drum if I am very near it, even without touching it. I cannot hear the human voice, although exalted to its highest pitch, nor the voice of any animal, nor the singing of united voices in a Church; when the mouth is applied to my ear, I perceive nothing but a loud rambling, inarticulate, and very disagreeable noise. I can hear a heavy footstep on a wooden floor, if I am on that floor, but not on one of stone, or on the ground. I observe a rumbling noise if I am in the gallery and near the organ of St. Andrew's Church while it is played; but this rumbling is not in the least perceived if I am below, or distant from the organ. I can hear the sound of carriage wheels on a stone pavement, if very near, but not otherwise. Many are the escapes I have had from being ridden over by coaches, carts, and horses; and many too are the lashes which I have received to make me get out of the way. Sometimes I have been actually touched by a horse, or part of a carriage before I have been aware of my danger, and sprang on one side to avoid it. These examples will be sufficient; and from the cases I have mentioned it will probably appear that what I have termed hearing, should rather be distinguished as delicacy of feeling.

I am afraid that I am becoming dumb, although I do not know to what it should be attributed. I feel an unconquerable aversion to speak, and when I do, can seldom make myself understood without reiteration, 1 suspect that dumbness is a natural

consequence of deafness, at least it certainly is so in the case of those who were born deaf, or who lost their hearing very early in life; for never having heard others speak, it is impossible that they should learn to do so of themselves. This I imagine is the case of nearly all those who are reputed deaf and dumb, and that deafness is the only natural defect. As to my own increasing disinclination and inability to speak, I can form no judgment on the cause, but the effect is certain, and is another subject of regret.

As I before observed, every evil has its allay of good, in the same manner that every good has an admixture of evil; and I greatly doubt whether if I had not become deaf, I should ever have had resource to books, in which I have found, limited as my reading has been, such information, instruction, and delight, as I would not barter for any pleasure which hearing might place within my grasp. It is true that I am cut off from the stated means of religious instruction, but books enable me sometimes to see those pray and preach whom others cannot hear. Through this medium too a Bishop or a Saint sometimes condescends to be my private instructor and to preach to me alone. The greatest evil of deafness is that it debars me from social intercourse with my species. My want of hearing, however, has quickened my observation, and I can penetrate almost to the very thoughts of those whom I attentively regard; nay, I can sometimes do so by a

single glance. I likewise find no difficulty in discovering by the eyes of those present, when I am the subject of conversation, or when I am only alluded to.

The Almighty afflicts but to bless. Notwithstanding that his judgments often seem harsh and severe to those who are afflicted, they are in reality just and merciful. It is mercy in Him when he sends us one evil to preserve us from some greater and more serious ill. How do I know but that God permitted my deafness, as an instrument through which I might be saved from some far worse evil, which he foreknew would have happened to me if I had continued possessed of my hearing? But be that as it may, while I regret the loss of a valuable sense, can I ever forget to thank Thee, O my Father! that when I fell I did not lose my reason or life instead of my hearing? Never!

Plymouth Workhouse, February 16, 1823.

The Worm.

WALKING on the Hoe this fine morning, I beheld one of the largest earth-worms I ever saw crawling on the grass, and evidently engaged in the fruitless search of a retreat wherein to conceal itself.

On seeing it I debated whether I should leave it to it's fate, or place it in a situation of security. "Thou art," thought I, addressing the worm, and sitting down on the grass near it," thou art perhaps the monarch of thy race, if I may form a judgment from thy size, and heaven forbid that I should become an accomplice in regicide, by leaving your majesty to be crushed to death by the foot of some wantonly cruel boy, or to make a meal for some hungry bird. I am myself a worm, but a worn of a race superior to thine ;-thou, therefore, art my vassal, though thou payest me no tribute. I have now thy life in my power; but, whether living or dead, I can derive no benefit from thee; whereas on the contrary, when I am no more, I shall contribute to the support of thousands of your majesty's dutiful and loyal subjects. However, as neither thou, or any of thy tribe, ever can injure me, and are, if not beneficial, at least harmless to creation,

I will preserve thy life." I then cut up a piece of turf with my knife, placed the worm in the void, and put the turf in its former situation. In cutting the earth I severed another worm which was concealed in it. This gave me momentary regret, till I recollected that in worms "the principle of life being diffused and divisible, remains in the disunited parts after the disunion, and even propagates each segment (as is common with vegetables) of the same species with the original." I consequently placed the disunited yet animated parts near the great worm, before I filled the space I had made.

Plymouth Workhouse, May 2, 1823.