G
ervase Murray, a deaf and dumb young man, the son of a poor widow living at Balbriggan, has just completed a miniature merchant ship, which in mechanical structure, symmetrical build, and neatness of finish, is not probably surpassed by anything of the kind to be seen in Ireland. It has been minutely inspected by competent judges, who assert that its tout ensemble a more perfect piece of ingenious workmanship they have never seen; nor could the most experienced ship carpenter do more justice to the various compartments, appendages, and riggings than has its mute architect, with but very indifferent apparatus—a penknife, a file, and a bradawl being the principal instruments employed in the work. It measures exactly six feet from the figure head to the helm, and is precisely the same extent in height from the top of the mainmast to the keel, the width being of proportional dimensions. The materials are all of the best description, are tastefully polished or painted where necessary, and are so exactly fitted in every part as to baffle the detection of any conspicuous fault whatever. It is fully manned with a crew of little wooden men, and officers in uniform, and completely equipped with boats, capstan, blocks, hawsers, cables, davits, cat-heads, bars, bolts, buckets, chocks, compasses, and even three brass cannons; in short with everything that may be seen in a large ship. She bears the significant name of "The Star of the Sea." Had he been able to exhibit it, as he intended, at the late Dublin Exhibition, there is no doubt that it would have attracted considerable attention, which perhaps might have led to a substantial recognition of merit having been awarded to a poor dumb youth, the chief support of his widowed mother, as a well-deserved recompense for the patience and native talent displayed in the construction of this tiny chef d'euvre of naval art, which must have given him an immense amount of trouble and anxiety during the two years he has been engaged in building it.—Irish Journal.