themselves, is painfully palpable to every philanthropic observer of his fellow-beings. The light of the _eye_ is theirs, but the light of the _mind_ is exchanged for darkness. We have already intimated, that the obliteration of one organ of sense tends to the greater perceptibility or acuteness of others. This follows almost of necessity, because the loss of any given organ tends to the more finished education of those which are destined to aid it. Thus, in a blind man, the hearing is generally more than usually acute and accurate, as is also the sense of touch; while, at the same time, the muscular sense is surprisingly elevated. Blind guides have been known and celebrated for their extraordinary gifts in the wildest moorland and hilly districts. John Metcalf, of Knaresborough, (1717,) was road surveyor and contractor in the Peak of Derbyshire; he built bridges over rivers, and projected roads over the ridges of the Pennine chain, nor was he less remarkable for feats of daring, such as hard riding, swimming, etc. This person was blind from infancy. How wonderful is the elasticity of the human mind, which can reconcile itself in such an astonishing manner to the most adverse circumstances, and triumph, as it were, over the loss of that inestimable possession--sight! Many men of note, who were either born blind, or had lost their sight at an early period, have figured in the scientific, literary, and musical worlds. A few of these may be here mentioned (without going back to long past centuries, that is, to the days of Homer, or Diodatus, or even to the more recent time of Henry, the minstrel of Scotland, born blind 1361, or of sir John Gower, of London, who died in 1402.)