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       CHAPTER III - BOSTON
       IN all the public establishments of America, the utmost courtesy
       prevails. Most of our Departments are susceptible of considerable
       improvement in this respect, but the Custom-house above all others
       would do well to take example from the United States and render
       itself somewhat less odious and offensive to foreigners. The
       servile rapacity of the French officials is sufficiently
       contemptible; but there is a surly boorish incivility about our
       men, alike disgusting to all persons who fall into their hands, and
       discreditable to the nation that keeps such ill-conditioned curs
       snarling about its gates.
       When I landed in America, I could not help being strongly impressed
       with the contrast their Custom-house presented, and the attention,
       politeness and good humour with which its officers discharged their
       duty.
       As we did not land at Boston, in consequence of some detention at
       the wharf, until after dark, I received my first impressions of the
       city in walking down to the Custom-house on the morning after our
       arrival, which was Sunday. I am afraid to say, by the way, how
       many offers of pews and seats in church for that morning were made
       to us, by formal note of invitation, before we had half finished
       our first dinner in America, but if I may be allowed to make a
       moderate guess, without going into nicer calculation, I should say
       that at least as many sittings were proffered us, as would have
       accommodated a score or two of grown-up families. The number of
       creeds and forms of religion to which the pleasure of our company
       was requested, was in very fair proportion.
       Not being able, in the absence of any change of clothes, to go to
       church that day, we were compelled to decline these kindnesses, one
       and all; and I was reluctantly obliged to forego the delight of
       hearing Dr. Channing, who happened to preach that morning for the
       first time in a very long interval. I mention the name of this
       distinguished and accomplished man (with whom I soon afterwards had
       the pleasure of becoming personally acquainted), that I may have
       the gratification of recording my humble tribute of admiration and
       respect for his high abilities and character; and for the bold
       philanthropy with which he has ever opposed himself to that most
       hideous blot and foul disgrace - Slavery.
       To return to Boston. When I got into the streets upon this Sunday
       morning, the air was so clear, the houses were so bright and gay:
       the signboards were painted in such gaudy colours; the gilded
       letters were so very golden; the bricks were so very red, the stone
       was so very white, the blinds and area railings were so very green,
       the knobs and plates upon the street doors so marvellously bright
       and twinkling; and all so slight and unsubstantial in appearance -
       that every thoroughfare in the city looked exactly like a scene in
       a pantomime. It rarely happens in the business streets that a
       tradesman, if I may venture to call anybody a tradesman, where
       everybody is a merchant, resides above his store; so that many
       occupations are often carried on in one house, and the whole front
       is covered with boards and inscriptions. As I walked along, I kept
       glancing up at these boards, confidently expecting to see a few of
       them change into something; and I never turned a corner suddenly
       without looking out for the clown and pantaloon, who, I had no
       doubt, were hiding in a doorway or behind some pillar close at
       hand. As to Harlequin and Columbine, I discovered immediately that
       they lodged (they are always looking after lodgings in a pantomime)
       at a very small clockmaker's one story high, near the hotel; which,
       in addition to various symbols and devices, almost covering the
       whole front, had a great dial hanging out - to be jumped through,
       of course.
       The suburbs are, if possible, even more unsubstantial-looking than
       the city. The white wooden houses (so white that it makes one wink
       to look at them), with their green jalousie blinds, are so
       sprinkled and dropped about in all directions, without seeming to
       have any root at all in the ground; and the small churches and
       chapels are so prim, and bright, and highly varnished; that I
       almost believed the whole affair could be taken up piecemeal like a
       child's toy, and crammed into a little box.
       The city is a beautiful one, and cannot fail, I should imagine, to
       impress all strangers very favourably. The private dwelling-houses
       are, for the most part, large and elegant; the shops extremely
       good; and the public buildings handsome. The State House is built
       upon the summit of a hill, which rises gradually at first, and
       afterwards by a steep ascent, almost from the water's edge. In
       front is a green enclosure, called the Common. The site is
       beautiful: and from the top there is a charming panoramic view of
       the whole town and neighbourhood. In addition to a variety of
       commodious offices, it contains two handsome chambers; in one the
       House of Representatives of the State hold their meetings: in the
       other, the Senate. Such proceedings as I saw here, were conducted
       with perfect gravity and decorum; and were certainly calculated to
       inspire attention and respect.
       There is no doubt that much of the intellectual refinement and
       superiority of Boston, is referable to the quiet influence of the
       University of Cambridge, which is within three or four miles of the
       city. The resident professors at that university are gentlemen of
       learning and varied attainments; and are, without one exception
       that I can call to mind, men who would shed a grace upon, and do
       honour to, any society in the civilised world. Many of the
       resident gentry in Boston and its neighbourhood, and I think I am
       not mistaken in adding, a large majority of those who are attached
       to the liberal professions there, have been educated at this same
       school. Whatever the defects of American universities may be, they
       disseminate no prejudices; rear no bigots; dig up the buried ashes
       of no old superstitions; never interpose between the people and
       their improvement; exclude no man because of his religious
       opinions; above all, in their whole course of study and
       instruction, recognise a world, and a broad one too, lying beyond
       the college walls.
       It was a source of inexpressible pleasure to me to observe the
       almost imperceptible, but not less certain effect, wrought by this
       institution among the small community of Boston; and to note at
       every turn the humanising tastes and desires it has engendered; the
       affectionate friendships to which it has given rise; the amount of
       vanity and prejudice it has dispelled. The golden calf they
       worship at Boston is a pigmy compared with the giant effigies set
       up in other parts of that vast counting-house which lies beyond the
       Atlantic; and the almighty dollar sinks into something
       comparatively insignificant, amidst a whole Pantheon of better
       gods.
       Above all, I sincerely believe that the public institutions and
       charities of this capital of Massachusetts are as nearly perfect,
       as the most considerate wisdom, benevolence, and humanity, can make
       them. I never in my life was more affected by the contemplation of
       happiness, under circumstances of privation and bereavement, than
       in my visits to these establishments.
       It is a great and pleasant feature of all such institutions in
       America, that they are either supported by the State or assisted by
       the State; or (in the event of their not needing its helping hand)
       that they act in concert with it, and are emphatically the
       people's. I cannot but think, with a view to the principle and its
       tendency to elevate or depress the character of the industrious
       classes, that a Public Charity is immeasurably better than a
       Private Foundation, no matter how munificently the latter may be
       endowed. In our own country, where it has not, until within these
       later days, been a very popular fashion with governments to display
       any extraordinary regard for the great mass of the people or to
       recognise their existence as improvable creatures, private
       charities, unexampled in the history of the earth, have arisen, to
       do an incalculable amount of good among the destitute and
       afflicted. But the government of the country, having neither act
       nor part in them, is not in the receipt of any portion of the
       gratitude they inspire; and, offering very little shelter or relief
       beyond that which is to be found in the workhouse and the jail, has
       come, not unnaturally, to be looked upon by the poor rather as a
       stern master, quick to correct and punish, than a kind protector,
       merciful and vigilant in their hour of need.
       The maxim that out of evil cometh good, is strongly illustrated by
       these establishments at home; as the records of the Prerogative
       Office in Doctors' Commons can abundantly prove. Some immensely
       rich old gentleman or lady, surrounded by needy relatives, makes,
       upon a low average, a will a-week. The old gentleman or lady,
       never very remarkable in the best of times for good temper, is full
       of aches and pains from head to foot; full of fancies and caprices;
       full of spleen, distrust, suspicion, and dislike. To cancel old
       wills, and invent new ones, is at last the sole business of such a
       testator's existence; and relations and friends (some of whom have
       been bred up distinctly to inherit a large share of the property,
       and have been, from their cradles, specially disqualified from
       devoting themselves to any useful pursuit, on that account) are so
       often and so unexpectedly and summarily cut off, and reinstated,
       and cut off again, that the whole family, down to the remotest
       cousin, is kept in a perpetual fever. At length it becomes plain
       that the old lady or gentleman has not long to live; and the
       plainer this becomes, the more clearly the old lady or gentleman
       perceives that everybody is in a conspiracy against their poor old
       dying relative; wherefore the old lady or gentleman makes another
       last will - positively the last this time - conceals the same in a
       china teapot, and expires next day. Then it turns out, that the
       whole of the real and personal estate is divided between half-a-
       dozen charities; and that the dead and gone testator has in pure
       spite helped to do a great deal of good, at the cost of an immense
       amount of evil passion and misery.
       The Perkins Institution and Massachusetts Asylum for the Blind, at
       Boston, is superintended by a body of trustees who make an annual
       report to the corporation. The indigent blind of that state are
       admitted gratuitously. Those from the adjoining state of
       Connecticut, or from the states of Maine, Vermont, or New
       Hampshire, are admitted by a warrant from the state to which they
       respectively belong; or, failing that, must find security among
       their friends, for the payment of about twenty pounds English for
       their first year's board and instruction, and ten for the second.
       'After the first year,' say the trustees, 'an account current will
       be opened with each pupil; he will be charged with the actual cost
       of his board, which will not exceed two dollars per week;' a trifle
       more than eight shillings English; 'and he will be credited with
       the amount paid for him by the state, or by his friends; also with
       his earnings over and above the cost of the stock which he uses; so
       that all his earnings over one dollar per week will be his own. By
       the third year it will be known whether his earnings will more than
       pay the actual cost of his board; if they should, he will have it
       at his option to remain and receive his earnings, or not. Those
       who prove unable to earn their own livelihood will not be retained;
       as it is not desirable to convert the establishment into an alms-
       house, or to retain any but working bees in the hive. Those who by
       physical or mental imbecility are disqualified from work, are
       thereby disqualified from being members of an industrious
       community; and they can be better provided for in establishments
       fitted for the infirm.'
       I went to see this place one very fine winter morning: an Italian
       sky above, and the air so clear and bright on every side, that even
       my eyes, which are none of the best, could follow the minute lines
       and scraps of tracery in distant buildings. Like most other public
       institutions in America, of the same class, it stands a mile or two
       without the town, in a cheerful healthy spot; and is an airy,
       spacious, handsome edifice. It is built upon a height, commanding
       the harbour. When I paused for a moment at the door, and marked
       how fresh and free the whole scene was - what sparkling bubbles
       glanced upon the waves, and welled up every moment to the surface,
       as though the world below, like that above, were radiant with the
       bright day, and gushing over in its fulness of light: when I gazed
       from sail to sail away upon a ship at sea, a tiny speck of shining
       white, the only cloud upon the still, deep, distant blue - and,
       turning, saw a blind boy with his sightless face addressed that
       way, as though he too had some sense within him of the glorious
       distance: I felt a kind of sorrow that the place should be so very
       light, and a strange wish that for his sake it were darker. It was
       but momentary, of course, and a mere fancy, but I felt it keenly
       for all that.
       The children were at their daily tasks in different rooms, except a
       few who were already dismissed, and were at play. Here, as in many
       institutions, no uniform is worn; and I was very glad of it, for
       two reasons. Firstly, because I am sure that nothing but senseless
       custom and want of thought would reconcile us to the liveries and
       badges we are so fond of at home. Secondly, because the absence of
       these things presents each child to the visitor in his or her own
       proper character, with its individuality unimpaired; not lost in a
       dull, ugly, monotonous repetition of the same unmeaning garb:
       which is really an important consideration. The wisdom of
       encouraging a little harmless pride in personal appearance even
       among the blind, or the whimsical absurdity of considering charity
       and leather breeches inseparable companions, as we do, requires no
       comment.
       Good order, cleanliness, and comfort, pervaded every corner of the
       building. The various classes, who were gathered round their
       teachers, answered the questions put to them with readiness and
       intelligence, and in a spirit of cheerful contest for precedence
       which pleased me very much. Those who were at play, were gleesome
       and noisy as other children. More spiritual and affectionate
       friendships appeared to exist among them, than would be found among
       other young persons suffering under no deprivation; but this I
       expected and was prepared to find. It is a part of the great
       scheme of Heaven's merciful consideration for the afflicted.
       In a portion of the building, set apart for that purpose, are work-
       shops for blind persons whose education is finished, and who have
       acquired a trade, but who cannot pursue it in an ordinary
       manufactory because of their deprivation. Several people were at
       work here; making brushes, mattresses, and so forth; and the
       cheerfulness, industry, and good order discernible in every other
       part of the building, extended to this department also.
       On the ringing of a bell, the pupils all repaired, without any
       guide or leader, to a spacious music-hall, where they took their
       seats in an orchestra erected for that purpose, and listened with
       manifest delight to a voluntary on the organ, played by one of
       themselves. At its conclusion, the performer, a boy of nineteen or
       twenty, gave place to a girl; and to her accompaniment they all
       sang a hymn, and afterwards a sort of chorus. It was very sad to
       look upon and hear them, happy though their condition
       unquestionably was; and I saw that one blind girl, who (being for
       the time deprived of the use of her limbs, by illness) sat close
       beside me with her face towards them, wept silently the while she
       listened.
       It is strange to watch the faces of the blind, and see how free
       they are from all concealment of what is passing in their thoughts;
       observing which, a man with eyes may blush to contemplate the mask
       he wears. Allowing for one shade of anxious expression which is
       never absent from their countenances, and the like of which we may
       readily detect in our own faces if we try to feel our way in the
       dark, every idea, as it rises within them, is expressed with the
       lightning's speed and nature's truth. If the company at a rout, or
       drawing-room at court, could only for one time be as unconscious of
       the eyes upon them as blind men and women are, what secrets would
       come out, and what a worker of hypocrisy this sight, the loss of
       which we so much pity, would appear to be!
       The thought occurred to me as I sat down in another room, before a
       girl, blind, deaf, and dumb; destitute of smell; and nearly so of
       taste: before a fair young creature with every human faculty, and
       hope, and power of goodness and affection, inclosed within her
       delicate frame, and but one outward sense - the sense of touch.
       There she was, before me; built up, as it were, in a marble cell,
       impervious to any ray of light, or particle of sound; with her poor
       white hand peeping through a chink in the wall, beckoning to some
       good man for help, that an Immortal soul might be awakened.
       Long before I looked upon her, the help had come. Her face was
       radiant with intelligence and pleasure. Her hair, braided by her
       own hands, was bound about a head, whose intellectual capacity and
       development were beautifully expressed in its graceful outline, and
       its broad open brow; her dress, arranged by herself, was a pattern
       of neatness and simplicity; the work she had knitted, lay beside
       her; her writing-book was on the desk she leaned upon. - From the
       mournful ruin of such bereavement, there had slowly risen up this
       gentle, tender, guileless, grateful-hearted being.
       Like other inmates of that house, she had a green ribbon bound
       round her eyelids. A doll she had dressed lay near upon the
       ground. I took it up, and saw that she had made a green fillet
       such as she wore herself, and fastened it about its mimic eyes.
       She was seated in a little enclosure, made by school-desks and
       forms, writing her daily journal. But soon finishing this pursuit,
       she engaged in an animated conversation with a teacher who sat
       beside her. This was a favourite mistress with the poor pupil. If
       she could see the face of her fair instructress, she would not love
       her less, I am sure.
       I have extracted a few disjointed fragments of her history, from an
       account, written by that one man who has made her what she is. It
       is a very beautiful and touching narrative; and I wish I could
       present it entire.
       Her name is Laura Bridgman. 'She was born in Hanover, New
       Hampshire, on the twenty-first of December, 1829. She is described
       as having been a very sprightly and pretty infant, with bright blue
       eyes. She was, however, so puny and feeble until she was a year
       and a half old, that her parents hardly hoped to rear her. She was
       subject to severe fits, which seemed to rack her frame almost
       beyond her power of endurance: and life was held by the feeblest
       tenure: but when a year and a half old, she seemed to rally; the
       dangerous symptoms subsided; and at twenty months old, she was
       perfectly well.
       'Then her mental powers, hitherto stinted in their growth, rapidly
       developed themselves; and during the four months of health which
       she enjoyed, she appears (making due allowance for a fond mother's
       account) to have displayed a considerable degree of intelligence.
       'But suddenly she sickened again; her disease raged with great
       violence during five weeks, when her eyes and ears were inflamed,
       suppurated, and their contents were discharged. But though sight
       and hearing were gone for ever, the poor child's sufferings were
       not ended. The fever raged during seven weeks; for five months she
       was kept in bed in a darkened room; it was a year before she could
       walk unsupported, and two years before she could sit up all day.
       It was now observed that her sense of smell was almost entirely
       destroyed; and, consequently, that her taste was much blunted.
       'It was not until four years of age that the poor child's bodily
       health seemed restored, and she was able to enter upon her
       apprenticeship of life and the world.
       'But what a situation was hers! The darkness and the silence of
       the tomb were around her: no mother's smile called forth her
       answering smile, no father's voice taught her to imitate his
       sounds:- they, brothers and sisters, were but forms of matter which
       resisted her touch, but which differed not from the furniture of
       the house, save in warmth, and in the power of locomotion; and not
       even in these respects from the dog and the cat.
       'But the immortal spirit which had been implanted within her could
       not die, nor be maimed nor mutilated; and though most of its
       avenues of communication with the world were cut off, it began to
       manifest itself through the others. As soon as she could walk, she
       began to explore the room, and then the house; she became familiar
       with the form, density, weight, and heat, of every article she
       could lay her hands upon. She followed her mother, and felt her
       hands and arms, as she was occupied about the house; and her
       disposition to imitate, led her to repeat everything herself. She
       even learned to sew a little, and to knit.'
       The reader will scarcely need to be told, however, that the
       opportunities of communicating with her, were very, very limited;
       and that the moral effects of her wretched state soon began to
       appear. Those who cannot be enlightened by reason, can only be
       controlled by force; and this, coupled with her great privations,
       must soon have reduced her to a worse condition than that of the
       beasts that perish, but for timely and unhoped-for aid.
       'At this time, I was so fortunate as to hear of the child, and
       immediately hastened to Hanover to see her. I found her with a
       well-formed figure; a strongly-marked, nervous-sanguine
       temperament; a large and beautifully-shaped head; and the whole
       system in healthy action. The parents were easily induced to
       consent to her coming to Boston, and on the 4th of October, 1837,
       they brought her to the Institution.
       'For a while, she was much bewildered; and after waiting about two
       weeks, until she became acquainted with her new locality, and
       somewhat familiar with the inmates, the attempt was made to give
       her knowledge of arbitrary signs, by which she could interchange
       thoughts with others.
       'There was one of two ways to be adopted: either to go on to build
       up a language of signs on the basis of the natural language which
       she had already commenced herself, or to teach her the purely
       arbitrary language in common use: that is, to give her a sign for
       every individual thing, or to give her a knowledge of letters by
       combination of which she might express her idea of the existence,
       and the mode and condition of existence, of any thing. The former
       would have been easy, but very ineffectual; the latter seemed very
       difficult, but, if accomplished, very effectual. I determined
       therefore to try the latter.
       'The first experiments were made by taking articles in common use,
       such as knives, forks, spoons, keys, &c., and pasting upon them
       labels with their names printed in raised letters. These she felt
       very carefully, and soon, of course, distinguished that the crooked
       lines SPOON, differed as much from the crooked lines KEY, as the
       spoon differed from the key in form.
       'Then small detached labels, with the same words printed upon them,
       were put into her hands; and she soon observed that they were
       similar to the ones pasted on the articles.' She showed her
       perception of this similarity by laying the label KEY upon the key,
       and the label SPOON upon the spoon. She was encouraged here by the
       natural sign of approbation, patting on the head.
       'The same process was then repeated with all the articles which she
       could handle; and she very easily learned to place the proper
       labels upon them. It was evident, however, that the only
       intellectual exercise was that of imitation and memory. She
       recollected that the label BOOK was placed upon a book, and she
       repeated the process first from imitation, next from memory, with
       only the motive of love of approbation, but apparently without the
       intellectual perception of any relation between the things.
       'After a while, instead of labels, the individual letters were
       given to her on detached bits of paper: they were arranged side by
       side so as to spell BOOK, KEY, &c.; then they were mixed up in a
       heap and a sign was made for her to arrange them herself so as to
       express the words BOOK, KEY, &c.; and she did so.
       'Hitherto, the process had been mechanical, and the success about
       as great as teaching a very knowing dog a variety of tricks. The
       poor child had sat in mute amazement, and patiently imitated
       everything her teacher did; but now the truth began to flash upon
       her: her intellect began to work: she perceived that here was a
       way by which she could herself make up a sign of anything that was
       in her own mind, and show it to another mind; and at once her
       countenance lighted up with a human expression: it was no longer a
       dog, or parrot: it was an immortal spirit, eagerly seizing upon a
       new link of union with other spirits! I could almost fix upon the
       moment when this truth dawned upon her mind, and spread its light
       to her countenance; I saw that the great obstacle was overcome; and
       that henceforward nothing but patient and persevering, but plain
       and straightforward, efforts were to be used.
       'The result thus far, is quickly related, and easily conceived; but
       not so was the process; for many weeks of apparently unprofitable
       labour were passed before it was effected.
       'When it was said above that a sign was made, it was intended to
       say, that the action was performed by her teacher, she feeling his
       hands, and then imitating the motion.
       'The next step was to procure a set of metal types, with the
       different letters of the alphabet cast upon their ends; also a
       board, in which were square holes, into which holes she could set
       the types; so that the letters on their ends could alone be felt
       above the surface.
       'Then, on any article being handed to her, for instance, a pencil,
       or a watch, she would select the component letters, and arrange
       them on her board, and read them with apparent pleasure.
       'She was exercised for several weeks in this way, until her
       vocabulary became extensive; and then the important step was taken
       of teaching her how to represent the different letters by the
       position of her fingers, instead of the cumbrous apparatus of the
       board and types. She accomplished this speedily and easily, for
       her intellect had begun to work in aid of her teacher, and her
       progress was rapid.
       'This was the period, about three months after she had commenced,
       that the first report of her case was made, in which it was stated
       that "she has just learned the manual alphabet, as used by the deaf
       mutes, and it is a subject of delight and wonder to see how
       rapidly, correctly, and eagerly, she goes on with her labours. Her
       teacher gives her a new object, for instance, a pencil, first lets
       her examine it, and get an idea of its use, then teaches her how to
       spell it by making the signs for the letters with her own fingers:
       the child grasps her hand, and feels her fingers, as the different
       letters are formed; she turns her head a little on one side like a
       person listening closely; her lips are apart; she seems scarcely to
       breathe; and her countenance, at first anxious, gradually changes
       to a smile, as she comprehends the lesson. She then holds up her
       tiny fingers, and spells the word in the manual alphabet; next, she
       takes her types and arranges her letters; and last, to make sure
       that she is right, she takes the whole of the types composing the
       word, and places them upon or in contact with the pencil, or
       whatever the object may be."
       'The whole of the succeeding year was passed in gratifying her
       eager inquiries for the names of every object which she could
       possibly handle; in exercising her in the use of the manual
       alphabet; in extending in every possible way her knowledge of the
       physical relations of things; and in proper care of her health.
       'At the end of the year a report of her case was made, from which
       the following is an extract.
       '"It has been ascertained beyond the possibility of doubt, that she
       cannot see a ray of light, cannot hear the least sound, and never
       exercises her sense of smell, if she have any. Thus her mind
       dwells in darkness and stillness, as profound as that of a closed
       tomb at midnight. Of beautiful sights, and sweet sounds, and
       pleasant odours, she has no conception; nevertheless, she seems as
       happy and playful as a bird or a lamb; and the employment of her
       intellectual faculties, or the acquirement of a new idea, gives her
       a vivid pleasure, which is plainly marked in her expressive
       features. She never seems to repine, but has all the buoyancy and
       gaiety of childhood. She is fond of fun and frolic, and when
       playing with the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds
       loudest of the group.
       '"When left alone, she seems very happy if she have her knitting or
       sewing, and will busy herself for hours; if she have no occupation,
       she evidently amuses herself by imaginary dialogues, or by
       recalling past impressions; she counts with her fingers, or spells
       out names of things which she has recently learned, in the manual
       alphabet of the deaf mutes. In this lonely self-communion she
       seems to reason, reflect, and argue; if she spell a word wrong with
       the fingers of her right hand, she instantly strikes it with her
       left, as her teacher does, in sign of disapprobation; if right,
       then she pats herself upon the head, and looks pleased. She
       sometimes purposely spells a word wrong with the left hand, looks
       roguish for a moment and laughs, and then with the right hand
       strikes the left, as if to correct it.
       '"During the year she has attained great dexterity in the use of
       the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes; and she spells out the words
       and sentences which she knows, so fast and so deftly, that only
       those accustomed to this language can follow with the eye the rapid
       motions of her fingers.
       '"But wonderful as is the rapidity with which she writes her
       thoughts upon the air, still more so is the ease and accuracy with
       which she reads the words thus written by another; grasping their
       hands in hers, and following every movement of their fingers, as
       letter after letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in
       this way that she converses with her blind playmates, and nothing
       can more forcibly show the power of mind in forcing matter to its
       purpose than a meeting between them. For if great talent and skill
       are necessary for two pantomimes to paint their thoughts and
       feelings by the movements of the body, and the expression of the
       countenance, how much greater the difficulty when darkness shrouds
       them both, and the one can hear no sound.
       '"When Laura is walking through a passage-way, with her hands
       spread before her, she knows instantly every one she meets, and
       passes them with a sign of recognition: but if it be a girl of her
       own age, and especially if it be one of her favourites, there is
       instantly a bright smile of recognition, a twining of arms, a
       grasping of hands, and a swift telegraphing upon the tiny fingers;
       whose rapid evolutions convey the thoughts and feelings from the
       outposts of one mind to those of the other. There are questions
       and answers, exchanges of joy or sorrow, there are kissings and
       partings, just as between little children with all their senses."
       'During this year, and six months after she had left home, her
       mother came to visit her, and the scene of their meeting was an
       interesting one.
       'The mother stood some time, gazing with overflowing eyes upon her
       unfortunate child, who, all unconscious of her presence, was
       playing about the room. Presently Laura ran against her, and at
       once began feeling her hands, examining her dress, and trying to
       find out if she knew her; but not succeeding in this, she turned
       away as from a stranger, and the poor woman could not conceal the
       pang she felt, at finding that her beloved child did not know her.
       'She then gave Laura a string of beads which she used to wear at
       home, which were recognised by the child at once, who, with much
       joy, put them around her neck, and sought me eagerly to say she
       understood the string was from her home.
       'The mother now sought to caress her, but poor Laura repelled her,
       preferring to be with her acquaintances.
       'Another article from home was now given her, and she began to look
       much interested; she examined the stranger much closer, and gave me
       to understand that she knew she came from Hanover; she even endured
       her caresses, but would leave her with indifference at the
       slightest signal. The distress of the mother was now painful to
       behold; for, although she had feared that she should not be
       recognised, the painful reality of being treated with cold
       indifference by a darling child, was too much for woman's nature to
       bear.
       'After a while, on the mother taking hold of her again, a vague
       idea seemed to flit across Laura's mind, that this could not be a
       stranger; she therefore felt her hands very eagerly, while her
       countenance assumed an expression of intense interest; she became
       very pale; and then suddenly red; hope seemed struggling with doubt
       and anxiety, and never were contending emotions more strongly
       painted upon the human face: at this moment of painful
       uncertainty, the mother drew her close to her side, and kissed her
       fondly, when at once the truth flashed upon the child, and all
       mistrust and anxiety disappeared from her face, as with an
       expression of exceeding joy she eagerly nestled to the bosom of her
       parent, and yielded herself to her fond embraces.
       'After this, the beads were all unheeded; the playthings which were
       offered to her were utterly disregarded; her playmates, for whom
       but a moment before she gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove
       to pull her from her mother; and though she yielded her usual
       instantaneous obedience to my signal to follow me, it was evidently
       with painful reluctance. She clung close to me, as if bewildered
       and fearful; and when, after a moment, I took her to her mother,
       she sprang to her arms, and clung to her with eager joy.
       'The subsequent parting between them, showed alike the affection,
       the intelligence, and the resolution of the child.
       'Laura accompanied her mother to the door, clinging close to her
       all the way, until they arrived at the threshold, where she paused,
       and felt around, to ascertain who was near her. Perceiving the
       matron, of whom she is very fond, she grasped her with one hand,
       holding on convulsively to her mother with the other; and thus she
       stood for a moment: then she dropped her mother's hand; put her
       handkerchief to her eyes; and turning round, clung sobbing to the
       matron; while her mother departed, with emotions as deep as those
       of her child.
       * * * * * *
       'It has been remarked in former reports, that she can distinguish
       different degrees of intellect in others, and that she soon
       regarded, almost with contempt, a new-comer, when, after a few
       days, she discovered her weakness of mind. This unamiable part of
       her character has been more strongly developed during the past
       year.
       'She chooses for her friends and companions, those children who are
       intelligent, and can talk best with her; and she evidently dislikes
       to be with those who are deficient in intellect, unless, indeed,
       she can make them serve her purposes, which she is evidently
       inclined to do. She takes advantage of them, and makes them wait
       upon her, in a manner that she knows she could not exact of others;
       and in various ways shows her Saxon blood.
       'She is fond of having other children noticed and caressed by the
       teachers, and those whom she respects; but this must not be carried
       too far, or she becomes jealous. She wants to have her share,
       which, if not the lion's, is the greater part; and if she does not
       get it, she says, "MY MOTHER WILL LOVE ME."
       'Her tendency to imitation is so strong, that it leads her to
       actions which must be entirely incomprehensible to her, and which
       can give her no other pleasure than the gratification of an
       internal faculty. She has been known to sit for half an hour,
       holding a book before her sightless eyes, and moving her lips, as
       she has observed seeing people do when reading.
       'She one day pretended that her doll was sick; and went through all
       the motions of tending it, and giving it medicine; she then put it
       carefully to bed, and placed a bottle of hot water to its feet,
       laughing all the time most heartily. When I came home, she
       insisted upon my going to see it, and feel its pulse; and when I
       told her to put a blister on its back, she seemed to enjoy it
       amazingly, and almost screamed with delight.
       'Her social feelings, and her affections, are very strong; and when
       she is sitting at work, or at her studies, by the side of one of
       her little friends, she will break off from her task every few
       moments, to hug and kiss them with an earnestness and warmth that
       is touching to behold.
       'When left alone, she occupies and apparently amuses herself, and
       seems quite contented; and so strong seems to be the natural
       tendency of thought to put on the garb of language, that she often
       soliloquizes in the FINGER LANGUAGE, slow and tedious as it is.
       But it is only when alone, that she is quiet: for if she becomes
       sensible of the presence of any one near her, she is restless until
       she can sit close beside them, hold their hand, and converse with
       them by signs.
       'In her intellectual character it is pleasing to observe an
       insatiable thirst for knowledge, and a quick perception of the
       relations of things. In her moral character, it is beautiful to
       behold her continual gladness, her keen enjoyment of existence, her
       expansive love, her unhesitating confidence, her sympathy with
       suffering, her conscientiousness, truthfulness, and hopefulness.'
       Such are a few fragments from the simple but most interesting and
       instructive history of Laura Bridgman. The name of her great
       benefactor and friend, who writes it, is Dr. Howe. There are not
       many persons, I hope and believe, who, after reading these
       passages, can ever hear that name with indifference.
       A further account has been published by Dr. Howe, since the report
       from which I have just quoted. It describes her rapid mental
       growth and improvement during twelve months more, and brings her
       little history down to the end of last year. It is very
       remarkable, that as we dream in words, and carry on imaginary
       conversations, in which we speak both for ourselves and for the
       shadows who appear to us in those visions of the night, so she,
       having no words, uses her finger alphabet in her sleep. And it has
       been ascertained that when her slumber is broken, and is much
       disturbed by dreams, she expresses her thoughts in an irregular and
       confused manner on her fingers: just as we should murmur and
       mutter them indistinctly, in the like circumstances.
       I turned over the leaves of her Diary, and found it written in a
       fair legible square hand, and expressed in terms which were quite
       intelligible without any explanation. On my saying that I should
       like to see her write again, the teacher who sat beside her, bade
       her, in their language, sign her name upon a slip of paper, twice
       or thrice. In doing so, I observed that she kept her left hand
       always touching, and following up, her right, in which, of course,
       she held the pen. No line was indicated by any contrivance, but
       she wrote straight and freely.
       She had, until now, been quite unconscious of the presence of
       visitors; but, having her hand placed in that of the gentleman who
       accompanied me, she immediately expressed his name upon her
       teacher's palm. Indeed her sense of touch is now so exquisite,
       that having been acquainted with a person once, she can recognise
       him or her after almost any interval. This gentleman had been in
       her company, I believe, but very seldom, and certainly had not seen
       her for many months. My hand she rejected at once, as she does
       that of any man who is a stranger to her. But she retained my
       wife's with evident pleasure, kissed her, and examed her dress with
       a girl's curiosity and interest.
       She was merry and cheerful, and showed much innocent playfulness in
       her intercourse with her teacher. Her delight on recognising a
       favourite playfellow and companion - herself a blind girl - who
       silently, and with an equal enjoyment of the coming surprise, took
       a seat beside her, was beautiful to witness. It elicited from her
       at first, as other slight circumstances did twice or thrice during
       my visit, an uncouth noise which was rather painful to hear. But
       of her teacher touching her lips, she immediately desisted, and
       embraced her laughingly and affectionately.
       I had previously been into another chamber, where a number of blind
       boys were swinging, and climbing, and engaged in various sports.
       They all clamoured, as we entered, to the assistant-master, who
       accompanied us, 'Look at me, Mr. Hart! Please, Mr. Hart, look at
       me!' evincing, I thought, even in this, an anxiety peculiar to
       their condition, that their little feats of agility should be SEEN.
       Among them was a small laughing fellow, who stood aloof,
       entertaining himself with a gymnastic exercise for bringing the
       arms and chest into play; which he enjoyed mightily; especially
       when, in thrusting out his right arm, he brought it into contact
       with another boy. Like Laura Bridgman, this young child was deaf,
       and dumb, and blind.
       Dr. Howe's account of this pupil's first instruction is so very
       striking, and so intimately connected with Laura herself, that I
       cannot refrain from a short extract. I may premise that the poor
       boy's name is Oliver Caswell; that he is thirteen years of age; and
       that he was in full possession of all his faculties, until three
       years and four months old. He was then attacked by scarlet fever;
       in four weeks became deaf; in a few weeks more, blind; in six
       months, dumb. He showed his anxious sense of this last
       deprivation, by often feeling the lips of other persons when they
       were talking, and then putting his hand upon his own, as if to
       assure himself that he had them in the right position.
       'His thirst for knowledge,' says Dr. Howe, 'proclaimed itself as
       soon as he entered the house, by his eager examination of
       everything he could feel or smell in his new location. For
       instance, treading upon the register of a furnace, he instantly
       stooped down, and began to feel it, and soon discovered the way in
       which the upper plate moved upon the lower one; but this was not
       enough for him, so lying down upon his face, he applied his tongue
       first to one, then to the other, and seemed to discover that they
       were of different kinds of metal.
       'His signs were expressive: and the strictly natural language,
       laughing, crying, sighing, kissing, embracing, &c., was perfect.
       'Some of the analogical signs which (guided by his faculty of
       imitation) he had contrived, were comprehensible; such as the
       waving motion of his hand for the motion of a boat, the circular
       one for a wheel, &c.
       'The first object was to break up the use of these signs and to
       substitute for them the use of purely arbitrary ones.
       'Profiting by the experience I had gained in the other cases, I
       omitted several steps of the process before employed, and commenced
       at once with the finger language. Taking, therefore, several
       articles having short names, such as key, cup, mug, &c., and with
       Laura for an auxiliary, I sat down, and taking his hand, placed it
       upon one of them, and then with my own, made the letters KEY. He
       felt my hands eagerly with both of his, and on my repeating the
       process, he evidently tried to imitate the motions of my fingers.
       In a few minutes he contrived to feel the motions of my fingers
       with one hand, and holding out the other he tried to imitate them,
       laughing most heartily when he succeeded. Laura was by, interested
       even to agitation; and the two presented a singular sight: her
       face was flushed and anxious, and her fingers twining in among ours
       so closely as to follow every motion, but so slightly as not to
       embarrass them; while Oliver stood attentive, his head a little
       aside, his face turned up, his left hand grasping mine, and his
       right held out: at every motion of my fingers his countenance
       betokened keen attention; there was an expression of anxiety as he
       tried to imitate the motions; then a smile came stealing out as he
       thought he could do so, and spread into a joyous laugh the moment
       he succeeded, and felt me pat his head, and Laura clap him heartily
       upon the back, and jump up and down in her joy.
       'He learned more than a half-dozen letters in half an hour, and
       seemed delighted with his success, at least in gaining approbation.
       His attention then began to flag, and I commenced playing with him.
       It was evident that in all this he had merely been imitating the
       motions of my fingers, and placing his hand upon the key, cup, &c.,
       as part of the process, without any perception of the relation
       between the sign and the object.
       'When he was tired with play I took him back to the table, and he
       was quite ready to begin again his process of imitation. He soon
       learned to make the letters for KEY, PEN, PIN; and by having the
       object repeatedly placed in his hand, he at last perceived the
       relation I wished to establish between them. This was evident,
       because, when I made the letters PIN, or PEN, or CUP, he would
       select the article.
       'The perception of this relation was not accompanied by that
       radiant flash of intelligence, and that glow of joy, which marked
       the delightful moment when Laura first perceived it. I then placed
       all the articles on the table, and going away a little distance
       with the children, placed Oliver's fingers in the positions to
       spell KEY, on which Laura went and brought the article: the little
       fellow seemed much amused by this, and looked very attentive and
       smiling. I then caused him to make the letters BREAD, and in an
       instant Laura went and brought him a piece: he smelled at it; put
       it to his lips; cocked up his head with a most knowing look; seemed
       to reflect a moment; and then laughed outright, as much as to say,
       "Aha! I understand now how something may be made out of this."
       'It was now clear that he had the capacity and inclination to
       learn, that he was a proper subject for instruction, and needed
       only persevering attention. I therefore put him in the hands of an
       intelligent teacher, nothing doubting of his rapid progress.'
       Well may this gentleman call that a delightful moment, in which
       some distant promise of her present state first gleamed upon the
       darkened mind of Laura Bridgman. Throughout his life, the
       recollection of that moment will be to him a source of pure,
       unfading happiness; nor will it shine less brightly on the evening
       of his days of Noble Usefulness.
       The affection which exists between these two - the master and the
       pupil - is as far removed from all ordinary care and regard, as the
       circumstances in which it has had its growth, are apart from the
       common occurrences of life. He is occupied now, in devising means
       of imparting to her, higher knowledge; and of conveying to her some
       adequate idea of the Great Creator of that universe in which, dark
       and silent and scentless though it be to her, she has such deep
       delight and glad enjoyment.
       Ye who have eyes and see not, and have ears and hear not; ye who
       are as the hypocrites of sad countenances, and disfigure your faces
       that ye may seem unto men to fast; learn healthy cheerfulness, and
       mild contentment, from the deaf, and dumb, and blind! Self-elected
       saints with gloomy brows, this sightless, earless, voiceless child
       may teach you lessons you will do well to follow. Let that poor
       hand of hers lie gently on your hearts; for there may be something
       in its healing touch akin to that of the Great Master whose
       precepts you misconstrue, whose lessons you pervert, of whose
       charity and sympathy with all the world, not one among you in his
       daily practice knows as much as many of the worst among those
       fallen sinners, to whom you are liberal in nothing but the
       preachment of perdition!
       As I rose to quit the room, a pretty little child of one of the
       attendants came running in to greet its father. For the moment, a
       child with eyes, among the sightless crowd, impressed me almost as
       painfully as the blind boy in the porch had done, two hours ago.
       Ah! how much brighter and more deeply blue, glowing and rich though
       it had been before, was the scene without, contrasting with the
       darkness of so many youthful lives within!
       * * * * * *
       At SOUTH BOSTON, as it is called, in a situation excellently
       adapted for the purpose, several charitable institutions are
       clustered together. One of these, is the State Hospital for the
       insane; admirably conducted on those enlightened principles of
       conciliation and kindness, which twenty years ago would have been
       worse than heretical, and which have been acted upon with so much
       success in our own pauper Asylum at Hanwell. 'Evince a desire to
       show some confidence, and repose some trust, even in mad people,'
       said the resident physician, as we walked along the galleries, his
       patients flocking round us unrestrained. Of those who deny or
       doubt the wisdom of this maxim after witnessing its effects, if
       there be such people still alive, I can only say that I hope I may
       never be summoned as a Juryman on a Commission of Lunacy whereof
       they are the subjects; for I should certainly find them out of
       their senses, on such evidence alone.
       Each ward in this institution is shaped like a long gallery or
       hall, with the dormitories of the patients opening from it on
       either hand. Here they work, read, play at skittles, and other
       games; and when the weather does not admit of their taking exercise
       out of doors, pass the day together. In one of these rooms,
       seated, calmly, and quite as a matter of course, among a throng of
       mad-women, black and white, were the physician's wife and another
       lady, with a couple of children. These ladies were graceful and
       handsome; and it was not difficult to perceive at a glance that
       even their presence there, had a highly beneficial influence on the
       patients who were grouped about them.
       Leaning her head against the chimney-piece, with a great assumption
       of dignity and refinement of manner, sat an elderly female, in as
       many scraps of finery as Madge Wildfire herself. Her head in
       particular was so strewn with scraps of gauze and cotton and bits
       of paper, and had so many queer odds and ends stuck all about it,
       that it looked like a bird's-nest. She was radiant with imaginary
       jewels; wore a rich pair of undoubted gold spectacles; and
       gracefully dropped upon her lap, as we approached, a very old
       greasy newspaper, in which I dare say she had been reading an
       account of her own presentation at some Foreign Court.
       I have been thus particular in describing her, because she will
       serve to exemplify the physician's manner of acquiring and
       retaining the confidence of his patients.
       'This,' he said aloud, taking me by the hand, and advancing to the
       fantastic figure with great politeness - not raising her suspicions
       by the slightest look or whisper, or any kind of aside, to me:
       'This lady is the hostess of this mansion, sir. It belongs to her.
       Nobody else has anything whatever to do with it. It is a large
       establishment, as you see, and requires a great number of
       attendants. She lives, you observe, in the very first style. She
       is kind enough to receive my visits, and to permit my wife and
       family to reside here; for which it is hardly necessary to say, we
       are much indebted to her. She is exceedingly courteous, you
       perceive,' on this hint she bowed condescendingly, 'and will permit
       me to have the pleasure of introducing you: a gentleman from
       England, Ma'am: newly arrived from England, after a very
       tempestuous passage: Mr. Dickens, - the lady of the house!'
       We exchanged the most dignified salutations with profound gravity
       and respect, and so went on. The rest of the madwomen seemed to
       understand the joke perfectly (not only in this case, but in all
       the others, except their own), and be highly amused by it. The
       nature of their several kinds of insanity was made known to me in
       the same way, and we left each of them in high good humour. Not
       only is a thorough confidence established, by those means, between
       the physician and patient, in respect of the nature and extent of
       their hallucinations, but it is easy to understand that
       opportunities are afforded for seizing any moment of reason, to
       startle them by placing their own delusion before them in its most
       incongruous and ridiculous light.
       Every patient in this asylum sits down to dinner every day with a
       knife and fork; and in the midst of them sits the gentleman, whose
       manner of dealing with his charges, I have just described. At
       every meal, moral influence alone restrains the more violent among
       them from cutting the throats of the rest; but the effect of that
       influence is reduced to an absolute certainty, and is found, even
       as a means of restraint, to say nothing of it as a means of cure, a
       hundred times more efficacious than all the strait-waistcoats,
       fetters, and handcuffs, that ignorance, prejudice, and cruelty have
       manufactured since the creation of the world.
       In the labour department, every patient is as freely trusted with
       the tools of his trade as if he were a sane man. In the garden,
       and on the farm, they work with spades, rakes, and hoes. For
       amusement, they walk, run, fish, paint, read, and ride out to take
       the air in carriages provided for the purpose. They have among
       themselves a sewing society to make clothes for the poor, which
       holds meetings, passes resolutions, never comes to fisty-cuffs or
       bowie-knives as sane assemblies have been known to do elsewhere;
       and conducts all its proceedings with the greatest decorum. The
       irritability, which would otherwise be expended on their own flesh,
       clothes, and furniture, is dissipated in these pursuits. They are
       cheerful, tranquil, and healthy.
       Once a week they have a ball, in which the Doctor and his family,
       with all the nurses and attendants, take an active part. Dances
       and marches are performed alternately, to the enlivening strains of
       a piano; and now and then some gentleman or lady (whose proficiency
       has been previously ascertained) obliges the company with a song:
       nor does it ever degenerate, at a tender crisis, into a screech or
       howl; wherein, I must confess, I should have thought the danger
       lay. At an early hour they all meet together for these festive
       purposes; at eight o'clock refreshments are served; and at nine
       they separate.
       Immense politeness and good breeding are observed throughout. They
       all take their tone from the Doctor; and he moves a very
       Chesterfield among the company. Like other assemblies, these
       entertainments afford a fruitful topic of conversation among the
       ladies for some days; and the gentlemen are so anxious to shine on
       these occasions, that they have been sometimes found 'practising
       their steps' in private, to cut a more distinguished figure in the
       dance.
       It is obvious that one great feature of this system, is the
       inculcation and encouragement, even among such unhappy persons, of
       a decent self-respect. Something of the same spirit pervades all
       the Institutions at South Boston.
       There is the House of Industry. In that branch of it, which is
       devoted to the reception of old or otherwise helpless paupers,
       these words are painted on the walls: 'WORTHY OF NOTICE. SELF-
       GOVERNMENT, QUIETUDE, AND PEACE, ARE BLESSINGS.' It is not assumed
       and taken for granted that being there they must be evil-disposed
       and wicked people, before whose vicious eyes it is necessary to
       flourish threats and harsh restraints. They are met at the very
       threshold with this mild appeal. All within-doors is very plain
       and simple, as it ought to be, but arranged with a view to peace
       and comfort. It costs no more than any other plan of arrangement,
       but it speaks an amount of consideration for those who are reduced
       to seek a shelter there, which puts them at once upon their
       gratitude and good behaviour. Instead of being parcelled out in
       great, long, rambling wards, where a certain amount of weazen life
       may mope, and pine, and shiver, all day long, the building is
       divided into separate rooms, each with its share of light and air.
       In these, the better kind of paupers live. They have a motive for
       exertion and becoming pride, in the desire to make these little
       chambers comfortable and decent.
       I do not remember one but it was clean and neat, and had its plant
       or two upon the window-sill, or row of crockery upon the shelf, or
       small display of coloured prints upon the whitewashed wall, or,
       perhaps, its wooden clock behind the door.
       The orphans and young children are in an adjoining building
       separate from this, but a part of the same Institution. Some are
       such little creatures, that the stairs are of Lilliputian
       measurement, fitted to their tiny strides. The same consideration
       for their years and weakness is expressed in their very seats,
       which are perfect curiosities, and look like articles of furniture
       for a pauper doll's-house. I can imagine the glee of our Poor Law
       Commissioners at the notion of these seats having arms and backs;
       but small spines being of older date than their occupation of the
       Board-room at Somerset House, I thought even this provision very
       merciful and kind.
       Here again, I was greatly pleased with the inscriptions on the
       wall, which were scraps of plain morality, easily remembered and
       understood: such as 'Love one another' - 'God remembers the
       smallest creature in his creation:' and straightforward advice of
       that nature. The books and tasks of these smallest of scholars,
       were adapted, in the same judicious manner, to their childish
       powers. When we had examined these lessons, four morsels of girls
       (of whom one was blind) sang a little song, about the merry month
       of May, which I thought (being extremely dismal) would have suited
       an English November better. That done, we went to see their
       sleeping-rooms on the floor above, in which the arrangements were
       no less excellent and gentle than those we had seen below. And
       after observing that the teachers were of a class and character
       well suited to the spirit of the place, I took leave of the infants
       with a lighter heart than ever I have taken leave of pauper infants
       yet.
       Connected with the House of Industry, there is also an Hospital,
       which was in the best order, and had, I am glad to say, many beds
       unoccupied. It had one fault, however, which is common to all
       American interiors: the presence of the eternal, accursed,
       suffocating, red-hot demon of a stove, whose breath would blight
       the purest air under Heaven.
       There are two establishments for boys in this same neighbourhood.
       One is called the Boylston school, and is an asylum for neglected
       and indigent boys who have committed no crime, but who in the
       ordinary course of things would very soon be purged of that
       distinction if they were not taken from the hungry streets and sent
       here. The other is a House of Reformation for Juvenile Offenders.
       They are both under the same roof, but the two classes of boys
       never come in contact.
       The Boylston boys, as may be readily supposed, have very much the
       advantage of the others in point of personal appearance. They were
       in their school-room when I came upon them, and answered correctly,
       without book, such questions as where was England; how far was it;
       what was its population; its capital city; its form of government;
       and so forth. They sang a song too, about a farmer sowing his
       seed: with corresponding action at such parts as ''tis thus he
       sows,' 'he turns him round,' 'he claps his hands;' which gave it
       greater interest for them, and accustomed them to act together, in
       an orderly manner. They appeared exceedingly well-taught, and not
       better taught than fed; for a more chubby-looking full-waistcoated
       set of boys, I never saw.
       The juvenile offenders had not such pleasant faces by a great deal,
       and in this establishment there were many boys of colour. I saw
       them first at their work (basket-making, and the manufacture of
       palm-leaf hats), afterwards in their school, where they sang a
       chorus in praise of Liberty: an odd, and, one would think, rather
       aggravating, theme for prisoners. These boys are divided into four
       classes, each denoted by a numeral, worn on a badge upon the arm.
       On the arrival of a new-comer, he is put into the fourth or lowest
       class, and left, by good behaviour, to work his way up into the
       first. The design and object of this Institution is to reclaim the
       youthful criminal by firm but kind and judicious treatment; to make
       his prison a place of purification and improvement, not of
       demoralisation and corruption; to impress upon him that there is
       but one path, and that one sober industry, which can ever lead him
       to happiness; to teach him how it may be trodden, if his footsteps
       have never yet been led that way; and to lure him back to it if
       they have strayed: in a word, to snatch him from destruction, and
       restore him to society a penitent and useful member. The
       importance of such an establishment, in every point of view, and
       with reference to every consideration of humanity and social
       policy, requires no comment.
       One other establishment closes the catalogue. It is the House of
       Correction for the State, in which silence is strictly maintained,
       but where the prisoners have the comfort and mental relief of
       seeing each other, and of working together. This is the improved
       system of Prison Discipline which we have imported into England,
       and which has been in successful operation among us for some years
       past.
       America, as a new and not over-populated country, has in all her
       prisons, the one great advantage, of being enabled to find useful
       and profitable work for the inmates; whereas, with us, the
       prejudice against prison labour is naturally very strong, and
       almost insurmountable, when honest men who have not offended
       against the laws are frequently doomed to seek employment in vain.
       Even in the United States, the principle of bringing convict labour
       and free labour into a competition which must obviously be to the
       disadvantage of the latter, has already found many opponents, whose
       number is not likely to diminish with access of years.
       For this very reason though, our best prisons would seem at the
       first glance to be better conducted than those of America. The
       treadmill is conducted with little or no noise; five hundred men
       may pick oakum in the same room, without a sound; and both kinds of
       labour admit of such keen and vigilant superintendence, as will
       render even a word of personal communication amongst the prisoners
       almost impossible. On the other hand, the noise of the loom, the
       forge, the carpenter's hammer, or the stonemason's saw, greatly
       favour those opportunities of intercourse - hurried and brief no
       doubt, but opportunities still - which these several kinds of work,
       by rendering it necessary for men to be employed very near to each
       other, and often side by side, without any barrier or partition
       between them, in their very nature present. A visitor, too,
       requires to reason and reflect a little, before the sight of a
       number of men engaged in ordinary labour, such as he is accustomed
       to out of doors, will impress him half as strongly as the
       contemplation of the same persons in the same place and garb would,
       if they were occupied in some task, marked and degraded everywhere
       as belonging only to felons in jails. In an American state prison
       or house of correction, I found it difficult at first to persuade
       myself that I was really in a jail: a place of ignominious
       punishment and endurance. And to this hour I very much question
       whether the humane boast that it is not like one, has its root in
       the true wisdom or philosophy of the matter.
       I hope I may not be misunderstood on this subject, for it is one in
       which I take a strong and deep interest. I incline as little to
       the sickly feeling which makes every canting lie or maudlin speech
       of a notorious criminal a subject of newspaper report and general
       sympathy, as I do to those good old customs of the good old times
       which made England, even so recently as in the reign of the Third
       King George, in respect of her criminal code and her prison
       regulations, one of the most bloody-minded and barbarous countries
       on the earth. If I thought it would do any good to the rising
       generation, I would cheerfully give my consent to the disinterment
       of the bones of any genteel highwayman (the more genteel, the more
       cheerfully), and to their exposure, piecemeal, on any sign-post,
       gate, or gibbet, that might be deemed a good elevation for the
       purpose. My reason is as well convinced that these gentry were as
       utterly worthless and debauched villains, as it is that the laws
       and jails hardened them in their evil courses, or that their
       wonderful escapes were effected by the prison-turnkeys who, in
       those admirable days, had always been felons themselves, and were,
       to the last, their bosom-friends and pot-companions. At the same
       time I know, as all men do or should, that the subject of Prison
       Discipline is one of the highest importance to any community; and
       that in her sweeping reform and bright example to other countries
       on this head, America has shown great wisdom, great benevolence,
       and exalted policy. In contrasting her system with that which we
       have modelled upon it, I merely seek to show that with all its
       drawbacks, ours has some advantages of its own.
       The House of Correction which has led to these remarks, is not
       walled, like other prisons, but is palisaded round about with tall
       rough stakes, something after the manner of an enclosure for
       keeping elephants in, as we see it represented in Eastern prints
       and pictures. The prisoners wear a parti-coloured dress; and those
       who are sentenced to hard labour, work at nail-making, or stone-
       cutting. When I was there, the latter class of labourers were
       employed upon the stone for a new custom-house in course of
       erection at Boston. They appeared to shape it skilfully and with
       expedition, though there were very few among them (if any) who had
       not acquired the art within the prison gates.
       The women, all in one large room, were employed in making light
       clothing, for New Orleans and the Southern States. They did their
       work in silence like the men; and like them were over-looked by the
       person contracting for their labour, or by some agent of his
       appointment. In addition to this, they are every moment liable to
       be visited by the prison officers appointed for that purpose.
       The arrangements for cooking, washing of clothes, and so forth, are
       much upon the plan of those I have seen at home. Their mode of
       bestowing the prisoners at night (which is of general adoption)
       differs from ours, and is both simple and effective. In the centre
       of a lofty area, lighted by windows in the four walls, are five
       tiers of cells, one above the other; each tier having before it a
       light iron gallery, attainable by stairs of the same construction
       and material: excepting the lower one, which is on the ground.
       Behind these, back to back with them and facing the opposite wall,
       are five corresponding rows of cells, accessible by similar means:
       so that supposing the prisoners locked up in their cells, an
       officer stationed on the ground, with his back to the wall, has
       half their number under his eye at once; the remaining half being
       equally under the observation of another officer on the opposite
       side; and all in one great apartment. Unless this watch be
       corrupted or sleeping on his post, it is impossible for a man to
       escape; for even in the event of his forcing the iron door of his
       cell without noise (which is exceedingly improbable), the moment he
       appears outside, and steps into that one of the five galleries on
       which it is situated, he must be plainly and fully visible to the
       officer below. Each of these cells holds a small truckle bed, in
       which one prisoner sleeps; never more. It is small, of course; and
       the door being not solid, but grated, and without blind or curtain,
       the prisoner within is at all times exposed to the observation and
       inspection of any guard who may pass along that tier at any hour or
       minute of the night. Every day, the prisoners receive their
       dinner, singly, through a trap in the kitchen wall; and each man
       carries his to his sleeping cell to eat it, where he is locked up,
       alone, for that purpose, one hour. The whole of this arrangement
       struck me as being admirable; and I hope that the next new prison
       we erect in England may be built on this plan.
       I was given to understand that in this prison no swords or fire-
       arms, or even cudgels, are kept; nor is it probable that, so long
       as its present excellent management continues, any weapon,
       offensive or defensive, will ever be required within its bounds.
       Such are the Institutions at South Boston! In all of them, the
       unfortunate or degenerate citizens of the State are carefully
       instructed in their duties both to God and man; are surrounded by
       all reasonable means of comfort and happiness that their condition
       will admit of; are appealed to, as members of the great human
       family, however afflicted, indigent, or fallen; are ruled by the
       strong Heart, and not by the strong (though immeasurably weaker)
       Hand. I have described them at some length; firstly, because their
       worth demanded it; and secondly, because I mean to take them for a
       model, and to content myself with saying of others we may come to,
       whose design and purpose are the same, that in this or that respect
       they practically fail, or differ.
       I wish by this account of them, imperfect in its execution, but in
       its just intention, honest, I could hope to convey to my readers
       one-hundredth part of the gratification, the sights I have
       described, afforded me.
       * * * * * *
       To an Englishman, accustomed to the paraphernalia of Westminster
       Hall, an American Court of Law is as odd a sight as, I suppose, an
       English Court of Law would be to an American. Except in the
       Supreme Court at Washington (where the judges wear a plain black
       robe), there is no such thing as a wig or gown connected with the
       administration of justice. The gentlemen of the bar being
       barristers and attorneys too (for there is no division of those
       functions as in England) are no more removed from their clients
       than attorneys in our Court for the Relief of Insolvent Debtors
       are, from theirs. The jury are quite at home, and make themselves
       as comfortable as circumstances will permit. The witness is so
       little elevated above, or put aloof from, the crowd in the court,
       that a stranger entering during a pause in the proceedings would
       find it difficult to pick him out from the rest. And if it chanced
       to be a criminal trial, his eyes, in nine cases out of ten, would
       wander to the dock in search of the prisoner, in vain; for that
       gentleman would most likely be lounging among the most
       distinguished ornaments of the legal profession, whispering
       suggestions in his counsel's ear, or making a toothpick out of an
       old quill with his penknife.
       I could not but notice these differences, when I visited the courts
       at Boston. I was much surprised at first, too, to observe that the
       counsel who interrogated the witness under examination at the time,
       did so SITTING. But seeing that he was also occupied in writing
       down the answers, and remembering that he was alone and had no
       'junior,' I quickly consoled myself with the reflection that law
       was not quite so expensive an article here, as at home; and that
       the absence of sundry formalities which we regard as indispensable,
       had doubtless a very favourable influence upon the bill of costs.
       In every Court, ample and commodious provision is made for the
       accommodation of the citizens. This is the case all through
       America. In every Public Institution, the right of the people to
       attend, and to have an interest in the proceedings, is most fully
       and distinctly recognised. There are no grim door-keepers to dole
       out their tardy civility by the sixpenny-worth; nor is there, I
       sincerely believe, any insolence of office of any kind. Nothing
       national is exhibited for money; and no public officer is a
       showman. We have begun of late years to imitate this good example.
       I hope we shall continue to do so; and that in the fulness of time,
       even deans and chapters may be converted.
       In the civil court an action was trying, for damages sustained in
       some accident upon a railway. The witnesses had been examined, and
       counsel was addressing the jury. The learned gentleman (like a few
       of his English brethren) was desperately long-winded, and had a
       remarkable capacity of saying the same thing over and over again.
       His great theme was 'Warren the ENGINE driver,' whom he pressed
       into the service of every sentence he uttered. I listened to him
       for about a quarter of an hour; and, coming out of court at the
       expiration of that time, without the faintest ray of enlightenment
       as to the merits of the case, felt as if I were at home again.
       In the prisoner's cell, waiting to be examined by the magistrate on
       a charge of theft, was a boy. This lad, instead of being committed
       to a common jail, would be sent to the asylum at South Boston, and
       there taught a trade; and in the course of time he would be bound
       apprentice to some respectable master. Thus, his detection in this
       offence, instead of being the prelude to a life of infamy and a
       miserable death, would lead, there was a reasonable hope, to his
       being reclaimed from vice, and becoming a worthy member of society.
       I am by no means a wholesale admirer of our legal solemnities, many
       of which impress me as being exceedingly ludicrous. Strange as it
       may seem too, there is undoubtedly a degree of protection in the
       wig and gown - a dismissal of individual responsibility in dressing
       for the part - which encourages that insolent bearing and language,
       and that gross perversion of the office of a pleader for The Truth,
       so frequent in our courts of law. Still, I cannot help doubting
       whether America, in her desire to shake off the absurdities and
       abuses of the old system, may not have gone too far into the
       opposite extreme; and whether it is not desirable, especially in
       the small community of a city like this, where each man knows the
       other, to surround the administration of justice with some
       artificial barriers against the 'Hail fellow, well met' deportment
       of everyday life. All the aid it can have in the very high
       character and ability of the Bench, not only here but elsewhere, it
       has, and well deserves to have; but it may need something more:
       not to impress the thoughtful and the well-informed, but the
       ignorant and heedless; a class which includes some prisoners and
       many witnesses. These institutions were established, no doubt,
       upon the principle that those who had so large a share in making
       the laws, would certainly respect them. But experience has proved
       this hope to be fallacious; for no men know better than the judges
       of America, that on the occasion of any great popular excitement
       the law is powerless, and cannot, for the time, assert its own
       supremacy.
       The tone of society in Boston is one of perfect politeness,
       courtesy, and good breeding. The ladies are unquestionably very
       beautiful - in face: but there I am compelled to stop. Their
       education is much as with us; neither better nor worse. I had
       heard some very marvellous stories in this respect; but not
       believing them, was not disappointed. Blue ladies there are, in
       Boston; but like philosophers of that colour and sex in most other
       latitudes, they rather desire to be thought superior than to be so.
       Evangelical ladies there are, likewise, whose attachment to the
       forms of religion, and horror of theatrical entertainments, are
       most exemplary. Ladies who have a passion for attending lectures
       are to be found among all classes and all conditions. In the kind
       of provincial life which prevails in cities such as this, the
       Pulpit has great influence. The peculiar province of the Pulpit in
       New England (always excepting the Unitarian Ministry) would appear
       to be the denouncement of all innocent and rational amusements.
       The church, the chapel, and the lecture-room, are the only means of
       excitement excepted; and to the church, the chapel, and the
       lecture-room, the ladies resort in crowds.
       Wherever religion is resorted to, as a strong drink, and as an
       escape from the dull monotonous round of home, those of its
       ministers who pepper the highest will be the surest to please.
       They who strew the Eternal Path with the greatest amount of
       brimstone, and who most ruthlessly tread down the flowers and
       leaves that grow by the wayside, will be voted the most righteous;
       and they who enlarge with the greatest pertinacity on the
       difficulty of getting into heaven, will be considered by all true
       believers certain of going there: though it would be hard to say
       by what process of reasoning this conclusion is arrived at. It is
       so at home, and it is so abroad. With regard to the other means of
       excitement, the Lecture, it has at least the merit of being always
       new. One lecture treads so quickly on the heels of another, that
       none are remembered; and the course of this month may be safely
       repeated next, with its charm of novelty unbroken, and its interest
       unabated.
       The fruits of the earth have their growth in corruption. Out of
       the rottenness of these things, there has sprung up in Boston a
       sect of philosophers known as Transcendentalists. On inquiring
       what this appellation might be supposed to signify, I was given to
       understand that whatever was unintelligible would be certainly
       transcendental. Not deriving much comfort from this elucidation, I
       pursued the inquiry still further, and found that the
       Transcendentalists are followers of my friend Mr. Carlyle, or I
       should rather say, of a follower of his, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson.
       This gentleman has written a volume of Essays, in which, among much
       that is dreamy and fanciful (if he will pardon me for saying so),
       there is much more that is true and manly, honest and bold.
       Transcendentalism has its occasional vagaries (what school has
       not?), but it has good healthful qualities in spite of them; not
       least among the number a hearty disgust of Cant, and an aptitude to
       detect her in all the million varieties of her everlasting
       wardrobe. And therefore if I were a Bostonian, I think I would be
       a Transcendentalist.
       The only preacher I heard in Boston was Mr. Taylor, who addresses
       himself peculiarly to seamen, and who was once a mariner himself.
       I found his chapel down among the shipping, in one of the narrow,
       old, water-side streets, with a gay blue flag waving freely from
       its roof. In the gallery opposite to the pulpit were a little
       choir of male and female singers, a violoncello, and a violin. The
       preacher already sat in the pulpit, which was raised on pillars,
       and ornamented behind him with painted drapery of a lively and
       somewhat theatrical appearance. He looked a weather-beaten hard-
       featured man, of about six or eight and fifty; with deep lines
       graven as it were into his face, dark hair, and a stern, keen eye.
       Yet the general character of his countenance was pleasant and
       agreeable. The service commenced with a hymn, to which succeeded
       an extemporary prayer. It had the fault of frequent repetition,
       incidental to all such prayers; but it was plain and comprehensive
       in its doctrines, and breathed a tone of general sympathy and
       charity, which is not so commonly a characteristic of this form of
       address to the Deity as it might be. That done he opened his
       discourse, taking for his text a passage from the Song of Solomon,
       laid upon the desk before the commencement of the service by some
       unknown member of the congregation: 'Who is this coming up from
       the wilderness, leaning on the arm of her beloved!'
       He handled his text in all kinds of ways, and twisted it into all
       manner of shapes; but always ingeniously, and with a rude
       eloquence, well adapted to the comprehension of his hearers.
       Indeed if I be not mistaken, he studied their sympathies and
       understandings much more than the display of his own powers. His
       imagery was all drawn from the sea, and from the incidents of a
       seaman's life; and was often remarkably good. He spoke to them of
       'that glorious man, Lord Nelson,' and of Collingwood; and drew
       nothing in, as the saying is, by the head and shoulders, but
       brought it to bear upon his purpose, naturally, and with a sharp
       mind to its effect. Sometimes, when much excited with his subject,
       he had an odd way - compounded of John Bunyan, and Balfour of
       Burley - of taking his great quarto Bible under his arm and pacing
       up and down the pulpit with it; looking steadily down, meantime,
       into the midst of the congregation. Thus, when he applied his text
       to the first assemblage of his hearers, and pictured the wonder of
       the church at their presumption in forming a congregation among
       themselves, he stopped short with his Bible under his arm in the
       manner I have described, and pursued his discourse after this
       manner:
       'Who are these - who are they - who are these fellows? where do
       they come from? Where are they going to? - Come from! What's the
       answer?' - leaning out of the pulpit, and pointing downward with
       his right hand: 'From below!' - starting back again, and looking
       at the sailors before him: 'From below, my brethren. From under
       the hatches of sin, battened down above you by the evil one.
       That's where you came from!' - a walk up and down the pulpit: 'and
       where are you going' - stopping abruptly: 'where are you going?
       Aloft!' - very softly, and pointing upward: 'Aloft!' - louder:
       'aloft!' - louder still: 'That's where you are going - with a fair
       wind, - all taut and trim, steering direct for Heaven in its glory,
       where there are no storms or foul weather, and where the wicked
       cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' - Another walk:
       'That's where you're going to, my friends. That's it. That's the
       place. That's the port. That's the haven. It's a blessed harbour
       - still water there, in all changes of the winds and tides; no
       driving ashore upon the rocks, or slipping your cables and running
       out to sea, there: Peace - Peace - Peace - all peace!' - Another
       walk, and patting the Bible under his left arm: 'What! These
       fellows are coming from the wilderness, are they? Yes. From the
       dreary, blighted wilderness of Iniquity, whose only crop is Death.
       But do they lean upon anything - do they lean upon nothing, these
       poor seamen?' - Three raps upon the Bible: 'Oh yes. - Yes. - They
       lean upon the arm of their Beloved' - three more raps: 'upon the
       arm of their Beloved' - three more, and a walk: 'Pilot, guiding-
       star, and compass, all in one, to all hands - here it is' - three
       more: 'Here it is. They can do their seaman's duty manfully, and
       be easy in their minds in the utmost peril and danger, with this' -
       two more: 'They can come, even these poor fellows can come, from
       the wilderness leaning on the arm of their Beloved, and go up - up
       - up!' - raising his hand higher, and higher, at every repetition
       of the word, so that he stood with it at last stretched above his
       head, regarding them in a strange, rapt manner, and pressing the
       book triumphantly to his breast, until he gradually subsided into
       some other portion of his discourse.
       I have cited this, rather as an instance of the preacher's
       eccentricities than his merits, though taken in connection with his
       look and manner, and the character of his audience, even this was
       striking. It is possible, however, that my favourable impression
       of him may have been greatly influenced and strengthened, firstly,
       by his impressing upon his hearers that the true observance of
       religion was not inconsistent with a cheerful deportment and an
       exact discharge of the duties of their station, which, indeed, it
       scrupulously required of them; and secondly, by his cautioning them
       not to set up any monopoly in Paradise and its mercies. I never
       heard these two points so wisely touched (if indeed I have ever
       heard them touched at all), by any preacher of that kind before.
       Having passed the time I spent in Boston, in making myself
       acquainted with these things, in settling the course I should take
       in my future travels, and in mixing constantly with its society, I
       am not aware that I have any occasion to prolong this chapter.
       Such of its social customs as I have not mentioned, however, may be
       told in a very few words.
       The usual dinner-hour is two o'clock. A dinner party takes place
       at five; and at an evening party, they seldom sup later than
       eleven; so that it goes hard but one gets home, even from a rout,
       by midnight. I never could find out any difference between a party
       at Boston and a party in London, saving that at the former place
       all assemblies are held at more rational hours; that the
       conversation may possibly be a little louder and more cheerful; and
       a guest is usually expected to ascend to the very top of the house
       to take his cloak off; that he is certain to see, at every dinner,
       an unusual amount of poultry on the table; and at every supper, at
       least two mighty bowls of hot stewed oysters, in any one of which a
       half-grown Duke of Clarence might be smothered easily.
       There are two theatres in Boston, of good size and construction,
       but sadly in want of patronage. The few ladies who resort to them,
       sit, as of right, in the front rows of the boxes.
       The bar is a large room with a stone floor, and there people stand
       and smoke, and lounge about, all the evening: dropping in and out
       as the humour takes them. There too the stranger is initiated into
       the mysteries of Gin-sling, Cock-tail, Sangaree, Mint Julep,
       Sherry-cobbler, Timber Doodle, and other rare drinks. The house is
       full of boarders, both married and single, many of whom sleep upon
       the premises, and contract by the week for their board and lodging:
       the charge for which diminishes as they go nearer the sky to roost.
       A public table is laid in a very handsome hall for breakfast, and
       for dinner, and for supper. The party sitting down together to
       these meals will vary in number from one to two hundred: sometimes
       more. The advent of each of these epochs in the day is proclaimed
       by an awful gong, which shakes the very window-frames as it
       reverberates through the house, and horribly disturbs nervous
       foreigners. There is an ordinary for ladies, and an ordinary for
       gentlemen.
       In our private room the cloth could not, for any earthly
       consideration, have been laid for dinner without a huge glass dish
       of cranberries in the middle of the table; and breakfast would have
       been no breakfast unless the principal dish were a deformed beef-
       steak with a great flat bone in the centre, swimming in hot butter,
       and sprinkled with the very blackest of all possible pepper. Our
       bedroom was spacious and airy, but (like every bedroom on this side
       of the Atlantic) very bare of furniture, having no curtains to the
       French bedstead or to the window. It had one unusual luxury,
       however, in the shape of a wardrobe of painted wood, something
       smaller than an English watch-box; or if this comparison should be
       insufficient to convey a just idea of its dimensions, they may be
       estimated from the fact of my having lived for fourteen days and
       nights in the firm belief that it was a shower-bath.
       Content of CHAPTER III - BOSTON [Charles Dickens' novel: American Notes]
       _

Preface
CHAPTER I - GOING AWAY
CHAPTER II - THE PASSAGE OUT
CHAPTER III - BOSTON
CHAPTER IV - AN AMERICAN RAILROAD. LOWELL AND ITS FACTORY SYSTEM
CHAPTER V - WORCESTER. THE CONNECTICUT RIVER. HARTFORD. NEW HAVEN. TO NEW YORK
CHAPTER VI - NEW YORK
CHAPTER VII - PHILADELPHIA, AND ITS SOLITARY PRISON
CHAPTER VIII - WASHINGTON. THE LEGISLATURE. AND THE PRESIDENT'S HOUSE
CHAPTER IX - A NIGHT STEAMER ON THE POTOMAC RIVER. VIRGINIA ROAD, AND A BLACK DRIVER. RICHMOND. BALTIMORE. THE HARRISBURG MAIL, AND A GLIMPSE OF THE CITY. A CANAL BOAT
CHAPTER X - SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE CANAL BOAT, ITS DOMESTIC ECONOMY, AND ITS PASSENGERS. JOURNEY TO PITTSBURG ACROSS THE ALLEGHANY MOUNTAINS. PITTSBURG
CHAPTER XI - FROM PITTSBURG TO CINCINNATI IN A WESTERN STEAMBOAT. CINCINNATI
CHAPTER XII - FROM CINCINNATI TO LOUISVILLE IN ANOTHER WESTERN STEAMBOAT; AND FROM LOUISVILLE TO ST. LOUIS IN ANOTHER sT. LOUIS
CHAPTER XIII - A JAUNT TO THE LOOKING-GLASS PRAIRIE AND BACK
CHAPTER XIV - RETURN TO CINCINNATI. A STAGE-COACH RIDE FROM THAT CITY TO COLUMBUS, AND THENCE TO SANDUSKY. SO, BY LAKE ERIE, TO THE FALLS OF NIAGARA
CHAPTER XV - IN CANADA; TORONTO; KINGSTON; MONTREAL; QUEBEC; ST. JOHN'S IN THE UNITED STATES AGAIN; LEBANON; THE SHAKER VILLAGE; WEST POINT
CHAPTER XVI - THE PASSAGE HOME
CHAPTER XVI - SLAVERY
CHAPTER XVIII - CONCLUDING REMARKS
Postscript