The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1879-05-01
State Institutions at Staun ton.

Mr.. q. Il. Whlpple, OF the S0nthern intel
hgencer, Richmond, writes that paper an ex-
cellent letter on trip to the Valley, in which
the two State Institutions located at Staunton
are described rs follows:
THE DEAF, DUMB, AND BLIND INsTITU
TIoN.
1t was Hene who, in a rage of impious
sarcasm, called the maker OF man and the
world the .'Aristophanes of Heaven" 1 do
believe the thought came to him when he
was regarding some such sights as that which
meet the eye in the Institution or the Asy.
lum. To see little blind girl, as | did the
other day, feel her way out upon the stage
and sing away as though it did her little heart
good to sing, her vacant gaze, if gazeit might
be called, resting upon the audience, and her
meek hands folded over her white pinafore.
singing like thrush. but without the joy
BUSINESS of thrush, and singing of sights Of
fields, and skies, and sunlight why, if
there is touching sight in the world it is
this, you would say No! go little further
and there is one, deaf, dumb, and blind
poor, ~ iserable creature, with but two
senses, and those altogether unsociaI. How
.ad must be such a soul And yet to-day
there are such among the throng that totters
into the chapel to offer up praise to the Giver
of good gifts. and as those who can speak,
say: ''For our creation, preservation, and
al the blessings we enjoy, we thank Thee"
feel glad that these deaf mutes know
nothing OF what is going on, for l am sure
they would only feel how hollow were such
\ petition, and their thoughts would be about
the jealous God, who twists the sins of the
fathers upon the children -
ABINGDON OF UNREAsoN.
A little further on and we are in a place
where mere hnlks of humanity roam around
listlessly like dsmantled ships upon the wa
GERS after storm, the rudder of life gone,
The sails tat.ered and hanging in strings in
the idle-blowing wind, the spars battered.
and the anchor lost-mere shells Of vessels
that started out from the home port one
bright, sunny morning with pennants flying
and cleavng the waters in their sweet, on
ward way. Now the light OF their little day
has vanished and. they, with poor, deluded
powers, conjure up in their weakling fancy
sad pictures and grotesque dreams. Yonder
is one, a man once, who brings in every CAV
piles OF leaves, such as he finds blowing about
the grounds, and deems himself the possess
or Of countless pieces of gold. Another,
whose poise of mind was unsettled by the
sight of his dead children and their mother,
sits in corner, and, in plaintive tone, says:
''Good morning, gentlemen, but you haven't
brought them with you, as you promised"
There is no shade Of Disappointment on
his face, no start of expectation and then a
sad relapsing into sick despair-only a dull,
weary look of great care. as if his heart had
waited and watched through a thousand days,
upon every one of which he had hoped to
see the dead ones come in, and yet they came
not. Some there are gayer than others, and
some there are VIII beat themselves in sui
cidal fury against the walls of their enclos-
ure. On every hand there is babblng and
chattering and sly and cunning glances, with
here and there tears and hooking laughter.
In yonder window is an old man with flying
gray hair, who imagines himself great
preacher, and his cries and exhortations are
heard above the hubbnb and noise in that
turbulent quarter. One Of the keepers call s
to him to be silent. but again he exhorts.
There be times, perhaps, when there
floats up to them bit of some happy mem
ory in a long gone past, and then how strange
must be their feeling. where am /, and
what am L. comes from the trembling lip,
but before the fleet. footed memory can an >
swer this question, darkness comes again,
and the day and the night are the same as
one.
"Aristophanes, did Hene say? Did he
mean solemn and all powerful joker, who
played upon the hearts and minds within
his power as brawny smith beats upon his
battered anvil and gleefully laughs at the
ringing cry that follows his singing blow !?
Arstophanes l don't know what he
meant, aud it troubles me that he should
have used that word at all for it only rem
ders the problem of life harder to solve, il we
have the lurking suspicion that the maker OF
ifa 10 inlyo rla
iconQclast-the breaker of the image OF the
mind, the only part of man which in its ma
ture is supremely noble. And thinking these
things 90 out again into the open air un-
der the blue of the sky, and in the mellow
glow of open day. and as pass down the
gravelled path that leads to this Temple OF
Unreason wonder what it is that we are,
and il we, any OF us, can know whether we
are really what we should be, or
SIS all that see seem
But dream within a dream.
A GIRLS HERo1sM.-One day last week
Misses Maggie Simms and Virginia Hartman
were boating on Middle River, near the resi-
dence of Col. Hartman. Miss Simms was man.
aging the boat, and had just steered across
the river and stepped on to the bank when
the little craft, with Miss Hartman in it, dart
ed from the shore into the swift and deep
current OF the stream. The occupant scream
ed for assistance, and there being no one else
near, Miss Simms jumped into the water, and
by wading and padding succeeded in reach
ing the boat and conducting it safely to the
shore.
Cox, who recently murdered Col. Aston,