16

Some Unexpected Events

Some weeks after the holidays had passed, Miss Carver, Carrie’s teacher, was surprised when, upon entering her schoolroom as usual one morning, she found it tastefully decorated with festoons and wreaths of evergreens. She was at a loss to understand what had led to the sudden transformation of the room and whose work it was, until one of her pupils informed her that they had done it in honor of her birthday. Then it suddenly occurred to her that it was indeed her birthday. In a very pleasant manner she thanked the class for this token of their appreciation of her work; then she asked, “But how did you know it was my birthday?”

“I asked you a long time ago, and you told me then,” answered one little girl.

“Oh, I had forgotten,” said Miss Carver. “And so you wanted to know in order to surprise me,” she added, laughing. “Yes,” was the reply. But the surprise was not yet at an end. Presently the door of her schoolroom was opened and in came the only absent member of the class, followed by the members of the highest class. Each person, upon entering the schoolroom, shook hands with Miss Carver and passed up one of the side aisles of the room to give place for others. After all had entered and greeted Miss Carver, a few moments were spent in inspecting the decorations, and then they departed for their own schoolroom. Scarcely had they gone, however, before another class filed into the room, and the same ceremony was again enacted. And so class after class came, from the highest down to the lowest grade. This unexpected reception, in which both teachers and pupils joined, soon came to an end, and all once more resumed their school duties.

About this time, some of the members of the state legislature and other persons visited the institution, and, after they had inspected different parts of the buildings, the pupils were all summoned to the chapel, where an exhibition of a miscellaneous character was given for the benefit of the visitors. Members of the different classes were called up to write, and thereby show, the progress being made in language and in the various studies. Then two boys enacted a story entitled “Fishing.” This was done by means of natural motions, which even those not familiar with the deaf and dumb sign language can readily understand. Next Mr. Vance, a deaf and dumb teacher possessing excellent imitative faculties, told in the same natural motion-language, a story of a man shaving while being watched closely by a monkey, which, when the man left the room for a moment at the close of the operation, seated itself upon the bureau and proceeded to lather its own cheeks, as it had observed the man to do. But the poor monkey, not being careful, got some of the lather in its eyes, producing an agony of pain. Dropping the brush, it plunged its paws into its smarting eyes, trying vainly to allay the pain, at which point the man reappears upon the scene. These and other stories were strongly applauded by the visitors, showing that they appreciated them. The pantomime language in which they were delivered differs from the ordinary sign language of the deaf and dumb, being simply imitations of various actions of persons or animals. Some deaf-mutes possess the faculty of imitating other people’s actions, and also the actions of some animals, to a surprising degree. This, no doubt, is owing to the fact that they are close observers of what is going on around them.

There is another, though not distinct, phase of the deaf-mute language in which some show great proficiency. This is the expression of the various emotions of the human heart by look or action. In connection with the sign expressing joy or happiness, the countenance lights up with a happy smile. When making the sign for “hope,” a look of expectancy accompanies it. In expressing trust or faith, a peculiar look of peaceful reliance comes into the eyes, and if it is an expression of faith in Christ, the eyes are raised heavenward. The sign for “anger” is accompanied by a scowling or angry look. Along with the sign for “sorrow” comes a sorrowful or sympathetic expression. Fear is expressed by trembling of the limbs and looks of terror. In “doubt,” an expression of disbelief is depicted upon the features. Shame is expressed by hanging the head and assuming a humiliated appearance. The sign for “scorn” is accompanied by a look of contempt. Pride, or vanity, is portrayed by strutting pompously across the floor. Love and hate have previously been depicted. Emphasis, indecision, weariness, despondency, etc., are also shown in much the same way as the emotions just described.

At the close of the exhibition above mentioned, one of the visiting gentlemen arose and addressed the silent throng, expressing himself as much pleased and somewhat surprised at the degree of intelligence and improvement manifested. The visitors then left, and the classes returned to their respective schoolrooms.

One pleasant Sunday morning a minister of the Episcopal Church came out to the institution to preach to the pupils. When, in company with the superintendent, he mounted the steps of the platform to begin the service, he was arrayed in the long white robe known as a surplice. Many of the pupils had never before seen a minister thus arrayed, and looks of amusement or astonishment were depicted upon the countenances of some of them. The minister probably noticed this, for he directed the superintendent to explain to them that it was customary for ministers of the Episcopal Church to wear this robe when holding religious services. This explanation was satisfactory, and all gave attention to the service, which was translated into the deaf and dumb language by the superintendent as fast as it was delivered in spoken language by the minister. Among other things, he related a sort of a parable, which was as follows:

A prize was offered by a great King to all who reached a certain goal before the close of day, at which time, a great gong would strike announcing that the chances of winning the prize had gone by. Three persons learning of this prize, and the conditions upon which it was to be obtained, set out to reach the goal and win it. Two of them were strong and active, unencumbered by any great hindrances; but the third was lame. The two whose limbs were strong and whole thought there was no need to hurry, and as the sun was warm and bright, and everything looked so pleasant, they loitered along the way, culling the beautiful flowers, or feasting on the luscious fruits that grew at some distance from the path. But the lame person, knowing well the lack of power in himself, pressed right onward, never stopping to indulge in the pleasures held out to him on the way, yet able to enjoy, as he went along, the beautiful scenery, and the singing of the birds overhead. Meanwhile the other two had become quite oblivious of the lapse of time, so absorbed were they with the pleasures of the way. The sun sank lower and lower, while the lame person, though grown weary with the heat and burden of the day, toiled on, each successive step bringing him nearer the longed-for goal. The two whom he had left loitering along the way by and by became conscious that the day was nearing its close and that they must put forth their best endeavors in order to reach the goal before the sun went down to dawn upon no hopeful tomorrow, and the fatal gong should sound. Without further delay they prepared to press onward to the goal, but found they had not strength enough left to enable them to reach it. On the contrary, the lame person, whose chances at the outset were so small and unpromising, had, by steadily and perseveringly pressing forward, reached the goal, won the prize, and was fully satisfied.

“The great King,” concluded the minister, “is God. The prize he offered, and still offers, is eternal life. The day signifies this mortal life. The gong sounding is death. The prize is offered to every one of us who will strive to win it. Let us, then, ‘press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.’ ” An impressive prayer now closed the service. It had been followed intently by the keen, bright eyes of the pupils, which truly seem to possess greater visual powers than the eyes of persons who can hear.

We cannot tell how much of real good this simple sermon accomplished, or how many of these silent ones took its lesson home to their own hearts; but we believe that every earnest, unselfish effort to help on the interests of God’s kingdom does some good. Often the work of instructing the deaf and dumb in spiritual things—things that cannot be perceived by the natural eye—seems like attempting to impart knowledge to dumb, inanimate things. But if the instructor proceeds with his work as best he knows how, relying on God for help and trusting him to crown the efforts with success, the good results will certainly appear in after years. This fact has been verified over and over in the after lives of many pupils, the good seed having not been sown in vain, though it had long laid dormant in the mind.

The winter months passed profitably and pleasantly away, and once more March came round on his annual visit to our globe. He seemed to be in excellent spirits this year, for his usual blustering manner was lacking, and his smile was very genial.

One day, at the close of their school duties, as the girls were slowly wending their way toward the large main building, the attention of some of them was attracted to an unusual sight in front of the building. A sort of covered shed had been erected, and at a little distance from this were several men standing around some object. Curious to know what this object might be, they began to venture near the group. The superintendent, who was among the men, noticed their approach and signaled to them to come nearer. They obeyed and came thronging up to him in full force. Soon he had them all grouped together near a cluster of large forest trees, and before it was clear to some of them what all this meant, they were having their photographs taken, along with the main building, upon which the photographer’s camera had already been directed. Some among this photographic group presented an amusing appearance when the work was finished. Some of them, in lieu of bonnets or hats, had opened their schoolbooks and placed them astride of their heads to keep off the beams of the sun; others had, apparently for the same purpose, made turbans of their handkerchiefs. The various attitudes assumed seemed intended to suit their own comfort and convenience rather than the artist’s fancy; yet all appeared to consider it an honor to have had their own pictures taken in connection with the imposing structure known as the institution for the deaf and dumb.