PART SECOND.
Dear Reader:
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
And now, again, after the lapse of five years, I present you with a continuation of my simple history. I have drank bitterly of the cup of sorrow, since my marriage; but I cannot here speak of the trials that have fallen to my lot. I am a member of the Baptist Church, and my home at present is in Ann Arbor, with my mother, who is still spared to me.
She is my good, faithful—my only friend; and were it not for her I know not what would become of me and my little helpless children. She has charge of them while I do what I can to support myself and them. Please do not regard me with coldness and distrust. As truly as I hope for the protection and blessing of my Heavenly Father, I have always striven to do right in his sight, and to be worthy of the love and respect of my fellow beings. I have a little son, also a mute, and two darling little girls who can see and hear; and all who will aid me to secure a comfortable living for them, will make the burden lighter for the afflicted mother.