another; and remarkable that their movements were all so quiet, as, from their inability to hear, one might have expected an extra noise of knives and forks. They looked generally cheerful, and had pleasant interchange of sentiment in their quiet language of signs.

We were shewn the daughter of a missionary in Northern India among the pupils. It is pleasing to see the interest excited by the children of missionaries. They are pointed out to strangers in all institutions, but especially if the institution be one connected with human infirmity. In the Blind Asylym at Philadelphia we were introduced to a lively little girl connected with the Chinese Mission. Well does it become us who rest at home to extend our sympathy to the offspring of our delegates, who in heathen lands, amid many hardships, have this one added to their privations and deep anxieties, that they can neither enjoy the society of their own dear children, nor superintend their mental and religious training. Many a time have I seen such children cherished in America, and been introduced to them as subjects of peculiar interest.

In August 1850, a convention of teachers of deaf mutes was held at their institution in New York. Instructors from seven similar asylums met there with old teachers and others interested in discovering the best means of improving the mental education and the moral and social condition of the deaf. The examination, which is reported by the Rev. Mr Day, seems to have been searching and satisfactory,

while the best results may be anticipated from the congregated wisdom and experience of so many zealous and practical men.

There is in the Hartford Institution an example of an individual deprived of sight as well as hearing. Julia Bliss is the child of poor parents. She lived for several years in her father's house, without any effort being made to instruct her. It is wonderful to hear how much her own sagacity had taught her. She could wash and dress little brothers and sisters; and when, in her untrained impatience, she slapped or shook any of them, as she could neither hear their cries nor see their tears, she was used to feel their eyes, and if she found them weeping, she would take pains to soothe and comfort them. She learned the use of money, it was not distinctly known how, and if any was given to her she would hoard it till a neighbour in whom she confided came within her reach, when she would bring her to an object such as she wanted (say a comb or a string of beads), shew it, give her money, sign to her to go out and get it, and then not rest till she got her fairly out of the house. She was watchful about the clothing of her sisters, and very jealous if she discovered that they had new shoes or frocks, while she had old ones. Naturally of a hot temper, without any door open by which to reach her reason or conscience, she commonly managed to keep the family uncomfortable till her wishes were acceded to. She was ultimately observed by a benevolent friend, and placed

under instruction. I did not see her, but was informed that she has not gained so much as she might have done, had she been earlier trained. She has one sense in great strength, of which it is thought Laura Bridgeman, her associate in misfortune, is nearly destitute. Julia discerns all persons and things by her scent, which seems of the character of that by which a dog tracks his master, or a hound his prey. She never mistakes a friend, and one of her regular occupations in the institution, is what may sometimes have its difficulties to people with both eyes. She receives the clothes from the laundress, and sorts them in the clothes-room, never placing the property of one inmate in the pigeonhole of another.

The idea was conceived of introducing the two girls, sisters in age, in sex, and in calamity, to each other. But it seems no proper mode of communication could be established between them, and the meeting was a failure. Laura Bridgeman, at Boston, was told the history of Julia Bliss, and her romantic and sensitive mind was worked up to a passion of enthusiastic sympathy. Julia had no language by which she could be told the history of Laura, and when she found herself suddenly embraced by a person she had never felt before, and bedewed by tears, the cause of which she could not divine, she exerted a most determined resistance, much to the grief and surprise of poor Laura, whose heart, full of love, was thrown roughly back upon herself.

We had an interview with Laura Bridgeman at the noble Blind Asylum of Boston. Her first ques

tion was, "Have you seen Doctor?" Dr Howe, being her first link to social life, is, of course, to her the most interesting person in the world. A blind friend by her side, interpreted to us the hand-language of Laura, who has a pretty figure, is pale, with fair hair, neatly braided by herself, and small green shades which entirely cover the sockets once occupied by her blue eyes. Her features are animated, and her face full of sensibility. She replied sensibly to various questions; and when she was told that one of the ladies was from Scotland, she made several remarks about that country, and observed that she must have crossed three thousand miles of ocean to come to Boston. She suddenly, without apparent explanation, made her way from behind a little table, flew across the wide hall like a bird, and must have ascended the lofty staircase with as rapid and as sure a foot as the possession of all her senses could have bestowed, for she returned in a moment. She had gone to fetch her little merchandise of watch-guards woven by herself. We purchased and paid for them into her own delicate hand. One lady gave her a gold dollar. It was a new coin, so she had not had one before. She touched it with her tongue, carefully fingered the figures on the surface, then ran her nail round the notched edge, and said, on the hand of her friend," California." I paid her in five or six coins to make up one dollar. She fingered and

counted them till she was satisfied it was right, being acquainted with the feeling and the value of half and quarter dollars, of dimes, and shillings. One could not help feeling a little solicitude, lest, among the few ideas which can find access to her secluded mind, that which may tend to covetousness should furnish too large a share. We were told, however, that her mother is poor, and it is for her that she exercises her industry. She inquired with curiosity whether we had chosen blue or puce colour. When told that mine was to go to Scotland to be given to the physician from whom I had brought a book for Dr Howe, she expressed great delight, smiling very pleasantly.

We were told, but not in the institution, that Dr H. had been greatly annoyed, after an absence, to to find that a visitor had told her of the "Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world." He avoids imagery or anything like complex figures in his instructions, and she did not know what to make of this new figure. It must indeed be very difficult to tread in his steps as her instructor, yet one feels a strong sympathy with the kind friend who wished to lead her to a knowledge of the atonement.

We heard with a little surprise that the amiable wife of M. Gallaudet, the benefactor of the deaf, is herself a mute. So the animated, intellectual young man, whom we met in the New York Institution, never was sung to sleep by the voice of his mother. I was much more surprised to learn that upwards