nd
calculated how small a push might launch him into eternity. Then he
remembered something about the advantage of being civil to madmen, and
determined to try and ward off his impending fate by a show of
civility. Beckoning the poor creature to him, he commenced to talk to
him, to show him his drawings, and to offer him a share of his lunch.
The man made no reply, but apparently assured by the artist's manner
came up close, sat down beside him, and was soon deeply absorbed in
devouring his portion of the lunch and in admiring the pictures. Still
he never spoke, only uttered some unintelligible sounds.

The artist congratulated himself on the success of his experiments; but,
nevertheless, he thought that on the whole "discretion was the better
part of valour," and after a little he got up and returned to his
lodging, the man following him at a distance.

On arriving at the cabin he related his adventure, when the people
exclaimed, "Ah! it's only poor dummy!" and assured him the poor fellow
was perfectly harmless, but he was wholly untaught, had received no
training in a Deaf and Dumb Institution, and lived in this wild
neglected manner. He was never asked to work, but roamed about at will,
being fed by the neighbours, who would give bits to him as they would to
a dog.

The artist was greatly touched by what he heard, and continued to be
kind to the poor deaf and dumb man, who, on his part, attached himself
to his patron in the most docile manner. Every morning he went to carry
the artist's drawing materials, waited on him during the day, and only
seemed too delighted if he could perform any little service for him. In
return the artist could only reward him by kind looks and a share of his
sandwiches. Once he offered him money, but it was received in such a
manner that showed plainly he did not understand its value. And the
neighbours said it was no use to give him money: _food_ was the only
thing he seemed to care for.

At last the time came for the artist to return home. When it dawned upon
the poor deaf mute he was about to lose his friend, he set up the most
piteous wailing, and refused to be comforted, not even by the choicest
morsels of food.

The artist, when relating it afterwards, said "that he was never more
moved in his life than to see this unfeigned sorrow, and to feel himself
unable (owing to the man not having been trained in a Deaf and Dumb
Institution) to convey one single idea of suggestive consol