ble,
taking up stenography as an occupation.

[Illustration: The Boot-Repairing Workshop]

Men--men who could not see as did other men, were doing these things;
straightway, the old street corner, the selling of matches and
shoelaces, the street strolling singing in a cracked voice while
twanging some tuneless instrument, vanished. Other men had risen above
this crowning infirmity; why could not I. Boulogne and this meeting
with Captain Towse had saved me. Gloom vanished, for the moment at any
rate, and my whole being was animated by a great resolve--the resolve to
win in the battle of life, even though I had to fight against fearful
odds.

CHAPTER II

IN BLIGHTY

It was with a sense of relief that, shortly after this, I received word
that I was to be sent to England. To me, it was the promised land, in
which I was to be fitted to take my place as a useful, independent
member of society. The trip to Dover was pleasant and exhilarating; the
run to London a bit tedious. But an incident that occurred on my arrival
at Charing Cross Station touched my heart as has nothing else in my
life, and my misfortune seemed, for the moment, almost a blessing; it
taught me that hearts beat right and true, and that about me were men
and women eager to cheer me on as I played the game of life.

It was just one of London's flower-girls, one of the women who
religiously meet the hospital trains and shower on the wounded soldiers
the flowers they have not sold--flowers, no doubt, held back from sale
in most cases for this charitable purpose. When the attendants were
moving me from the train and placing me on a stretcher, I was gently
touched, and a large bunch of roses placed in my hand. The act was
accompanied by the words: "'Ere ye are, Tommy. These 'ere roses will
'elp to liven things up a bit when yer gets in the 'ospital. Good luck
to you, matey; may yer soon get better." The voice was harsh and
unmusical. Grammar and accent showed that it had been trained in the
slums; but the kindly act, the sympathetic words, touched my soul.

The act was much to me, but the flowers were nothing. In answer to the
girl's good wishes, I replied that I did not see as well as I used to,
and that my power of enjoying the perfume of flowers had also been taken
from me; perhaps there were some other wounded boys who could appreciate
the beauty and scent of the flowers better than I could, and she had
better put them on one of their stretche