LETTERS TO THE EDITOR,
THE LATE MR. G. P. BIDDER.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR.")
Sin,—The remarkable account of the late Mr. G. P. Bidder in a recent Spectator has brought to my recollection two inter- views I had with him when he was a little boy. In the autumn of the year 1814, I was reading with a private tutor, the Curate of Wellington, Somersetshire, when a Mr. Bidder called upon him to exhibit the calculating power of his little boy, then about -eight years old, who could neither read nor write. On this occa- sion he displayed great facility in the mental handling of numbers, multiplying readily and correctly two figures by two, but failing in attempting numbers of three figures. My tutor, a Cambridge man, Fellow of his college, strongly recommended the father not to carry his son about the country, but to have him properly trained at schooL This advice was not taken, for about two years after he was brought by his father to Cambridge, and his faculty of mental calculation tested by several able mathe- matical men. I was present at the examination, and began it 'with a sum in simple addition, two rows, with twelve figures in each row. The boy gave the correct answer immediately. Various questions, then, of considerable difficulty, involving large numbers, were proposed to him, all of which he answered promptly and accurately. These must have occupied more than an hour. There was then a pause. To test his memory, I then said to him, " Do you remember the sum in addition I gave you?" To my great surprise, he repeated the twenty-four figures, with only one or two mistakes. It is evident, therefore, that in the -course of two years his powers of memory and calculation must have been gradually developed. He could not explain the pro- cess by which he worked out long and intricate sums. He did not appear at all overworked. As soon as a question was answered, he amused himself with whipping a top round the room, and when the examination was over, he said to us, "You have been trying to puzzle me, I will try to puzzle you. A man found thirteen cats in his garden. He got out his gun, fired at them, and killed seven. How many were left?" "Six," was the -answer. " Wrong," he said,—" none were left. The rest ran away." I mention this to show that be was a cheerful and play- ful boy when he was about ten years old, and that his brain was not overtaxed. Some of your readers may be amused by these
reminiscences of an octogenarian.—I am, Sir, &c., N.
Previous page
