his normal
attitude, realize that much good work may yet be done, and that others
have blazed a trail which he may follow, if he will. But if his family
and friends feel that, because eyesight is lost, all is lost, and tell
him that, because of his affliction he can do nothing, he will do
nothing. But if they tell him he has a handicap, and that they will help
him to work it off, all his fighting blood will come to the rescue, and
he will say, with Emerson, "the king is the man who can." I give this
sentence to all my pupils, and their spirit leaps to the call, and,
holding to my hand for the first few, uncertain steps, trusting in my
assurance that very soon they will find their way along this new path,
the bent shoulders straighten, the bowed head is lifted, the darkness is
dispelled by the light of purpose, soul sight replaces physical sight,
and the pupil is ready to face life again, undaunted and unafraid. What
a wonderful privilege, what a rare opportunity for service, to the
teacher alive to the possibilities of her unique position! "When the
song goes out of your life, you can not start another while it is
ringing in your ears; but let a bit of a silence fall, and then, maybe,
a psalm will come, by and by." To live by a song is all very beautiful
and wonderful, but to live by a psalm is braver and worthier. And, in
the case of the blind adult, the readjustment period may be called the
interim between the song and the psalm.

During these trying months, the blind adult should not be left alone, to
fight his way "out of darkness, through blood, into light." He should
have immediate and competent care at the hands of one who is familiar
with his needs, and familiar, too, with the possibilities of his altered
condition. An occupation, however light, is an absolute necessity.
Enforced idleness is an added affliction, and one not easily borne. The
government realizes this fact, and its program for the blinded soldier
includes many forms of handcraft, to be taught in the hospitals. Netting
is taught, and the soldiers are encouraged to whittle. I was glad to see
this latter occupation included in the "first aid" program, as I have
recommended it for many years. When a man whittles, he whistles, maybe
not just at first, but some day, almost before he realizes it, he finds
himself whistling, and he is then well on the road toward a sane
acceptance of the new conditions. I have found whittling to be as
soothing to masculin