BLENNY, in ichthyology. See BLEN

NIUS.

BLEPHAROTIS, (Shɛpagwri5,) the same as blepharophthalmia.

BLEPHAROPHTHALMIA, (blepharophthalmia, Prepagopłanja; from 6xspapor, the eyelid, and organs, the eye.) An inflammation of the eyelid.

BLEPHAROPTOSIS, (blepharoptosis, ẞΦοροπίασις: from βλεφάρων, the eyelid, and πλωσις, from, to fall.) A prolapse, or falling down of the upper eyelid, so as to cover the

cornea.

BLESS (Henry), an historical and landscape painter. He was born at Bovine, near Dinant, in 1480, and died in 1550. His pieces are called owl pictures, because he drew that bird in them as a mark. They are greatly esteemed, even in Italy.

To BLESS. v. a. (blerrian, Saxon.) 1. To make happy; to prosper (Dryden). 2. To wish happiness to another (Deut.). 3. To consecrate by a prayer (Matthew). 4. To praise; to glorify for benefits received; to celebrate (Davies). 4. To wave; to brandish (Spenser).

BLESSED. participal a. (from to bless.) Happy; enjoying felicity.

BLESSED THISTLE. See CARDUUS BENEDICTUS, and CNICUS.

BLESSEDLY. ad. Happily (Sidney). BLESSEDNESS. s. (froin blessed.) 1. Happiness; felicity (Sidney). 2. Sanctity (Shakspeare). 3. Heavenly felicity (South).

4. Divine favour.

BLESSER. s. (from bless.) He that blesses. BLESSING. s. (from bless.) 1. Benediction. 2. Any of the means of happiness (Denham). 3. Divine favour (Shakspeare). BLEST. The pret. and particip. of bless, BLEW. The preterit of blow. BLEYME. In veterinary science, an inflammation in a horse's foot from extravasated blood or other inaccordant matter. It often exhibits the appearance of a corn with a bottom of sanious pus. The cure consists in paring the hoof or foot deep enough to extricate the confined substance whether a stone, extravasated blood, indurated cutis or sanies. The paring or opening should not exceed a necessary limit; the sore will heal with digestive ointment or balsam, and a bar-shoe must be employed till the frog be sufficiently covered with new

beel.

BLIGHT, in corn. See MILDEW and CREDO.

To BLIGHT. v. a. (from the noun.) To blast; to hinder from fertility (Locke.) BLIND. a. (blind, Saxon.) 1. Deprived of sight; dark (Digby). 2. Intellectually dark; ignorant (Dryden). 3. Unseen; priate (Hooker). 4. Hard to find; obscure (Milton).

BLIND, considered in its natural and primary sense, is an epithet which demands someWhat more than a cursory notice. There is not, e conceive, any corporeal sense or facuity, which adds so many resources of utility and entertainYOL. II.

ment as the power of vision; nor of course is there any loss or privation which can be productive of disadvantages or calamities so 'multiform, so various, and so bitter, as the want of sight. The miseries of blindness are feelingly described both epic poetry, who is said, in the person of Demoby Homer and Milton. The venerable father of docus the Phæacian baid, to have described his

own situation, uses this language:

Τὸν πέρι Μεσ' ἐφίλησε διδε δ' αγαθόν τε, κακόν τε, Οφθαλμῶν μὲν ἀμερτε, διδε δ' ήδειαν ἀοιδην. Odyss. I. . v. 63, 64. "Dear to the muse, who gave his days to flow, In clouds and darkness quench'd his visual say, With mighty blessings mix'd with mighty woe, Yet gave him pow'r to raise the lofty lay."

POPE.

address to light:Milton pathetically bewails his calamity, in his -Thee I revisit safe,

And feel thy sov'reigu vital lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn:
So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs,
Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more

Cease I to wander, where the muses haunt
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song: but chief
Thee, Sion, and the flow'ry brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit; nor sometimes forget
Those other two, equall'd with me in fate,
So were I equall'd with them in renowu,
Blind Thamyris and blind Moonides,
And Tiresias and Phineas, prophets old:
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine:
But cloud instead, and ever during dark,
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair

Presented with an universal blank

Of nature's works to me expung'd and ras'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.' Paradise Lost, b. iii.

accents, the misfortune of blindness in his "Samp; Thus again he deplores, in the most affecting

son Agonistes:"

"But chief of all, O loss of sight, of thee I must complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, Dungeon, or beggary, decrepid age. Light, the prime work of God, to me's extinct, And all her various objects of delight Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eas'd,

Iuferior to the vilest now become

The vilest here excel me:
Of man or worm.
They creep, yet see; I dark in light expos'd
Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,
In power of others, never in my own;

Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half,
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse
Without all hope of day!

O first created beam, and thou great word,
Let there be light, and light was over all;

Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree?

The sun to me is dark,

And silent as the moon
When she des rts the night,

Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Since light so necessary is to life,
And almost life itself, if it be true
That light is in the soul,

She all in every part; why was the sight
To such a tender ball as th'eye confin'd?
So obvious, and so casy to be quench'd?
And not, as feeling, throughout all parts diffus'd,
That she might look at will thro' ev'ry pore?
Then had I not been thus exil'd from light,
As in the land of darkness, yet in light
To live a life half dead, a living death:
And buried; but yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave;
Bury'd, yet not exempt

By privilege of death and burial

From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs,
But made hereby obnoxious more
To all the miseries of life."

It is our intention, in the present article, to enquire by what means the inexpressible misfortune of blindness may be alleviated, of what acquisitions the blind are susceptible, and by what culture they may become in some measure useful to themselves and to society. Indeed we might without impropriety descant on the advantages of the blind: for, even from their loss, however oppressive and irretrievable, they derive advantages; not, it is true, adequate to recompense, yet sufficient to alleviate their misery. Blind persons derive relief and assistance from the quickness of their hearing, the acuteness of their smell, and the sensibility of their touch, which persons who see are apt to disregard; and many instances have occurred that seem to verify the opinion of Rochester;

"That if one sense should be suppress'd, It but retires into the rest."

To this purpose we are informed that Democritus put out his eyes that he might think more intensely. The attention of the soul confined to those avenues of perception which she can command, is neither dissipated nor confounded by the immense multiplicity or rapid succession of surrounding objects. Hence her contemplations are more uniformly fixed upon herself, and the revolutions of the fabric with which she is so intimately connected. Hence, her perceptions of such external things as are contiguous and subject to her observation become more lively and exquisite. Hence, even her instruments of corporeal sensation are more assiduously cultivated and improved; so that from them she derives such notices and presages of approaching pleasure or impending danger as entirely escape the attention of those who depend for security on the reports of their eyes. A blind man, when walking swiftly or running, is kindiy and effectually checked by nature from rudely encountering such hard and extended objects as might hurt or bruise him. When he approaches bodies of this kind, he feels the atmosphere more sensibly resist his progress; and in proportion as his motion is accelerated, or his distance from the object diminished, the resistance is increased. He distinguishes the approach of his friend from far by the sound of his steps, by his manner of breathing, and almost by every audible token which he an exhibit. Prepared for the dangers which he

may encounter from the surface of the ground upon which he walks, his step is habitually firm and cautious. Hence he not only avoids those falls which might be occasioned by its less formidable inequalities, but from its general bias he collects some ideas how far his safety is immediately concerned; and though these conjectures may be sometimes fallacious, yet they are generally so true, as to preserve him from such accidents as are not incurred by his own temerity. The rapid torrent and the deep cascade not only warn him to keep a proper distance, but inform him in what direction he moves, and are a kind of audible cynosures to regulate his course. In places to which he has been accustomed, he as it were recognises his latitude and longitude from every breath of varied fragrance that tinges the gale, from every ascent or declivity in the road, from every natural or artificial sound that strikes his ear; if these indications be stationary, and confined to particular places. Regulated by these signs, the blind have not only been known to perform long journeys. themselves, but to conduct others through dangerous paths at the dark and silent hour of midnight, with the utmost security and exactness, instances of which are upon record.

Whether the blind are able to distinguish colours is a question into which it is not very material that we should enter; the testimonies for this fact still appearing to us much too vague and general to deserve credit. That their acoustic per ceptions however are distinct and accurate, we may fairly conclude from the rapidity with which they ascertain the relative acuteness or gravity of different tones, and from their exact discernment of the various kinds and modifications of sound, and of sonorous objects, if the sounds themselves be in any degree significant of their causes. From this vivacity and accuracy of external sensation, and from the assiduous and vigorous applications of a comprehensive and attentive mind alone, ve are able to account for the rapid and astonishing progress which some of them have made, not only in those departments of literature, which were most obvious to their senses and accessible to their uaderstandings, but even in the abstractest, and (if we may be allowed the expression) in the most occult sciences. What, for instance, can be more remote from the conceptions of a blind man than the abstract relations and properties of space and quantity? Yet the attainments of Dr. Saunderson in all the branches of mathematics are now fully known and firmly believed by the whole literary world, both from the testimony of his pupils and the publication of his works. But should the fact be still uncertain, it might be sufficiently verified by a living instance in the person of Dr. Moyes, who, though blind from his iufancy, by the ardour and assiduity of his application, and by the natural force of genius, has not only made great advances in mechanical operations, in music, and in the languages; but is likewise a complete master of most that is known or taught by other philosophers, in geometry, in optics, in algebra, astronomy, chemistry, &c. Another remarkable living instance may be adduced in the person of Mr. John Gough, of Middleshaw, near Kendal, who lost his sight in his carliest infancy. This gentleman has been long celebrated as a very able mɔthematician and philosopher; and he has cultivated with unwearied diligence the faculties of hearing and of touch: he has been very successful in his practical researches in botany, and is wed acquainted with the principles and practice of

objects should be more interesting to a blind man than any other abstract truths whatever. It is possible for the blind, by a retentive memory, to tell you, that the sky is an azure; that the sun, moon, and stars, are bright; that the rose is red, the lily white or yellow, and the tulip variegated. By continually hearing these substances and adjectives joined, he may be mechanically taught to join them in the same manner; but as he never had any sensation of colour, however accurately he may speak of coloured objects, his language must be like that of a parrot; without meaning, or without ideas. Homer and Milton had been long acquainted with the visible world before they became blind, and might still retain the warm and pleasing impressions of what they had seen. Their descriptions might be animated with all the rapture and enthusiasm which originally fired their bosoms when the grand or delightful objects which they delin ated were immediately beheld. Nay, that enthusiasm might stil! be heightened by a bitter sense of their loss, and by that regret which a situation so dismal might naturally inspire. But how shall we account for the same energy, the same transport of description, exhibited by those on whose minds visible objects were either never impressed, or have been entirely obliterated? Yet, however unaccountable this fact may appear, it is no less certain thau extraordinary. We only mention the fact, however, as one amongst the few resources for entertainment, and avenues to reputation, which are still reserved for the blind.

With respect to employments for the blind, if the pupil be not in easy circumstances, music is his readiest and most probable resource. Civil and ecclesiastical employments have either something in their own nature, or in the invincible prejudices of mankind, which renders them entirely inaccessible to such as have not the use of sight. No liberal and cultivated mind can entertain the least hesitation in concluding, that there is nothing, either in the nature of things, or even in the positive institutions of genuine religion, repugnant to the idea of a blind clergyman. As to the law, though there could be no doubt that a blind man might discharge the office of a chambercounsel with success, yet, as a barrister, his difficulties must appear formidable, if not absolutely insuperable: for he must remember all the sources, whether in natural equity or positive institutions, whether in common or statute law, whence his arguments ought to be drawn. He must be able to specify, and to arrange in their proper order, all the material objections of his antagonists: these he must likewise answer as they are proposed, extempore. When, therefore, it is considered how difficult it is to temper the natural associations of memory with the artificial arrangements of judgment, the desultory flights of imagination with the calm and regular deductions of reason, the energy and perturbation of passion with the coolness and tranquillity of deliberation, some idea may be formed of the arduous task which every blind man must achieve, who undertakes the law as a profession. As to physic, the obstacles which a blind man must encounter, both in the theory and practice of that art, will be easily conceived.

After what we have already said, the impossibility of entering into a detail of particulars with respect to the education of the blind, cannot but be obvious. These must be determined by the genius, the capacity, and the circumstances, of those to whom the general rules which we shall

proceed to give can be applied. Much therefore must depend on these particulars: besides which, the task of instructing the blind is so much more arduous, as no assistance can be derived from those who have written on the general subject of education. From the original dawning of reason and spirit, the parents and tutors of the blind ought to inculcate this maxim, That it is their indispensable duty to excel, and that it is absolutely in their power to attain a high degree of eminence. To impress this notion on their minds, the first objects presented to their observation, and the first methods of improvement applied to their understanding, ought, with no great difficulty, to be comprehensible by those internal powers and external senses which they possess. Not that improvement should be rendered quite easy to them, if such a plan were possible: for all difficulties, which are not really or apparently insuperable, heighten the charms and enhance the value of those acquisitions which they seem to retard. But care should be taken that these difficulties be not magnified or exaggerated by imagination; for, in fact, the blind have a painful sense of their own incapacity, and consequently a strong propensity to despair. For this reason, parents and relations ought never to be too ready in offering their assistance to the blind in any office which they can perform, or in any acquisition which they can procure for themselves, whether they are prompted by amusement or necessity. A blind boy should be accustomed to walk through the neighbourhood without a guide, not only though he should run some hazard, but even though he should suffer some pain in the experiment.

If he have a mechanical turn, let him not be denied the use of edge-tools: for it is better that he should lose a little blood, or even break a bone, than be perpetually confined to the same place, debilitated in his frame, and depressed in his mind. Such a being can have no employment but to feel his own weakness, and become his own tormentor; or to transfer to others all the maliguity and peevishness arising from the natural, adventitious, or imaginary evils which he feels. Scars, fractures, and dislocations in his body, are trivial misfortunes compared with imbecility, timidity, or fretfulness of mind. These impressions, which, even in his most improved state, will be too deeply filt by every blind man, are redoubled by that utt r incapacity of action which must result from the officious humanity of those who would anticipate or supply all his wants, who would prevent all his motions, who would do or procure every thing for him without his own interposition. It is possible they may survive those who, by the ties of blood and nature, are more immediately interested in their happiness than the rest of mankind; and when this happens, their disappointments may be many: their petitions will often be refused, seldom fully gratified; and, even when granted, the concession will be so ungraceful, as to render its want much more tolerable than its fruition. For all these reasons, in the education of a blind man, it is infinitely better to direct than supersede his own exertions. From the time that he can move and feel, let him be taught to supply his own exigencies; to dress and feed himself; to run from place to place, either for exercise, or in pursuit of what he wants. In these excursions, however, it will be highly proper for some one to superintend his motions, though this should always be at a distance, and without seeming to watch over him. A vigilance too apparent, may impress