the sublimity of her visible language, she holds with the soul of an enlightened being. "The reason why the blind usually receive from us a deeper sympathy than the deaf, is, perhaps, because the amount of privation borne by the former can be more accurately estimated. We have only to close our eyes, to shut out for a while the glorious light of heaven, in order to conceive how great that privation must be, but we can never for a moment occupy the place of the uneducated deaf and dumb; we cannot shut out our moral and intellectual light; we cannot dispossess our minds of all that language has conveyed there, nor realize by any effort of imagination the melancholy condition of a being grown up in the midst of society, yet deprived of all power of social intercourse; whose mind has never been elevated by a single act of devotion, nor soothed and comforted by a single impulse of religious feeling. Man naturally 'looketh on the outward appearance;' and when we see the bright eye, and the contented, and even joyous aspect of the deaf mute, we forget that we may witness all this in the brutes that perish." The ear has been happily called the vestibule of the soul, and the annals of the blind who have become illustrious confirm the remark, for they show that few intellectual studies are inaccessible to them. It has even been said, and the assertion has received a kind of universal assent among those who have associated much with the blind, that in certain instances they have a facility which others rarely possess. We would not go so far as Huber, who praised the advantages of blindness, but for which, as he says, he might never have become celebrated; nor as Holman, who has endeavoured to make it appear, that in his blindness he possesses advantages over those travellers who have the use of their eyes, most of whom, as he intimates, though they have the use of these organs in perfection, yet "see not."