CHAPTER VIII.
THE DEAF LODGER The letter was superscribed: "Private and Confidential." It was written in these words: "Sir,--You will do me grievous wrong if you suppose that I am trying to force myself on your acquaintance.

My object in writing is to prevent you (if I can) from misinterpreting my language and my conduct, on the only two occasions when we happen to have met.
"I am conscious that you must have thought me rude and ungrateful--perhaps even a little mad--when I returned your kindness last night, in honoring me with a visit, by using language which has justified you in treating me as a stranger.
"Fortunately for myself, I gave you my autobiography to read.

After what you now know of me, I may hope that your sense of justice will make some allowance for a man, tried (I had almost written, cursed) by such suffering as mine.
"There are other deaf persons, as I have heard, who set me a good example.
"They feel the consolations of religion.

Their sweet tempers find relief even under the loss of the most precious of all the senses.

They mix with society; submitting to their dreadful isolation, and preserving unimpaired sympathy with their happier fellow-creatures who can hear.