of the hands, an Irishman, succeeded in enticing a shark to put his foolish head within the compass of a running bowline, by which he was hoisted on deck. He was eleven feet long. I was much liked by the mariners at this time, on account of my agility, being always climbing about the rigging, an ability that has never left me to this day. I can explore the rigging of a vessel as well as any person who can see. Perhaps it is because, seeing no danger, I fear none. I was also excellent friends with the dog, and was amused at witnessing his sagacity. He had formed a strong attachment to a pig we had on board, and would carry him a portion of his food, before he would taste it himself. These incidents may appear of small consequence, but when it is considered that they are among the most prominent that enliven the memory of a blind man, I trust I shall be excused for dwelling on them. After this voyage, my father returned to Albany, where he put me to school with a Mr. Hayes, whom I shall always gratefully remember. I was at this time nine years of age, and I remained with Mr. Hayes until I was eleven. During my stay at his school, my studies were reading, writing, arithmetic, geography and grammar. I made myself master of all but grammar, and in that I never could initiate myself. I gained several medals by my industry. Our master was liked by all the pupils, and was a good, kind, and intelligent man. When I left school, I was taken back to Utica, and put at the school of a Mr. Dakin, who was a much more severe man than Mr. Hayes. My tasks here were heavier than at the former school, but I remained with Mr. Dakin till I was thirteen years old. At this school I found the same difficulty in learning grammar, it is a thing into which I never could see; but in all my other studies I did well. From Mr. Dakin's, I was removed to an academy at Onandaga, under the care of Rev. Mr. Alexander. I rung the bell for my education and board. My mischievous fellow pupils used often to cut the bell rope, so that they needed not be disturbed in their morning slumbers by its hateful summons. Sometimes, for the same purpose, they would pull the rope up into the belfry, so that I could not get at it; and several times in the winter season-after my unsuccessful attempts to move the noisy creature—I discovered, that in the preceding night it had been slyly turned up and filled with water-which had congealed into a solid body of ice. But rogues seldom escape punishment; and though they elude detection for a time, their very success hurries them beyond discretion, and their boldness completes their destruction. The ringleader of all the school mischief was an instance of this. Early one morning, the first of April, (a famous day for jokes,) he put a flat stone on the roof of the academy, upon which, with wood, he kindled a bright flame, and then shouted fire! fire! most lustily. When the people had collected at the unwonted cry, he popped up, pushed the burning mass from the roof upon their heads, crying out, "Ye April fools!" This finished his career. He was detected and expelled. After six months, becoming discontented at this place, I was bound, by my father, as an apprentice to the printing business, to Mr. W. Williams in Utica. I applied myself diligently to this business-in due time was employed at the case and the press, and was making myself master of the trade. I had been in this employment about two years, and was but somewhat past my sixteenth year, when I was suddenly stopped in my progress by the accident which deprived me of the use of my remaining eye, and left me totally blind. No one who still enjoys entire the inestimable gift of perfect vision, can comprehend how much of sadness and gloom are shrouded in the single expression of total blindness. Let me here pause for a moment, and beseech my race not to let the very commonness of the blessings they enjoy deaden, while it should increase their gratitude,—and, while, from experience, they can exclaim, "blessed is the light of the sun," let them not cease to praise him who gives and preserves the power of sight. W It may be easily supposed, that the accident which brought upon me this sad calamity can, in none of its circumstances, ever be effaced from my mind. As I have stated, I had in very early life, lost the use of one of my eyes, but this had be come of comparatively little importance, as I was still able to attend to all the affairs of life. I had become entirely reconciled to it; but I little thought to what further trial I was to be called. It was on a morning in November, in the year 1825, while I was in the employment of Mr. Williams, that I was splitting some wood to kindle a fire in the printing office. In undertaking to break a stick in two crosswise, a part of it flew with great violence and struck me in my remaining eye. The blow was a severe one, and was attended with great pain. It was accompanied with the usual swelling, but I did not dream of the consequences that were to follow, nor did my physician. He followed the usual course to cure a severe contusion; but I found my eye-sight gradually failing, while the external appearances of it were diminishing,—until, in about three months from the period of the accident, I lost it entirely. No medical aid was of the least avail; and thus, before I was seventeen, in the midst of my apprenticeship, I was left in all the darkness and helplessness of a blind boy. What was now to be done? I was of little or no use to Mr. Williams, and, indeed, I felt myself of no use to any one, not even to myself. Under such circumstances, man will forgive despondency, and it seems as if Heaven also would. But there is an end to all things, and even the blind, beside the duty of resignation, may find a sphere of usefulness. As soon as my case became hopeless, I was sent for by my parents, who had now removed to Syracuse, which was then but a very small place, and there I joined them. I was received by my parents with all the commiseration, and treated by them with all the tender kindness, which my forlorn condition so naturally awakened. But it was a long time before I could reconcile myself to my situation-all about me seemed gloomy and sad. I was nervous and restless, and was like one struggling for something beyond his reach. And my feelings were not assuaged by the many ill-judging persons who visited me from curiosity, and who expressed their sympathy, by dwelling on my great loss, and telling me they should think I had rather die than live. I continued in this unhappy and desponding condition 4 for six months. I lost my flesh and strength; so that I kept a great part of the time upon my bed. I found in my mother a most invaluable adviser and friend. She was continually striving to cheer my spirits, by reading to me, especially about the blind, how much in some cases they had done,—she told me of Milton, and, above all, she constantly directed me to look upon all as for the best. I cannot better express the sentiments which she inculcated, than in the words which the Rev. Thomas Blacklock, himself totally blind from early infancy, addressed to his mother. "What tho' thy son, dependent, weak, and blind, Under this influence from my mother, I determined to give up these feelings of despair. Time assuages all griefs, and mitigates the severity of all calamities. But much as I owe to time, I cannot think upon my restoration to contentment, without paying the tribute of heartfelt gratitude to my beloved, but now departed, mother. I resolved to make an effort to cultivate my other senses of touch, taste, hearing and smell,-and it is wonderful, with what rapidity the powers of these senses increased. No one can comprehend what powers lie dormant within him, until stern necessity is upon him. I gradually learned to distinguish persons by their voice and steps-to measure distances by sound, with great facility—and at length I moved about the house with ease, and even made my way through the town of Syracuse, without much difficulty. The situation of my parents became much reduced, and I determined to do something for my own support. I learned to distinguish the various pieces of money by the touch—and then purchasing various articles of merchandize and pamphlets, and taking a boy for my guide, I travelled about through the western part of New York selling them. I met with good success, always finding persons willing to aid me, out of pity for my condition. In travelling about, I heard of many blind persons, whom I went to see, and the forlornness of the condition of many of them, helped to make me resigned to mine. I found many who had been born blind, and who having never been in any way instructed, were utterly helpless. They could not believe, when I told them, how many miles I had travelled, and what powers I had of knowing things. If there is any one who doubts the value and utility of the efforts now making, here and elsewhere, in behalf of these unfortunate persons, I wish he could only meet with some of those uncared-for individuals whom I encountered, and compare their condition with that of the educated blind. There is almost as much difference between them, as between that of those who see and those who cannot. But all I met were not of this description. I found some who were wonderfully skillful in various things, especially in music. I remember particularly a Mr. Ross, in Rochester, who was an excellent performer upon the violin. Though utterly blind, he had become perfectly familiar with the place, and, at his offer, I took his arm, and he conducted me all over it, telling me about the various parts, and the buildings. He carried me through the Eagle Tavern, pointing out all the rooms;—through the Munroe Garden, distinguishing the various beds of flowers, and we walked together over the aqueduct of the canal, where there was no railing, he sportingly telling me, occasionally, to look down and see what a dangerous place was beneath us. We returned from our ramble in perfect safety, thereby illustrating, that though true in a moral, yet it is not in a literal sense, that "if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch." At the town of Lysander, I met with another blind man, who was a most excellent cabinet maker. I could not believe it possible, having never heard of such a thing as a blind mechanic, till I went into his shop, and felt of the work, and even then, I could not believe that he was blind, until, at his desire, I put my finger upon the orbits of his eyes, and found but an empty space. I found many people, who were utterly ignorant of the capabilities of the blind, who thought that they could not know |