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The history of my life is made up more of thought and feeling than
of incidents and events. It is brief and simple, and yet may be
interesting to those who are curious enough to know how the world and
its experiences are regarded by one who can neither hear nor speak.
I know that there are many kind hearts ever open in sympathy for the
sorrowful and afflicted, and those I am sure will give me a hearing,
as I am one of the afflicted. It is the will of God that some of his
children should be forever excluded from the sweet sights and sounds of
earth. Why, we know not, only that it is so; and it remains for us who
are thus, to “Be still and know that he is God.” And though we cannot
understand it, we must believe that it is all for the best. I was
born deaf, on the 15th of November, 1834, in the city of Cincinnati,
though I do not remember much before our removal to Detroit, in the
year 1838. Among my early acquaintances, was a little girl nearly my
own age, Charlotte Monroe. We became warm friends from the first,
and were seldom separated from morning till night. Our plays, our
toys, everything we had, was shared in common; and by the use of our
own signs--a language taught by nature--we understood each other very
well. They tell me that she ran in to her mother, saying, in a voice of
gladness, “Ma, I can talk deaf and dumb as good as Dellie.”
My father had a tame black bear chained up in the yard. He was
harmless, at least, we believed him so, and were not afraid to play
near him, and even sometimes to pat him on the head,--I and my little
friend Lottie. But he soon taught us not to be quite so familiar. We
used to feed him apples and cake, and were delighted when we could make
him show his teeth, or climb the pole, or rear upon his hind legs. One
day (I shall never forget that) I had a piece of cake in my hand, which
I held temptingly before him, though I had no intention of dividing
with him, and frequently disappointed him by drawing it back. He became
enraged at last, and seizing me in his arms, he tore my clothes off
in an instant, and would have killed me had not my shrieks brought me
instant relief. My father dared not keep so dangerous a pet, and soon
disposed of him.
Lottie and myself were up to a great many mischievous pranks, which
caused our friends considerable troublesome times, I fear. I laugh now
when I think of them; but I have not seen her in a good a years, and
they tell me that she is married and the mother of four children. I can
never think of her except as a little fun-loving girl.
When a few years older, my parents removed from Detroit to Grass Lake,
on the Central Railroad. There I found myself among strangers, and
longed for the friends of my other home. It seemed as if no one would
ever understand me as Lottie did, and I missed her sadly. But I was not
long left to pine in solitude. Dear Polly Ann Osgood, I soon learned to
love her as well. We grew up together like sisters. How many delightful
rambles we had about the fields and forests, gathering berries and
other fruits, and weaving the sweet wild flowers into garlands to crown
our heads; and although I could not hear the warbling of birds, my
little friend did, and she tried to make me understand it.
I was always charmed with the scenes of nature, and have been out for
hours alone watching with an exultant heart the skimming swallow,
the green meadows, the rippling streams, the waving forest. The glad
sunshine, the cooling breeze, and the flying clouds were all subjects
to me of wonder and delight, and I longed to know more of them and
their Author. Who made the beautiful world and who made _us_?
My young mind was filled with thoughts all unexpressed and
inexpressible. Deep, fervent and glowing, I longed to worship
_something_, I knew not who or what. My dear mother was constantly
importuned with questions, who made the grass and the flowers and all
the living creatures that throng the earth? The sky, with its shifting
clouds, its glowing sun, its mild moon, and its myriad stars?
Oh how I yearned for the knowledge to illumine my darkened mind. My
mother, as well as she was able, explained to me that One who dwells
above made them all; and that I must kneel and raise my eyes, hands
and heart in adoration. Oh, I thought “If I _could_ only see him.” But
since I have been able to read His Holy Word, I have learned more of
Him. I have learned to worship Him in spirit and in truth; the only
true worship, for He is a Spirit and comprehends the language of the
heart though the lips move not.
While dwelling in Grass Lake an event took place that I shall never
forget, the remembrance of it even now fills me with horror. My father
used sometimes to pour powder upon the hearth to make it flash for my
amusement. I think he did not know what a mad-cap I was, or he would
hardly have thought it prudent to set me such an example.
One day I was left at home alone, and I got the powder, and sprinkling
it about the floor set it on fire. It flashed in earnest, setting fire
to everything. I had on a flannel dress, fortunately, or I might have
flashed with the rest. But I caught my little dog in my arms, and drew
my father’s trunk to the door. It was very heavy, and I could not
lift it over the sill. So I was obliged to leave it and run more than
a quarter of a mile to the house of the nearest neighbor to give the
alarm.
When they reached the house the roof had fallen in, and the house
with all its contents was consumed. When my mother and father came
home, there was no home to receive them. My dear father had taught his
foolish little dumb girl a trick that had robbed him of it; though
they did not know it then. I could not explain the cause of the fire,
and they were so happy to find that I had not also perished in the
flames, they thought little of their great loss in the house, though
many valuable papers and other articles were destroyed which were
never replaced. After I learned to write, however, I gave my mother a
faithful account of my part in the affair.
When about twelve years of age I was sent to a common school. I tried
as hard as I could to learn, but it was a dry, tedious process, as my
teacher was not qualified to instruct the dumb, and I gave it up in
dispair; feeling, oh how bitterly, that I was not like the rest and
could never hope to acquire as much knowledge.
I had an uncle who wished to take me to the Deaf and Dumb Asylum in
New York; but my father’s health was fast failing, and as I am an only
child, my mother could not endure the thought of separation, and that
project was also relinquished. And I, much as I longed for a more
enlarged and cultivated sphere, much as I hungered and thirsted for a
high knowledge of the world in which I lived, was brought up wild and
wayward, with no definite understanding of my relation to the world,
or the duties required of me. My young heart was brimful of love and
holy aspirations, and I fought and rebelled against the small compass
of surrounding circumstances that hedged me about, yet knew not how the
evil could be overcome.
About this time it became evident to all--all but me--that my father’s
days on earth were numbered. I had never seen a person die, and death
to me was a subject upon which I had never thought. To _die!_ what was
it? I saw the change upon his face. I saw the last dying glance of his
eyes as the film gathered o’er them. I felt the last grasp of his icy
fingers--then he lay cold and motionless. It was a sight so terrible
that I clung frightened to my mother. And yet I could not believe that
I must give him up. I believed the change only temporary. It seemed to
me that he would rise up again, and speak to us, and live as before.
But long hours and days passed away and the change came not. Then they
placed his rigid body in a long box, and screwed the lid down tightly,
and buried him up in the earth.
What did it all mean? Was this death? Oh how terrible. How could people
ever be happy when they knew that sometime they must die? They tried to
explain to me that some part of him was still alive and gone to God.
But I shook my head. No, God lives up in the sky, and I saw him buried
in the ground, I said. They told me that it was “only the poor wasted
body which was buried, that the part of man that _never_ dies, the
spirit, had gone to God.” I thought it was cruel in God to deprive me
of so beloved a parent, and I could not feel reconciled. That was my
first sorrow. But after a little while my dearest friend, Polly Ann,
sickened and died also. She was taken away and buried, and I became so
hopeless and disconsolate that I hardly cared to live myself. I was
sullen, gloomy and resentful. I refused to look upon the lovely face of
nature and take heart for the future. All things had ceased to charm
me--“what are they all good for if we must die and leave them?” I
thought. It seemed to me that if God could do as he pleased with all
the world, he could not be good to deprive the poor little mute of some
of her dearest friends, rendering her life so dark and cheerless. I
visited the graves of my dead friends, mourned and wept over them with
a sorrow that refused to be comforted.
A knowledge of God’s love and what he has done for me was unknown to
me then; but after I was taught to read his Holy Word, many things,
once so dark and mysterious have been revealed to me. I have found it
a fountain of living waters, from which I can drink deep draughts of
light and truth, and my soul is satisfied. It fortifies my weak soul
against the sins and sorrows of this life and enables me to do my duty
with a cheerful heart.
I have confidence in God’s love towards mankind, and in his wisdom and
goodness which rules and directs all things. I have had many crosses in
life to bear, but I will lean upon his Mighty Arm, so strong to save
and he will save me. “Yes, though he _slay_ me, yet will I trust in
Him.”
After my father’s death, my mother and myself were left quite alone
and found it hard to get along on the farm. So we sold it, and after
paying all the debts contracted during his long sickness, there was
little left for ourselves, and we moved to Jackson, where we endeavored
to obtain sewing or any kind of work that would enable us to get an
honest living. We lived in that city three years and during that time
found several good, true friends who did all they could to aid us. Here
I formed the acquaintance of a young lady also deaf and dumb, who had
been educated at an Asylum in Ohio. She was the first mute I ever saw
and the mysterious ties of sympathy immediately established a friendly
feeling between us. I was surprised and delighted at her superior
attainments.
She could write a beautiful hand on her slate to those who knew not
the use of signs, and in a little while taught me the sign language
by which we conversed very easily together. We enjoyed many pleasant
seasons together, and I shall always count among my dearest friends,
Miss Almena Knight, the name of this young lady. Many of our readers
doubtless are already familiar with her little history.
After I saw Miss Knight I grew very anxious to become a pupil at Flint.
Some friends who felt interested in my welfare, obtained my mother’s
consent and assisted me to go. Thanks for the instructions received of
Miss Knight, I succeeded in making myself understood, and from being
an entire stranger, soon became as a member of one large family. My
instructors found me an “apt scholar,” and when I had been there ten
weeks, I sent home a written article of my own composition. My friends
were surprised and pleased at the rapid progress I had made.
Elsie Fairbairn was my especial friend among the pupils; we became
warmly attached and seldom separated. The parents of friend “Eppy,” as
I called her, were also true friends to me, and did many things to show
their kindness to myself and mother. I shall always remember them with
gratitude.
During my stay at Flint I was taken with inflammation in my eyes,
causing me great suffering and destroying the sight of one. My health
became poor, and I was obliged to withdraw from the school. I resigned
my place with much regret, as I still felt greatly deficient in useful
knowledge. The loss of my sight is a great loss to me, still I am
thankful for the blessings I do enjoy; for though poor and with slender
means of support. I have laid up my treasures in Heaven; looking
forward to that glorious time when the mute tongue shall burst forth in
strains of love and praise to its Creator in a world of peace and joy.
When the lame can walk, the blind shall see, the deaf hear, and the
dumb shall speak. All will be right there--no aching heart, no saddened
countenance. What a comfort it is for me to believe thus!
“We speak of the realms of the blest,
Of that country so bright and so fair,
And oft are its glories confest;
But what must it be to be there?
“We speak of its pathway of gold,
And its walls decked with jewels so rare
Of its wonders and pleasures untold;
But what must it be to be there?
“We speak of its freedom from sin,
From sorrow, temptation and care,
From trials without and within;
But what must it be to be there?
“We speak of its service of love,
Of the robes which the glorified wear,
Of the church of the first-born above;
But what must it be to be there?
“Then let us, midst pleasure and woe,
Still for heaven our spirits prepare;
And shortly we all shall know
And feel what it is to be there!”
* * * * *
“Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens--Lord with me abide!
When other helpers fall, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!
“Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
Oh, Thou who changes not, abide with me!
“I heed Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
On to the close, oh Lord abide with me!”