DENIS HAMPSON, the blind bard of Magilligan, was born in 1698, and was a native of Derry; though remarkable, he was still very inferior to Carolan. His father was an extensive farmer, holding the whole town land of Tyrerevan. He lost his sight at the age of three years from small pox, and commenced learning the harp from a woman when about twelve. He acquired a better knowledge of this instrument from the travelling harpers whom he casually encountered, and at eighteen could play by himself. He travelled over different parts of Ireland and Scotland during ten years; and so vivid and pleasing was the recollection of those wanderings, that they formed a source of enjoyment for his old age; and he could give, at the advanced age of one hundred and eight years, the most interesting details of his early adventures, with anecdotes of persons whom he had met in his journeys.

He had a wen at the back of his head which grew to an enormous extent as he advanced in years; it hung over his neck and shoulders, and was nearly as large as his head; this excrescence got for him the appelation of "the man with the two heads." The Rev. Mr. Sampson, who visited the harper at his cabin in 1806, two years before his death, wrote the particulars to Miss Owenson, (Lady Morgan,) at whose instance he called on him. His harp he always kept in the bed beside him; and a few hours before his death he tuned it, that it might be in readiness to entertain some company who were expected; but feeling the approach of death be calmly laid it aside, and calling his family around him resigned his breath without a struggle.

The last of our bards lies cold in his grave," was the cry that arose when his death became known.

WILLAM TALBOT was born near Roscrea, in Tipperary, in the year 1781 he lost his sight from small-pox at four years old; his family removed soon after to the sea side, in the vicinity of Waterford. Talbot's taste was more mechanical than even musical: still, he evinced such a predilection for the Irish pipes, and attained such a celebrity by his performance on that instrument as to be justly entitled to a place amongst the musicians. At the early age of thirteen he obtained such local celebrity, that no fiddler had a chance of an engagement for any dance or feast if Talbot and his pipes could be secured. At seventeen he was induced to go to sea, and during four years he visited various parts of the world; he soon, however,

grew tired of this life, and in 1803 became again a landsHe then married, and sought support by the exercise of his musical talent. At Limerick he received much encouragement, and commenced there his first attempt at building an organ. After this he removed to Cork, where he purchased an organ in order to make himself more perfectly acquainted with the mechanism of the instrument; and he soon evinced his perfect knowledge by the beautiful and finely toned organ he constructed. His acquaintanceship with the mechanism of the organ first led him to conceive the application of a higher scale to his favorite instrument, the Irish pipes, which he found to be a most important and valuable acquisition. His highest and most valued distinction consisted in the efficient manner he used this instrument himself. By his musical and mechanical talents did this worthy man bring up a large family in respectability and comfort.

Strange as the anomaly may seem, blind divines have, from the earliest ages, been occasionally met with. Under the law of Moses, blindness was a disqualification for the services of the altar, and even in own time, we must confess that the difficulty of administering the sacraments, irrespective of any other feeling, would to our mind present a serious obstacle to the admission of clergymen who are not in possession of all their faculties, to any church, Catholic, Anglican, or Presbyterian. With regard to the practice of the Catholic church on this point, Cardinal Wiseman has given the following information:— "Blindness constitutes what is called in Canon Law an irregularity, which incapacitates for orders in our Church. The loss of an eye would be an irregularity if it caused notable deformity, which is another irregularity. If the partial blindness were not accompanied by deformity, it would not necessarily be an obstacle to orders, especially if the loss fell upon the right eye; as from the position of the book on the altar, the left eye is the more necessary of the two in the celebration of Mass." In the Anglican Church, the same objection to blindness would not seem to be applicable. Nevertheless, but few instances of divines born blind are to be met with, and even to those who have been deprived of sight after ordination the loss has been a natural impediment. In Blacklock, whom we have before mentioned, we have instanced the feeling entertained by even a Presbyterian congregation to a blind pastor; and he, regarding it as the expression of a general sentiment,

had the prudence and good taste never again to attempt the exercise of any clerical function.

In the patriotic ages, we have mention of one or two theologians of considerable repute, but it does not appear that they were in orders, or assumed any pastoral charge or clerical duty. DIDYMUS, who died at an advanced age, in the year 395, was one of those to whom we have referred. He, it is reported, became blind at the age of five years; at an early period, he addicted himself to theological studies, the knowledge of which he acquired by getting persons to read for him. He eventually became the head of the celebrated catechetical school of Alexandria; amongst the illustrious pupils he sent forth, was St. Jerome, who edited and translated into Latin, several of his master's works; his pupils were of opinion that his blindness, by concentrating his attention on the subject of his meditations, was rather an advantage than the contrary.

Cassiodorus mentions a person named Ensebius, living in the same century, who has been merely described as an Assiatic, who having become blind at the age of five years, acquired vast knowledge and profound erudition, and taught with great ability and success.

We shall pass over the lapse of ages, during which time doubtless, there were many instances of blind theologians; our space not permitting us too protracted an account, we must limit ourselves to a few of more modern date. In the seventeenth century, we meet with the names of the Rev. Richard Lucas, D.D., and of the Rev. John Throughton. The former was born in 1648, and though not deprived of sight till after he had attained not alone holy orders, but had been elected Vicar of St. Stephen's, and Lecturer of St. Olave's, Southwark, still it was at the period of his blindness, that he composed most of his numerous and useful works. His learning, talents, and his affliction, gained him the esteem of the leading men of his day, who were anxious to reward merits so rare. He took the degree of D.D., and was installed prebendary of Westminster, in 1696. He died in 1715, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, where no stone marks his resting place. He wrote various works, but his enquiry after happiness appears to be the most popular.

The Rev. James Troughton was a native of Coventry, and became blind at the age of four years, from small pox. He was educated in the free-school in his native place, and afterwards

became a scholar of St. John's College, Oxford, where he took a fellowship, and in 1655, attained the degree of Bachelor of Arts; this, being the period of the Commonwealth, he was of course a Puritan, and retained his honors only till the restoration of Charles II, when he was ejected from his fellowship to make room for one who had been previously expelled. He then retired to Bicester, where he lived as a moderate non-conformist, earning his livelihood by imparting academical instruction to young men, and occasionally preaching in private. He died at Oxford, in 1681, being only in his forty-fourth year; his funeral sermon was preached by a blind man, named Abraham James, formerly of Magdalen Hall, but at the time master of a free-school, at Woodstock. Troughton wrote several works, but none of them are in existence at the present day.

In Toplady's works (vol. IV. p. 166) there is mention of a Dr. Guyse, who lost his sight in the pulpit, whilst engaged at prayer before the sermon. With the most unexampled calmness and presence of mind, he preached the sermon, without betraying the calamity which had befallen him. As he was led out after the service, an old lady who heard him bemoaning his blindness, thus strove to comfort him, "God be praised, said she, "that your sight is gone, I think I never heard you preach so powerful a service in my life. Now we shall have no more notes. I wish for my own part, that the Lord had taken away your sight twenty years ago, for your ministry would have been more useful by many degrees." This was rather a strange mode of expressing sympathy, and imparting consolation.

We cannot conclude our remarks on Blind Divines better than by giving in extenso an interesting detail of a tourist's encounter with a blind clergyman in Wales, as recorded in the Morning Chronicle of January, 1791:

"In my rambles," says the writer, "last summer, on the borders of Wales, I found myself, one morning, on the beautiful river Wye, alone, without a servant or guide. I had to ford the river at a place, where, according to the instructions given me at the nearest hamlet, if I diverged ever so little from the marks which the rippling of the current made as it passed over a ledge-rock, I should sink twice the depth of myself and horse. While I stood hesitating on the margin, viewing attentively the course of the ford, a person passed me on the canter, and the next instant I saw him plunge into the river. Presuming on his acquaintance, I immediately and closely followed his steps. As soon as we had gained the opposite bank, I

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accosted him with thanks for the benefit of his guidance; but what was my astonishment when, bursting into a hearty laugh, he observed that my confidence would have been less had I known that I had been following a blind guide. The manner of the man, as well as the fact, attracted my curiosity. To my expressions of surprise at his venturing to cross the river alone, he answered, that he and the horse he rode had done the same every Sunday morning for the last five years; but that, in reality, this was not the most perilous part of his weekly peregrinations, as I should be convinced if my way led over the mountain before us. My journey had no object but pleasure; I therefore resolved to attach myself to my extraordinary companion, and soon learned, in our chat as we wound up the steep mountain's side, that he was a clergyman, and of that class which is the disgrace of our ecclesiastical establishment; I mean the country curates, who exist upon the liberal stipend of thirty, twenty, and sometimes fifteen pounds a years! This gentleman, of the age of sixty, had about thirty years before been engaged in the curacy to which he was now travelling; and though at the distance of eight long Welsh miles from the place of his residence, such was the respect of his Sunday flock towards him, that at the commencement of his calamity, rather than part with him, they sent regularly, every Sunday morning, a deputation to guide their old pastor along the road; which, besides the river we had just passed, led over a craggy mountain, on whose top innumerable and uncertain bogs were constantly forming; and which, nevertheless, by the instinct of his Welsh pony, this blind man has actually crossed alone for the last five years, having so long dismissed the assistance of guides. While our talk beguiled our road, we insensibly arrived in sight of his village church. It was seated in a deep and narrow vale. As I looked down upon it, the bright verdure of the meadows, which were here and there chequered with patches of yellow corn; the moving herds of cattle; the rich foliage of the groves of oak, hanging irregularly over its sides; the white houses of the inhabitants, which sprinkled every corner of this peaceful retreat; and above all, the inhabitants themselves assembled in their best attire, round their place of worship,-all this gay scene rushing at once on the view, struck my senses and imagination more forcibly than I can express. As we entered the churchyard, the respectful How do you do?' of the young, the hearty shakes by the hand of the old, and the familiar gambols of the children, showed how their old pastor reigned in the hearts of all. After some refreshment at the nearest house, we went to church; in which my veteran priest read the prayers, the psalms, and chapter of the day, and then preached a sermon in a manner that would have made no one advert to his defect of sight. At dinner, which, it seems, four of the most substantial farmers of the vale provided in turn, he related the progress of his memory. For the first year, he attempted only the prayers and sermons; the best readers of the parish making it a pride to officiate for him in the psalms and chapters. He next endured the labour of getting these by heart; and at present, by continual repetition, there is not a psalm or chapter of the more than two hundred appointed for the Sunday service, that he is not