. Reasons, whether near or remote, for the opinions other men hold, are not with them topics of anxious inquiry. Now, with this class of persons, the scepticism or total unbelief of men of superior powers and extensive information, is apt to produce a most injurious impression. It is easy to understand how a simple-minded man must feel when told that the religious opinions he holds, or which he is requested to examine, have been spurned as unsound by men who were pronounced by their cotemporaries, and who are recognised by posterity, as prodigies of intellectual power. How apt is he to reason thus with himself: These were men of keen discernment; they had a clear and piercing intellectual eye; they had access to sources of information from which I am shut out; they were thoroughly versant with the history of the past, they could weigh evidences, they could draw inferences; their opinions are quoted and admired on other subjects; why should they not have the same deference paid to them on the question of religion?' We greatly mistake if a train of thought like this has not made many a professor of Christianity waver in his belief-if it has not filled his mind with doubts and misgivings anything but favourable to the growth of his Christian graces. And, which is perhaps still more to be deplored, we greatly mistake if such a train of thought has not made many a spurious formalist contented with his name to live,' and led him to some such conclusion as this-that though, for the sake of conforming to those around him, it may be seemly he should profess attachment to Christianity, there is no necessity why he should be disquieted or uneasy about it, since what many of the most gifted and accomplished of our race, illustrious as poets, statesmen, and philosophers, have treated as an idle delusion, must really be so.

Besides, there is the impression-a most dangerous and seductive one it is-which the fact in question is apt to create, that scepticism, or rather a total rejection of the sacred oracles, is a mark of superior acuteness. We all wish to gain a reputation for mental vigour; we desire to be considered the possessors of fair talents and accomplishments. We do not mean to insinuate that all men are vain enough to fancy themselves other Newtons or Lockes; but there are few who do not wish it to be understood that they are rather beyond the average in capacity and attainment. And, alas! for the thousands, among young men especially, who seek to win their reputation by denying the divine authority of the inspired volume! They argue thus with themselves: The acute Hume scouted revelation; so did the eagle-eyed Voltaire;