Deaf and Dumb! / Third Edition

by Elizabeth Sandham

The next morning, he and his mother were up before any of the children; and to spare him the pain of taking leave, she directed Mary not to awake them till they were gone. Our travellers had about a mile to walk to meet the coach, to which his father accompanied them, and, with the most earnest wishes for his success in gaining admittance, he bade his affectionate child—farewell.

Poor William had, till then, been all joy and ecstasy, but when he saw his father turning back, a tear stole from his eye. He had hoped, from his coming thus far with them, that he was also to accompany him; and with an enquiring look, he turned to his mother, with whom he was seated on the top of the coach, to know why he did not. The novelty of William's actions soon attracted the attention of the other passengers, and the recital of his case excited their pity. Among the number, the poor woman met with one who very well knew the part of the town she was going to, and where Mr. Beaufort had secured a room for them to sleep in, near the Asylum: and in the morning this benevolent man called to see her before the committee assembled. William instantly knew him again, and, from his mother's behaviour, he saw that it was to him he was obliged for the education he was about to receive, and with all the eloquence of silent gratitude he expressed his thanks.

At length eleven o'clock came, and William was introduced to the gentlemen. The votes were given, and he obtained his admission by a majority only of one; and that was from Mr. Beaufort having the number of votes which constitutes a governor for life; and the pleasure with which he informed Mrs. Goldsmith of her son's success, could only be excelled by hers on hearing it.

William was then introduced to some of the scholars, among whom was Jacob Goodyer: they immediately recollected each other, and ran to express their pleasure in thus meeting. "How do you do, Mrs. Goldsmith?" said Jacob, delighted thus to use his newly-acquired speech, and to have an opportunity of displaying his improvement. "How are my father and mother?" The poor woman could not answer him: she burst into tears. "And will my boy ever speak so well as he?" she exclaimed to one of the matrons of the school, who was with her. "No doubt he will," answered the woman, who was equally affected. She then described more of Jacob's attainments; and when the first emotions of surprise were over, Mrs. Goldsmith was able to converse some time with him. He told her he had seen his father lately, begged her to carry his duty and love to all at home, and tell them he had made six pair of shoes since his father was there. He walked round the school and house with his old friends; told them how happy he was, and what pleasure it gave him that William was come, to whom he often spoke in his own way; and the poor boy, with the most intelligent look, showed how well he understood stood him.

Mr. Beaufort recommended Mrs. Goldsmith to stay one day longer in town, so that she had the pleasure of seeing her son happy, and settled in his new situation. He knew she was not to stay longer, and seemed reconciled to her departure; and before he gave her his parting kiss, he opened his book, and showed that he should be able to read and write by the time he saw her again; he also touched his mouth, in token that he should speak. She expressed her earnest hopes that it might be so, and, with the most affectionate regard, bade him be a good boy, and wished him farewell.

Jacob gave her a letter to carry to his parents, the first he had ever written. And Mr. Beaufort, who was then in the house, promised that, if any thing happened to her son, she should immediately be informed of it; and also that, through Mr. Rawlinson's family, he would often let her know how he got on, and what improvements he made. With this assurance, the poor woman left him without the least regret, being well convinced that he was in the only place in which he could gain sufficient knowledge to become a useful member of society; and she returned to her expecting family, full of the kindness of the ladies and gentlemen she had met with, and the wonderful improvement of Jacob Goodyer, whose parents (particularly his mother) listened to her account with anxious joy. His letter was shown and read to all the village, as a proof of the excellency of the charity; and Mrs. Goldsmith received the congratulations of all her neighbours, on her son's being admitted into it.

It would be hardly possible to describe the distress of little Lucy, when she found her brother gone; nor was she old enough for them to make her understand it was for his advantage. She hunted in every part of the house and garden for him, and on not discovering the object of her search, she sat down and cried. Mary and Harry tried to pacify her, and with her dolls and playthings she began to be amused, till, as the evening drew on, she put herself into a great bustle, and, taking Harry's hand, she led him to the road side, where, with William, she had so often sat, to watch the return of their mother. It was in vain he endeavoured to let her know she would not return that night, and Mary was at last obliged to put her crying to bed, where, at length, she forgot her sorrows in sleep. The next morning she renewed her search, and till her mother's return, she appeared truly unhappy; but on seeing her, her countenance revived, and while receiving her affectionate caresses, she seemed to forget that her brother was not returned with her.

Mr. Beaufort wrote frequent accounts of William's welfare and improvements; and at the next vacation, to which all the family looked forward with pleasure, he was permitted to come home, with his neighbour, Jacob Goodyer. They came on the top of the coach, and as they drew near their home, these poor boys expressed to each other the greatest pleasure. "I shall speak to my mother," said William, and hardly had he spoke the words, than he saw her standing with Lucy, Harry, and Jane, who had all walked a mile or two to meet him. The agitation he felt, at thus unexpectedly seeing them before he reached home, prevented his speaking as he wished: he pulled the coachman's arm, and pointing to the happy group below, his lips moved, but he could not utter a word. The coach stopped, and he was down in an instant, and in his mother's arms. "Mother! my dear mother!" repeated he, as articulately as his emotion would allow him, while Harry and Jane were in raptures to hear his voice.

Jacob had yet some miles further to go; he could therefore only nod and smile, rejoicing that, in a very short time, he should have a pleasure equal to his friend's. "We will go round by the field where your father is at work, my dear," said the delighted mother, "for he is impatient to see you." "My father," returned William, "and Edward," meaning his eldest brother. He then repeated the names of all his brothers and sisters, and received the affectionate welcome of those who were then present. Lucy did not at first recollect him; but when he spoke to her, and she observed his looks and motions, no one can express her pleasure. She kissed him twenty times, pressed his hand, and held it tight all the way they walked together, as if nothing should again part them from each other.

When they reached their father, William ran towards him, and repeating his name, made the heart of the poor man leap for joy: "Oh, my dear boy!" said he, "do you speak at last? Well, if I lose some of my week's wages, I must leave work, and go home with you. Here, Edward, Edward," continued he, calling to his eldest son, who was in the next field, "William is come home." Edward heard the news with pleasure, and impatient to see the brother for whom they were so deeply interested, he jumped over the hedge in an instant; and William no sooner saw him, than he flew to meet him, and greeted him with all the expressions of joy which he could utter. This was a happy evening for them all, and when the joyful party arrived at the cottage, Mary, who had been left in charge of the baby, expressed the same delight.