HOW A BLIND MAN MAKES UP FOR THE LOSS OF HIS EYES.

Otago Witness, Issue 1900, 3 July 1890, Page 36

HOW A BLIND MAN MAKES UP FOR THE LOSS OF HIS EYES.

11 1 would much rather be blind than deaf and dumb. I can't, as you say, see the treei and flowers, but I oan talk, listen, and enjoy music ; and I don't feel the want of a faculty I don't remember having." So spoke the blind man, whose experiences' the writer thought would be interesting. " I was born at Knaresborough,'' he continued, and because I was ohiistened 'John* I am called 'Blind Jack,' but 1 am no relation to the real and original 'Blind Jack of Knaresborough. 1 I hope nobody will tell as many fibs about me as have been told about my namesake. I couldn't build a bridge to save my life nor make a road." [In parentheses it may be observed that the real and original "Blind Jack of Knareßborough " is stated to have been a bridge and road contractor, and is credited with feats far too wonderful and numerous for a sober and credible article.] "I wasn't born blind," Blind Jack went on ; "my misfortune happened when I was about three years old. A little sister took a red-hot poker from the fire. I tried to get it, and the point struck me in the right eye, completely destroying the sight. 11 Three months afterwards I lost the fight of the other eye, since when all has been dark. I don't remember daylight, nor the form nor colour of anything. At six I could find my way about Knaresborough almost as well as if I had my sight. At nine I was sent to the Blind Institution at York, where I consider my life began. At York they taught us blind boys and girls the three R's, music, and basket-making. We learned to read with raised type books ; our writing was a kind of composing ; our aritbmetic mostly mental. For recreation we had skittles and other games. Of course we were up to all manner of larks. Boys will be boys, you know, and blindness doesn't alter boy nature. We did many things you wouldn't expect blindj boys gto do. PorJ instance : we caught birds in traps made of four bricks and two bits of wood ; we climbed trees for rooks' eggs, and played no end ef tricks on the new comers — made them French beds, and that sort of thing. The morning bell rang at 6 a.m. , and if we were not down by 6.30 we were locked in our bedrooms until 8.30, and got no breakfast. Now we didn't like that, so we made a sort of rope ladder with the bedcords, and let ourselves down out of the window. Of course one boy had to stay to draw the rope back, but we pocketed breakfast for him. And didn't we enjoy getting the better of the officials ! It wasn't found out for a long time, just because nobody imagined blinfl boys would do such a thing. Some of the boys were very nervous ; others would be all over the place before they had been there a week — sliding down the balustrades, mounting tables and chairs, and rushing about as boldly as if they had their eyesight. We sometimes led a nervous lad to the middle of the playground, and left him there to shout and scream until somebody took pity on him and led him to a wall. We questioned all new boys to see if we were likely to get any fun out of them, and sometimes we were taken in. I remember a new boy who felt very stupid— we couldn't see what he looked like—you know,— so I took trim in hand. X asked him if he could see »ny, • Aw. 1 he said, '*w cm tell when tt'u

"•Can you see anything else?' I asked. •Aw; aw can tell when it's dark,' he answered. He went on to tell us chat he would be 16 next potato time; that he could sing •JWild shepherds'; and that he 'just could ' run. 11 Toilet us know how he could run, he started off across the playground as if he knew every inch of it, and he had never been in it. We didn't try any tricks on him." " I suppose you were not allowed to wander far from the school ?." the writer inquired. — " No ; only at holiday times. I remember once going from Knaresboiough to Bradford when I was about 14. While there I thought I Wduld look up some of my schoolmates. I found four, and I had never been in Bradford until that day. I asked one if he knew the road to Leeds. He didn't, but he was ready to go, so off we started, and found our way there — about seven miles — and back. That wasn't so bad for two stone blind boys of 14. " After I left school I returned to Knaresborough, where I sold vegetables and sheet music, and collected maiine storeß ; rather a mixture, wasn't it? Anything to earn an honest living. Not that a blind boy can be dishonest— that is, not very. He can't very well turn burglar or pickpocket, however hard-up he may be. At 17 I was appointed organist of Tadcaster parish church. Of course the music had to be read or played over to me. Since then I have travelled about a great deal, playing an accordion and singing at publio nouses and elsewhere. Occasionally I earn a trifle by telling yarns. "Was l ever robbed when on the road! No ; but it has been tried on many a time. I lost myself one day, and a man offered to put me right. He led me up an entry and wanted me to go into a house; thought I wouldn't know, I suppose. I shouted and he bolted. Another time a tramp stopped me on a lonely road, and said fi"e meant to have all I had about me. He didn't know I'd an Airedale terrier 'about me' jußt over the hedge. I whistled the pup, aad the chap sheered off, saying he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of a blind man. I buy and sell dogs, pigeons, rabbitß, poultry, or anything in that line, and fellows with dogs to sell or swop have tried to swindle me many a time, but they haven't been clever enough. " How do I tell breed and value ? By touch. I tell the age the same way. One day I met a man who fancied an Airedale terrier I had with me. He said he'd a grand young dog, and would give half a sovereign to swop. I told him to bring his dog. When it came.l put my hand over it. • It's got a strain of retriever in it,' said I. He said it hadn't ; it was a pure bred Airedale. 'Gammon,' said I; 'it's a oross between a retriever and an Airedale, and it favours the Airedale.' He wouldn't have it, but I made him bring it to a dealer who could see. •Jack's right,' said he; 'it'sacross'between an Airedale and a retriever.' Sometimes sharpers use the scissors on their dogs, or try to change them after the money has passed, but it won't work. I haven't been had yet that I know of. "You are right; a blind person's sensesand faculties are extraordinarily keen. A man I know, • Blind Bill ' they call him, can count the number of persons in an ordinarysized room by « clucking,' that is making a noise with his- tongue and the roof of his mouth. H« • olucks' round the room, and then tells you-how many are present. I do it; by rapping my stick on the floor. I can t explain'it. It's a faculty. Of course it's difference in the sound, but I can't just tell what. When 'Blind Bill' hears a carriage coming he can often tell you whose it is. It's 10 to 1 he's right if it belongs to a man in the neighbourhood. I once walked against him. •You idiot 1' we sang out, both in a breath, 'can't you see where you're going?' Then we laughed. Bo did the bystanders, " I once startled a man pretty considerably. He was with another who spoke to me and said ha was going my way. The other man didn't open his mouth, but I knew " 'Come alopg, Mr Jones,' I said.—' What 1 ' he cried ; • I haven't Bpoken. How did you know my name ? ' "•By your foot,' I said; I had heard his footsteps, and I knew him. Now lam as blind as a man can be ; I can'fc tell daylight from dark, but I know when there's an obstruction in my way— what it is, whether man, tree, cart, or horse, and how far distant. I tell by the difference in the sound of my own footsteps. When there's a noise or a the wind I can't tell so well.J I can't measure distance when the wind is blowing. The only thing I fear is a hole in the ground. I can't tell when the sewer men are at work unless I hear the picks. "I was once in a railway accident, and afterwards called as a witness for the company in an action for damages brought by a fellow passenger. I couldn't see the man wasn't hurt, but I knew he couldn't be.- I felt him directly afterwards, and I knew he was in no pain. Mr W , Q.C., was the plaintiff's counsel, and he started to bully me ; laughed and scoffed at the blind witness. " • Now, sir, just attend to me,' he began.— • All right, Mr W ,' said I, ' don't be in a hurry.' "That nettled him. He couldn't quite make out how I knew him. " ' Come, come,' he went on, ' I want no insolence. Did you see this accident?' — • No ; I heard and felt it.' " • You didn't see the plaintiff ? '— • Being blind, I didn't. I felthim.' " • What do you mean by you felt him ? ' he snapped.— 'Just this,' said I, as cool as possible: 'if I were to feel you I could tell whether you were well or ailing ; a gentleman or the other thing. My ears would assist me to distinguish in the latter case. I could also tell whether you were in a hot, bullying humour, or cool and considerate, but I shouldn't want to touch you to know that iust now.' « 'Stand down,' said Mr W-— ~, Q. 0., and I stood down, "Do I often go a long journey? Well, not ro often as when I was younger. I have many a lime walked from 15 to 20 miles and back, and neTer had to ask the way. I tire more easily now." With which remark the interview ended.