attention to the question which chiefly engaged their investigations, viz.: What is the method to be preferred in the education of deaf mutes? This question involves the choice of an instrument, or instruments, of communication, as a substitute for hearing and speech acquired through hearing. Those which have hitherto been devised or employed, are the following: 1. Natural signs; by which we mean the language of imitative action, which the deaf mute instinctively adopts, and is naturally led by gradual steps to improve. In those schools in which it receives cultivation, it is found in a degree of perfection very far removed from the primitive rudeness it exhibits among uneducated mutes. As improved, it becomes in a degree conventional, chiefly by processes of abbreviation and of symbolical usage, and by the introduction of a very few purely arbitrary signs; without, however, losing its essential character as a natural language significant in itself. 2. Methodical, also called systematic, signs; an instrument artificially constructed upon the basis of natural signs, to be used for dictating and also for translating written language verbatim. In its elements, it consists chiefly of natural signs, with grammatical signs for the different modifications of words radically the same, and is designed to correspond throughout, both in terminology and construction, with the language which the deaf mute is to be taught by its aid, each word being denoted either by a single sign, or an appropriate combination of signs. This method originated with De l'Epée, and was carried further towards perfection by his successor, Sicard. 3. Written language; to give a knowledge of which must obviously be, in every system of deaf mute education, an object of primary importance. 4. The manual alphabet, the finger alphabet, or dactylology, as it is variously called; consisting of alphabetic characters, formed by different positions of the hand and fingers, by which words are represented according to the usual orthography. Of this there are two varieties: the two-handed alphabet, used in Great Britain, and that made with one hand, generally adopted elsewhere. 5. Reading on the lips; a method of understanding the speech of others, through motions of the lips and other vocal organs, perceived by sight. These visible motions are called, by Degerando, the labial alphabet. 6. Articulation; or speech mechanically acquired, by having the attention of the learner directed to motions, positions and vibrations of the vocal organs, and to peculiar impulses of certain sounds upon the air. These motions, &c., are named by Degerando, the oral alphabet, as embracing elements which have no place at all in the labial alphabet, and as being recognized by the deaf mute through the sense of feeling, while the other is addressed to the eye. In addition to these six distinct means of communication, more or less use is generally made of pictures and models in elementary instruction; in the system adopted in some schools, they hold a prominent place. Three other instruments are to be named, which have been favorite projects with some teachers; neither, however, has been found generally useful in any shape yet devised. They are syllabic dactylology, or a short-hand manual alphabet, for the end of rapid communication; a system of stenography for the deaf and dumb, which should correspond to a syllabic dactylology; and mimography, a method of hieroglyphic or picture writing, for reducing to writing the language of natural signs. Of these instruments, articulation and reading on the lips have been the first to suggest themselves as the means of imparting to the deaf mute a knowledge of the language of words. In the earlier period of the art they were invariably employed. They were adopted as a fundamental means, and indeed, as the chief aim of instruction, by Heinicke, who had derived from Amman the most absurd and exaggerated notions of the absolute dependence of thought itself upon the living voice; and their use has remained to the present time a characteristic of the German schools. In Great Britain, the same method was adopted by Braidwood; but for the last thirty years has been gradually falling into disuse. At the London Institution alone, articulation and reading on the lips are taught, professedly that is, to all the pupils; in some other schools to a portion only, and in others are wholly discarded. In France, a system fundamentally dif ferent was introduced by De l'Epéc. It started in his mind with the philosophical principle, that to no one class of signs is confined the privilege of immediately representing thought, that the connection God had not an Angel purer, In the choir of Heaven than thee. Winds are hushed that late repeated," Golden, now, the day-light dawning Wake her not! the rays of morning, Fancies, bright as flowers of Eden, Winging through the mind's brief sunlight Flowers, in festival around her, All wealth gives an erring creature, Over life's remotest longing 'Tis his spirit now commanding : Leave behind thy lands and title, Leave to Earth thy pride and Gold; Wealth has now no power to save thee From his arms so deathly cold! Hark, that voice approaches nearer ! more. THE GENIUS OF THOMAS HOOD.* In the catalogue of the dead for the past year, many will look back, with affectionate regret, upon the name of THOMAS HOOD. It would be ungrateful not to remember an author who has done so much to captivate our silent hours, and, from the very ills of his own life, to inculcate the lessons of cheerfulness and love. When with the continual corruscations of his wit, there came also the melancholy token, that it hovered over decay and in the midst of sympathetic smiles the light went out-the tears which followed him vindicated in his last hour, that he had equal power over both. In some of his latest poetical compositions, he may be said to have woven a proper garland for his own grave, and the interest of those who watched his departure, even from this distance over the water, is well represented in those exquisite lines written in the death chamber of a young woman.† Thomas Hood is no The periodic visitings of his welcome face shall never come again to enhance the pleasures of the winter fireside; and, alas! the legacy of his winnowed works, rich as it is, testifies rather what he might have been. There was the inherent power to do better things when the occasion should be granted. No man could hold the rank of a professed humorist-which, if force must be applied, is for the most part a melancholy callingand so well adhere to the legitimate. Not that he always did or could under such circumstances; for a compulsory smile will exaggerate itself into something broader; and his best compositions are not the ones which have been the most industriously spread before us. Yet his wit was nearly perennial. In the absence, too, of any grand epic or laborious rhyme, we are prepared to assert that he was a true poet. We mean in the application of the broadest sense. For it is a degraded sense which transfers the title from the original of some grand idea to the mere mechanic of some regular structure. The outward form will indeed be apt to harmonize with the inward grace. There is a subtle and mysterious union none can define. The idea stands forth in its embodiment. The thought is born together with the music, of which it is the vehicle. The poet speaks in numbers, but these last are the smallest part of his creation. The conception must be new and acknowledged, and such as will place the poet in point of fact, and in the admiration of men as its god or creator. Expression is thus necessary to the proof, if not to the fact of a poet; and unless it were in a subtle meaning, and we consider thoughts themselves to have a spiritual body, we might question the conclusion in Gray's exquisite elegy. The "mute inglorious Milton" of his churchyard could not have found his poverty more urgent than blindness and neglect, yet he was dumb. His Cromwell was guiltless of greatness as of his country's blood. Give but the power to express, and the conception may take what form you will, yet it shall be called a poem. It may have the shape of an epic or be written in lowliest prose; be carved in marble, painted on the canvas, touch the heart with the simplicity of a ballad, or with the inwoven harmony of deeper schools. The Greek word implies something godlike. In the Poet creation is continual; though it be only one, it is yet many; though it be accomplished, it is forever accomplishing, fertile and prolific as the family of Saturn. Its glory is, that it is suggestive. From its own perfection a thousand images of the pure and beautiful are begotten. You shall gaze at a statue, and your own mind appears creative. Is the delight which works of art inspire but the reflection of one cold image? It is rather the revelation of a world of images the very opening of the portals of thought. Such, then, is the notion which we have attached to Poet; that it is to conceive, to express, and prodigally to create some semblance of the Sublime or Beautiful. The title is deserved, whether the work be small and unique, or complicate and of grand proportion: Gray's Elegy, or Paradise Lost. Hood has several times, within a few years, been called great-a phrase used not inconsiderately or in vain, though in a sense quite aside from the common. He had humanity which might be considered a first requisite. The finest fancies are not so much from the contrast of intellect as the congeniality of hearts. Love is always the best creation. Though the bleak vista convey to it no image, it *Wiley and Putnam's Library of Choice Reading, prose and verse. By Thomas Hood. +"We watched her breathing through the night." fashions for itself a new heaven and a new earth. Hood's genius began to open and develop itself in the warmth of an affectionate nature. It was all the cherishing which he received. He was not a spoiled child." His hardy flowers struggled upward through the snows. The object of his noblest developments were the sufferings of the needy. If his song ever became fervent, or his repu tation sure, it was when he depicted wretchedness in such guise that luxury must blush for shame. A man must first have a heart to be a true Poet. Like the Chourineur, in Sue's great Romance, he is prepared for the exercise of his faculties, and his first offerings will be given to the benefactor who assured him of the fact. It is the secret of Wordsworth's slow and glorious triumph, that he considered nothing mean-nothing contemptible, if it were linked with Humanity. What lies at the bottom of the reputation of that distinguished poet who wrote Nicholas Nickleby? These men have known how to estimate the unnoticed tear at a costly value, even as the representative of a weight of grief. With a sympathy which drew him in like manner into communion with his fellow-men, Hood's inventive genius began to work. His mind was already full of images and combinations. It was of the nature of a spring, which giving cannot impoverish, but adds a fiercer zest and a peculiar flavor. To be forced or predetermined is death to most men's efforts; for inspiration comes rarely, and arises out of junctures which are occasional, and cannot be contrived of a man's providence. But out of the everpresent occasion he snatched his hints with marvelous quickness. Every individual point of time was as good as an era. Such a one can with difficulty be hackneyed. He could write for his bread and his genius not be discouraged. Its very bread was the want of it. This quickness of conception and abundance, is a mark of genius, as a tropical voluptuousness bears witness to the fuller presence of the sun. It was one of the bitternesses of Hood's dying, to be conscious of all the wealth and apparatus of his mind. If utterance were merely a relief from oppression there was a pang in being utterly precluded. But one may also mourn over the noble thoughts to which he never can give a bold and palpable being. To be full of the lights and tints of a noble picture, and never be able to throw a shadow on the canvas; to be eloquent of heart, yet dumb, and uttered to a sweet accord in every sympathy; to look for the last time on the beautiful universe of God. These fragments of the Imagination are in effect ruins. That which has not yet been is mourned over as that which has been lost. The writings of this author bear witness to a great invention. No man ever said so many "good things;" which being his by parentage, resemblance and affection, might in all propriety be entitled Hood's Own." Others have been employed a life-time in collecting the sayings of many which have not equaled the diversified exuberance of one. His works literally sparkle all over like frostwork in the sun. Nor is the gene ral splendor greater than the beauty of the individual gems. Some, it is true, have an inferior or false light, but serve to set off those of an undisputed value. His thoughts were, like Horace's, curiously happy; and their curiosity consisted in their being the ipsa verba correspondent with the idea. The thought itself being fetched from a far distance, as if by a charm, the seldom-called-for, overjoyed word left its place in the vocabulary, and hastened to a happy union. The right elements must have been present, for the contagion of happiness spread. The broad tokens of appropriation were too immediate to be other than the spontaneous tribute of intrinsic worth. You could not bear the good things to pass away with the subsidence of the first smile, but caused them to reappear, and pass in review, as a boy permits sweet morsels to linger and loiter on his tongue. Hood's Own" were not for an Areopagite judgment, to be held off and scrutinized with a calm, implacable mind, and pronounced upon in due season. Your judge leaped the barrier of all principles; the statement and verdict went together. No more difference than between the hit and flash. It is to deny wit or pathos with slow arguments, if smiles and tears have broke out already in advance. It is a mistake to suppose that the greater part of Hood's merit consists in verbal quibbles and happiness of that nature. These served his turn; never he theirs. What came in his way he leveled at with a keen eye, but he did not thrash the bushes. Hood made puns, but puns did not make Hood. Indeed he redeemed this Art, the history of which, with those who have acquired infamy by it, might fill a new paper in the next edition of the Encyclopædia Brittanica. Cicero set forth some bad pretensions. Horace could not prostitute the Latin language to anything so infra dig. Ovid's attempt as he set forward to the town of Tomi was so bad that it is good, and so good that it evanesced in utterance, and cannot be now told. Nero began by amusing himself in this way, and at last became hardened to what bloody work! It is said that a subject of Queen Zenobia was charged with perpetrating a thing of this kind, and she consulted her prime minister Longinus, who deemed him worthy of death. This is nearly the history of the art down to Quid rides. Then it took a new start, and by force of that very sneer set everybody riding it (some few deriding) as a hobby. Then the great Dr. Johnson, by a single burst of dogmatism, overwhelmed it with contempt. A few stragglers kept up the succession; the Prince, Beau Brummel, and his surrounding wits brought to light a few novelties, and the last Apollo, Canning, in this way sometimes relaxed his bow. The Latin punio, and English punish, are similarly derived; and another Punicum bellum we hope the world will never again witness. A mere verbal pun, like the above is the boldest invention. It only lies in the coincidence of sound. A better kind is that which arises out of a coincidence in thought or comparison. Hood's worst perpetrations (if any can be called even bad) are but the wayside talk by which he beguiles the time, until he conducts you to something beautiful. Mark his words in that somewhat melancholy "Inaugural" written in his last illness, wherein he recommends a cheerful philosophy. "How else could I have converted a serious illness into a comic wellness-by what other agency could I have transported myself, as a cockney would say, from Dullage to Grinage? It was far from a practical joke to be laid up in ordinary in a foreign land, under the care of physicians quite as much abroad as myself with the case; indeed, the shades of the gloaming were stealing over my prospect; but I resolved that, like the sun, so long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of everything. The raven croaked, but I persuaded myself that it was the nightingale; there was the smell of the mould, but I remembered that it nourished the violets." And what says he of his own person? The very fingers so aristocratically slender that now hold the pen, hint plainly of the ills that flesh is heir to. My coats have become greatcoats, my pantaloons are turned into trowsers, and by a worse bargain than Peter Schlemil's, I seem to have retained my shadow and sold my substance. In short, as happens to prematurely old port wine, I am of a bad color, with very little body." "But the best fence against care is a ha ha! Let your lungs crow like Chanticleer, and as like a GAME-cock as possible. Smiles are tolerated by the very pinks of politeness; and a laugh is but the fullblown flower of which a smile is the bud." Grotesqueness, for the most part, is looked on by a Janus-face; outward plaudits are in proportion to the inward silence and contempt. But here are trifles which lead you not to turn away from the harlequin, but to come up and grasp the hand of the man. What the cynic would sneer at is the irrepressible freshness of a heart glad as a child, who leaps and laughs on his way to those hard tasks which he will presently turn into a pleasure. Better is the luxury which bears trimming, than the beggary which cannot be supplied. The great Shakspeare, when he has accomplished the triumph of some of his noblest parts, sports through a variety of scenes with a careless assurance, as if he had the right. We say that the beautiful is expressed by the general action as well as by the set phrase. True Genius shows in this way the symptoms of its perpetual youth νέα γαρ φροντις ουκ αλγειν φιλει. Thus much may be said of the Comic Annual, and those many "good things," trifles, which are not trifles, since they arise out of and are sure to reach the kindly heart. We put stress on something beside this. Our author has wrought out some creations of small bulk, but of grand conception. We speak of them as fraught with the same expression as the "dying Gladiator" at Rome. He has represented the PEOPLE, as one body, in the throes of that suffering which has so long racked the frame, the big muscle of English labor swelled to the utmost tension, a picture of gigan. tic agony. We have not the work at hand, nor have we seen it for a year but carry a distinct impression of its energy, with scarce the remembrance of a word. We know that it was the picture of a |