ere is an amusing story hailing from Munich. During the past year the professor of Aesthetics in the University, whose lectures are proverbially wearisome, delivered his lectures (as usual) to a scanty audience. There were five students in all, who, week by week, melted and grew "beautifully less," until at last but one was left. This solitary individual, however, seemed to concentrate in his own person all the diligence, application, and punctuality of his frivolous fellows. At the conclusion of the last lecture of the course the professor approached him and praised him for these admirable qualities, and proceeded to inquire of him, "What is your name, my young friend?" No answer. "What country are you from?" Absolute silence. The matter was soon elucidated, for it was discovered that the patient and persevering disciple was a poor deaf mute, who had taken refuge from the severe cold of winter in the warm lecture rooms of the University.
he following is extracted from "The Christian Leader":—At a Christmas competition of blind readers which took place on Friday and Saturday, 21st and 22nd December, 1883, in the Mission Hall in Bath Street, Glasgow, was found a blind deaf mute among the blind hearing competitors. Educated when young in the Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, he was able to do for himself until he lost his sight two or three years ago. He had then to make use of his fingers in reading as well as speaking; and in spite of the formidable difficulties in the way of his learning the embossed type, he made a most creditable appearance on Saturday and gained a special prize. The remark made by one of the examiners when this man was reading will, we are sure, express the thought of all who peruse these lines—"How thankful to God we ought to be for the use of our faculties, and especially for this precious blessing of sight!" This blind deaf mute is Mr. Daniel Hunter Ardrossan, one of the members of the Ayrshire Deaf and Dumb Mission.
A DEAF MUTE'S HEROISM.
About five o'clock on Sunday afternoon several gentlemen standing on Vine Street Wharf witnessed an act which was highly commendable. Thomas Hall, a lad of nine years, having strayed from his parents, was at play upon the wharf mentioned, when his foot slipped and he was precipitated into the strong tide of the Delaware. A deaf mute named Argus Cornish, an eccentric genius, who does odd jobs along the wharves, and who, an outcast himself, seems to take pleasurable pride in protecting others, and has already saved several lives, although standing with his back to the scene of accident, seemed, as his name implied, to have a hundred eyes. Without any hesitation he stripped off his coat and shoes, and plunging into the water, in a short time brought the boy safe to land. Argus' heroism should not be overlooked.—American Paper.