deep blue lake-the snow-capped mountain-the spring's fresh green around your home-must live in your memory alone, for their beauty will be shut out from you for ever! With the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased.* The operation submitted to by Hüber was unsuccessful, and he returned to Geneva totally blind! Now, in sketching the character of Palissy the Potter; Brindley the Canal Excavator; Tyndale the Martyr, and others, we have seen how, when men are determined to do well anything they once undertake -when they have a keen sense that what is done at all must be done well-poverty, want of education, and even circumstance may be made to bend to their will, by bringing the whole energy of their minds to inaster these various obstacles. Material difficulties need be no impediment either to fame, or to a man's being of some use to his fellow-creatures, if he can only aid his genius by perseverance and hard work. Nay, in many instances, all oppositions themselves have been made by genius and determination to aid in the attainment of the desired object. But when an impediment to success, or doing one's best in any * Milton. particular line, springs forth from a visitation of heaven, such as sudden deafness, or the loss of sight, reducing the physical power far below the mental capabilities, our highest admiration must be given to those men, who, accepting their loss with cheerfulness, yet humbly hope that in their sphere there is some path of usefulness still open to them. The loss of sight seems so frequently compensated for by an exquisite appreciation of sound, that we can understand the refuge a blind man takes in music, and the soothing influence sweet harmony' has upon him in his affliction. Homer, Milton, and many others, are instances that even where no inspiration can be gathered from Nature's smiles or frowns, there can still be blind poets of the very noblest order. The time afforded for reflection, and the repose necessarily attendant upon loss of sight, may do something to make a blind man a deep thinker and philosopher. But when natural science forms the study and bias of a man's mind, when our discovery and success depend upon observation and experiment, it is difficult to conceive how such a terrible obstacle, as a loss of sight, can be surmounted so as to bring about any satisfactory results. And yet Francis Hüber, totally blind from the age of seventeen, was one of the most distinguished naturalists of the last century, and in spite of his affliction, made some of the most important apiarian discoveries that have yet been given to the world. 'Nothing,' says De Candolle, of any importance has been added to the history of bees since his time; and naturalists of unimpaired vision have nothing of consequence to subjoin to the observations of a brother who was deprived of sight.' In Hüber's book, 'Nouvelles Observations sur les Abeilles,' written in the form of letters to his early friend Bonnet, he has given a most entertaining and interesting account of his various experiments in investigating the whole history of the Honey Bee. His memory had been early stored by all that had been already written on the subject of bees. But the information of others could not satisfy his active mind unless verified by himself. Undaunted by the circumstance of his blindness, and the knowledge that the result of observations must be shown at second hand, Hüber began, on his return from Paris, to make experiment after experiment, until the whole history, habits, and economy of a well-populated hive were satisfactorily and fully ascertained. The anatomy of this wonderful creature-its senses; its functions-either as queen, worker, male, or drone; its government, architecture, swarming, food, and even its enemies, all came under his most minute enquiry and strictest investigation. The conclusions he arrived at have seldom been found to err, and the inferences drawn by him from his observations are as logical as they are convincing. His patience and courage kindled similar enthusiasm in the partner of his toils-the rough peasant lad, whom he had taken into his house as servant, and without whose aid he could scarcely have left such interesting results to the world. Under Hüber's instructions, Francis Burnens proved a most efficient assistant, and, like his master, seems to have been rewarded by the increasing affection with which his favourites inspired him. Beaucoup de gens aiment les abeilles,' says 6 an enthusiastic author, 'je n'ai vu personne qui les aima médiocrement; on se passionne pour elles.' Hüber, too, had soon his wife to aid and encourage him. The gentle Marie Aimée had shown firmness as well as sweetness of character. When Hüber returned to his native place totally blind, she no longer hesitated as to the course it was her duty as well as her delight to follow. Against her parents' will she married Francis. She knew she had become more necessary to him than ever, after his total loss of sight. She could be his 'very eyes.' If he might never again see her smile, her voice, at least, should have its sweetest music for his ear. For his sake, she would become painter and poet. The beauties of the land in which they lived, the varieties of light and shade over a landscape he had loved to look upon, were graphically brought before his mind's eye by her descriptions. When she painted sunshine, it was brighter than all else to him; when she spoke of the whirlwind and the storm, he saw them in all their terrible grandeur. Procuring a good magnifying glass, she would lead him into the garden, and then, with wonderful accuracy, bring before him all the doings of the busy inhabitants of the hive, never stirring as long as he had patience to listen, and ever sharing his anxiety for the success of each succeeding experiment. To divert his mind from his scientific labours, and to prevent him feeling shut out from the interests of his kind, and all that was stirring in the world around him, she had books and newspapers to read to him. The accounts of the war, then raging in Europe, were all poured into his eager ear; and by the simple agency of a paper of pins, stuck into a map, she made him thoroughly acquainted with the disposition of the troops on either side. Plans in relief she would also make of all the towns they visited, in order that he might learn by the touch, what other people could see. Nor was this all; her love could not bear that he should be shut out from sympathy and communion with his fellow-men. Her ready invention, therefore, discovered a new method of writing, and thus supplied him with endless recreation for the mind. Surely, she was successful in the art of doing her best to make the being whom she loved most a happy and useful member of society! And, as long as his name for science and learning shall live, hers will go side by side with it, for its womanly attributes of affection and devotion. Well may the blind naturalist have said, 'As long as she lived I was not sensible of the misfortune of being blind.' For forty years she was spared to him; but he was unhappy enough to survive the wife, who, to him, he declared, 'was always young, fresh, and pretty, which is no light matter.' When Hüber lost his wife, his old age was soothed and cheered by his daughter, Madame de Moline, with whom he went to reside at Lausanne. His fondest hopes, for perpetuating a name for scientific acquirement had been fully realised in the distinction gained by his son, P. Hüber, in the same line of study as his own. The Researches concerning the Habits of Ants,' written by him, is both a valuable and entertaining work to all lovers of natural history; and when the services of Francis Burnens, Hüber's servant and assistant, could no longer be had, the filial cooperation of Hüber's son in his experiments |