Paradise Lost was probably only the work of three or four years, since there is reason to believe that it was completed in 1665, although not published till 1667. But this poem, as is well known, was not the only fruit of the noble intellect of Milton while bearing up against the accumulated pressure of disease, old age, and the "evil days" on which he had fallen. Besides a mass of philological labours of extraordinary magnitude, and several political tracts, which in eloquence and power are scarcely surpassed by anything he had written in the vigour of life and health, we owe to the blind old man the Paradise Regained and the Samson Agonistes, the not unworthy companions of his grander song. We cannot mourn over the sightless orbs of Milton; he could not have done greater things than he did in his blindness: "Samson hath quit himself Like Samson, and heroically hath finished A life heroic. Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail, Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, or One of the most ingenious and original works ever written upon the habits and natural history of insects, is the "Recherches sur les Abeilles," Observations on Bees, of M. HUBER, of Geneva, who had been reduced to a state of complete blindness by gutta serena, at the age of seventeen. He was assisted in his observations by his wife, an admirable woman, who made it the business of her life to contrive the means of alleviating her husband's misfortune, and for whom, indeed, it has been said, he was indebted chiefly to his blindness; as, although an attachment had existed between them previously, the lady's friends were so much opposed to the match, that she would probably have been induced to listen to the addresses of another suiter, had not Huber's helpless condition awakened a sym pathy she could not resist, and determined her, at all hazards, to unite herself to him. Madame Ducrest, who, in her late Memoirs of the Empress Josephine, relates this anecdote, knew M. Huber and his wife; and nothing, she assures us, could exceed either the unwearied attention of the latter to every wish and feeling of her husband, or the happiness which, notwithstanding his blindness, he seemed in consequence to enjoy. During the war, we are told, Madame Huber used to put her husband in possession of the movements of the armies by arranging squadrons of pins on a map in such a manner as to represent the different bodies of troops. A method was also invented by which he was enabled to write; and his wife used to form plans of the towns they inhabited, in relief, for him to study by the touch. In short, so many ways did her affection find of gladdening his darkened existence, that he was wont to declare he should be miserable were he to cease to be blind. "I should not know," said he, “to what extent a person in my situation could be beloved; besides, to me my wife is always young, fresh, and pretty, which is no light matter." We are told of an English lady, who was examined by several eminent physicians, and among others by Sir Hans Sloane, who had been deprived by disease, not only of her sight, but of her powers of speech and hearing, so that there remained only the organs of touch, taste, and smell, by which she could hold communication with others. Deaf, dumb, and blind as she was, however, she yet, in course of time, learned to converse with her friends by means of an alphabet made by their hands or fingers pressed in different ways upon hers. She very soon also acquired the power of writing with great neatness and exactness, and used to sit up in bed, we are told, at any hour of the night, either to write or to work, when she felt herself indisposed to sleep We shall feel what an invaluable possession the knowledge of writing must have been to this individual, when we reflect, that on first being reduced to the state of deplorable helplessness which she afterward found admitted of so many alleviations, nothing but the power she still retained of scrawling a few words, which yet she could not discern, could have enabled her at all to communicate her wishes or feelings to those around her. But for this power it would seem that she must have been for ever shut out from even the most imperfect intercourse with her species; for it was through it alone that she could intimate to them the meaning she wished to be assigned to each of the different palpable signs which constituted her alphabet. With this instrument of communication, the arrangement would be easily effected; it would otherwise have been impracticable. We have abundant reason to set a high value on the art of writing, but to this person it was invaluable. To us it is the most useful of all the arts; to her it was the means of restoration to life from a state of exclusion, almost as complete as that of the grave. But perhaps the most singular instance on record of a blind person triumphing over those difficulties of his situation, which are apparently most insuperable, is afforded in JOHN METCALF, or, as he was commonly called, Blind Jack, a well-known character, who died only a few years ago. This person was a native of Manchester or the neighbourhood, and Mr. Bew has given an account of him in the paper we have already quoted. After telling us that he became blind at a very early age, so as to be entirely ignorant of light and its various effects, the narrative proceeds as follows: "This man passed the younger part of his life as a wagoner, and occasionally as a guide in intricate roads during the night, or when the tracks were covered with snow Strange as this may appear to those who can see, the employment he has since undertaken is still more extraordinary; it is one of the last to which we could suppose a blind man would ever turn his attention. His present occupation is that of projector and surveyor of highways in difficult and mountainous parts. With the assistance only of a long staff, I have several times met this man traversing the roads, ascending precipices, exploring valleys, and investigating their several extents, forms, and situations, so as to answer his designs in the best manner. The plans which he designs, and the estimates he makes, are done in a method peculiar to himself, and which he cannot well convey the meaning of to others. His abilities in this respect are nevertheless so great, that he finds constant employment. Most of the roads over the Peak in Derbyshire have been altered by his directions, particularly those in the vicinity of Buxton; and he is at this time constructing a new one between Winslow and Congleton, with a view to open a communication to the great London road, without being obliged to pass over the mountains." Mr. Bew adds in a note, "Since this paper was written, I have met this blind projector of the roads, who was alone as usual, and among other conversation, I made some inquiries concerning this new road. It was really astonishing to hear with what accuracy he described the courses, and the nature of the different soils through which it was conducted. Having mentioned to him a boggy piece of ground it passed through, he observed, that that was the only place he had doubts concerning; and that he was apprehensive they had, contrary to his directions, been too sparing of their materials.' CHAPTER XI. Force of Application. Dr. Alexander Murray. ALEXANDER MURRAY was born in the parish of Minnigaff, in the shire of Kirkcudbright, Scotland, on the 22d of October, 1775. His father was at this time nearly seventy years of age, and had been a shepherd all his life, as his own father, and probably his ancestors for many generations, had also been. It was from his father that Alexander received his first lessons in reading. This was in his sixth year; and he gives an amusing account of the process. The old man, he tells us, bought him a catechism (which in Scotland is generally printed with a copy of the alphabet, in a large type, prefixed); but "as it was too good a book," he proceeds, "for me to handle at all times, it was generally locked up, and he, throughout the winter, drew the figures of the letters to me, in his written hand, on the board of an old wool-card, with the black end of an extinguished heather stem or root snatched from the fire. I soon learned all the alphabet in this form, and became writer as well as reader. I wrought with the board and brand continually. Then the catechism was presented, and in a month or two I could read the easier parts of it. I daily amused myself with copying, as above, the printed letters. In May, 1782, he gave me a small Psalm-book, for which I totally abandoned the catechism, which I did not like, and which I tore into two pieces, and concealed in a hole of a dike. I soon got many psalms by memory, and longed for a new book. Here difficulties rose. The Bible, used every night |