for four days continued to follow the course
of the river; only advancing, however, seven
miles in that time. On the fourth day,
some Mahratta horsemen swooped down
on him, and bore him off to their chief,
the Nalputty Rajah, whose fort was close
by. The rajah, just starting for the field,
left Bristowe with his son, who sent a
native doctor to heal his wounded feet. On
the rajah's return, Bristowe told him who he
was, and pretended to consent to enter into
his service. Having inspired the people at
the fort with confidence in him, the next
night he walked straight to a place where
the river was about two hundred yards
broad, plunged in, swam across, and made
for Jopaul, which was about twenty-four
miles to the south-east. Having money
with him, obtained from his allowance of
rice, which he had sold, he bought food at
the villages he passed, and next day was
picked up by some of the Nizam's people
and sent on an elephant to Monberjung's
camp. Here he was put under guard, as a
Frenchman sent by Tippoo to succour the
fort. Desiring to be taken before the
English commander, that gentleman, Captain
Dalrymple, on learning the poor man's
story, instantly ordered him clothes and
money, and congratulated him on his
escape.

Bristowe was sent to the Nizam's court,
whence Captain Kennaway, the English
resident, sent him on to Condapilly.
Bristowe there expressing his wish to join the
grand army, fight against Tippoo, and
furnish information respecting the batteries at
Seringapatam, letters of introduction were
given him to Lord Cornwallis, and Colonel
Murray. The military auditor-general, pitying
the man, exerted himself successfully to
recover for him full arrears of pay for the
whole ten dreary years of his suffering and
imprisonment.

BLIND LEADERS OF THE BLIND.

THE mind of a blind man thrown back
upon itself, must, it would seem, inevitably
fall into a state of despondency pitiable in
the extreme; yet although it is impossible
to exaggerate the calamity of blindness,
experience teaches us that this, as a rule,
is not the case. The writer (who is himself
blind) would have no hesitation in deciding
which misfortune would be the greater, loss
of hearing or loss of sight. It would be too
tedious accurately to explain why it is easier
to live in darkness than in silence. No
matter whether blindness has come on in
middle age, or later in life, or whether it
began in the cradle (for few children are
absolutely born blind), it is indisputable
that the sightless are by no means
hopelessly cast down by their calamity. Many
a blind man is, in reality, a far less
helpless, and far more useful, member of
society, than hosts of people who have all
their faculties about them. It is true, that
he requires a great deal of assistance,
and that in many things he is very
dependent on others: yet, are we not all of
us more or less dependent one upon the
other? Is any one quite in a position to
say that he could do without the aid of his
fellow-creatures?

But a grave doubt is beginning to be
felt, whether the blind receive not only as
much sympathy as their affliction demands,
and as the sympathy (if it is consulted)
of the whole sighted world is ready to
give them, but as much as could be afforded
them, if a proper organisation for the
purpose were in force. We do not mean by
this to suggest that the existing charities
for the relief of the blind are insufficient,
or that the succour they afford to corporeal
necessities is inadequate; nor do we mean
to hint that philanthropy is not ever active
amongst these sufferers; but what we do
mean to say is, that comparatively little
sound and reasonable aid is afforded towards
the mental cultivation and training of the
blind, with reference to what might be done,
and is to a great extent already done on
the Continent.

The chief reason for this would seem to
be in the antagonism now existing among
the various systems for educating the blind.
Instead of one comprehensive plan for
teaching even the elements of learning,
we have half-a-dozen schools within a few
miles of one another, in each of which not
only are wholly different modes of
instruction adopted, but absolutely wholly
different alphabets used: so that if a blind
lad be taught to read, say, in the neighbourhood
of Hampstead, he will find that a
book lent him by a companion in
misfortune, who has been brought up in
Camberwell, will be perfectly useless to him.
The confusion arising from want of
uniformity in the characters used by the
blind for the purpose of reading by touch,
is the cause of the difficulty, and there
can be little hope of amendment, until it
is acknowledged, and steps are taken to
rectify it.

If the ability to read be essential to the