The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-11-05
THE SILENT WITNESS.
By VIcTOR j. SMITH.

L am uea1-mute. l never heard 4
human voice: no human being ever
heard mine. Can you who speak and
listen imagine what it is to be able to
do neither? Impossible! And yet
mine has not been an unhappy life; l
have not lived in gloom, the sunshine
is as bright to me as to you, and nature
has almost as many charms for my one
sense as for your two.
True, no fond baby-talk from the lips
Of darling mother ever frightened an
hour of my earliest years or chased
away a tear of anger or pain. l came
into the world quietly; I have lived in
it quietly, and shall, no doubt, depart
from it without having made any great
noise. AS for my parents, am con-
soled in that my tongue never caused
them pang, and though know they
have often mourned over my lot, Heel
sure that my lack of speech and hearing
has often proved blessing to us all. of
course l never ran crying to mamma
with story on Carl or Jessie; never
quarreled with my little brother and
sister, though l was often mute wit
ness of their petty disputes. l could
play and frolic with the best of my COM
rades, being healthy, strong and active;
aud, though I do say it, was the equal
of any, the superior of many, in every
thing but mental training.
My education was sadly neglected,
for in my young years the teaching OF
the deaf and dumb had not approached
that perfection it has now attained, and
l was ten before / had learned any OF
the manual signs. could make my
simple wants known to my family,
could spell on my fingers a word or
two, but beyond this l was densely ig-
norant. My dear mother died and left
me in the care of childless sister whose
sympathies she had enlisted in my be-
half on her death-bed, and my aunt
whom l loved fondly, took me to live
with her. She and uncle had lived a
quiet life, and my entrance into the
family, though it did not disturb tina,
quiet, brought, think, little happi.
ness into their household. l strove
hard to deserve their affection, and
studied diligently that l might become
of service. Being naturally quick Of
perception, my progress was rapid
l soon knew how to read and write, and
had mastered the art of lip reading sc
thoroughly that l could understand
every word you said, provided you ar
ticulated distinctly.
Another accomplishment I acquired
of which I was not little proud.
discovered in my hand an ear; yes,
taught my hand to perform the func
tons of my ears. Strange, you say!
We persons who lack one or more Of
the natural senses are more acute ir
others than you who have them all
and my compensation consisted of deli
cacy of touch. found that the thir
membrane of the back of my righ1
hand was unusually sensitive, more sc
than any other part of my body, t
changes of heat and cold, and it gave
me much annoyance on that account
Once, while watching my teacher d.
difficult exercise on the piano Il wa!
taking music lessons), | Leaned
upon the instrument and allowed
the back of my hand to res
carelessly upon the cover. I'm
mediatcly there was peculiar hum
ming in my head, and l sprang away
thoroughly alarmed. The hummine
ceased when I did so. I.tried it again
and felt the same sensation. l movet
my hand about upon the instrumen
and detected strains of music. l thel
laid it on the sounding board, and, oh
iov! 1 heard! Yes, I, who for sixtee1
wears had never heard sound, nov
listened with rapture to one of Strauss
waltzes! 1t filled my whole being; tn
delicious strains thrilled in me. and
could feel my nerves vibrating in re
sponse to the touch of the performer
nuick and slow, loud and soft.
was so intoxicated with delight a