would
only come when one was able to navigate his way alone through busy
thoroughfares. Shortly after entering St. Dunstan's I determined to
venture out alone. A guide accompanied me on my outward journey, but I
dismissed him and determined to find my way back without help. I
cautiously kept to the outside of the walk, using my stick as a guide,
but I had not calculated on obstructing posts; bump I went into one, but
nothing daunted, I kept on. I was about to test the hardness of another
with my head when a sympathetic soul seized me by the arm and saved me
just in time. I asked him to direct me to the wall bordering the walk.
He did so; but I had not taken into consideration the fact that there
were stores with goods out for display in front of them. I was first
made aware of this by hitting a somewhat flimsily-constructed fruit
stand. At this moment a motorcycle a few feet away back-fired viciously.
It sounded like the explosion of a shell. Vimy and its horrors came back
on the instant, and I involuntarily ducked for safety, or, rather,
sprawled forward at full length. Down came the fruit stand, and there I
lay among apples, oranges, and bananas. Kindly hands helped me to my
feet, and set me on my way. My first experience of solitary walking out
had been a rough one, and for a time I felt beaten, and had very much
the attitude of this boy towards the future. But my experiences would
help him. I had conquered in time, and could journey about freely
without even the aid of a stick. I would not let him know that I was
"black" blind, but I would take him out with me and show him what the
blind could do unaided if they would only bring into play their latent
powers.

We chatted for a time about the war, and the prospect of his return to
Canada and his friends. He gradually thawed out, and took me in a
measure into his confidence. But he was still in the depths, and
continually referred to his deplorable lot. There was, he said, nothing
in this world for him now, and he added pathetically: "I'm only twenty
years old; I have seen practically nothing, and as both my eyes are out,
I never shall be able to enjoy life and nature. I wish I had got the
full issue instead of half of it; I should have been a lot better off."

Now, there is an unfailing means to get on the good side of any one who
has spent any time in "Blighty," and that is to suggest tea. So I asked
him if he would not like a cup and some cake: I knew, I said, a n