Let me add a few more pages to the brief sketch you have just read
of my life, which was written over four years ago. It was a great
undertaking for me to publish for perusal by the public a history of
my life, and then offer it for sale. I shrunk from it, and could never
have done so, had it not been really necessary for me to do something
for my own maintenance. But though sometimes chilled by averted looks
and want of sympathy, I have found many ready and willing to extend the
helping hand; many earnest, true friends who have aided and encouraged
me. The son of Mr. BARNS, my former publisher, (who is a true
gentleman, has also been afflicted with deafness, though not mute,) and
the printers in the _Tribune_ office, made me a present of the first
thousand copies of my little book and a few dollars in money to help me
on. Words fail to express my gratitude for this kindness, but I shall
ever cherish for them the most grateful remembrance. By this means I
was enabled to secure a home for myself and mother.
R. N. RICE, a gentleman widely known for his Christian virtues and his
benevolence, has gained my gratitude by doing much to assist me.
And now I will tell you what I have seen in my travels. Many things
very interesting and wonderful to me. Thank Heaven for sight, precious
sight! To the deaf it is both hearing and speech. I have only the
full enjoyment of one eye,--the other is still so dim that I cannot
distinguish objects with it. But the sight I do have is invaluable to
me. Some of my blind friends seem very cheerful, and even happy. Yet
pleasures which sight secures can never be theirs. The faces of beloved
friends, beaming with smiles of affection--the green fields--the
beautiful flowers--the trees waving in the summer winds, white with
blossoms or laden with ripe fruits--the broad, winding river sparkling
in the sun, while boats of every shape and size glide over its bosom.
How endless are the objects presented to the eye of a traveler. How I
love to watch the changes in the beautiful blue sky bending so lovingly
over us; now so clear that scarcely the softest shadow of a cloud is
seen; then covered with white, fast-sailing clouds or clouds at rest,
tinted with the hues of the rainbow. Then we have the fierce dark rain
clouds, with vivid lightning passing through them. Then at night when
the sky is clear how all ablaze it seems with its millions of stars.
These objects are familiar with all, but I am afraid we do not think
as much as we should of Him who made them. Oh how we ought to love and
adore One whose wisdom and goodness is so manifest in all His works.
The most wonderful sight I ever beheld, a sight that made me tremble
and worship God, was the Falls of Niagara. Such a great river, pouring
over such a descent! It makes me dizzy to look at it; and it shook
the earth far and near. What a dreadful thing it must be to go over
the Falls. As I stood upon the bank and watched the foaming spray, and
heard its awful thunder--for even the deaf can hear that--my guide
pointed out the log just above the falls, that Mr. Avery clung to
in despair, out of reach of all human help. Thousands of spectators
gathered on the shore anxious and eager to extend assistance, but in
vain. The tide was so rapid it would have been madness to attempt to
reach him with a boat; no ropes could be thrown far enough, and after
remaining there for many hours, the strength of the unfortunate man
failed, and he went over, down, down, into the foaming cataract many
hundred feet, and was never seen more.
My guide told me, also, of the fate of the steamer Caroline. Fired by
the Canadians and sent over the Falls. He said it was enveloped in
flames and it looked grand as it was plunged into the foaming abyss.
We saw Fereni walk a tight-rope across the river while at the Falls.
A great many people assembled to witness the feat. Fereni walked away
steadily until half way across--then he fell! We all thought he was
gone forever. But by a dexterous movement he caught by one hand and
saved himself. Then he got upon his feet again and walked across. I
could hardly breathe until he was safe upon the ground again. I do not
like to see people get into such dangerous places. It seems to me as
if they were defying death. But this man had walked across many times
without accident, and he had grown careless.
We saw many Indians and Squaws sitting about on the shore, with their
little children playing about them. Many of them were nearly white and
very pretty. They were employed with bead-work, which they wrought
with great ingenuity, and offered for sale to visitors. I brought away
several little relics which I prize highly.
The Suspension Bridge is a wonderful structure. In the distance it
looked like a spider-web. It seems almost incredible that such a bridge
could be built strong enough to bear up a heavily loaded train of cars.
Yet it is true. It would be fearful to fall at such a time!
At the Suspension Bridge we found an Asylum for the deaf, dumb, and
blind. It was a private school kept by Dr. Skinner and his wife. The
Doctor had been blind two years--his wife, though she could see, was
a mute. This worthy couple, though white themselves, were deeply
interested in the poor colored children afflicted like themselves,
and their pupils are all colored. Those who could see had bright
sparkling eyes, and were quiet and respectful. The blind were very
tidy and attentive. They all seemed very contented and happy, and it
was interesting to see the dumb scholars converse with their blind
associates.
The institution is supported partly by donations and contributions from
those who sympathize in the good work, and partly by the publication
of a paper--the work is done by the pupils who are printers and
compositors.
We came away much pleased with our visit, and praying for the success
and prosperity of the Asylum, and for the welfare of the generous
instructors and founders.
At the Suspension Bridge we took the cars for Portage, passing, on our
road, Perry, Wyoming and several other little villages. When we left
the cars and took a carriage, our way lay along a high ridge of hills.
The carriage track was very narrow, with scarcely a foot space between
it and a frightful precipice on one side, and a high, steep bank on the
other. I trembled and clung to the side of the carriage, fearing every
moment to be dashed to destruction--a single mis-step of the horses,
or mismanagement on the part of the driver, making such a result
inevitable. But we passed over safely. Every now and then entering some
densely wooded dingle or tangled wild, which made it seem as if we were
hundreds of miles from any human habitation, and then a sudden turn in
the road would reveal the most enchanting little village imaginable,
nestled in a warm valley at our feet; we could look directly down upon
the roofs of some of them. It seemed to me like fairy land. Thus we
were several times surprised and delighted during our ride.
The Portage Falls, though much smaller than the Niagara, looked very
beautiful, flying and flashing in the sunlight, and pouring its sheet
of white foam down the rocks.
Messenger’s Hollow was another beautiful town, situated at the foot
of the Alleghany Mountains. Indeed, I could fill a large book,
describing what I saw through that country, but I can only briefly
allude to them here. All along this delightful tour I found much
pleasure in conversing with some of my fellow passengers, thanks to
Monsieur Gallaudet, the noble benefactor of his race, who first became
interested in the happiness of the poor mute and invented a language
by which we can converse with others, and be cheerful and happy. Those
who could not understand the sign language could write, and I also made
frequent use of my pencil.
Leaving Nunda, we pursued our way to the village of Mount Morris--the
early home of my mother. She was much surprised at the great
improvement and the changes everywhere so apparent. It was almost
a wilderness then, with here and there a solitary farm house. Now,
thriving little villages are scattered all along our way; and the place
called Mount Morris was now a town of considerable importance. Here
the cars and the canal afforded opportunities for travel. We took the
cars for Cayuga at this place, passing through Bloomfield, Canandaigua,
Geneva, and in view of Seneca Falls--another cataract worthy of note.
It looked very beautiful, and the scenery around it passes my power of
description.
At Cayuga village we rested for the night, and the next morning went on
a steamer to Genoa, about twenty miles off. The Lake was only two miles
wide, and we could very plainly see the shore on either side. On one
side the shore was very near to us much of the way.
We passed a burial ground three miles above Cayuga Bridge. Its white
monuments and tablets gleamed through the trees. It was a lovely,
peaceful spot. Here, my mother told me, the body of my grandmother had
slept for many years. She died when my mother was very young.
Arriving at Genoa, we went to visit uncle’s family, who received us
with much joy, and my young cousins did all they could to make our
visit pleasant. We remained a week, and when we set out on our return
my aged grandfather and his wife accompanied us and spent the winter
with us. My beloved Aunt Lucy--my mother’s only sister--was very ill,
and the following spring, hoping she might be benefitted by the change,
we induced her to come to our home in Michigan. But she grew no better,
and after watching and attending to her with great care and affection
for several months, she died, and was buried but a little way from my
home, where I have visited her grave often. My grandfather returned
home in the fall, and my young cousin joined the army. So my mother and
myself are left alone again.
Two years ago the Principal of the Indiana Asylum sent me an invitation
to visit the institution and remain a pupil.
Miss Almena Knight accompanied me. We had a very pleasant visit,
and were treated with great respect by the teachers. The process of
teaching is similar to that of Flint; and the exercises in the schools
were very interesting. We remained, however, but a few days, for I was
not able to meet the expenses of tuition there.
And now for the present, dear readers, adieu. At some future time
I may tell you more. My home is not yet free from incumbrance, and
could I emerge from indebtedness, I shall be forever grateful to all
who, by purchasing my little book, enable me to do so. It is still a
great trial for me to offer my book for sale, for though on one hand
I meet with sympathy and kindness, on the other, coldness, slight
and discouragement chill me. Still I will hope for the best. May the
dear Lord, who was ever a friend to the poor, bless ever the tender,
generous heart, is the sincere and constant prayers of