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How did Malte Brun acquire his knowledge of the geography of the countries about which he wrote so fully and so well, -- was it by visiting them? No! it was by a process of study which he might have followed as thoroughly, though not quite so easily, had be been deprived of sight. How do we learn the geography, the history, the language, the manners and customs of different countries which we never saw, -- is it not by means which are perfectly within the reach of a blind man, provided the necessary pains are taken with him? In mathematics, do we not close our eyes, the more completely to shut out external impressions, and the more intensely to bend our faculties to the contemplation of the question? And in every mathematical calculation whatever, has not the blind man an immense advantage over us, provided he be furnished with the means of putting down his results in a manner to be read by himself? Now we shall see that such means are provided for him, and that he can go through arithmetical and algebraical calculations with greater ease than seeing persons. All kinds of problems may also be solved by the blind, since tangible diagrams can be prepared for them.

The languages, the classics, the long range of history, the wide field of letters, are all open to the blind man: we see no obstacle at all in the way of his becoming an able counsellor at law, or occupying the pulpit with ability and advantage. As for music, and her sister poetry, it would be an idle waste of words to try to prove that the blind can become their successful votaries, -- for there stand a long array of sightless bards, headed by the 'blind old man of Scio's rocky isle,' whose verse has charmed every age, and been repeated in every tongue. In music, the names of Stanley, Gautier and Chauvain are already conspicuous.

But, after all, the best argument in favor of the capacity of the blind for receiving a high degree of education is to be found in the number of those who have raised themselves to eminence. Ancient history abounds with them; the names of Didymus of Alexandria, Eusebius and Aufidius are well known; and Diodotus, the master of Cicero, who lost his sight, still pursued his studies with great success; his illustrious disciple says of him, 'Is vero, quod credibile vix esset, cum in philosophia multo magis assidue, quam antea versaretur, et cum fidibus Pythagoraeorum more uteretur, cumque ei libri noctes et dies legerentur, quibus in studiis oculis non egebat, turn, quod sine oculis fieri vix videtur, geometriae munus tuebatur verbis praecipiens discentibus, unde, quo, quamque linearn scriberent.' Achmed Ben Soliman, one of the most beautiful Arabian writers and poets, was blind from his infancy.

But we need not go back to distant ages to find examples of men who have raised themselves to eminence, in spite of the obstacles which nature has placed in their way. Saunderson, who flourished in the last century, and filled so ably the professorship of mathematics at the University of Cambridge in England, had lost his sight in infancy, as is known to every one. He published a volume called the Elements of Algebra, an extraordinary work, filled with singular demonstrations which a seeing person would not perhaps have hit upon. But the most wonderful of Saunderson's performances were his dissertations upon optics, light and colors, with which he used to delight and astonish his audience.

The Rev. Dr. Blacklock, too, gave extraordinary proofs of the power and correctness of the imagination, for though he never saw the light, he has left us some most beautiful delineations of nature, in the volumes of poems which he published: as in his Wish,

On rising ground the prospect to command,
Untinged with smoke, where vernal breezes blow,
In rural neatness let my cottage stand;
Here wave a wood, and there a river flow.
Oft from the neighboring hills and pastures near
Let sheep with tender bleat salute my ear, &c.

And again, --

Let long lived pansies here their scents bestow,
The violet languish and the roses glow;
In yellow glory let the crocus shine,
Narcissus here his love-sick head recline;
Here hyacinths in purple sweetness rise,
And tulips, tinged with beauty's fairest dyes.

Contemporary with Blacklock was Dr. Henry Moyes, the eloquent professor of philosophical chemistry in Manchester.

'Though he lost his sight in early infancy, he made rapid progress in different sciences; he acquired not only the fundamental principles of physics, music, and languages, but he plunged deeply into the most abstract sciences, and displayed a minute knowledge of geometry, of optics, of algebra, of astronomy, of chemistry, and in a word of most of the branches of the Newtonian philosophy. Every time he entered into society, he first passed some minutes in silence: the sound enabled him to judge of the dimensions of the apartment, and the different voices of the number of persons present. His calculations in this respect were very exact, and his memory was so faithful that he was seldom mistaken. I have known him recognise a person the instant he heard him speak, although more than two years had elapsed since they had met. He could ascertain with precision the stature of persons by the direction of their voices; and he made tolerable hits at their character and disposition by the tone of their conversation. (2)