SOLACE TO THE BLIND

Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 10, 23 September 1927, Page 6

SOLACE TO THE BLIND

I know of a quiet spot away in the country, where there is a low rambling wooden house, set in what was once a well-kept garden. A long winding.

we drive leads up to it, through a fir plans tation. . In the long, low sitting room with its beamed ceiling, a big log fire burns cheerily on.the hearth. Outside, darkness has already fallen, but to the inan of whom I am thinking darkness makes no difference at all. He sits patiently weaving a basket, his nimble, sensitive fingers following the pattern. It is nearly eleven years since he learned to count the number of steps to the gate. How it happened is all old stuff now, and most people have forgotten the boy who used to make such. a noise at the piano and led | the choruses with such gusto, He never gets into town now, the roads are too muddy all the winter; and any way the traffic is a bit dangerous for a man who has to listen, listen, all the time. | But he is kept cheery and gets music, too, when he wants it, sitting there in the dusk, and his thoughts are kept from brooding too long over the past. No one can guess exactly how much his wireless set means to our blind friend. :