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Spirit; and on the publication of these Lectures, he dedicated them to Lord Grenville, Chancellor of the University.

Early in the following year he was seized with a severe attack of erysipelas, from which, however, he soon recovered. He had scarcely regained strength, however, when he was called to lament the loss of his youngest brother, Thomas Cuthbert Heber. The sudden removal of this excellent young man produced a deep impression upon the mind of Mr Heber, and it may be interesting to peruse the following brief sketch of his character, which he has left on record:

"To his brothers, his singular disinterestedness, his warmth of attachment and devotion to their service and prospects, can never be replaced. He had himself experienced several vexations and disappointments, which, though of a hasty temper, he bore with calmness and almost indifference; but where the happiness of a friend was concerned, his whole heart was engaged; and there was no labour or inconvenience which he would not incur, almost without knowing that he made a sacrifice. I never knew so warm a heart which felt

so little for itself; or one whose few faults were, apparently, in so fair a way of being corrected, when He, who in all things determines best, thought fit to remove bim.”

The fame of Mr Heber was not likely to be long in leading to his promotion, and accordingly, we find him, soon after his brother's death, appointed by Dr Luxmore, the late Bishop of St. Asaph, to a stall in that cathedral. About the same time he was called to sustain the responsible character of a parent, by the birth of his first child, which took place in the summer of 1818. This event afforded him high gratification. In the short space, however, of six months, his joy was turned into mourning. The child was snatched away after a very short illness; and so much was the tender heart of the father affected by his loss, that for weeks after he never mentioned the child's name, or heard it mentioned, without tears. The excess of his grief, as might well be expected in so eminent a Christian, at length gave way to a spirit of calm resignation and submission to the divine will.

Mr Heber, both as a scholar and a divine, was held in high estimation. Besides having been appointed one of the preachers before the University of Oxford, he was proposed as a candidate for the preachership of Lincoln's Inn, the appointment to which has always been considered a post of high honour. And though unsuccessful in his application for this latter office, far from being dispirited, he exerted himself with, if possible, increased ardour in the discharge of those important duties with which Providence had intrusted him. Hitherto he had published but little in his own rame, his literary exertions being chiefly directed to the preparation of articles for the Quarterly Review and other leading periodicals. His papers, however, were so highly valued, that he was universally acknowledged to have established his reputation as a writer of eminence. In these circumstances, he received an application from a respectable publisher in London to furnish a life of Jeremy Taylor, along with a critical essay on his writings. This task he readily undertook, and more especially, as he himself was a devoted admirer of the works of Bishop Taylor; but, in its accomplishment, such were the difficulties with which he had to grapple, that it displayed talent of a very high order to produce a biography

so interesting, from materials so scanty and unsatisfactory.

In the spring of 1820, putrid sore throat prevailed to an alarming extent in Hodnet, and many of Mr Heber's parishioners were cut off by the disease. The worthy rector embraced every opportunity of benefiting his people in this season of calamity. He entered their houses, to administer the instructions and the consolations of religion, stood by the bed-sides of the sick and the dying, exposing himself fearlessly to infection; and when warned by a friend of the danger he was running, he replied, with devout confidence in the care and the kindness of his heavenly Father, "Am I not as much in God's keeping in the sick man's chamber as in my own?" It pleased God to preserve him from danger for a considerable time; and when, at length, he and his whole household were attacked with the malignant disease, they were all of them mercifully preserved, and raised up again as monuments of the love and longsuffering goodness of the Almighty.

mercy to himself and all that were dear to him, Mr Impressed with this striking manifestation of divine Heber felt that he was laid under stronger obligations than ever to dedicate his whole energies to the service of his Lord and Master. In attention to his parochial duties, few equalled, none excelled him. His active mind sought to spend every moment of time in a manner fitted to improve either his parishioners or himself. For some years he employed the intervals of more serious study in forming a Collection of Hymns, which, however, did not appear till after his decease.

Early in 1822, a vacancy again occurred in the preachership of Lincoln's Inn; and Mr Heber being persuaded to become a candidate, through the kind exertions of his friends, he obtained the situation. It was certainly a serious disadvantage, that, to fulfil the important duties of his new appointment, it was necessary to be absent for three months in the year from his beloved flock at Hodnet. He had the consolation, however, of thinking, that, besides enjoying the society of literary men, which was so congenial to his taste, he had now an opportunity of declaring the truths of the Gospel to a class of men whose talents and attainments, not to speak of their wealth, were likely to give them a commanding influence in the country. In his ministrations at Lincoln's Inn, accordingly, Mr Heber endeavoured to speak, with all boldness, as a faithful ambassador of Christ. He composed his sermons with the greatest care and attention to elegance of diction, as became him in addressing an audience of intelligent and accomplished men; but he unfolded to them, with all plainness, the whole counsel of God, in regard to the naturally lost condition of man, and the plan of salvation, through the free grace and mercy of God, as manifested in Christ Jesus.

In the

Mr Heber had for many years taken a lively interest in the cause of missions; and he had often expressed an ardent wish, without the remotest prospect of ever seeing it realized, that the scene of his labours had been among the unnumbered millions of India. mysterious providence of God, his desire was at length fulfilled. On the death of the lamented Dr Middleton, Bishop of Calcutta, Mr Heber was fixed upon as a person in all respects suited to occupy a situation of such high responsibility For some time he was doubt,

ful whether it was his duty to accept of the office; but at last, after much deliberation, and earnest prayer, he came to the resolution of undertaking the arduous du. ties which were so unexpectedly devolved upon him. To a heart so tender, the thought of separation from his numerous friends was truly painful; and feelingly alive to the harrowing thought, he thus expresses himself in a letter to an early and intimate friend :

"I often feel my heart sick, when I recollect the sacrifices I must make of friends, such as few, very few, have been blessed with. Yet it is a comfort to me to think, that most of them are younger than myself; and that, if I live through my fifteen years' service, and should then think myself justified in returning, we may hope to spend the evening of our lives together. But be this as it may, I am persuaded that prayer can traverse sea and land, and not only keep affection alive between absent friends, but send blessings from one to the other. Pray for me, my dear Thornton, that my life and doctrine may be such as they ought to be; that I may be content in my station, active in my duty, and firm in my faith; and that when I have preached to others, I may not myself be a castaway." And again,

"I indeed give up a good deal, both of present comfort, and, as I am assured, of future possible expectation; and, above all, I give up the enjoyment of English society, and a list of most kind friends, such as few men, in my situation, have possessed. Still, I do not repent the line which I have taken. I trust I shall be useful where I am going; and I hope and believe I am actuated by a zeal for God's service. I yet trust to retain the good wishes and the prayers of my friends, and if I ever return to England, to find that they have not forgotten me. After all, I hope I am not enthusiastic in thinking, that a clergyman is like a soldier or a sailor, bound to go on any service, however remote or undesirable, where the cause of his duty leads him; and my destiny (though there are some circumstances attending it which make my heart ache) has many advantages, in an extended sphere of professional activity."

As a gratifying token of the respect and admiration which the University of Oxford entertained for him, they bestowed upon him the well-merited title of doctor of divinity, and the members of his own college, anxious to perpetuate the recollection of one so great and so good, requested him to sit for his portrait, that it might take its place among the distinguished men who adorn its hall.

Of all the affecting considerations connected with his departure for India, none produced so deep an impression on the mind of Heber as the idea of being finally separated from his dear parishioners at Hodnet. They admired, they loved, they revered him; and, in token of the high estimation in which they held him, they presented him before parting with an elegant piece of plate, bearing an appropriate inscription. The following brief but affecting description of his last visit to Hodnet, is given by Mr Taylor :

"The Doctor took his final leave of his favourite Hodnet, on the 22d of April 1823. In passing over the high ground near Newport, he turned round to take the last view of that endeared spot, where dwelt numbers, whose hearts he knew were filled with sadness at his departure, and who, he was assured, prayed earnestly for a blessing on the work in which he had engaged. His feelings, which up to this time he had restrained, now burst forth; and, after many most fervent prayers that God would bless the people, and more than supply the loss they might sustain by his departure, with deep emotion, he prophetically, as it after

wards proved, exclaimed, 'I shall never again see my Hodnet! It is, however, an encouragement of no common value, that I carry out with me such good wishes, and such prayers, as I know are offered up on my behalf by many there and elsewhere. Heaven grant that I may do nothing to forfeit the one, or to render the other ineffectual: but that I may be able, at least, to imitate the diligence, the piety, and admirable disinterestedness of my excellent predecessor!'

A short time before leaving England, he preached his farewell sermon at Lincoln's Inn. The discourse

produced a most powerful effect upon his auditors. Among the persons present on that occasion was the late Joseph Butterworth, Esq., whose benevolence and Christian worth are still remembered. On being asked by a friend as they retired from the chapel, how he had been pleased with Dr Heber, he replied with the warmest enthusiasm, "Oh, Sir, thank God for that man! thank God for that man."

Having been consecrated to his high and holy office, Bishop Heber set sail for India on the 16th June 1823. During the voyage he devoted a considerable share of his time to the Hindoostanee language, and on the Sabbath he regularly performed divine service, either on deck or in the cabin, according to the state of the weather.

On his arrival in India, he was introduced to the Governor-General, Lord Amherst, who received him with the utmost courtesy and kindness. The business which now devolved upon him from the first day of his entrance upon his duties was almost overwhelming; but he applied himself to it with the utmost diligence and perseverance. His zeal in the Redeemer's cause found ample scope in India; and he lost no opportunity of promoting the spiritual interests both of Europeans and natives. To the education of the young he paid especial attention. On Sabbath he preached twice, and often three times; and in the multifarious duties of the week no persuasion could prevail upon him to relax his exertions.

"Often have I," says Mrs Heber, " earnestly requested him to spare himself, when, on descending from the pulpit, I have sometimes seen him almost unable to speak from exhaustion; or when, after a few hours' rest at night, he would rise at four the next morning, to attend a meeting, or visit a school, and then pass the whole of the day, till sun-set, in mental labour, without allowing himself the hour's mid-day sleep, in which the most active generally indulge. To these remonstrances he would answer, that these things were necessary to be done; and that the more zealous he was in the discharge of his duties, he could with the greater justice urge activity on such of his clergy as he might deem deficient."

Bishop Heber had not been long in India before he resolved, after having brought the affairs of his diocese in and around Calcutta into a manageable compass, to visit the upper provinces, and more especially, as they had not been visited before. He set out accordingly, but alas! never to return. Throughout several months he pursued his journey with an anxious desire to understand the actual state of matters at every station to which he came. Many were the places he visited, examining the schools, encouraging the missionaries, arranging the affairs of Churches, and in every way fulfilling the trust reposed in him as the Christian bishop of so large a diocese.

The overwhelming fatigue and labour to which be

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one whom I have always loved most dearly, but till now knew not how much I loved him.'

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was subjected in the course of this journey, combined with the debilitating influence of a tropical climate upon his constitution, tended to shorten the life of Immediately on his lordship's decease becoming this truly valuable Christian minister. Though fre-known in the town, consternation and grief were depicted on every countenance. The venerable and exquently reminded by his friends and attendants that cellent Mr Kohlhoff visited me,' says Mr Robinson; it was his duty to spare himself, he persisted in his "and his almost passionate burst of sorrow was deeply endeavour to accomplish the great object he had in affecting. He threw himself into my arms, weeping view. Providence, however, had otherwise decreed. aloud :-'We have lost our dear father; we have lost At Trichinopoly he was suddenly summoned, in the our second Swartz, who loved our mission and labourmidst of his labours, to receive the rich reward which ed for it: he had all the energy and all the benevolence of Swartz, and greater condescension. Why has God awaited him in heaven. bereaved us thus?' It was long before the good man's grief was moderated; I cannot wonder at its violence, and I dare not blame it. His hopes had been raised to the utmost height by the labours of unwearied love, which he witnessed at Tanjore, and which he thus described to a friend yesterday: 'If St. Paul had visited only his power of working miracles.' And now, alas! the missions, he could not have done more, excepting all these hopes, and a thousand more, which he and others fondly cherished, are gone for ever! So sudden has been the event, and so serene and heavenly is the expression of his lordship's features, that I can scarcely yet believe the reality of our loss; but this is the last hour I shall pass by his dear side in this world. May grace be given to me, that we may meet again in glory!'"

The circumstances of his death are very distressing. On the 3d of April 1826, after dedicating a considerable time to the ecclesiastical affairs of the station, he returned home, deeply impressed with the necessity of having a missionary placed among them without delay. He spoke in strong terms upon this subject to Mr Robinson, the clerical friend who accompanied him during part of his journey. After this interview, the bishop proceeded to make preparations for entering a bath, distant a few yards from the house.

"He sat," says Mr Robinson, "a few minutes, apparently absorbed in thought, before he went to the bath, which is a separate building, filled from a spring considerably beyond his depth; and then entered it, and, taking off his clothes, plunged in. After an interval of half an hour, his lordship's servant, becoming alarmed at his staying beyond his usual time, and hearing no sound, ventured to open the door, and saw his body, apparently lifeless, below the surface of the water. He ran immediately to my room, and gave the alarm, with a bitter cry, that his master was dead! On reaching the bath I plunged in, and assisted a bearer, who was already there, to lift the body from the water, and Mr Doran and I carried it in our arms into the

next room. Every possible means were instantly used to restore suspended animation, but in vain. The garrison and superintending surgeons, who were on the spot almost immediately, continued their efforts to promote resuscitation for a considerable time, without

the least success. All was gone! The blessed spirit was fled, and was, without doubt, already before the

throne of God!"

On the following morning the remains of Bishop Heber were carried to the house appointed for all living. Mr Robinson attended as chief mourner, and committed his body to the earth. The occasion was solemn and deeply impressive.

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'It required the strongest effort," says Mr Robinson, "to enable me to fulfil this last service to my beloved master; frequently was I interrupted by the tears and sobs of those around me; and when I had closed the

book, hundreds of the poor native Christians, whose hearts he won yesterday, by his kindness and condescension, crowded around, entreating to be allowed to throw the earth upon his coffin. I can never forget the awful solemnity of that hour. I cannot yet believe the event: it is like the warning of a disturbed and feverish dream; but we must soon awake to the conviction of its reality; and not we alone, who enjoyed his confidence and affection, but a thousand hearts who trusted to him as the bulwark of Christianity in India."

THE EFFECT OF THE GOSPEL ON THE
CONDITION OF THE BLIND.

It is impossible to describe the sensation excited by this sudden and melancholy event. The universal admiration felt for the character and Christian worth of the apostolic Heber; his unwearied exertions in the cause of the Redeemer, and his extensive usefulness, had attracted towards him the eyes of Christians with BY THE REV. LACHLAN MACLEAN, the most intense anxiety. Many were the prayers Chaplain to the Asylum for the Blind, Edinburgh. which had ascended in his behalf from British Christians, both at home and in India, and ardent were their "SEARCH," says an eloquent writer, "the annals of wishes that his valuable life might be long spared. But the nations of antiquity, or of any country to which the his work was done, and he went to receive his reward. Gospel is a stranger, where, amongst them, do you find any provision for the poor, any asylum for the destitute, Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight." any lazar-house for the sick, any refuge for the penitent "Mr Robinson thus expresses his sensations on this profligate?" We may search the pages of antiquity for melancholy occasion: How shall I record my feelings such indications of humanity, but the search will prove on this sad and miserable day? I am writing by the a fruitless one; the nations of antiquity were very diflifeless body of my dear departed master! Oh what is ferently occupied; instead of endeavouring to lessen the man! what in his best estate, when most gifted with heavy load of human suffering, with an enthusiasm for all that is truly great and admirable! Here lies one which Scripture alone enables us to account, they seemwhom all loved, whom every heart admired and cherished eager to increase it even almost beyond the power of ed! One to whom the eyes of all in India, and of endurance. War, victory, and literary fame, were the thousands in England, were turned with high-raised objects of their ambition; the first of these, in general, expectations of usefulness in the Church of Christ:- only added to the sum of human wretchedness; the acand how justly! for his whole soul was filled with in- quisition of the last was too often made at the expense tense desire for the glory of his divine Master. Here of virtuous feeling, with the loss of moral rectitude, lies one who has been the tenderest and the most affec- even in its faintest semblance. It must be admitted tionate friend, the most condescending and confidential; ❘ that their intellectual excellency was great, their mos

numents of art stupendous; but, alas! they were strangers to the "charity that suffereth long and is kind;" | little did they regard "the blessing of him that was ready to perish;" little, in their unrenewed state, would they have thought of the glorious, the exalted character of being" eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, and a father to the poor.

fishness of their fellow-men; nay more, they were ex-
alted even above their haughty brethren, for to them
the Redeemer's mission was especially directed, to them
expressly the Gospel of peace was to be preached;
while the blind, freed from a cruel stigma, delivered
from an unjust sentence of condemnation, were taken
under the blessed Saviour's protection, and elevated by
the assurance,
"that even their blindness was for the
glory of their God." Had nothing else been done for
this afflicted, but deeply interesting portion of the Mes-
siah's family, than removing from them an unmerited
load of ignominy, a glorious victory would have been
gained over presumptuous pride, and arrogant self-
righteousness. But the friend of fallen man did more:
He left them and every child of suffering to the tender-
est care, and claimed for all the sympathy and good will
of his followers, as proofs of love to him, their exalted
leader.

And how has Christendom fulfilled the solemn trust? Even as it hath other duties, imperfectly; with, alas! many shortcomings. Still, in the darkest ages, the Saviour's recommendation and example produced a blessed change; they dashed to the ground the coldblooded system of heathen selfishness; they dissipated the mists of Jewish prejudice, and transported the afflicted members of the Redeemer's flock into a new atmosphere. Such were no longer treated with contemptuous neglect, because incapable of ministering to the pride and ambition of their more favoured brethren; nor, with refinement in cruelty, were they singled out as " sinners above all," because sorely afficted.

The conduct of the Jews, in profession, and, to a certain extent, in practice, was very different. Compassion to the poor and destitute was enjoined upon them in such strong and positive terms by their inspired lawgiver, that, unless determined to throw off even the shadow of allegiance to their God, they could hardly refuse the claims of their suffering brethren. Charity was, therefore, held up to admiration as a public virtue, and commended as indispensable to the character of the good man. Yet, however attentive they might be in this, as in other cases, to the letter of the law, it is to be feared that its spirit was too often lost sight of. They might give their goods to feed the poor, but their history in the pages of the New Testament, manifests a sad want of that which alone renders the act of giving, pleasing in God's sight-charity-love to man. Jewish charity, even in theory, in its most distant flight, was bounded by the limits of country. Jewish sympathy was confined within a narrower field; it seldom travelled beyond the circle of family or friends. Although in a wider range the wants of the helpless might be relieved, yet pride, unbending pride, withheld the feeling of pitying regard, and checked the accents of tenderness. The same sinful feeling led to the rejection of the Prince of Peace, because he was also the child of poverty and suffering. Another circumstance connected with Jewish history, proving at once the unpitied state of certain sufferers, and the necessity of the Gospel to soften unfeeling hearts, ought not to be overlooked, more especially as that circumstance affected, in no slight degree, the situation of the blind. What we allude to is the rash and presumptuous judgment which the Jews passed upon all who were the subjects of some sudden calamity or unusual visitation. Such were regarded as monuments of divine indignation, either on account of personal or ancestral sins. In this condemned class, if we may be allowed the expression, the blind held pre-eminent rank; the sadness of their bereavement seeming sufficient to prove the presence of aggravated personal or imputed guilt. We find this opinion openly avowed by our Lord's disciples in John ix. 2. But it may be said, that the poor and illiterate dis-ciety. ciples were persons likely to be swayed by prejudice. The educated and high-born Pharisees give us, in the 34th verse of the same chapter, their opinion, in the haughty and insulting words (addressed to the man who had given rise to the question of the disciples,)" thou wast altogether born in sins."

We need only refer farther to Matthew xx. 31, to prove indirectly that the opinion was general. There we behold the multitude endeavouring to silence the affecting cry of supplicating blindness; interfering with the claim of suffering humanity upon the Saviour's compassion. And it is certainly not a little striking, that while other petitioners were encouraged, or at least permitted to make their request, without opposition by the crowd, the blind should have been rebuked, and desired to hold their peace.

Every circumstance, in a word, proves, that whatever sympathy other sufferers met with at the hands of a stubborn and corrupted people, the blind, excepting amongst their friends or relations, were destined to experience the bitterness of cold neglect, to be looked upon as persons bearing the fearful impress of heaven's merited resentment. The Saviour came :-the poor, the destitute, the friendless of the human race, were reinstated in the possession of privileges, of which they had been deprived through the pride, ambition, and sel

Their equal claim to the rights of heavenly citizenship was cheerfully admitted by the most exalted of their fellow-worshippers; their undeniable title to meet with sympathy was acknowledged by every follower of a once suffering but now glorified Mediator. In that sympathy the blind largely shared: their affecting situation, their dependence upon their fellow-men, the intimate connexion which their brethren had with God made manifest in the flesh, recommended them to the pitying regard of all who bore the name of Jesus. "He is blind," was sufficient to silence the voice of railing, and to soften hearts unused to kindly emotion. In truth, it might almost be said, that the extent to which the blind were pitied, proved in certain respects injurious to them, as it prevented a calm and dispassionate inquiry into their real condition, and (for a long period) any attempt to render them, what they now are, useful members of soThe blind were helpless, and it was taken for granted their case was hopeless; their education was neglected, because it was considered impossible to educate them; to ask them to labour would have been regarded as cruel and unfeeling. They met with tenderness, but the rich intellectual mine that lay concealed under a dark surface was left unexplored. Childhood with others soon terminated, but with the blind man it continued, in some respects, through life; for he was never called upon to engage in active duties, but was left to drag on a weary, though certainly not an unpitied, existence. The sorrowing mother sighed as she gazed upon the sports of the young, or listened to their shouts of thoughtless merriment; for in their sports, in that merriment, her dark, her solitary child, could not participate. With the same pitying feeling did she regard him when he had reached manhood, for he was still as helpless as when a child, a stranger to any art, unable to provide for himself he was still her poor blind boy. All this proceeded from the same mistaken idea, that because the blind were deficient in one respect, their general condition was capable of little improvement; and yet some of the blind had given noble proofs, that although the eye of sense was closed, the intellect was the abode of light. They had poured forth their souls in strains of the most exalted and of the most pathetic harmony;-the surface of the earth, in its ever-varying

line of roads, had acknowledged the power of the blind surveyor; they had surmounted the loftiest heights of science, and even calculated the revolutions of orbs that to them rolled in impenetrable darkness. These circumstances, and others of a similar character, had not been unnoticed; but the attempts to improve upon them were feeble and short-lived. They were destined at length, however, effectually to attract the attention of the pious and humane.

The blind were already, through the Gospel, secure of human sympathy; all that they required was some zealous and intelligent advocate to bring their claims before a Christian community.

This advocate, in Edinburgh, was found in the Rev. Dr Johnston, minister of North Leith, a man of a vigorous and truly apostolic mind,- -a man possessed of the most exalted piety to God, and unwearied benevolence to his fellow-creatures.

Through the instrumentality of Dr Johnston," the Edinburgh Asylum was opened in September 1793; and perhaps the best way of manifesting the effects of the Gospel, or Gospel principles, on the condition of the blind, will be to explain briefly the advantages and means of instruction which are enjoyed in that institution.

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cannot be a doubt, that acquaintanceship with the un-
employed or solitary blind will, in most instances, serve
to strengthen the idea. In the Asylum, the case is
very different. The amusements of the younger
branches after the hours of labour, and the cheerful
conversation, or occasional harmless jest of the more
advanced, prove the happy effects of social intercourse
between those of similar pursuits, feelings, and circum-
stances. The statement of one of their number may
be given on this point. A visitor, in presence of the
chaplain, asked an aged and infirm member of the in-
stitution if he was happy and comfortable?
"Yes,"
was the prompt reply, "I am happy. It would be my
own fault if I was not, and I am comfortable; I only
wish that I could work for what I receive." And yet,
after so generous an avowal of contentment, the highest
allowance to the blind is, for very obvious reasons,
lower than could be desired.

Let us now turn to another source of happiness to the inmates of the Asylum-education. The young are instructed in spelling, grammar, geography, history, and arithmetic. To state that increase of useful knowledge is also increase of happiness, would be maintaining a self-evident truth; but if the case be so in ordinary circumstances, how much more strikingly is it verified in those of the blind! Deprived of the delights of vision, the blind are thrown more than others upon their mental resources for enjoyment. They thus soon become aware of the advantages of instruction, both as exercisfying their eager desire for information. In addition to this, instructive and interesting works are regularly read in the Asylum. That the inmates have profited by these judicious arrangements, can be most triumphantly established. They have invented the means of communicating their ideas by knots on a piece of cord ;-they have improved and simplified Dr Saunderson's Arithmetical Board;-they have, at several public examinations, proved themselves possessed of no mean attainments in scholarship; they have sent some of their number as teachers to other establishments, and even the poetic muse has not disdained to hold converse with her blind votaries.

If the venerable founder's hopes of success were from the beginning great, time has only served to prove that they were by no means over-sanguine; for the blind, rescued from a life of listless inactivity and helpless dependence, soon manifested the happiness which they experienced at being enabled to assist themselves-ating their naturally strong reflecting powers, and gratibeing placed, as far as was possible, on a level with their seeing brethren, by directing their attention, with characteristic perseverance, to the different arts in which it was proposed to instruct them. Their success in these arts it is unnecessary here to state. It is more pleasing to reflect upon the happiness which they must have experienced on finding that the line which separated them from the rest of mankind was not, in some respects, an impassable one. They, too, could labour for the bread that perisheth ;-they had entered into the field of industry, had now something to engage their attention and stimulate their energies.

To one class of the blind, such a change must have been peculiarly comforting,-we allude to those who, in advanced life, either through accident or disease, bave lost their sight. How often must such persons have been heard, in bitterness of heart, exclaiming that they were reduced to helplessness! To them the cheering answer can now be given,-your hands may still be taught to minister to your necessities; a home is prepared for you, where your sorrows will be alleviated by sympathy and companionship in privation. Brotherhood in affliction is generally found to lessen its severity. It is in a remarkable manner the case with the blind community; no one is heard complaining of a less common to all around him. The stranger insensibly imbibes the spirit of his neighbours, and soon perceives that he has at length come amongst those who have kindred feelings, which they alone can describe in language that he best understands.

The provision made for the highest of all sources of happiness remains yet to be considered. The blind assemble twice a-day for family worship. On Saturday afternoon, after a short lecture upon some part of the sacred volume, the boys and girls (in presence of the adults,) are catechised, On Monday morning, the attendance at church is ascertained; the junior members repeat portions of the Scriptures, and are then examined upon the sermons delivered in their different places of worship. To state that the blind conduct themselves on these occasions with propriety, would be a kind of negative praise; something more may be safely said. They join in the performance of religious duties with every appearance of the deepest interest, manifesting, by their outward deportment, their consciousness of being in the immediate presence of Him who, though invisible to mortal sight, is yet seen by the brighter eye of

chaplain has been often asked by his younger friends to explain expressions occurring in the course of reading. Two instances of this may be given, evincing close attention and inquisitive minds in the youthful querists. A very young boy requested an explanation of the words "literal and figurative," while another made the same request with respect to "intercommunity of goods."

The question has been repeatedly put to the writer-faith. It may not be out of place to state, that the Are not the blind dull and melancholy? On one occasion, when the whole family was assembled, he repeated the observation; it was instantly met by a smiling contradiction. The opinion was not, however, altogether groundless; the loss of sight must ever give a melancholy expression to the countenance, and there This zealous apostle of benevolence continued to be the soul of the Institution, until the infirmities of age, and the distance of his house from the Asylum, interrupted his visits. His heart, however, was with his blind family, for to the last he struggled in the cause of humanity, leaving those for whom he had done so much, as a legacy of love to his nephew, the present Secretary. The way in which that gentleman has attended to the charge of his departed relative, cannot be better described than by the following concise, yet comprehensive statement, made to the writer by the oldest member of the establishment :-" He (Mr Johnston) looked after us from 1802, but in 1816 he came amongst us altogether."

The boys, it is stated above, repeat portions of Scripture every Monday morning. It is pleasing to add, that this (to them especially) all-important duty, is attended to with the utmost regularity. They are taught to repeat these passages of Scripture by an individual named John Maclaren (himself blind from infancy,) the only surviving original member of the institution. The

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