rendered it impossible. It was therefore decided that he should go to Cambridge, not as a student, but as a teacher of mathematics and natural philosophy. Accordingly, in the year 1707, under the protection of a friend, one of the fellows of Christ's College, he commenced his career as a lecturer; which introduced him to the men of letters and science, among whom we would mention Sir Isaac Newton, who gave him many substantial proofs of his friendship. We also have to record here, to the credit of the eccentric but unfortunate Whiston, who then held the Lucasian professorship of mathematics in the University, that, on Sanderson opening classes to teach the same branches of science upon which he himself had been in the daily habit of reading lectures, he extended to him every assistance in his power. Sanderson commenced his prelections upon Newton's Optics.

"The subject itself which Sanderson thus chose, independently of the manner in which he treated it, was well calculated to attract notice, -few things seeming, at first sight, more extraordinary than that a man, who had been blind almost from his birth, should be able to explain the phenomena, and expound the doctrine, of light." Mr. Colson, successor of Sanderson, in his notice of him, describes at great length the method he pursued in explaining the primary laws of light, and the phenomena of colors, as well as the system of tangible signs, by which he performed his mathematical calculations. And the only difference between his method and that invented by Abbe Hauy is, that it was much more imperfect. Sanderson's success as a lecturer, continued still to increase, so that when Whiston was expelled from his chair, in 1711, he was appointed, through the influence of Sir Isaac Newton, to fill the vacancy. As a necessary preliminary, the degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon him. Sanderson gave his whole attention to his classes; and it is to his constant labors in his profession, that we are to attribute the fact that, with the exception of his work on Fluxions, and a small work on Algebra, he prepared very little for the press. In 1728, on the occasion of a visit of George II., he was created Doctor of Laws; at which time he pronounced a Latin oration remarkable for its eloquence.

He was married in 1728, and died in 1737, in the fiftyseventh year of his age.

During his life, Sanderson enjoyed the acquaintance and friendship of the most distinguished scholars of his day. To their influence, as well as to his uncommon talents, was he indebted not a little for that proud elevation to which he attained. It is said that, on his going to Cambridge, favors were proffered him purely on account of his misfortune. These he rejected, exclaiming, that he was a scholar, and should receive no favors simply because he was a blind man. No man ever labored with more assiduity than he, nor with more success, to overcome the effects of a physical calamity. Indeed, the extent to which he cultivated the senses of hearing and touch, seems almost marvellous. He could tell, for instance, in going into his room, by the sound of his cane upon the floor, if any article of furniture had been removed. He could distinguish the finest intonations of the human voice, and was able to determine, with astonishing accuracy, the height and age of a person by the voice alone.3 Of course, we do not intend to assert that he could tell to an inch the exact height, nor to a day, the exact age of every one. What we mean to say of Sanderson is, (what we would say of all intelligent blind persons,) that he could judge of these matters by the voice, as well as most persons can by the countenance.

Sanderson was no mean performer on the flute; and there can be no doubt that, if his mind had not received a different direction, he might have become a distinguished musician. As to the sense of touch, it may with truth be said, that it was never so fully developed in any other person. He could distinguish inequalities upon surfaces, where it was impossible to discern them by the eye. He could detect, in a cabinet of Roman medals, the counterfeit from the true, though the difference was so slight as to deceive the eye of the most experienced connoisseurs.

It

3 Blindness is often but one of the effects of a cause which injures one or more of the other senses. Opthalmia, a species of inflammation, in many climates, not only produces blindness, but greatly affects the hearing. And besides, so great a deprivation as the loss of sight must always exercise an injurious influence, not only upon the other senses, but upon all the physical functions.

was at first thought that he might even detect colors by his But he found, after repeated efforts, that it was impossible. I have often been amused to hear persons, who could not be brought to believe that a blind man could feed himself without being helped by another, assert positively, that there were blind persons of their acquaintance, who could tell the color of any article of their wearing apparel, by feeling it. This is preposterous. The slightest reflection, it seems to me, must convince every one of its utter impossibility. Light is not tangible; of course a blue ray, or a red ray, is not distinguishable by this means.

There are several pleasant anecdotes told of Sanderson. We have room for one or two only, which illustrate his readiness at repartee. On one occasion, when lecturing to his class, and while he was attempting a solution of a very intricate problem, one of the persons present, filled with admiration at the astonishing mathematical acuteness which he displayed, exclaimed, "Sanderson has but one imperfection; it is in his eyes." "And yours," replied the professor, "is in your tongue." On another occasion, Sanderson was invited to spend an evening at the house of a friend, in company with several distinguished persons of both sexes. Upon one of the ladies leaving the room, he remarked that her teeth must be very white. Being asked by some of the company, how he knew this, he replied, "I do not think she is a fool, and she has been laughing a whole hour."

We have already spoken of the astonishing extent to which Sanderson cultivated his other senses. His cotemporaries mentioned many things respecting him, which they seem to have regarded as almost miraculous, but which are exhibited by almost every blind person, and in our day would seem too trite to be named. For instance,

4 Dr. Howe, in the report of his journey in Europe, made to the Trustees of the Perkins' Institution for the Blind, says, while in England, "I visited a blind girl who, I was told, could tell colors by the touch. I found, as I expected, that this was not true. She could, however, tell the color of different pieces of cloth given her, by first laying them in the sun till they had acquired the same apparent temperature; then by raising them to her lips, she was able to perceive that some of the pieces conducted caloric with a greater degree of facility than others. In this way she could distinguish the blue from the red, and the green from the orange." [We quote this from memory.]

the fact that he could, when in the open air, ascertain when a cloud passed over the disc of the sun, is mentioned as something peculiarly wonderful; so also is the fact, that he could tell when he was approaching an object, if the air was particularly clear, by its pulsations upon his face. This, however, is nothing but what every blind person is capable of doing. We have known those who could do more than this. There are blind persons who, when approaching an object, can form some idea of its character; can tell, for instance, whether it is a stone post, a tree, a horse, or a man; and there are those who even claim that they can tell, on entering a room, whether there be other persons in the room, - of course, it is meant without hearing them speak. The principle upon which they do this is, that a living body produces a greater impression as you approach it, than an inert object. This may, perhaps, cause those to smile who have never given the subject a thought. But as we do not mean to be considered as asserting that it is a gift peculiar to the blind, but that it is only in consequence of the superior culture of the sense of touch which is occasioned by blindness, we recommend all sceptical persons to try it. It is a very easy thing; bandage your eyes, then let some person lead you towards different objects, and you will find, after repeating the experiment several times, that each of them produces upon you a different sensation,-faint and almost indistinct at first, but as you repeat the experiment, becoming more and more vivid. Now, it is these sensations, or rather impressions, which the blind are accustomed to observe and to turn to some account; for the principle, to which we have referred, enables them when walking in the streets (provided they are walking sufficiently slow,) to ascertain if there be any obstruction in their path. There are many other things which would be interesting to the curious, as illustrating the almost illimitable extent to which the sense of touch is capable of being carried, but which we must reserve for another occasion.

Much has been written upon the comparative value of the different senses. I have often been asked by those who have never felt the inconvenience caused by the want of any one of the senses, which was really the most unfortunate, the blind, or the deaf and dumb? Of course, a

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solution of this question can never be obtained. It is a beautiful arrangement of Providence, and one which we cannot too much admire, that each of these classes considers its own condition preferable. We once listened to a dialogue upon this subject; a portion of which we will give, as the best means of illustrating the views of those who are the most competent judges. The deaf mute communicated to the blind man, by writing, what he had to say, upon a slate; which being read by a third party, the blind replied in the same manner.

D." It must be a sad life to you, never to see the earth, the sea, and the sky."

B. "But I can converse with those around me, and I am delighted with the voices of those I love."

D. "I, too, can converse, as I now do with you. I can see the human face divine,' and these beautiful flowers,"pointing to a vase by his side.

B. (Growing more excited,) "But you cannot study, to the same extent that I can, the abstract sciences, — intellectual and moral philosophy; you cannot while away your hours with music, at the piano-forte."

D. "I can read the book of nature; I can look upon yon smiling landscape."

B. "I can listen to the voice of the birds, and the music of flowing waters, and enjoy with deep delight the perfume of ten thousand flowers."

D. (Smiling,) I, too, can enjoy their fragrance, and admire their hue; and yesterday I beheld the masterpiece of Michael Angelo instinct with life and beauty."

B. "Last night I listened to the music of Beethoven, and the poetry of Goethe."

D. "I can read poetry in the smiling faces around me." B. "Smiles do not always wreathe the face. You can see the cheek blanched, the sunken eye, and all the marks which time and decay make upon the form, to sadden the heart. I hear only the voices of my friends, whose music can never die; and, as it has been truly said,

'I only know that they grow old,

By counting happy years gone by."'"

The reader may, perhaps, gather from the foregoing observations, some opinion as to which of the misfortunes is