"Campbell and I have too many children to be able to afford to travel first," he said.
"Have you a large family, doctor?" asked one of his friends in surprise.
"Yes," he answered, "our English family alone numbers about 32,000, and they have relatives in all parts of the world."
The moral was plain. The few shillings Dr. Armitage and his colleague were saving, were destined to assist the work of amelioration, and the gentlemen paid them a chivalrous and graceful compliment by exchanging their tickets and travelling in the same compartment with the two benefactors and servants of blind humanity.
THE LATE DR. ARMITAGE.
To such self-denying spirits as these is England indebted for the institution which forms the subject of this paper. The régime adopted by Dr. Campbell—who by the way it should be said is an American—was flat rebellion against the systems previously in vogue, and still maintained by other bodies. Dr. Campbell's belief in physical training amounts to a religion. He does everything with reference to it and it alone. A quarter of a century ago he himself was to have died of consumption, but what did he do? Quietly sit down and wait for the end to come? No; blind as he was, he took the boat to Europe and climbed Mont Blanc. There are a good many thousands in the world who would like to have the health he enjoys to-day. What physical exercise has done for him, he believes it will invariably do for his pupils. Determination to conquer obstacles is the only thing which will make a two-legged creature a man or woman, he says; determination is only possible to a vigorous and healthy mind; a vigorous and healthy mind can only come of a vigorous and healthy body; and a man who has not been trained physically, is, to Dr. Campbell, an engine without motive power. The outcome of the adoption of such ideas is that the blind boys and girls at the Normal College, like Dr. Campbell himself, are selfreliant, cheerful, and healthy, and seen trotting about the beautiful grounds of the College, no one would ever think they are sightless. The manner in which Dr. Campbell leads the way from his house to any part of the grounds is somewhat disquieting to those who do not know him. He walks without stick, and without stumbling, and runs up and down flights of steps without troubling even to grasp the rail at the side. How can he tell when he reaches a corner or the top of a flight of steps, to tumble down which would be to break his neck? He learns where he is by the most ingenious contrivance imaginable. Wherever there is a turning, or an obstacle, or a step which might prove a source of danger or embarrassment, the asphalted pathway is slightly raised. It is high enough to prevent one's stepping over it without noticing it; it is too low to cause one to catch one's toe and trip up. Hence, it is only necessary for the blind promenader to keep his or her wits moderately alive to be able to go wherever he or she pleases in perfect ease and safety.
The Armitage Gymnasium, which we visit first, is declared by an expert to be one of the most complete he has ever seen. Lads of all ages are going through every form of exercise; here two or three are vaulting the horse with a neatness incredible almost to those who have not seen it; there another is working his way along the parallel bars; here one stretches himself at length on the long incline, a machine used for pulling up one's own weight, for strengthening the muscles and broadening the chest; there another turns a nautical wheel or is doing a mile or two on a home trainer. This last is calculated to inspire more enthusiasm among the lads than any other athletic or gymnastic feat. Ordinary home trainers, of course, have a dial which indicates the distance ridden. In order that his boys, even in such a matter, should be made as independent of other people's eyes, as it is the object of the school to make them in all details of life, Dr. Campbell has had fitted to the machine a bell which strikes at the completion of every quarter of a mile. How this broad-shouldered, strong-limbed lad astride it works away with might and main, bent, apparently, on making a record; how keenly he enjoys the effort, and how utterly and happily oblivious he seems of the fact that he is not as the majority of his fellows are!
RINKING.