Deaf and Dumb!

by Harry Castlemon

Millerprohibited their gathering any more, and then proceeded to an opening inthe middle of the wood, and agreed to play at _hunting the hare_. "Andshall not William play with us?" said Caroline, as she was endeavouringto make him sensible of the game, while his brother Harry directed himto sit with Lucy at a distance. "I don't _like_ that in _you_, Harry,"said Henry Rawlinson, who thought he meant to forbid his joining them,"why should not he be amused as well as we?" Harry blushed, and said,"Lucy would not be quiet unless William was with her; besides,"continued he, "when he sees what it is we are playing at, and canunderstand it, he will come; and he can make Lucy sit without himbetter than we can."

  During this conversation, William had marked the countenance of each; hesaw anger in that of Master Rawlinson, and shame in his brother's, andentirely unconscious that he was himself the cause, his whole attentionwas directed to make up the disagreement he perceived between them.Tears stood in his eyes as he took the hand of Harry, and bringing himto Henry, whom he thought he had offended, he stroked the face of each,and with an imploring look seemed to say: "Do be reconciled." "He_shall_ play," said Henry. "My dear," said Miller, who now interfered,"he did not mean any other; but you must think that _he_ knows bestwhat will suit his brother." "_That's_ what I meant," replied Harry,pleased to find some one take his part, "when he sees what our game is,he will join us." "So much the better then," said Henry; "I beg yourpardon;" and taking the hand of his foster-brother, he gave it a heartyshake.

  Smiles once more appeared in their faces, but no countenance showed morepleasure than that of William, on seeing them thus friends again: heexpressed it by "nods, and winks, and wreathed smiles;" and then wentand took his place by Lucy, and in _his_ manner made her understand theywere going to play.

  The game began, and the little girl was as much amused by looking on,as they were who were engaged in it. She discovered no want ofunderstanding, but clapped her hands and laughed as loud as any of them,fully entering into their amusement. When William became thoroughlyacquainted with the game, he made her sensible he was going to jointhem, (as his brother had said he would,) and then Lucy was doublyinterested. Whenever she saw _him_ likely to be caught, she screamedout, not with alarm, but as if to warn him of his danger, though neitherherself nor he could hear the caution.

  During this pleasant exercise Mr. Beaufort arrived, to whom Henry hadalmost forgotten he had given so pressing an invitation. The place oftheir retreat was near the road, and he heard the voices of his youngfriends, long before he saw them. Tying his horse to the paling whichsurrounded the house, he made his way to them, without seeing the goodwoman who belonged to it, and for some minutes, he stood unobserved,till Henry Rawlinson caught his eye: "Oh, there is Mr. Beaufort!" saidhe, and the game was ended in an instant. The eyes of all were directedto the stranger, and William, who had not heard the exclamation,immediately saw the cause of their breaking off so abruptly. But indeedit was not particularly so to him, to whom, from not having his hearing,every thing that happened, and for which he was not prepared by_seeing_ what was going on, had that appearance. "You _are_ come then,"said Henry, to his friend, "this is very good of you;" and in hiseagerness to welcome him, he had nearly overthrown little Lucy; who, onseeing the game ended, had risen from her seat to seek the hand of herfavourite brother. "Oh, my dear!" said Henry, setting her again on herfeet, "I did not mean to hurt you. She is deaf and dumb, Sir," continuedhe, addressing Mr. Beaufort, whose benevolent hand was stretched out tokeep her from falling, and whose countenance, when he heard this, borewitness to his feelings. "Poor little girl," said he, offering her hishand, "what can be done for you?" Lucy looked half pleased, halffrightened at his notice; yet there was something in his manner whichexcited her regard, and William's also, who by this time was at herside, and who read in the stranger's looks, that compassion for theircase which he had often observed in others, when either Lucy or himselfwas the object of attention; and for which he felt a grateful sensation,such as seemed to tell him he had found a _friend_.

  "And this poor boy has the same misfortune, Sir," said Miller, who wasstanding by them, and knowing the compassionate nature of Mr. Beaufort,felt assured he would not be unmindful of them. "Indeed!" replied he,"and yet what intelligent faces." "Oh, Sir! they are both very sensiblechildren," returned Miller, "and you would be delighted to see theiraffection for each other." "Have they never heard of the Asylum?"resumed Mr. Beaufort, with earnestness, "their misfortune might begreatly lessened.--Where is their mother? I'll speak to her about it."And he turned hastily round, unmindful of his friend Henry, and everything else but the charitable design he had in view. "She is within thehouse, Sir," answered Miller; "she feels their situation very keenly,but has no means of helping them." "I will help her," said he, as theyled the way to the cottage. "There is one of our neighbour's sons inthat Asylum," whispered Harry Goldsmith to his namesake, "and my motherhas often wished William could be there; he has not been long, and hecan speak already. She meant to ask your papa about it, the next timeshe came to town."

  By this time Mr. Beaufort had entered the house; the table was neatlyspread for the young folks' dinner, and the mother sitting with her babyin her arms. "Speak to it _now_, Mary," said she to her eldest daughter,who was standing behind, "_now_ that it does not see you." She did so,but it took no notice.

  "Oh! at nine months old this would not be the case, if it was not deaf,"continued the poor woman, with a heavy sigh. "Another unfortunate!"exclaimed Mr. Beaufort on hearing this, as he entered the door. Mrs.Goldsmith instantly arose, and Henry Rawlinson introduced him as agentleman who had come from their house. "Set the gentleman a chair,Mary," said she; and while Lucy, who had now reached her mother's side,kept pulling her by the gown, and pointing towards the stranger, shemotioned her to be silent; and rather seemed to wish her to escape hisnotice, than to obtrude her on his attention.

  "I am come to know the state of your family, my good woman," said he,"and to know whether I can be of any service to you. How old is _that_little boy?" pointing towards William. "Ten, Sir," answered she, "andthe next is nearly eight." "No children older?" "Yes, Sir, a boy who isat work with his father, and that girl." "But whom do you wishassistance for most?" said Mr. Beaufort. "Oh, Sir, my poor William andLucy!" she replied with great emotion; "they most need it." "Iunderstand so," answered the benevolent man; "I know how they aresituated; but do you know that there is a charity established lately,exactly suited to their case?" "Yes, Sir, I have heard of it," said she;"but I have no friend but Mr. Rawlinson," she continued, hesitatingly,"and I have thought that I would speak to him about it." "_I_ will beyour friend," said Mr. Beaufort; "I am one of the _governors_ of thatcharity!"

  It is impossible to describe the expression of joy and gratitude whichappeared in the countenance of the poor woman. She could not utter aword; but her looks, and the tears which flowed from her eyes, spake herthanks more impressively than any thing she could have said. "No time islost yet," continued Mr. Beaufort; "your boy could not have beenadmitted till he was nine years old, and, the next vacancy, I will giveall my votes for him." The poor woman, a little recovered, could nowexpress her thanks; and William, whose face had been like scarlet onseeing her distress, advanced towards her. "Have you taught him anything?" asked Mr. Beaufort. "Oh, Sir, he has taught himself!" answeredshe: "he knows my meaning almost as soon as I look at him. I think heknows his _letters_, though I am not sure he puts the same meaning onthem as we do; and figures he can tell, by counting on his fingers asmany as he sees written. I am sure he does not want for sense, or hissister either; you can't think, Sir, how they love me, or how I lovethem! Dear little creatures, whenever I am out for a day's work, theysit by the road-side together, and as soon as they see me, if it is athalf a mile's distance, William leads little Lucy towards me, and theymeet me with _such_ delight!" "Why, my good woman," said Mr. Beaufort,whose eyes bore witness to the pleasure with which he heard her artlessrelation, "your other children will be jealous, if you thus speak ofthem." "No, they won't, Sir," s
aid she, "they are very good; they knowthat I _ought_ to love these best, because they are unfortunate. Andthis poor baby, Sir," added she, pressing it to her bosom, "I fear it isin the same state: it takes no notice of any thing but what it sees." "Iam sorry for you," replied the good-natured man, "but we will hopebetter things: it