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The teacher of the deaf and dumb must have the use of this language, not only to convey command and precept, but to enforce both by the power of a living example. He wishes to train aright the passions, emotions, and sentiments of those entrusted to his care. He should strive to be their model. But this model must not be a statue. He must look, act, move, and demean himself, at all times, in such ways as to let it be seen that his is a soul of rectitude, purity and benevolence, swayed by love to God and love to man, -- self-denying, patient, kind and forbearing, and yet firm, not only in obeying himself the right, but, in the exercise of a lawful authority, requiring others to obey it. His eye, his countenance, his whole air and manner, should be the spontaneous outward manifestations of these inward feelings. The clearness and spirit of such manifestations depend greatly on the naturalness, the ease and vivacity with which his whole physical man responds to the inner man of the heart. If he does not appreciate the value of the natural language of signs, if he does not cherish and cultivate it to the highest degree of force, beauty and grace which it is possible for him to reach, he has not before him the true standard of what a thoroughly qualified teacher of the deaf and dumb should aspire to be. He may speak to them on his lips or fingers, or address them on his blackboard or slate; helping himself out, perhaps, with some signs and gestures lacking life, clearness and grace, and with an unmoved and unmoving countenance, but he is not the one to succeed as a guide and example in conducting their moral and religious education or in exercising a wholesome paternal government and discipline over them. Neither is he qualified to conduct, in any good degree as they ought to be conducted, the other processes of their education.

It would be interesting to inquire how far these principles apply to the teachers of children and youth who are in possession of all their faculties. Did time permit, I would attempt to show that they do thus apply with peculiar force.

But something more, it will be said, is necessary in the training and governing of the deaf-mute than that the common language between him and his teacher should be sufficiently complete so far as the passions, emotions and sentiments, are concerned. We have been told, it will be added, that the teacher must go into particulars; that individuals must be described; cases stated; circumstances drawn but in detail; facts graphically and minutely delineated; the biography, history and parables of the Scriptures, and even its simple doctrines and practical precepts presented to the mind of the pupil, and that he must be prepared, too, to engage in private and social religious exercises. Is the natural language of signs sufficient for these things? Let us see.

So far as objects, motions or actions addressed to the senses are concerned, this language, in its improved state, is superior in accuracy and force of delineation to that in which words spelt on the fingers, spoken, written or printed, are employed. These words consist of arbitrary marks or sounds, which, when put together in a certain order, it is agreed shall have a certain meaning. How do children originally acquire the meaning of these words? Does the shape or sound of the word convey its meaning? Not at all. How, then, is its meaning acquired? By the presence of the object, motion or action which the word denotes, addressed to some one of the senses of the child when the word is offered to his notice, -- or by some occurring event in nature or in common life; by some circumstance, some attitude, sign or gesture, some expression of countenance, which, singly or together, unfold the meaning. Here you must always go back as the starting point; though, when the meanings of a certain number of words are thus acquired they may be employed, doubtless, to recall objects which are not at the time addressed to the senses, or even to describe new ones. Yet the elements of these processes must always be found in things which have once been present to the senses of the child.

Now even if the natural language of signs were as arbitrary as that of words, there is no reason why it should not be as adequate as that is to the purposes under consideration. If a certain sign made with the hands is agreed upon, always to denote a book, why is not the sign as definite and as available as the letters b-o-o-k, uttered from the mouth, spelt on the fingers, or written or printed? But this language is far from being an arbitrary one. In its original features, the deaf-mute copies nature in forming it, -- the shapes, sizes, properties, uses, motions, in fine, the characteristics, addressed to some one of his senses or sensations, of the external objects around him. And, with regard to his internal thoughts, desires, passions, emotions or sentiments, he just lets them show themselves out, (in accordance with the mysterious laws of the union of mind and body, and of the action and re-action of the one upon the other,) spontaneously and freely, through his eye and countenance, and the attitudes, movements and gestures of his muscular system. As he uses it, it is a picture-like and symbolical language, calling up the objects and ideas which it is designed to denote in a portraying and suggestive way, which no oral, written or printed language can do. It admits of great accuracy and vividness of description, and its simple signs are susceptible of permutations and combinations which give it a significancy, copiousness and fluency admirably adapted to the purposes of narrative and of moral and religious instruction, enlarged and improved as it has been by the efforts of genius and skill, and yet preserving, except in a degree scarcely worthy of being mentioned, its original picture-like and symbolical character.