effect of deafness to sunder the unfortunate from those he loves. Still, the impelling instinct of all the world is like Gounod's, who exclaims, "A thousand times rather be deaf than blind!"
The Dummy.
There is one member of society whose claims to sympathetic respect have not, it seems to me, been sufficiently regarded. Unobtrusive, but always present when wanted, patient under neglect, in no wise puffed up by attention, always ready to resign any position, however advantageous, in favor of another, useful, often indispensable, but never making capital of this fact, equal to any demands, however inordinate, this being has yet no recognized position in society. I speak of the dummy. Always ready to take a fourth hand at whist, the games that Dummy has played must be indeed innumerable. Even had he been, in the beginning, of a low order of intellect, it is incredible that his merely mechanical knowledge of the fall of the cards is not almost faultless. And if we credit him with the taste and talent for the game natural in so determined a whist-player, we must come to the conclusion that his individual skill is something stupendous. Yet when matched against competent adversaries with a most incompetent partner, observe the perfect equanimity with which he submits to the most suicidal play. Scorning to conceal his cards from the rest of the table, he plays a game which disarms criticism and defies abuse. And what base advantage is taken of Dummy's frankness! What sordid calculations are founded upon a study of Dummy's hand! Even the best players will not hesitate to follow a scheme contrary to all the recognized rules of good play when Dummy is to the right or the left of them, exposing alike his strength and his weakness. And yet with what exemplary patience and self-control does Dummy view the slaughter of his own and his partner's hand! With what perfect good temper are his valuable cards sacrificed to establish the short-sighted places of a partner with not one-tenth his experience! Then to what onslaughts of facetiousness is he exposed! Each person at the table provokes some mirth at the expense of Dummy. Not witty himself, he is the cause of unlimited wit in others. Yet he never retaliates, and neither is his silence sullenness, for he is always ready to take a hand again with the same party. Yet who so easily ousted from his position for a new-comer? Let such a one stroll carelessly toward a whist-table, and the cry is, "Come, sit down, and take Dummy's place." Does patient and unobtrusive merit anywhere else meet with so little recognition?
But the dummy of the whist-table is not the only one to whom we are indebted. Go into a tailor's or a fashionable dress and cloak establishment, and who are these individuals standing about, faultlessly attired and irreproachable in demeanor, ready to be of assistance to either buyer or seller, absolutely impartial in their presentation of the articles cast upon their shoulders, save for the air of distinction which a fine figure unavoidably imparts, and which is apt to fade away upon the ordinary wearer? Moreover, we have seen, when the thermometer was at ninety degrees, a large supply of cloaks and mantles thrown upon one unhappy dummy, one over the other, who wore the last with the same elegance with which she had adopted the first. Indeed, they are exposed to sudden changes of clothing uncalled for by even a New-England climate. Entering a salesroom occupied by these discreet figures, there is no air of loneliness, yet neither is there confusion or interference.
Well dressed and well conducted, they would be ornaments in any ballroom, yet are their social gifts uniformly disregarded, while the trifling omission of a conspicuous head in their anatomy is one which should not prejudice us, who have learned how often that article is worse than useless in many social circles.
