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Title: A brief narrative of the life of Mrs. Adele M. Jewel (being deaf and dumb)
Author: Adele M. Jewel
Release date: August 11, 2025 [eBook #76672]
Language: English
Original publication: Ann Arbor: Dr. Chase's Steam Printing House, 1869
Credits: Carla Foust, The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BRIEF NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF MRS. ADELE M. JEWEL (BEING DEAF AND DUMB) ***
PLEASE READ THIS.
A BRIEF NARRATIVE
OF THE LIFE OF
MRS. ADELE M. JEWEL,
(BEING DEAF AND DUMB.)
[Illustration]
“As you would that others should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.”
[Illustration]
MRS. JEWEL presents this little sketch of her life, as a means
of support, with the hope of meeting with friends, and
some degree of sympathy from the benevolent
and traveling public.
[Illustration]
ANN ARBOR, MICH:
DR. CHASE’S STEAM PRINTING HOUSE, 41 & 43 N. MAIN ST.
1869.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PREFACE.
Many years ago, I first became acquainted with Adele M. George. She
was at that time a lovely and intelligent little girl of ten summers,
with bright, laughing eyes, and an artless, winning manner that quite
charmed us, and we soon became very fond of her, for the dear child was
a mute. As she was the only child of her doting parents, nothing that
could impart pleasure, or make her comfortable and happy was denied,
to make up as far as possible for the great blessing of which nature
had deprived her. Indeed, she seemed hardly to have a wish ungratified.
Such is the beautiful picture our memory presents of her childhood.
At length her family moved westward, and we lost sight, for a time,
of the little deaf and dumb girl. And when we met, nearly fourteen
years after, we were surprised and pleased at her improvement, and yet
grieved at the change in her circumstances. She had become a lovely
and accomplished young lady. Having acquired an education at Flint,
she was interesting and communicative. Conversing rapidly, in the sign
language, to those who understood that method of speaking, or writing
in a clear and graceful hand with a pencil, to others. But sorrows had
fallen heavily upon herself and home. Sickness had deprived her of
the use of one eye--and death had robbed her of an indulgent father,
and left her solely to the care of an invalid mother. They had lost
their property, and were now without even a home of their own. In
their straightened circumstances, Adele conceived the idea of writing
a little history of her life, and offering it to a sympathizing public
as the only means afforded of supporting herself and mother. The plan
succeeded, through the aid of a few interested friends, and for some
years she thus secured a comfortable living, and might have continued
in well-doing, but for an unfortunate marriage, which has left her
again dependent upon her aged mother, with three little helpless
children upon her hands, the eldest, a mute, like herself. Thus she is
again thrown upon her own resources for support.
Friends of the unfortunate, I appeal to your sympathies and aid for
this dear child of affliction. Let me assure you that she is _every
way worthy_ of your patronage and your kind wishes. By purchasing this
little book, containing a brief history of her life, you may find
something that will amuse or interest yourselves, and at the same time
lighten the burden that lies so heavily upon her frail shoulders.
Do not pass her coldly by. It is but a trifle in itself, but every
purchaser lends a hand in making a sad heart happy; and that Heaven
will bless and reward you is the sincere prayer of
A FRIEND.
A BRIEF NARRATIVE
OF THE LIFE OF
MRS. ADELE M. JEWEL.
[Illustration]
The history of my life is made up more of thought and feeling than
of incidents and events. It is brief and simple, and yet may be
interesting to those who are curious enough to know how the world and
its experiences are regarded by one who can neither hear nor speak.
I know that there are many kind hearts ever open in sympathy for the
sorrowful and afflicted, and those I am sure will give me a hearing,
as I am one of the afflicted. It is the will of God that some of his
children should be forever excluded from the sweet sights and sounds of
earth. Why, we know not, only that it is so; and it remains for us who
are thus, to “Be still and know that he is God.” And though we cannot
understand it, we must believe that it is all for the best. I was
born deaf, on the 15th of November, 1834, in the city of Cincinnati,
though I do not remember much before our removal to Detroit, in the
year 1838. Among my early acquaintances, was a little girl nearly my
own age, Charlotte Monroe. We became warm friends from the first,
and were seldom separated from morning till night. Our plays, our
toys, everything we had, was shared in common; and by the use of our
own signs--a language taught by nature--we understood each other very
well. They tell me that she ran in to her mother, saying, in a voice of
gladness, “Ma, I can talk deaf and dumb as good as Dellie.”
My father had a tame black bear chained up in the yard. He was
harmless, at least, we believed him so, and were not afraid to play
near him, and even sometimes to pat him on the head,--I and my little
friend Lottie. But he soon taught us not to be quite so familiar. We
used to feed him apples and cake, and were delighted when we could make
him show his teeth, or climb the pole, or rear upon his hind legs. One
day (I shall never forget that) I had a piece of cake in my hand, which
I held temptingly before him, though I had no intention of dividing
with him, and frequently disappointed him by drawing it back. He became
enraged at last, and seizing me in his arms, he tore my clothes off
in an instant, and would have killed me had not my shrieks brought me
instant relief. My father dared not keep so dangerous a pet, and soon
disposed of him.
Lottie and myself were up to a great many mischievous pranks, which
caused our friends considerable troublesome times, I fear. I laugh now
when I think of them; but I have not seen her in a good a years, and
they tell me that she is married and the mother of four children. I can
never think of her except as a little fun-loving girl.
When a few years older, my parents removed from Detroit to Grass Lake,
on the Central Railroad. There I found myself among strangers, and
longed for the friends of my other home. It seemed as if no one would
ever understand me as Lottie did, and I missed her sadly. But I was not
long left to pine in solitude. Dear Polly Ann Osgood, I soon learned to
love her as well. We grew up together like sisters. How many delightful
rambles we had about the fields and forests, gathering berries and
other fruits, and weaving the sweet wild flowers into garlands to crown
our heads; and although I could not hear the warbling of birds, my
little friend did, and she tried to make me understand it.
I was always charmed with the scenes of nature, and have been out for
hours alone watching with an exultant heart the skimming swallow,
the green meadows, the rippling streams, the waving forest. The glad
sunshine, the cooling breeze, and the flying clouds were all subjects
to me of wonder and delight, and I longed to know more of them and
their Author. Who made the beautiful world and who made _us_?
My young mind was filled with thoughts all unexpressed and
inexpressible. Deep, fervent and glowing, I longed to worship
_something_, I knew not who or what. My dear mother was constantly
importuned with questions, who made the grass and the flowers and all
the living creatures that throng the earth? The sky, with its shifting
clouds, its glowing sun, its mild moon, and its myriad stars?
Oh how I yearned for the knowledge to illumine my darkened mind. My
mother, as well as she was able, explained to me that One who dwells
above made them all; and that I must kneel and raise my eyes, hands
and heart in adoration. Oh, I thought “If I _could_ only see him.” But
since I have been able to read His Holy Word, I have learned more of
Him. I have learned to worship Him in spirit and in truth; the only
true worship, for He is a Spirit and comprehends the language of the
heart though the lips move not.
While dwelling in Grass Lake an event took place that I shall never
forget, the remembrance of it even now fills me with horror. My father
used sometimes to pour powder upon the hearth to make it flash for my
amusement. I think he did not know what a mad-cap I was, or he would
hardly have thought it prudent to set me such an example.
One day I was left at home alone, and I got the powder, and sprinkling
it about the floor set it on fire. It flashed in earnest, setting fire
to everything. I had on a flannel dress, fortunately, or I might have
flashed with the rest. But I caught my little dog in my arms, and drew
my father’s trunk to the door. It was very heavy, and I could not
lift it over the sill. So I was obliged to leave it and run more than
a quarter of a mile to the house of the nearest neighbor to give the
alarm.
When they reached the house the roof had fallen in, and the house
with all its contents was consumed. When my mother and father came
home, there was no home to receive them. My dear father had taught his
foolish little dumb girl a trick that had robbed him of it; though
they did not know it then. I could not explain the cause of the fire,
and they were so happy to find that I had not also perished in the
flames, they thought little of their great loss in the house, though
many valuable papers and other articles were destroyed which were
never replaced. After I learned to write, however, I gave my mother a
faithful account of my part in the affair.
When about twelve years of age I was sent to a common school. I tried
as hard as I could to learn, but it was a dry, tedious process, as my
teacher was not qualified to instruct the dumb, and I gave it up in
dispair; feeling, oh how bitterly, that I was not like the rest and
could never hope to acquire as much knowledge.
I had an uncle who wished to take me to the Deaf and Dumb Asylum in
New York; but my father’s health was fast failing, and as I am an only
child, my mother could not endure the thought of separation, and that
project was also relinquished. And I, much as I longed for a more
enlarged and cultivated sphere, much as I hungered and thirsted for a
high knowledge of the world in which I lived, was brought up wild and
wayward, with no definite understanding of my relation to the world,
or the duties required of me. My young heart was brimful of love and
holy aspirations, and I fought and rebelled against the small compass
of surrounding circumstances that hedged me about, yet knew not how the
evil could be overcome.
About this time it became evident to all--all but me--that my father’s
days on earth were numbered. I had never seen a person die, and death
to me was a subject upon which I had never thought. To _die!_ what was
it? I saw the change upon his face. I saw the last dying glance of his
eyes as the film gathered o’er them. I felt the last grasp of his icy
fingers--then he lay cold and motionless. It was a sight so terrible
that I clung frightened to my mother. And yet I could not believe that
I must give him up. I believed the change only temporary. It seemed to
me that he would rise up again, and speak to us, and live as before.
But long hours and days passed away and the change came not. Then they
placed his rigid body in a long box, and screwed the lid down tightly,
and buried him up in the earth.
What did it all mean? Was this death? Oh how terrible. How could people
ever be happy when they knew that sometime they must die? They tried to
explain to me that some part of him was still alive and gone to God.
But I shook my head. No, God lives up in the sky, and I saw him buried
in the ground, I said. They told me that it was “only the poor wasted
body which was buried, that the part of man that _never_ dies, the
spirit, had gone to God.” I thought it was cruel in God to deprive me
of so beloved a parent, and I could not feel reconciled. That was my
first sorrow. But after a little while my dearest friend, Polly Ann,
sickened and died also. She was taken away and buried, and I became so
hopeless and disconsolate that I hardly cared to live myself. I was
sullen, gloomy and resentful. I refused to look upon the lovely face of
nature and take heart for the future. All things had ceased to charm
me--“what are they all good for if we must die and leave them?” I
thought. It seemed to me that if God could do as he pleased with all
the world, he could not be good to deprive the poor little mute of some
of her dearest friends, rendering her life so dark and cheerless. I
visited the graves of my dead friends, mourned and wept over them with
a sorrow that refused to be comforted.
A knowledge of God’s love and what he has done for me was unknown to
me then; but after I was taught to read his Holy Word, many things,
once so dark and mysterious have been revealed to me. I have found it
a fountain of living waters, from which I can drink deep draughts of
light and truth, and my soul is satisfied. It fortifies my weak soul
against the sins and sorrows of this life and enables me to do my duty
with a cheerful heart.
I have confidence in God’s love towards mankind, and in his wisdom and
goodness which rules and directs all things. I have had many crosses in
life to bear, but I will lean upon his Mighty Arm, so strong to save
and he will save me. “Yes, though he _slay_ me, yet will I trust in
Him.”
After my father’s death, my mother and myself were left quite alone
and found it hard to get along on the farm. So we sold it, and after
paying all the debts contracted during his long sickness, there was
little left for ourselves, and we moved to Jackson, where we endeavored
to obtain sewing or any kind of work that would enable us to get an
honest living. We lived in that city three years and during that time
found several good, true friends who did all they could to aid us. Here
I formed the acquaintance of a young lady also deaf and dumb, who had
been educated at an Asylum in Ohio. She was the first mute I ever saw
and the mysterious ties of sympathy immediately established a friendly
feeling between us. I was surprised and delighted at her superior
attainments.
She could write a beautiful hand on her slate to those who knew not
the use of signs, and in a little while taught me the sign language
by which we conversed very easily together. We enjoyed many pleasant
seasons together, and I shall always count among my dearest friends,
Miss Almena Knight, the name of this young lady. Many of our readers
doubtless are already familiar with her little history.
After I saw Miss Knight I grew very anxious to become a pupil at Flint.
Some friends who felt interested in my welfare, obtained my mother’s
consent and assisted me to go. Thanks for the instructions received of
Miss Knight, I succeeded in making myself understood, and from being
an entire stranger, soon became as a member of one large family. My
instructors found me an “apt scholar,” and when I had been there ten
weeks, I sent home a written article of my own composition. My friends
were surprised and pleased at the rapid progress I had made.
Elsie Fairbairn was my especial friend among the pupils; we became
warmly attached and seldom separated. The parents of friend “Eppy,” as
I called her, were also true friends to me, and did many things to show
their kindness to myself and mother. I shall always remember them with
gratitude.
During my stay at Flint I was taken with inflammation in my eyes,
causing me great suffering and destroying the sight of one. My health
became poor, and I was obliged to withdraw from the school. I resigned
my place with much regret, as I still felt greatly deficient in useful
knowledge. The loss of my sight is a great loss to me, still I am
thankful for the blessings I do enjoy; for though poor and with slender
means of support. I have laid up my treasures in Heaven; looking
forward to that glorious time when the mute tongue shall burst forth in
strains of love and praise to its Creator in a world of peace and joy.
When the lame can walk, the blind shall see, the deaf hear, and the
dumb shall speak. All will be right there--no aching heart, no saddened
countenance. What a comfort it is for me to believe thus!
“We speak of the realms of the blest,
Of that country so bright and so fair,
And oft are its glories confest;
But what must it be to be there?
“We speak of its pathway of gold,
And its walls decked with jewels so rare
Of its wonders and pleasures untold;
But what must it be to be there?
“We speak of its freedom from sin,
From sorrow, temptation and care,
From trials without and within;
But what must it be to be there?
“We speak of its service of love,
Of the robes which the glorified wear,
Of the church of the first-born above;
But what must it be to be there?
“Then let us, midst pleasure and woe,
Still for heaven our spirits prepare;
And shortly we all shall know
And feel what it is to be there!”
* * * * *
“Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens--Lord with me abide!
When other helpers fall, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!
“Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
Oh, Thou who changes not, abide with me!
“I heed Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
On to the close, oh Lord abide with me!”
PART SECOND.
DEAR READER:
Let me add a few more pages to the brief sketch you have just read
of my life, which was written over four years ago. It was a great
undertaking for me to publish for perusal by the public a history of
my life, and then offer it for sale. I shrunk from it, and could never
have done so, had it not been really necessary for me to do something
for my own maintenance. But though sometimes chilled by averted looks
and want of sympathy, I have found many ready and willing to extend the
helping hand; many earnest, true friends who have aided and encouraged
me. The son of Mr. BARNS, my former publisher, (who is a true
gentleman, has also been afflicted with deafness, though not mute,) and
the printers in the _Tribune_ office, made me a present of the first
thousand copies of my little book and a few dollars in money to help me
on. Words fail to express my gratitude for this kindness, but I shall
ever cherish for them the most grateful remembrance. By this means I
was enabled to secure a home for myself and mother.
R. N. RICE, a gentleman widely known for his Christian virtues and his
benevolence, has gained my gratitude by doing much to assist me.
And now I will tell you what I have seen in my travels. Many things
very interesting and wonderful to me. Thank Heaven for sight, precious
sight! To the deaf it is both hearing and speech. I have only the
full enjoyment of one eye,--the other is still so dim that I cannot
distinguish objects with it. But the sight I do have is invaluable to
me. Some of my blind friends seem very cheerful, and even happy. Yet
pleasures which sight secures can never be theirs. The faces of beloved
friends, beaming with smiles of affection--the green fields--the
beautiful flowers--the trees waving in the summer winds, white with
blossoms or laden with ripe fruits--the broad, winding river sparkling
in the sun, while boats of every shape and size glide over its bosom.
How endless are the objects presented to the eye of a traveler. How I
love to watch the changes in the beautiful blue sky bending so lovingly
over us; now so clear that scarcely the softest shadow of a cloud is
seen; then covered with white, fast-sailing clouds or clouds at rest,
tinted with the hues of the rainbow. Then we have the fierce dark rain
clouds, with vivid lightning passing through them. Then at night when
the sky is clear how all ablaze it seems with its millions of stars.
These objects are familiar with all, but I am afraid we do not think
as much as we should of Him who made them. Oh how we ought to love and
adore One whose wisdom and goodness is so manifest in all His works.
The most wonderful sight I ever beheld, a sight that made me tremble
and worship God, was the Falls of Niagara. Such a great river, pouring
over such a descent! It makes me dizzy to look at it; and it shook
the earth far and near. What a dreadful thing it must be to go over
the Falls. As I stood upon the bank and watched the foaming spray, and
heard its awful thunder--for even the deaf can hear that--my guide
pointed out the log just above the falls, that Mr. Avery clung to
in despair, out of reach of all human help. Thousands of spectators
gathered on the shore anxious and eager to extend assistance, but in
vain. The tide was so rapid it would have been madness to attempt to
reach him with a boat; no ropes could be thrown far enough, and after
remaining there for many hours, the strength of the unfortunate man
failed, and he went over, down, down, into the foaming cataract many
hundred feet, and was never seen more.
My guide told me, also, of the fate of the steamer Caroline. Fired by
the Canadians and sent over the Falls. He said it was enveloped in
flames and it looked grand as it was plunged into the foaming abyss.
We saw Fereni walk a tight-rope across the river while at the Falls.
A great many people assembled to witness the feat. Fereni walked away
steadily until half way across--then he fell! We all thought he was
gone forever. But by a dexterous movement he caught by one hand and
saved himself. Then he got upon his feet again and walked across. I
could hardly breathe until he was safe upon the ground again. I do not
like to see people get into such dangerous places. It seems to me as
if they were defying death. But this man had walked across many times
without accident, and he had grown careless.
We saw many Indians and Squaws sitting about on the shore, with their
little children playing about them. Many of them were nearly white and
very pretty. They were employed with bead-work, which they wrought
with great ingenuity, and offered for sale to visitors. I brought away
several little relics which I prize highly.
The Suspension Bridge is a wonderful structure. In the distance it
looked like a spider-web. It seems almost incredible that such a bridge
could be built strong enough to bear up a heavily loaded train of cars.
Yet it is true. It would be fearful to fall at such a time!
At the Suspension Bridge we found an Asylum for the deaf, dumb, and
blind. It was a private school kept by Dr. Skinner and his wife. The
Doctor had been blind two years--his wife, though she could see, was
a mute. This worthy couple, though white themselves, were deeply
interested in the poor colored children afflicted like themselves,
and their pupils are all colored. Those who could see had bright
sparkling eyes, and were quiet and respectful. The blind were very
tidy and attentive. They all seemed very contented and happy, and it
was interesting to see the dumb scholars converse with their blind
associates.
The institution is supported partly by donations and contributions from
those who sympathize in the good work, and partly by the publication
of a paper--the work is done by the pupils who are printers and
compositors.
We came away much pleased with our visit, and praying for the success
and prosperity of the Asylum, and for the welfare of the generous
instructors and founders.
At the Suspension Bridge we took the cars for Portage, passing, on our
road, Perry, Wyoming and several other little villages. When we left
the cars and took a carriage, our way lay along a high ridge of hills.
The carriage track was very narrow, with scarcely a foot space between
it and a frightful precipice on one side, and a high, steep bank on the
other. I trembled and clung to the side of the carriage, fearing every
moment to be dashed to destruction--a single mis-step of the horses,
or mismanagement on the part of the driver, making such a result
inevitable. But we passed over safely. Every now and then entering some
densely wooded dingle or tangled wild, which made it seem as if we were
hundreds of miles from any human habitation, and then a sudden turn in
the road would reveal the most enchanting little village imaginable,
nestled in a warm valley at our feet; we could look directly down upon
the roofs of some of them. It seemed to me like fairy land. Thus we
were several times surprised and delighted during our ride.
The Portage Falls, though much smaller than the Niagara, looked very
beautiful, flying and flashing in the sunlight, and pouring its sheet
of white foam down the rocks.
Messenger’s Hollow was another beautiful town, situated at the foot
of the Alleghany Mountains. Indeed, I could fill a large book,
describing what I saw through that country, but I can only briefly
allude to them here. All along this delightful tour I found much
pleasure in conversing with some of my fellow passengers, thanks to
Monsieur Gallaudet, the noble benefactor of his race, who first became
interested in the happiness of the poor mute and invented a language
by which we can converse with others, and be cheerful and happy. Those
who could not understand the sign language could write, and I also made
frequent use of my pencil.
Leaving Nunda, we pursued our way to the village of Mount Morris--the
early home of my mother. She was much surprised at the great
improvement and the changes everywhere so apparent. It was almost
a wilderness then, with here and there a solitary farm house. Now,
thriving little villages are scattered all along our way; and the place
called Mount Morris was now a town of considerable importance. Here
the cars and the canal afforded opportunities for travel. We took the
cars for Cayuga at this place, passing through Bloomfield, Canandaigua,
Geneva, and in view of Seneca Falls--another cataract worthy of note.
It looked very beautiful, and the scenery around it passes my power of
description.
At Cayuga village we rested for the night, and the next morning went on
a steamer to Genoa, about twenty miles off. The Lake was only two miles
wide, and we could very plainly see the shore on either side. On one
side the shore was very near to us much of the way.
We passed a burial ground three miles above Cayuga Bridge. Its white
monuments and tablets gleamed through the trees. It was a lovely,
peaceful spot. Here, my mother told me, the body of my grandmother had
slept for many years. She died when my mother was very young.
Arriving at Genoa, we went to visit uncle’s family, who received us
with much joy, and my young cousins did all they could to make our
visit pleasant. We remained a week, and when we set out on our return
my aged grandfather and his wife accompanied us and spent the winter
with us. My beloved Aunt Lucy--my mother’s only sister--was very ill,
and the following spring, hoping she might be benefitted by the change,
we induced her to come to our home in Michigan. But she grew no better,
and after watching and attending to her with great care and affection
for several months, she died, and was buried but a little way from my
home, where I have visited her grave often. My grandfather returned
home in the fall, and my young cousin joined the army. So my mother and
myself are left alone again.
Two years ago the Principal of the Indiana Asylum sent me an invitation
to visit the institution and remain a pupil.
Miss Almena Knight accompanied me. We had a very pleasant visit,
and were treated with great respect by the teachers. The process of
teaching is similar to that of Flint; and the exercises in the schools
were very interesting. We remained, however, but a few days, for I was
not able to meet the expenses of tuition there.
And now for the present, dear readers, adieu. At some future time
I may tell you more. My home is not yet free from incumbrance, and
could I emerge from indebtedness, I shall be forever grateful to all
who, by purchasing my little book, enable me to do so. It is still a
great trial for me to offer my book for sale, for though on one hand
I meet with sympathy and kindness, on the other, coldness, slight
and discouragement chill me. Still I will hope for the best. May the
dear Lord, who was ever a friend to the poor, bless ever the tender,
generous heart, is the sincere and constant prayers of
ADELE M. GEORGE.
And now, again, after the lapse of five years, I present you with a
continuation of my simple history. I have drank bitterly of the cup of
sorrow, since my marriage; but I cannot here speak of the trials that
have fallen to my lot. I am a member of the Baptist Church, and my home
at present is in Ann Arbor, with my mother, who is still spared to me.
She is my good, faithful--my _only_ friend; and were it not for her I
know not what would become of me and my little helpless children. She
has charge of them while I do what I can to support myself and them.
Please do not regard me with coldness and distrust. As truly as I hope
for the protection and blessing of my Heavenly Father, I have always
striven to do right in his sight, and to be worthy of the love and
respect of my fellow beings. I have a little son, also a mute, and two
darling little girls who can see and hear; and all who will aid me to
secure a comfortable living for them, will make the burden lighter for
the afflicted mother.
MRS. ADELE M. JEWEL.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice.
Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following
changes:
Page 8: “became warm frinds” “became warm friends”
Page 17: “gentleman widely konwn” “gentleman widely known”
Page 22: “cars far Cayuga” “cars for Cayuga”
Page 24: “and constant prayes of” “and constant prayers of”
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