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APPENDIX.

The following account, taken from the 'Family Herald' of Nov. 19, 1864, strikingly shows how in Germany persons have been blinded for purposes of begging.

THE BLIND PRINCESS.

The blind young Princess of was lately presented to the Empress Eugénie at Schwalbach, and the utmost interest and sympathy were excited by her story. The lady is well known all over Germany, and her princely domain is visited every year by crowds of strangers.

The story of this young princess is perhaps the most touching romance of the nineteenth century. As a child she had been stolen from the gardens of the very château she now inhabits. A careless nurse, bent on her own enjoyment, had suffered her master's child to stray towards the river, and when, in answer to the frantic appeals and the search made in every direction, no signs of the infant's presence could be discovered, it was concluded she had fallen into the river and been drowned. The despair of the mother was beyond all description; but the idea of the child's death, accepted by all besides, was rejected entirely by her. When the death of the prince, her husband, had released her from the obligation to remain in the château, she set out upon a strange pilgrimage all over the Continent, fully convinced that she should find, one day or other, the object of her search. During the embassy of Prince Talleyrand she came to London, and was received by Queen Adelaide with the utmost kindness and sympathy. Soon afterwards she went to the south, still bent on finding her lost child.

One day, the carriage climbing slowly up one of the steep

hills in the neighbourhood of Lausanne, the bereaved mother was accosted by a beggar woman, holding by the hand a poor blind girl, for whom she was imploring alms. The girl looked gentle and sweet-tempered, resembling in no way the harsh vixen whom she called mother. The inmate of the carriage had fallen into a doze, and the woman bade the girl sing to arouse the lady. The song was a vulgar ditty belonging to the district, with no romance to ensure attention, yet it woke the lady, and she stopped the postilion while she questioned the girl as to her origin. The day and hour were come at last; every word uttered by the maiden confirmed the suspicion of identity. Memory was confused,-it had vanished with her sight; but by dint of threats and promises the woman was made to confess that she had purchased the girl when quite an infant from a beggar woman like herself, who owned to have deprived her of sight in order to excite compassion. The locality whence the child had been taken was proof sufficient of the truth.

The mother returned home with her poor blind child and devoted her whole life to the prospect of cure, as she had done before to that of discovery. But all attempts failed, and she then gave herself up entirely to the education of her helpless charge. In this she succeeded perfectly, and the princess is considered one of the most accomplished reciters of Uhland and Schiller in all Germany. Before dying, the fond mother reaped her reward in the marriage of her daughter with the young prince, her nephew, and this consolation is the greatest which could be felt by her friends. The young princess, on the visit to the Empress, recited, with the most exquisite clearness and pathos, two scenes from "Count Egmont" and "The Diver," while the imperial lady listened entranced, the large tears rolling down her cheeks as she gazed on the wreck which the wickedness and cupidity of man had made of one of the most beautiful works of God's creation.

Extracts from a poem by James Downing, who lost his sight from ophthalmia, while serving in Egypt, in 1801, as a private in the 20th Regiment of the Line, under Sir Ralph Abercrombie.

The following verses, although rude in composition, yet illustrate so well what must have been the feelings and position of many of those who lost their sight from Egyptian ophthalmia that it is thought desirable to insert them in this place.

The writer says:—

"Our able men were all employ'd,
Relieving every day,

The French from Alexandria,
That they might go to sea.

"The second day it was my lot,
Which burden was not hard,
To take the dinners to our men,
Who were that day on guard.

""Tis true the sun shone very hot,
The sand reflected white;
But I had not a single thought
That I should lose my sight.

“ As I drew near the city gates,
While viewing of the walls,
A blast of wind blew in my eyes,
Which seemed like burning coals.

"Immediately I felt a pain,

In one or both my eyes;
This very much discouraged me,
And filled me with surprise.

"That I should lose my eyesight now
Was much upon my mind,
As many of my countrymen
Had lately been struck blind.

“The water gushed from my eyes,

The inflammation strong,
The sun shone bright, so that I scarce
Could find my way along.

"When I arrived at the place,
The soldiers saw my state,

And wished that I might get relief
Before it was too late.

"But when I came again to camp,
My pain was very great,
One eye was swelled very much,
And in a constant heat.

“I waited on a surgeon then,

The nearest to that place,

But who, I since had cause to think,

Was ign'rant of my case.

"The doctor having view'd my case, Order'd me instantly

To go into the hospital,

With which I did comply.

"Five blisters I must have appli'd
About my head and eyes,
But what did more augment my pain,
The place so swarmed with flies.

"In order to afford relief

Experiments were tri'd,
Large poultices and likewise drops
Were frequently appli'd.

"But these prov'd ineffectual
My eyesight to restore,

And sometimes I had painful thoughts That I should see no more.

"Thus sev'ral days and weeks I spent,
Rack'd with distressing pain,
And scarcely thought it possible
I should my sense retain.

"Oft have I wish'd that some one would,

With pistol, sword, or knife, In order to relieve my pain, Cut short my wretched life.

"But blessed be the God of Love, Who did not at this time,