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There are many difficulties connected with the successful solution of this great problem; but we believe the experience of the past will prevent serious errors in the future.

unfeeling to some, it is no more than just the recitations of others, and the explanaice to them to say, that their objections tions of the teacher; and where there arise not from any want of philanthropy, were several blind pupils in the school, for among them may be found men who the parish might be required to procure are among the most eminent philanthro- the elementary books in the raised letters, pists of the age, but from the desire to act and maps and globes for their use. In with impartial justice toward all the claim- the intermediate and higher schools it ants upon public sympathy and charity. would be necessary that the teachers should have some acquaintance with the processes used for instruction in schools for the blind. This education, he suggests, should be acquired while their teachers are connected with the normal schools. (In Austria, all teachers of these grades must have received their education at the normal schools.) In those cases, where the normal school and the institute for the blind are in the same place, this training can be acquired by an attendance of an hour a day at the institute. Where they are in places distant from each other, one or more blind teachers should be employed.

We have, in a previous article, described the day-school for the blind in Paris, established by Dr. Ratier, and suggested its application to some of our large cities, where a sufficient number of blind children could be found within a convenient distance, to render such a school useful; but a philanthropist in Vienna, the venerable Klein, who has devoted more than fifty years of his life to the education of the blind, and whose philanthropy the frosts of eighty winters have not been able to chill, has, in a little work, published in Vienna, 1843, suggested a plan for their more general education, which is well worthy the attention of the friends of the blind.

In the first place, he lays down a series of plain, simple directions to the parents of young blind children, for the proper early training of their children. We have space for but a few of these; he advises that they should be taught to sit upright in their chairs without clinging to any part of the chair, either with their hands or feet; that if required to stoop to the floor or ground, they should be instructed to bend the knees rather than the body; that they should be encouraged to move about freely without assistance; that they should learn to dress and undress themselves, and to perform most of those little duties for their parents which are usually required from seeing children; that in their playthings, special regard should be had to their deprivation, and such articles given them as will instruct them in the form, size, or material of the object; that they should not be reminded of their infirmity, unless as an incentive to greater exertion. When practicable, he would have them taught to read the raised letters early.

In the primary schools, he observes, that they can learn very much by hearing VOL. X.-23

This plan was strongly recommended to the French government by M. Dufau, in 1850, in his work "Des Aveugles," to which we have already alluded; and the effert is now making to carry it into effect in some of the Departments of France.

The disproportion between the educated and uneducated blind, is not so great in this country as in most of the European states, thanks to the liberality of our state governments and to the energy of the friends of the blind; and there is not, consequently, so great a demand for such a system of instruction; but even here, much might be done by the circulation of simple directions to the parents of blind children, through the clergy, and by giving attention to their elementary instruction.

The present is an age, beyond all others, remarkable for vigorous, well-directed, and persistent philanthropic effort; of this effort the blind, as is natural from their mental activity and the interest which clusters around them, are receiving their fair share; we would it were more, rather than less; but while they are remembered, the idiot and the insane should not be forgotten.

In our next we shall endeavor to give some account of the present condition of the prominent European schools, and as full a sketch as possible of our American institutions for the blind, including those of Indiana and Illinois, of which we give engravings in our present article.

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THE LUCK OF EDEN HALL. writ

From

"THE Luck of Eden-Hall" was of the turned his as period he appears to have

a

Society of Friends, who came before the public as an author in 1812, in a small book of poems. This volume, which contained promise of better things, was succeeded, in 1819, by a volume entitled "Aonian Hours." This work was succeeded by a Roman story, entitled "Julia Alpinula."

foreign literature, with a perseverance and success which have left the lovers of literature forever his debtor. "He was," writes a near relative, "so charmed with the sweet strains of Tasso that he resolved, with something like a feeling of poetical duty, to rescue his mind's idol

from what Sir Walter Scott calls the frozen paws' of his prosaic translator, Hoole. In this his labor of love he was encouraged by most of the poetic lights of the day, among whom may be named Scott, Southey, and Rogers."

In 1821 he accepted from the Duke of Bedford the office of librarian at Woburn Abbey. An office so congenial with his taste was entered upon with alacrity, and most ably filled up to the period of his death.

About this period his taste having led him to explore the stores of Spanish literature, he commenced a translation of the works of Garcilasso de la Vega, surnamed "the Prince of Castilian Poets." This work, which won for him the highest literary honors of Spain, was little appreciated in England, perhaps because eclogues and pastorals, however beautiful, are only adapted for a state of society emerging into the light of letters, and not for one on whom its meridian sun has long looked down. In Spain the lays of this poet are familiar as household words; and, after a long lapse of years, la Vega is still the pride of the ancient city of Toledo. In 1824 the first volume of the "Jerusalem Delivered" made its appearance, and, after some delay, the second; the whole impression of which perished in a fire at the office of its printer. In 1826 a second edition was called for; and in 1836 another of a smaller size, to meet the wants of readers of more limited means.

In the year 1626 Mr. Wiffen visited Normandy for the purpose of collecting materials for his principal prose work, "The Historical Memoirs of the House of Russell," which, after seven years of labor and research, appeared in the year 1833. In the year 1836, from a life calmly lapsing away in the happy solitudes of literature, Mr. Wiffen was suddenly called away, at the early age of forty-three, leaving a widow and three infant daughters to lament the loss of one equally good and gifted. His remains rest with the dead of his own people, a cypress alone distinguishing his grave from the commoner earth.

This ballad is founded on a popular superstition, and a family tradition, in Cumberland, England. Eden Hall is a small village on the western side of the River Eden. The mansion and estates are the property of the Musgraves, heroes of in

numerable ballads, who have held property there since the time of Henry VI., and were distinguished during the reign of William the Conqueror, with whom they came over from Normandy. In the mansion an old drinking glass, enameled in colors, called THE LUCK OF EDEN HALL, is preserved with the greatest care. The letters I. H. S. on the top, point out the sacred use from which it has been perverted; but tradition affirms it to have been seized from a company of fairies who were sporting near a spring in a garden called St. Cuthbert's Well; and, after an ineffectual struggle to recover it, vanished into thin air, saying:

"If that glass do break or fall,
Farewell the Luck of Eden Hall."

In the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," we find the subject thus referred to:

"The martial spirit of our ancestors led them to defy these aerial warriors; and it is still currently believed that he who has courage to rush upon a fairy festival, and snatch from them their drinking cup or horn, shall find it prove to him a cornucopia of good fortune, if he can bear it in safety across a running stream. Such a horn is said to have been

presented to Henry I. by a lord of Colchester."

The goblet took a name from the prophecy, under which it is mentioned in the burlesque ballad, commonly attributed to the Duke of Wharton, but in reality composed by Lloyd, one of his jovial companions. The duke, after taking a draught, had nearly terminated "The Luck of Eden Hall," had not the butler caught the cup in a napkin as it dropped from his grace's hand. It is not now subjected to such risks, but the lees of wine are still apparent at the bottom.

ON Eden's wild romantic bowers,

The summer moonbeams sweetly fall,
And tint with yellow light the towers,
The stately towers of Eden Hall.

There, lonely in the deepening night,
A lady at her lattice sits,
And trims her taper's wavering light,
And tunes her idle lute by fits.

But little can her idle lute

Beguile the weary moments now; And little seems the lay to suit

Her wistful eye and anxious brow.

For, as the chord her finger sweeps,

Ofttimes she checks her simple song, To chide the forward chance that keeps

Lord Musgrave from her arms so long;

And listens, as the wind sweeps by,
His steed's familiar step to hear;
Peace, beating heart! 'twas but the cry
And footfall of the distant deer.

In, lady, to thy bower; fast weep
The chill dews on thy cheek so pale;
Thy cherish'd hero lies asleep;

Asleep in distant Russendale!

The noon was sultry, long the chase; And when the wild stag stood at bay, BURBEK reflected from its face

The purple lights of dying day.

Through many a dale must Musgrave hie;
Up many a hill his courser strain,
Ere he behold, with gladsome eye,

His verdant bowers and halls again.

But twilight deepens; o'er the wolds
The yellow moonbeam rising plays,
And now the haunted forest holds

The wanderer in its bosky maze.

No ready vassal rides in sight;

He blows his bugle, but the call Roused echo mocks; farewell to-night, The homefelt joys of Eden Hall!

His steed he to an alder ties,

His limbs he on the greensward flings;

And, tired and languid, to his eyes
Woos sorceress slumber's balmy wings.

A prayer, a sigh, in murmurs faint,
He whispers to the passing air;
The Ave to his patron saint,

The sigh was to his lady fair.

'Twas well that in that elfin wood

He breathed the supplicating charm, Which binds the guardians of the good To shield from all unearthly harm. Scarce had the night's pale lady stay'd Her chariot o'er th' accustom'd oak, Than murmurs in the mystic shade

The slumberer from his trance awoke.

Stiff stood his courser's mane with dread;

His crouching greyhound whined with fear;

And quaked the wild-fern round his

head,

As though some passing ghost were

near.

Yet calmly shone the moonshine pale On glade and hillock, flower and tree;

And sweet the gurgling nightingale

Pour'd forth her music, wild and free.

Sudden her notes fall hush'd, and near Flutes breathe, horns warble, bridles ring;

And, in gay cavalcade, appear

The fairies round their fairy king.

Twelve hundred elfin knights and more Were there, in silk and steel array'd; And each a ruby helmet wore,

And each a diamond lance display'd.

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And some wore masks, and some wore

hoods,

Some turbans rich, some ouches rare; And some sweet woodbine from the woods,

To bind their undulating hair.

With all gay tints the darksome shade
Grew florid as they pass'd along,
And not a sound their bridles made
But tuned itself to elfin song.

Their steeds they quit; the knights ad

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vance,

And in quaint order, one by one,
Each leads his lady forth to dance;
The timbrels sound; the charm's
begun.

Where'er they trip, where'er they tread,
A daisy or a blue-bell springs;
And not a dew-drop shines o'erhead,

But falls within their charméd rings.

"The dance lead up, the dance lead down,

The dance lead round our favorite tree;

If now one lady wears a frown,

A false and froward shrew is she!

"There's not a smile we fays let fall

But swells the tide of human bliss; And if good luck attends our call,

"Tis done on such sweet night as this.

"The dance lead up, the dance lead down,

The dance lead round our favorite tree;

If now even Oberon wears a frown,

A false and froward churl is he!"

Thus sing the fays; Lord Musgrave hears Their shrill sweet song, and eager

eyes

The radiant show, despite the fears
That to his bounding bosom rise.

But soft; the minstrelsy declines;

The morris ceases; sound the shaums! And quick, while many a taper shines, The heralds rank their airy swarms.

Titania waves her crystal wand;

And underneath the greenwood bower, Tables, and urns, and goblets stand, Metheglin, nectar, fruit, and flower.

"To banquet, ho!" the seneschals

Bid the brisk tribes, that, thick as
bees,

At sound of cymbals, to their calls
Consort beneath the leafy trees.

Titania by her king, each knight

Beside his ladye love; the page Behind his 'scutcheon'd lord, a bright Equipment on a brilliant stage!

The monarch sits; all helms are doff'd, Plumes, scarfs, and mantles cast aside; And, to the sound of music soft,

They ply their cups with mickle pride.

Or sparkling mead, or spangling dew,
Or livelier hypocras they sip;
And strawberries red, and mulberries blue,
Refresh each elf's luxurious lip.

With "nod, and beck, and wreathéd smile,"

They heap their jewel'd patines high;
Nor want their mirthful airs the while
To crown the festive revelry.

A minstrel dwarf, in silk array'd,
Lay on a mossy bank, o'er which
The wild thyme wove its fragrant braid,
The violet spread its perfume rich;

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