THE LITE OF THE BLINDED SOLDIER.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 211, 22 September 1916, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE LITE OF THE BLINDED SOLDIER.

HIS PROGRESS IX LEARNING TO WORK AND TO PLAY. By SIR ARTHUR PEARSON. People who visit St. Dunstan's. Regent's Park, London, N.W.. where men who have lost their sight in the war are being taught to be blind, are always particularly struck by two things. One of these is the cheerful spirit which pervades the place, the other th« facility with winch the newly-blinded men .among whom are several Canadians, Australians and New Zealanders. acquire 'proficiency in the occupations they learn. It is no exaggeration to say that the only dejected people at St. Dunstan's are visitors, many of whom arrive with woe-begone countenances, evidently expecting to find a collection of dejected and miserable men calling for thentearful sympathy. Some visitors seem almost hurt to discover that there is n.' morbid dejection at St. Dunstan's. Th :• blind men there form as cheery a community as any to be found in tha world. Kindly sympathisers are far too apt to view blindness only in the Ugh. of a very pitiable affliction. This idea is not permitted to permeate St. Dunstan's at all. The men who come ther* are at once made to realise that theiloss of sight is merely a handicap which can be overcome to a surprising degrep if it is faced with courage and resolution. Patient resignation has far too long been regarded by people who can sec as the one essential attribute of those who can not. To a point it is good to be patiently resigned to blind ness or whatever otner blow the fates may deal, but in my opinion courage, fortitude and determination to over come the handicap which has been placed upon one are qualities of far greater import to the sightless. And so, in place of dejected introspection. St. Dunstan's is filled with a fine spirit of pluck and resoluton. The men there in very truth show courage of a higher order than that which the bravest of them displayed when engaged in the war whicn deprived them of the most precious sense of sight I am dictating these words in a secluded corner of the beautiful grounds of St. Dunstan's. The men have just finished their work in the class-rooms devoted to the teaching of Braille and typewriting, in the workshops, and on the poultry farm. I hear their merry laughter as they find their way back to the house to meet friends and relatives who are to take them out for a brisk walk or a row on the lake in Regent's Park. I hear the sounds of piano, mandoline, guitar, and concertina, for this is the hour at which music lessons are given in different parts of the place. High above the other sounds come the clear notes of a clarion, playing "The Sunshine of Your Smile" with a taste and accuracy which makes it difficult to real'se that the blind boy who is blowing out the notes had never attempted to play any musical instrument until three weeks ago.

And I remember that on the back of the chair on which I am sitting are written these words :

"The kiss of the sun for paidon, The song of the bird's for mirth. One is nearer God's heart in a garden Than anywhere else on earth."

And this same cheery, optimistic spirit is just as evident in the work of St Dunstan's as it is during play t : me. The workshops resound, not only with the hammer of the cobbler, but with whist ling and vocal choruses. The work is nil the better learned because It la learned in the cheeriest possible spirit Joiners who are learning to make tea-trays and picture frames, corner cupboards, and ornamental tables, to say nothing of solid useful articles like rabbit hutches and ammunition boxes ga ; n the mastery of unfamiliar tools in a manner that surprises themselves even more than those who see them at their work. The mat-makers learn with amazing rapidity to fashion mats which will serve to polish the soles which the cobblers are putting on to well-worn boots and shoes. Basketry of all sorts, from delicate fancy baskets to solid hampers, grow under tiie deft fingers of the weavers in a manner which forms a constant source oi winder to visitors who have been for years witnesses of the work of blind operatives.

And there is .1 secret which accounts for all this perfection and rapidity It lies in the employment of the hind' teacher. To the newly blinded man all handicraft seems hopelessly out of reach. It is very well for one who can see to say to him that he must do this and that and the other; he does not believe that the exponent understands his difficulties. But when a blind man, who himself can do the work which he is to learn, tells him what to do and how to do it. ha believes that man. for lie realises that his methods of teach ing are the result of his own experience And even more important than the blind teacher is the blind pupil teacher for men who have become expert at the various trades teach beginners to follow in the : r footsteps. It is difficult to imagine anything which would put bet ter heart into a newly blinded man making his first fumbling efforts to achieve some piece of work than to rind taht his teacher is one who himself wa , blinded only a few months ago. In the meadows outside the men who are learning to manage poultry farms and market gardens move about among the hen-houses and garden plots with a freedom and ease which render visitors sceptical as to their blindness. This occupation, which to the unitiated must seem an almost imposs : ble one for 1 blind man to follow successfully, does not in reality present any difficulties which cannot Ix 1 overcome by an intelligent and persevering pupil. It is an ideal form of employment for a blind man who wishes to live in the country particularly when combined with a knowledge of joinery, basket-making. or mat-making with which to till up spare time. In one of the class rooms the preliminary stages of massage are being feii lowed by an attentive and intelligent 'lass. Sets of bones are handled, and an exact knowledge of the position and function of each in the human body is mastered. As pupils become proficient in anatomy and National Institute for the Blind, where tbjere is every convenience and facility for the acquisition if this the best of all occupations for blind people. Telephone operating is also taught at the National Institute. It is another of the apparently mysterious accomplishments of the blind which in realitv is surprisingly easy for them to acquire.

Sonic of the blinded soldiers learned to become proficient divers, and who has passed through the training course is at present occupied in salving operations on a ship which was torpedoed by a German submarine off the South Const of England. All divers work in the dark, and, obviously a man whose whole life is spent thus is apt to prove more proficient than a man who finds that his work places him runacrustomed surroundings. I havo left myself little space in whic'i to write of the way in which men learn to road with their finger t : ps, in which they master thf intricacies of the ordin-

ary typewrit€r r andJnwhich thev gain n knowledge of note-taking in IJ!S9Se~%n iiciomplshment which seems roally marvellous, ev,on to me.

I could fill columns with descriptions of the dances at St. Dunstan's the domino tournaments, the chess matches, the games of cards, and the debates ■which occupy the happy evenings. So, too, could I write on and on about the rowing, the swimming, the tugs-o-war, the walking races, and the many other sports and pastimes in which the blinded soldiers take the keenest interest and find the keenest enjoyment. These, brief notes can only convey a very sketchy idea of the well and happily occupied lives of the men who are barn:ng to be blind. I hope that those who read them may feel a thrill of jov to think that the soldiers who so gallantly faced the enemy abroad are facing another enemy with just as high a gallantry, and are defeating the sombre spectre of blindness as thoroughly and effectually as their comrade* who are still in the field will defeat the German hordes.

Contributions in aid of the training and particularly the Aftcr-eare of t>lmd'ed soldiers and sailors, will be gratefully received. They should be sent to me, or to the Secretarv. St. Dunstan's Regent's Park, London! England