fidence and independence. Once he has learned
these, he has won half his battle--a hard battle, how hard he alone
realizes. For my own part, my first two months of blindness, at least,
were Hell with a capital H. Let me illustrate what I mean by confidence
and independence.

Whilst at St. Dunstan's, I was, for some reason or other, given the job
on quite a few occasions of meeting men who were feeling rather harder
than was thought necessary the darkness that enveloped them. If a man
came in feeling that there was nothing in life for him now that he was
blind, I was given the task of cheering him up and showing him, if I
could--and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I did not often
fail--that this old world was not such a bad place, even if one's lights
were put out. One case stands out with prominence, and when I look back
at the results of my work after twelve months have passed, it is not
without a measure of pride.

One Saturday afternoon, a young Canadian came to the Bungalow. He was
talked to by both the Adjutant and the Matron, who did all in their
power to "buck" him up. They failed hopelessly, as the "kid" felt too
far gone; he just would not try to look at the bright side of life. Then
some one suggested that he be brought over to "Rawly." When we met, I
began our conversation with: "Well, kid, how are things?" He snapped
back: "For God's sake, another preacher!" It was somewhat of a
staggerer, but I had been through it all myself, and understood the
boy's feelings perfectly. In the darkness that sealed his eyes he was
forced to grope his way about stumblingly, usually with the help of a
guide. He had not yet gained confidence in his own powers. I straightway
determined to inspire him with that confidence.

In the first days of my sojourn at St. Dunstan's, I, for a time, felt
that never again should I be able to step out into the world except with
halting step and a horror of what might happen. The management of the
institution had constructed an elaborate system of gravel paths, along
which were wooden palings which would prevent the students losing their
way. A knob in these palings told of a turning; a plank served to warn
that we were approaching steps or a steep incline. In the work-rooms and
through out the entire buildings, strips of carpet served as a guide to
the feet. But it took time to gain confidence even with these aids; and
then they were confined to the buildings and grounds. Confidence