gravity, very well defended by such as had profited by his lectures.

It will be matter of surprise to many that a blind man should read lectures in optics, discourse on the nature of light and colours, explain the theory of vision, the effect of glasses, the phenomena of the rainbow, and other objects of sight: but if we consider that this science is altogether to be explained by lines, and subject to the rules of geometry, it will be easy to conceive that he might be a master of these subjects.

As Mr. Saunderson was instructing the University youth in the principles of Newtonian philosophy, it was not long before he became acquainted with its incomparable author, and enjoyed his frequent conversation concerning the more difficult parts of his works. Dr. Halley, Mr. De Moivre, and many of the most noted mathematicians in London, highly esteemed his friendship; and, in deference to his strong reason and judgment, frequently consulted him concerning their writings and designs.

Upon the removal of Mr. Whiston from his Professorship, Mr. Saunderson's mathematical merit was universally allowed to be so much superior to that of any competitor in the University, that an extraordinary step was taken in his favour, to qualify him with a degree, which the statutes require. Upon application made by the heads of colleges to the Duke of Somerset their Chancellor, together with the intercession of the Honourable Francis Robartes, Esq., a mandate was readily granted by the Queen, for conferring on him the degree of Master of Arts. Upon which he was chosen Lucasian Professor of the Mathematics in November, 1711. During this whole transaction Sir Isaac Newton interested himself very much in his favour.

At this time the ingenious Mr. Roger Cotes filled the Plumian chair of Astronomy and Experimental Philosophy; a man of great sweetness of temper, and engaged to Mr. Saunderson in the strictest friendship; of the same age, of the same genius and inclination to the mathematics; both approved and recommended to Professorships by Sir Isaac Newton. No University could ever at one time boast of

two so capable and so disposed to promote the study of philosophy among her pupils. Had they lived to more mature ages, mutually assisting and inspiring each other in the pursuit of knowledge, what glory might have accrued to our University, what advancement to science, from their united labours! But Mr. Cotes was hurried away by a fever in the flower of his age, having only time to compose a few pieces, as specimens of his extraordinary capacity, but of great value to the learned. And the life of Mr. Saunderson, though longer, was so devoted to lectures, that he now leaves to posterity as few monuments of his abilities.

The first performance of Mr. Saunderson, after he was seated in the chair, was an inauguration speech, made in very elegant Latin, and a style truly Ciceronian : it was delivered with such just elocution, and in a manner so graceful, as to gain him the universal applause of his audience. In it he first returned his thanks to Her Majesty for the royal mandate, to the Chancellor for his ready application to the Queen, and to the electors and the rest of his friends for their good opinion of his abilities and mathematical knowledge. To these he added a long and noble encomium on the mathematics, showing the excellence and advantage of this above every other method of reasoning.

From this time he applied himself closely to the reading of lectures, and gave up his whole time to his pupils: so that his friends soon lost all the pleasure of his conversation. He continued among the gentlemen of Christ's College till the year 1723, when he took a house in Cambridge, and soon after married a daughter of the Rev. Mr. William Dickons, Rector of Boxworth, in the county of Cambridge; by whom he had a son and a daughter.

In the year 1728, when His Majesty King George the Second honoured the University of Cambridge with a royal visit, he was pleased to signify his desire of seeing so remarkable a person. Accordingly, our Professor attended upon His Majesty in the Senate-house, and was there created Doctor of Laws by his royal favour.

Dr. Saunderson was naturally of a strong, healthy

constitution; but being too sedentary, and constantly confining himself to his house, he became at length a valetudinarian of a very scorbutic habit. For some years he frequently complained of a numbness in his limbs, which in the spring of the year 1739 ended in a mortification in his foot. His blood was in so ill a state that no art or medicines were able to stop its progress. He died the 19th of April, 1739, in the fifty-seventh year of his age; and lies buried, according to his last request, in the chancel at Boxworth.

(To be continued.)

EVENING COLLOQUIES:

BETWEEN A FATHER AND HIS CHILDREN.

Father. BEFORE we cast ourselves adrift on the almost boundless ocean of miscellaneous subjects, to which our conversations may refer, calling at every port that comes in our way, and from every port taking on board some addition to our cargo, let us fix on the principles which should guide all our inquiries, and govern all our decisions. One or two were laid down in our last conversation. True knowledge, we agreed, must refer to real existences, whether substances, or relations. This is its objective character. Subjectively, it must be seated in the understanding, and thus be distinguished from the mere recollection of verbal propositions.

Children. Thus far you led us before. What additional principle do you now suggest?

Father. That all our knowledge must be religious. I do not mean, confined to subjects which are religious in the stricter sense of the term; but that it be so connected with religious truth in all points where such connexion is natural and possible, that its own character may be religious, and that such, also, may be its whole influence, and all its tendencies.

Children. Do we understand you aright? Are you stating this as a rule which we ourselves, personally, should observe in our pursuit of knowledge? Or, are you putting it as

one of the conditions of knowledge, added to the two on which we before agreed? Father. Both. I would give you precept upon precept, line upon line," in reference to the necessity of pursuing all your studies religiously, if you wish to pursue them so as to obtain lasting benefit from them. Study furnishes no exception to the great rule so explicitly laid down in the Gospel, and by which all moral agents are required to govern themselves, "Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." But I do not confine my remark to the spirit in which knowledge should be sought. I say that knowledge itself, unless we would possess it in such mere fragments as can never be united in one comprehensive and magnificent system, must be essentially religious. In other words, as our ultimate design in seeking knowledge, as in taking food, is to be the glory of God, so our knowledge, in its own proper track, is to lead us to God.

Children. You speak as if you would make each separate line of knowledge a radius, leading, from whatever point in the circumference it is taken, directly to the centre, and terminating there.

Father. And that undoubtedly is my meaning. And a little explanation will show us that thus it must be ; will show us, in fact, that the knowledge which is not religious, is essentially imperfect.

Children. Is that demonstrable?

Father. It is; demonstrable both in regard to explication and proof. Just ask again, What is knowledge? what do you mean when you say, I know? what is the general, ordinary signification attached to the phrase?

Children. The analysis, thus limited, is not difficult. There is the object,—and there is the mental perception of it.

Father. Well, by what general term are the real objects of our knowledge usually described?

Children. Do you mean truth?

Father. Yes; this is one of the significations of the word. Take it, then, as expressing the object generally, as an algebraic letter expresses the sum, or quantity, or what

ever it may, without regard to its particular character. Knowledge and truth are now seen to be correlative terms. Truth, of course, exists independently of our perception of it; but it only becomes knowledge by being perceived. By the way, I use the term perception generally, as expressing the fact, that we do really know the object. But let us now look, not so mụch at the perception, as at its object. And here, as in mathematics, we must have our definitions, axioms, and postulates. We must assume something, or we can begin nothing. Now, in these our conversations, although it is possible that among the subjects which will come in our way, the argument in proof of the existence of God may be one, yet, I shall proceed with you, not as though we had already learned nothing, but as being satisfied that this Bible is indeed God's book. That God exists, and that we have, in the Scriptures, a divine revelation, are to be with us propositions holding the place of axioms. Somewhere we must begin. I assume this, that we are all satisfied to begin here. Of course you will not suppose that because I do not just now assign reasons for our belief, that therefore none can be assigned. We are not now arguing all subjects, but freely conversing about some. And, as we are satisfied in reference to the two propositions I have stated, we begin by recognising them as occupying, in all our discussions, the place of first principles. We converse, not as sceptics, but as Christian believers. My conclusions must always be supposed to rest upon this,-the truth of the Bible. Standing, then, upon this ground, a little examination will show you that all truth must have some relation to God; and that unless there be a knowledge of this, our knowledge of the truth itself must be essentially imperfect.

Children. You must show us this by specifying some instances.

Father. I have no objection. And I will endeavour to show, in each instance, that what is true of each particular which I adduce, is, and must be, true of every other. We shall thus arrive at our general conclusion, that all knowledge, if it be not essentially imperfect, must be religious.