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"The Art of Instructing the Infant Deaf and Dumb," by Mr. Arrowsmith. It speaks volumes. The Reviewer says

To those who are still incredulous and feel an interest in the subject, we earnestly recommend the account which Mr. Arrowsmith gives of the plan adopted in educating his brother. render their conviction more certain, let And to them try the plan which he details. There are few neighbourhoods in which, unfortunately, a subject may not be found for such a purpose. Let him be regularly sent to any village school with other chil dren. Let him be treated in all respects like them, and we venture to predict that it will be even impossible to prevent him from acquiring the knowledge of a medium which may enable him to converse with his youthful associates. The mind is fully as active and vigorous in the one as it is in the other; and the curiosity of a Deaf and Dumb child, being strongly excited by the objects which attract his attention, he can hardly fail to devise some means of obtaining from his companions the information which he wishes to procure.

"We are perfectly convinced that the Deaf and Dumb might be admitted with peculiar advantage, into seminaries in which children who hear and speak receive their instruction. The efforts which would be made by the latter class of pupils to explain their ideas to their less fortunate associates, would, in the end, prove highly beneficial even to themselves. It is well known that children frequently acquire a knowledge of words without comprehending the ideas of which they are representatives. A constant association with the Deaf and Dumb, would impose upon them the necessity of acquiring a precise conception of the words which they used, for the purpose of making them intelligible to their young companions.

"The advantages which would inevitably result from this admixture would be, therefore, mutual, and would much more than counterbalance any imaginary excess of skill which a teacher who confines himself to the sole Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb may be supposed to possess. The admission of Deaf and Dumb pupils into establishments now exclusively devoted to the reception of those who can hear and speak, could, by no possibility retard the progress of the latter, while it would greatly facilitate the instruction of the former. Were the intercourse of the Deaf and Dumb to be confined in after life, to persons labouring under a similar misfortune, separate establishments for their education would 03

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be recommended by reasons much more cogent than any which can be urged in their favour while it is remembered that, when they leave these institutions, they sively with persons who hear and speak.' must converse principally, if not exclu

If any of your numerous corresponeducation of these unfortunates, or can dents can suggest a better plan for the point out any improvement I shall thankfully acknowledge it as a benefaction. I am, yours,

A FRIEND TO THE UNFORTUNATE.

ST. ALBANS

ON viewing the remains of the Roman
the Abbey Church, founded in the ninth
city of Verulam, near St. Albans, and
century, by Offa, king of Mercia :—

Some secret spirit bids me sing,
And high on soaring pinions mount,

Tho' yet undipt my nestling wing
In Pindus or Parnassus' fount---
How bold th' attempt, untaught, to fly
And seek the realms of Poesy.

Yet see how all around me spread
Smiling invites my untried powers!
A cloudless sky above my head---
Whilst the blithe lark from out the west
Beneath my feet unnumber'd flowers---
Gay carols ere she sinks to rest.

How calm, how sweet an eve, how fair
The primrose blooms on mossy bank ;--
The fairies oft disport them there,
In many a darker circlet seen
And oft at dawn the herbage rank,
Shews where their midnight dance has been.

And yon green slopes I now survey
With bushes rough, and void of care,

Have known a brighter---fairer day...
Seen Britons roll the tide of war---
What time the Roman eagle waved
His wings o'er Verulam enslaved.

Yes,* Roman, Verulam was thine,
Tho' purchased at no common rate.
But, oh! far greater Britain's fine,
Concentred in Bonduca's fate;

Yet history's pages still can tell,
And proudly how she fought and fell.

There, towering on a neighbouring bill
That once o'er frown'd the battling bands
Majestic, grand, and perfect still,
Tho' now no more its walls around
The church of Mercian Offa + stands,
Pace the shorn monks with soiemn sound.

And well---for Superstition there
Her most severe of courts hath kept,

Bear witness many a white-robed fair
Who long 'neath Sopwell's towerst hath slept;
And tell how sad your cloister'd doom.
Oh! could ye burst the marble tomb,

Those days are gone, and with them fled,
The clouds that dimm'd Religion's sun;
Nor more shall sinners, weak with
And Luther's light around is spread,
And dark Deception's hour-glass run,
To Zion bend their pilgrimage.
age,

*Ostorius Scapula.

Almost the only part of the abbey remaining
A nunnery in ruins not far distant.

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NARRATIVE OF MR. FISHER, SURGEON OF THE ABEONA.

It is with the most painful feelings that I undertake the melancholy duty of giving an account of the destruction of the Abeona transport (No. 36), by fire, in lat. 4. 30. N. long. 25. 30. W., bound to the Cape of Good Hope, with settlers.

About a quarter past twelve o'clock, on the 25th November, when Mr. Duff, the first mate, was serving out the rum in the lazaretto, or store-room, the flame of the candle, it is supposed, communicated accidentally with the spirits, or the other combustible stores. The catastrophe was sudden and awful in the extreme. Every possible exertion was made in handing the water along, by the sailors and settlers, whom I joined and encouraged, until the flames came up in such fury and quantity, that the chance of saving the vessel was irrecoverably lost. Our only alternative now was to get the boats out, to which our attentions were directed, and, happily for us, we got the two gigs, which were on the quarters, and skiff, lowered down; the latter of which was stowed on the booms in the long-boat. The long-boat was the only one remaining on board; it was started from the booms to the gang-way, and we had her almost clear of the bulwarks; the tackle-falls were taken to the windlass, and I continued heaving round, with Mr. Mudge, and some of the sailors and settlers, until the case was hopeless, when Mr. Mudge got into his boat, and I followed him: it happened to be under the larboard bow at the time. We were only a minute or two in the boat, when the main mizen-masts fell overboard, to the larboard side. The fore-mast was now in a blaze, and the scene of horror rapidly increasing some leaping overboard, and others going out on the bowsprit, who were either knocked off or killed by the fall of the fore-mast, which went directly forward. We saved as many as we prudently thought the boats could swim with, considering the immense distance the

nearest land was from us, and the innumerable difficulties we had to contend against; even those in the boats, who beheld their relatives perishing before their eyes, felt constrained to acknowledge that the attempt to save more would only be involving the whole in one common calamity; this, along with the number of women and children that were saved, is a convincing proof of our impartial behaviour. The sight now was the most awful and most distressing that ever was beheld by mortal eye. Without being able to render them any succour, we beheld some of our fellow-creatures throwing themselves from the consuming fire into the unfathomable deep; while others were hanging by ropes, and eagerly clinging to life, which we all so dearly value, though inevitable destruction stared them in the face, whichever way they turned. Being unable to withstand this sad spectacle of human misery, we rowed to some distance from it. We picked up some hammocks, spars, and casks, that were floating by. There were some bacon hams accidentally in one of the boats, and three pigs that were saved, one of which I threw overboard myself, it being handed to me by the cook: we had also about ten pounds of biscuit, and some water that we collected by wringing our drenched clothes. We contemplated making for the coast of South America, but thus provided, and without a compass, for a voyage of nearly six hundred miles, full of hope, indeed, must that mind have been, which could fancy to itself success from the dreary prospect before us ;—but it pleased God, in his omnipotence, that we should be left living monuments, to tell the dismal fate of those who perished. We resolved to remain within sight of the dreadful conflagration, in hopes that some vessel might see in the night, and make for it in the morning. The burning continued until between three and four o'clock, A. M.-making fifteen hours from the period of the commencement.

When the accident happened, the weather was calm, and continued so during the night, with occasional puffs of wind and heavy falls of rain. At day-light on the 26th, about two miles distant, was descried a vessel, with all sail set, before the wind, and coming towards us; our sensations at the time can be more easily imagined than described. We hailed her, rowed alongside, and asked to be taken on board; which was done with the utmost alacrity. We had then been in the boats about seventeen hours. The captain cruized about the spot where we thought the wreck had been, from six in the morning until twelve o'clock at noon,

in hopes that we might see some poor sufferers floating about on spars; but not even a single vestige of any thing was discovered.

The ship which saved us was a merchant vessel, called the Condessa da Ponte, Captain Joaquim Almeida, from Bahia, bound to Lisbon, and, with the exception of one vessel which passed us about five days before, was the first sail we had seen for twenty days previously. The flames of our ship were not observed from the Condessa da Ponte during the night. The humanity and kindness that we met with on board this ship redounds very much to the honour of the Portuguese nation. We arrived at Lisbon, Dec. 21, 1820.

Various instances of parental affection and of the most devoted attachment, were exhibited in this dreadful calamity, of which I shall only mention one or two: -Mr. and Mrs. Barrie, from Provan Mill, near Glasgow, appeared to be insensible to their imminent danger, or were wholly engrossed in saving their helpless offspring. Having thrown their eight youngest into the boat, Mrs. Barrie was desired to go into it herself, but she refused, and went in search of her eldest daughter; unfortunately, before she could return, the boat was obliged to put off, and both parents were lost, with their eldest daughter and son, leaving eight orphans the youngest a boy, only fifteen months old, and whom one of the girls, who is an ornament to human nature, has cherished with all the tenderness of a mother. A person of the name of M'Farlane, who had been married but a few days before sailing, plunged overboard, with his wife lashed to his back, and endeavoured to swim towards the boats, but his strength failing, he turned about and made for the vessel again, but unable to catch hold of any thing to which he might cling for support, the unfortunate young couple sunk together.

It is with regret I have to announce the loss of Mr. Duff, the first mate, who was a meritorious young man, although the unfortunate cause of the calamity; and I understand he was the support of an aged mother.

Our good treatment at Lisbon, by Mr. Jeffery, (the British Consul General,) and the gentlemen of the British factory, cannot be spoken of in too high terms; and also the friendship shown us by the Rev. J. H. Siely and Mrs. Siely.

EPIGRAM.

WHAT's honour? Not t' unjustly fight; 'Tis to own what's wrong, and do what's right.

STANZAS,

Written on seeing the Royal Squadron off Portland, on the King's voyage to Ireland.

BY DR. CAMPBELL.

(For the Mirror.)

HUSH'd is the raving of the subject main,
Rude Boreas yields to Zephyrus his sway,
While, gliding onwards through the liquid
plain,

Britannia's Monarch urges on his way---
He whom the happiest isles of earth obey,
On ocean direful as on land sublime,

Glory around his standard seems to play,
His pendant points to Britain, happy clime,
And bids her history give the sight to latest time;
Bids her record, on adamantine page,
The glorious deed that still shall grace his
brow;

How, fir'd with all the patriot's noblest rage,
Too tardy for his wishes moves the prow,
(To which the waves in due submission bow,)
A gallant nation to embrace and free,
To rout oppression and alleviate woe,
While Peace, his herald, sounds the blest de-

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ON CHURCH BELLS.

(For the Mirror.) CONNECTED with the subject, the MIRROR has already given us interesting papers on "Bow Bells," "Bells and Bell-Ringing," and, "though last not least," amusing feature of its pages, "The Village Bells," but they do not ascertain their data, in so clear a manner as could be wished, and may induce the insertion of the present article, which has been collected from different authorities, as containing some further information on their origin.

The invention of bells, such as are hung in towers or steeples of christian churches, is, by Polydore, Virgil, and others, ascribed to Paulinus, Bishop of

Nola, a city of Campania, about the year 400. It is said that the names Nolce and Campance, the one referring to the city, the other to the country, were for that reason given to them. In the time of Clothair, King of France, and in the year 610, the army of the king was frighted from the siege of the city of Sens, by ringing the bells of St. Stephen's church. In the times of popery, bells were baptized and anointed, oleo Chrismatis; they were exercised, and blessed by the Bishop, from a belief that when these ceremonies were performed, they had power to drive the devil out of the air, to calm tempests, to extinguish fire, and even to recreate the dead. The ritual of these ceremonies is contained in the Roman Pontifical: and it was usual in their baptism to give each bell the name of some saint. In Chauncey's History of Hertfordshire, is the relation of the baptism of a set of bells in Italy with great ceremony, a short time before the writing of that book. The bells of the Priory of Little Dunmow, in Essex, were, anno 1501, new cast and baptized. The bells at Osney Abbey, near Oxford, were also very famous.

In the funeral monuments of Weever, the Antiquary, are the following particulars relating to bells : "In the little Sanctuary at Westminster, King Edward III. erected a clochier, and placed therein three bells for the use of St. Stephen's Chapel about the biggest of them were cast in the metal these words :

“King Edward made me thirtie thousand weight

and three ;

Take me down, and wey mee, and more you shall find me."

But these bells being taken down in the reign of King Henry VIII. one writes underneath with a coal :

"But Henry the Eighth,

Will bait me of my weight."

This last distich alludes to a fact mentioned by Stowe, in his Survey of London: "Ward of Farringdon Within, to wit, near St. Paul's School, stood a clochier, in which were four bells, called Jesus bells, the greatest in all England, against which Sir Miles Partridge staked a hundred pounds, and won them of King Henry VIII. at a cast of dice."

It is said that the foundation of the fortunes of the Corsini family in Italy, was laid by an ancestor of it, who at the dissolution of religious houses, purchased the bells of abbeys and other churches, and by the sale of them in other countries, acquired a very great estate. Nevertheless it appears that abroad there are

bells of a great magnitude. In the steeple of the great church at Roan, in Normandy, is a bell with an inscription, which has been thus translated:

'I am George of Ambois,

Thirty-five thousand in pois;
But he that shall weigh me,

Thirtie-six thousand shall find me."

Moscow was formerly celebrated for the number and the size of its bells, many of which were of great weight.

It is a common tradition that the bells of the King's College Chapel, in the University of Cambridge, were taken by Henry V. from some church in France, after the battle of Agincourt. They were taken down some years ago, and sold to Pheeps the bell-founder in Whitechapel, who melted them down.

The practice of ringing bells in change, is said to be peculiar to this country, but the antiquity of it is not easy to be ascertained. There are in London and other places, several societies of ringers particularly one called the College Youths. and in the life of Sir Mathew Hale written by Bishop Burnet, some facts are mentioned which favour the report that, this learned and upright judge was a member in his youth. In England the practice of ringing is reduced to a science, and peals have been composed which bear the names of the inventors. Some of the most celebrated peals (tunes) now known were composed upwards of fifty years ago by one Patrick: this man was a maker of barometers; in his advertisements he styled himself Toricellion operator, from Torricelli, who invented instruments of this kind.

In the year 1684, one Abraham Ruddal, of the city of Gloucester, brought the art of bell-founding to great perfec

tion. His descendants in succession have continued the business of casting bells, and by a list published by them, it appeared that at Lady-day, 1774, the family, in peals and odd bells, had cast to the number of 3,594. The peals of St. Dunstan in the East, St. Brides Fleetstreet, and St. Martin in the Fields, Westminster, are in the number.

The following tables are from printed statements.

There are 12 peals of twelve bells in England; seven in London and five in the country, the weight of which are from 28 cwt. to 514 cwt. and in Great Britain and Ireland, there are 50 peals of ten bells, 380 peals of eight, 600 peals of six, 500 peals of five, besides upwards of 720 peals of four, three, and two. The heaviest single bells in England are at the following cities and towns :—

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The following ingenious table shews the full extent of changes that can be produced on each number of bells, viz.

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ORIGIN OF THE SLAVE TRADE. A SKETCH ON THE BANKS OF

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

SIR, When the Spaniards took possession of America they found that the natives, from the feebleness of their frame, from indolence, or from the injudicious manner of treating them, were incapable of the exertions needful to work the mines or cultivate the earth. Eager to find hands more industrious and efficient, the Spaniards had recourse to their neighbours the Portuguese, who then held a sufficient intercourse with Africa, to supply them with negro slaves; experience soon discovered that the Africans were men of a more hardy race, and much better fitted for enduring fatigue: and that the labour of one negro was computed to be equal to that of four Americans, from that time the number employed in the New World increased with rapid progress. In this practice the Spaniards were unhappily imitated by all the nations in Europe who held territories in America. At one pe riod the number of negro slaves in the settlements of Great Britain and France in the West Indies, exceeded a million, could the numbers have been ascertained with equal exactness in the Spanish dominions and North America, the total number might have been as many more. Most certainly this execrable traffic would have continued to this hour, but for the glorious interposition of humane Britons. LECTOR.

THE THAMES.

ANON

released from rougher toil,
pass a melancholy pleasing hour.
ROLL placidly, thou crystal stream,
While on thy bosom of delight
Enamoured Phoebus cools his beam,
And scatters pearls of dazzling light.
But lest his rays too fervid prove,
And spoil the freshness they would share,
Mild Zephyrus, with lips of love,
Breathes chastened gales of fragrance there.
Reflected in thy glassy face,

The landscape shines serenely gay,
Where rosy blooms, in thick embrace,
Announce the birth of laughing May..
Encased with mail, the finny brood
Move devious through their native deep,
Or mirthful, or enticed by food,

Above the surface boldly leap.

The watchful angler this aescries,

And soon presents the tempting lure;
The fish dart eager for the prize,
And seal their own destruction sure
So fatal snares in every path

The nobler race of man enchant--
Elate we seize the glittering death,
And lack the wisdom fishes want.

Fancy invents a thousand schemes,
Unreal as the splendid bow;
We revel in the flattering dreams,

Nor till too late our folly know.
Commerce, with clamorous buzz, no more
Disturbs this sweet, sequestered nook :
"Tis stillness all, save dash of oar,
Or plaintive fall of neighbouring brook.
Amidst the vanities of earth

A sigh will oft escape the heart,
For solid pleasures, things of worth,
That live, when shadows shall depart.

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