In discussing this subject I realize I have a most difficult and delicate task before me—a task which only a blind person can adequately perform. I approach it with no misgiving, with no unkind feeling, for, as I have previously stated, I believe the public needs, not so much to be instructed, as to be reminded, and I believe it will be glad to have some of its mistaken ideas corrected, and thus bring about a better understanding between the two classes.

In the first place, I wish to mention some popular fallacies concerning the blind. Chief among these is the idea that all blind people are so much happier than sighted people. This belief seems very general, and comes, I suppose, as a result of the feeling of the average human being that, if deprived of eyesight, he could never be induced to laugh again. The blind adult soon realizes that "humor is a shock absorber," and that "mirth is the soul's best medicine." When my pupils fail to recognize the efficacy of humor, I establish a rule that they must laugh at least once during each lesson, and very soon they agree with Charles Lamb that "a laugh is worth a hundred groans in any market." One of my foreign pupils said to me when I spoke of his cheerful attitude, "Madam, I laugh that I may not weep." And this is the key to much of the cheerfulness of the blind, whose philosophy is not often understood by their sighted friends. There is nothing really remarkable about making the best of a trying situation, unless it is the small percentage of persons who do so. People feel so sorry for the blind that they are often unable to address them at all, or, when they do speak, convey a whole world of well-meant but misdirected sympathy in a few ill-chosen words. This misdirected sympathy is one of the hardest things the blind adult has to bear, and often when I urge a man to go out among his friends as he did when he could see, he answers, "I can't do it just yet. I can't bear the pitying tone. It would make me lose my grip, and I must not let go." And sometimes I go to his friends and explain the situation, and persuade them to call on their friend, take him out with them, talk to him of the ordinary, commonplace happenings, keeping their sympathy well disguised, or, rather, showing a comprehending sympathy, a sympathy that recognizes a brave man's effort to accept his fate unwhimperingly.

Another popular belief is that the blind are naturally very religious. Unfortunately, this belief seems to be shared by those who selected many of the books to be printed in raised types, since about one-half of the books selected are of a religious character. The blind are naturally introspective, and their power of concentration is greater than that of the average person, but I have not found them to be unusually religious. I do not think that blindness increases or decreases the religious tendency.

A third fallacy is that the blind can tell colors by feeling. This is absolutely impossible. I have heard of men who could tell the difference of color in horses, but, upon questioning them closely, I found that the texture of the hair varied in light and dark colored animals. Of course, there is an odor about some colored dyes, such as black and indigo blue. Some of the blind are themselves responsible for fostering this belief, but they do it to test the credulity of the public, and they do not know the real harm they are doing to the cause.

It is a common belief, too, that all blind people like music, and are especially gifted in this art. I do not believe that the percentage of really musical blind people is greater than that of persons who see. Sometimes a blind man or woman will study music either as a pastime, or in the hope of making a living, but the lack of eyesight does not increase or diminish one's musical ability.

In the lecture on the psychology of blindness, I endeavored to prove that the blind were not possessed of greater faculties than their seeing fellows, but that loss of eyesight made it imperative to cultivate the remaining senses to a very high degree, and that such cultivation led to a greater keenness in the interpretation of the information furnished the remaining senses. When told that the blind do many things well and quickly by employing methods different than those who see, the information comes as a shock, when it is not entirely discredited. There is an idea prevalent among so-called well informed men and women that a loss of eyesight carries with it a loss of mental vigor, and a total inability to engage in any of the world's work. This belief, and the many foolish notions which it breeds, presents one of the greatest difficulties to be met, and, if possible, overcome, by the blind man or woman obliged to earn a livelihood. So potent is eyesight considered that, without it, some people think it impossible to perform even the simplest duties, and the person obliged to substitute fingers for eyes, and memory for pad and pencil is regarded as a marvel of intelligence and skill, and as possessing a sixth sense. Anything done by the blind, from recognizing a voice to remembering a street number, is considered wonderful by the average person, and this attitude is very trying to the blind adult who is striving to adjust himself to new conditions, and train his remaining faculties to the highest possible degree of efficiency. The commiseration and incredulous words of his friends is one of the greatest trials which the blind adult is called upon to bear, and it is not strange that he is often embittered and discouraged, and unwilling to subject himself to the thoughtless comments and undisguised pity of his former associates. These associates do not realize that their attitude has changed or that they are adding another burden to the already heavy load borne by their friend. They are sorry, honestly sorry, and want so much to help, but to their minds blindness is the greatest of all afflictions, and loss of eyesight is accompanied by a corresponding loss of physical ability and mental vigor, unless the person so afflicted is unusually gifted, and, in that case, he is regarded as the marvel of the age. Unfortunately, the percentage of gifted people is no greater among the blind than among the seeing, and so it is not strange that many of the former class are unable to cope with the difficulties and discouragements that blindness entails, when thousands of seeing people succumb to what they consider the unequal struggle for existence. As a class I honestly believe that blind people are more courageous than seeing people, and I am sure that a greater demand is made upon their stock of courage. This demand will be lessened when the public learns to look upon blindness as a physical, not a mental handicap, and when, instead of compelling persons so handicapped to sit on the side lines holding their broken swords, it leads them forward, places a new sword in their hands, and brings them the glad tidings that they are needed on the firing line. Loss of eyesight is always deplorable, but it is not so terrible as the isolation which generally follows it, an isolation due, in large measure, to misconception, lack of information, and misplaced sympathy on the part of the public, generous to a fault in bestowing alms, but slow to believe in the ability of the blind, and the wisdom of employing them. If the public could be brought to look upon the blind, not as an isolated class whose affliction entitles them to the pity and generous alms of those more fortunate, but as men and women, with normal aims and desires, just as full of hope, just as eager to work, and just as interested in things as when they saw them through the natural medium, their handicap would be lessened and their lives much happier. Most people think all that can be done for the blind is to divert them, amuse them, provide for them in institutions, or encourage them to accept private charity. This lack of understanding on the part of the public is the greatest drawback to the advancement of the blind, and often leads to untold misery. Occupation the blind should have, must have, if they are to enjoy any degree of happiness, or retain their self-respect. Loss of eyesight does not deprive a man of his desire to earn his daily bread, or to provide for those dependent upon him. He is willing and eager to work, and should be given the chance. A French physician, himself without eyesight, said: "So long as the blind can still bring their stone, however small it may be, to the building of civilization, or of bringing happiness to their kind, they feel that they live; and whatever be the wounds received, they are not out of the battle of life—the inequality of arms only increases their ardor." This inequality of arms should, and usually does, act as a spur to the courageous man or woman, but to the mind of the average sighted person, this inequality seems to apply inability, and so very little is expected of the blind, and little thought is given to their possibilities. Senator Gore, the blind Senator from Oklahoma, says: "It is a mistake to tell the sightless their loss is insurmountable or inconsequential. It is neither. The sightless confront a situation, not a theory. We ought to study their problems, and help them to lessen their burdens, to smooth their path, and to multiply their resources, to enable them to adapt themselves to a new and sometimes a strange environment; to help them to adjust themselves to a new set of circumstances, which presents a different problem, as it presents a different situation from those who possess the sense of sight." "And," the Senator concludes, "the greatest service we can render to the blind is to help them to help themselves." And this is where the public can help, though, as I have said, in its mistaken kindness, it more often hinders, and encourages the blind to accept alms, instead of making it possible for them to become self-supporting, self-respecting men and women.

The constantly increasing number of blinded men in the warring countries has made it imperative to find work in which they can successfully engage, and trades and occupations hitherto untried have been found to be both practicable and lucrative. What Sir Arthur Pearson is doing for the blinded soldiers at St. Dunstan's is little short of marvelous, and his success should help the cause in all parts of the world. In Eastern cities, a large number of the blind are gainfully employed, and new avenues of usefulness are being opened to them. At Ampere, New Jersey, Dr. Schuyler S. Wheeler has formed what he calls the Double Duty Finger Guild. This is composed of some twenty blind people, sixteen men and four women, and they have been taught to wind coils for armatures used in electric motors and mill machinery. These people earn from a dollar and a half to two dollars a day, and their work is done as well as that of the sighted employees, though, just at first, a little more time is required. They are making up this discrepancy slowly, but surely, and it is thought they will soon do the work as fast as the sighted operatives. Unfortunately, on this coast, we have no factories where this winding is done, as most of the electric concerns here do repair work, which varies so that it would be difficult for the blind operative to keep changing from one kind of work to another. Henry Ford employs a number of blind men in his factory at Detroit. There the men fit nuts to bolts, wind armatures, assemble different parts of machinery, and fold paper boxes. In his factory Mr. Ford also employs other handicapped men, and has machinery especially devised for their use. He believes that all large factories should employ a certain percentage of handicapped workers, as its contribution to the rehabilitation movement, and it is to be hoped his example may be followed by employers all over the country. The Light-House for the Blind in New York City, the Cleveland Association for the Blind in Ohio, and other similar associations are doing splendid work in arousing the interest of the public, and in finding employment for blind men and women, both in their homes, and in shops with sighted persons. Mattress making and upholstering have been found particularly adapted to the blind, and in Boston thousands of mattresses are made and renovated yearly by blind workers employed in the shops of the Massachusetts Commission for the Blind. Folding towels in laundries, wrapping bread, packing catsup bottles and fruit cans are some of the things being successfully done in the East. And the increasing shortage of labor will induce employers throughout the country to see the light, and realize that what the blind operative loses because of lack of sight, he makes up by increased concentration and faithfulness to duty. In the West, the people have very little faith in the ability of the blind, but in time we hope the social consciousness will become less lethargic, and that the mental and physical needs of this class will be given the consideration accorded to them in the larger cities throughout the East. The San Francisco Association for the Blind, a privately-maintained institution, is doing good work in arousing public interest, and in its shops the men are taught to make brooms and reed furniture, and the women to weave rugs and make baskets. It is in constant search for new fields of endeavor, and this spring it induced one of the largest canneries to employ over twenty blind people to sort asparagus, and the same cannery has selected a number of the best workers to cut fruit in its orchards in the Santa Clara Valley. All this is very encouraging, but it is only a beginning, as there are hundreds of blind in this state who should be contributing to their own support. This is why an enlargement of the plant of the Industrial Home for Adult Blind in Oakland is so urgently needed, for, after all, the state should assume the duty of providing its handicapped civilians with employment, instead of caring for them in almshouses, or permitting them to become objects of private charity. The state should see to it that its blind children receive an education which will fit them to earn their own living. All schools for the blind should be under the direct supervision of Boards of Education, who should give the same careful consideration to the problem of educating blind children as is now given to the education of seeing children. And this is one argument in favor of classes for the blind in the public schools. Vocational training is of more importance to the blind child than to his more fortunate brother, and when this is recognized, one of the barriers to his success will be removed. Is there any reason why an intelligent blind youth especially interested in medicine, should not be trained as an anatomist, a heart and lung specialist, an osteopath or a masseur? He does not need eyes to listen to heart beats, find the third vertebra, or rub the kinks out of a refractory muscle. In Japan the government reserves massage as an occupation for the blind, and in the hospitals of England and France blind masseurs are given the preference, and their work receives the highest commendation. Los Angeles has a blind anatomist at the head of its College of Osteopathy, and several blind osteopaths.

When mentally equipped, all blind students should be sent to college, and urged to fit themselves as teachers. In every college and university blind men should occupy chairs in history, English, economics, and mathematics. I know two blind men in this state well qualified to teach any of these subjects, who are forced to accept inferior positions, because educators generally fail to realize that blindness is no bar to mental attainment, and that the ability to teach does not depend upon the ability to see with the eyes. This will be better understood when the coeducation of blind and seeing children becomes more general—God speed the day! As music teachers, concert players, leaders of orchestra, or masters of the violin and 'cello, the blind should have an even chance of success, but their inability to read music at sight, or watch the director's baton often deprives them of positions which their quick ear and well trained memory would enable them to fill with profit to themselves and satisfaction to the public.

And so in all the professions. I know a man who, before he lost his eyesight, was considered an eminent lawyer, but now his associates regard him pityingly, and his clients take their business elsewhere. When the light went out of the eyes of this brilliant man, it did not take his brain as well. He is fitted to be a consulting lawyer or court pleader, and could occupy a chair in a college of law. Surely, there is something radically wrong when these conditions exist! Surely the public needs to open its eyes, and polish its glasses in order to see more clearly that there is a mental blindness, more pitiful, more far-reaching in its consequences, than physical blindness, however hard or uncomfortable the latter condition may be. Some one facetiously suggested that I call this lecture "bringing light to the seeing," and, in a sense, this is what I am trying to do. But the light is carried by a kindly hand, and the hand is the index to a heart in which there is no bitterness, no malice, no distrust—a heart brimming over with love, with hope, with confidence, and with a belief that the public will see the light, and, seeing it, and reading my message in its beams, will pass it on to others, adding to it as it goes, until it floods every corner of our vast state, and result in untold good for my people. And let me tell you how this light may be disseminated—let me apportion your share in this labor of love, this highest form of social service, this movement of re-education now sweeping over the land.

I am so often asked by those who wish to volunteer in their country's service, "What can I do to help in the re-education of the blinded soldier?" And I invariably answer, "You can first help in the re-education of the public, and this will be the greatest service you can render to the men blinded in battle." In order to know what lines of work will be available for them when they return, we must look about and see what the adult blind of our civil communities are doing. If we can not employ all these who are willing and able to work, how can we hope to employ an increased number later on? Let us ask ourselves what the blind can do, and then, how much of this are we permitting them to do? If we are an employer of salesmen, and one of our employees has recently lost his eyesight, let us ask ourselves why, when he came to us and urged us to let him continue to sell our goods, we told him that, although he had been a faithful worker, and we were exceedingly sorry for his misfortune, we could not retain his services, because competition was so great, and so many unexpected things happened, and we felt we could not entrust our business to any one who did not possess all his faculties. We meant to be very kind, and we thought every word we said was true, but was it true? Did that man sell our goods with his eyes, or did he sell them by using his tongue and his personality to persuade customers to patronize us? If he had a boy to go about with him, could he not talk as convincingly, work as hard, and, indeed, might he not put forth a greater effort to extend our business and make himself invaluable to us? This is a typical case, and one that occurs almost daily. So it is in all lines of work the blind man or woman attempts. A blind piano tuner asks for work from house to house, just as a sighted tuner has to do, but, whereas we sometimes employ the latter, we refuse the former, saying, we could not trust our instrument to the hands of a blind man, and maybe we offer him a small piece of silver to lessen the hurt we have unwittingly inflicted. Perhaps a man with defective eyesight asks to clean house or help in the garden, or work on a ranch, or perform some light task in a store. The same condition obtains. We are so hurried these days, we must have the work done with the greatest possible expediency, and so we can not entrust it to any one who is handicapped, although we are sorry, and really wish we could do something for such people. And so sometimes, men who started out with high hopes and lofty ideals are forced to the streets, there to depend upon the spasmodic charity of the passerby, and to attract this wavering attention of the public, the man resorts to all sorts of subterfuges, from holding up pencils and gum to grinding out popular tunes on a wheezing old hand organ. Sometimes these men have families and feel they must make this effort to maintain them. Many of them try to sell newspapers on the corners of our principal streets, but here, too, the competition is very great, and little boys patrol the curb, holding the ever-ready paper under the nose of the hurrying pedestrian who, though he may be conscious of the blind man selling in front of a building, thinks he can not spare time to go to him for a paper, and so snatches one from the waiting boy, throws him the pennies, and jumps on a moving car. Selling newspapers is better suited to a blind man than almost any other line of business. I mean the man who has never learned a trade, or who has no special profession. If the government could commandeer this line of work for its blind civilians, I am sure there would be fewer itinerant street musicians, gum or pencil venders. Of course, after a while, the blind man reduced to playing on the streets, becomes accustomed to the excitement, the roar of traffic, and covers, I will not say earns, more money than he could by canvassing, piano tuning, or making brooms. And so, once started on this road, once accustomed to the acceptance of public charity, it is almost impossible to induce the street vender or musician to try a more legitimate means of livelihood. He invariably says, in answer to the protest of those who have the interest and advancement of the blind at heart, "When you can find me a job where I can earn as much as I do right here, I'll take it, but until then, I must live, and I must help to support my family." Meanwhile these street merchants are creating an erroneous impression in the minds of the unthinking, but ever sympathetic public, leading it to believe that begging is all that the blind can do; and so, when asked to employ a blind person, even in the smallest capacity, people mention the blind of the street, and say they will gladly contribute to the support of the sightless either in institutions, or by private charity, but they do not believe in their ability to perform work of any kind. Of course, this is not the answer given in every case, but it is the reply generally made to all such requests. This is the sad state of affairs here and in many of the large cities throughout the country, and this is why the State Library is conducting a campaign for the enlightenment of the public. Whenever possible, I raise my voice in this cause, before clubs and organizations, high schools and colleges, in order to change this mistaken attitude, in order to urge a saner point of view. In presenting this gospel of work for the blind, I put the matter very plainly, prove to the public that it is to blame for many of the conditions I deplore, laugh at its incredulity, score its misconception, urge a broader, more comprehensive sympathy, and usually leave the platform with the assurance that I have won many recruits in this campaign so dear to my heart.

As I said in my last lecture, the government has a well-defined plan for the re-education of its blinded soldiers. But suppose this plan is carried out, and the men are returned to their home cities, qualified to pursue a certain line of work, only to find that the public does not share the government's confidence, is unwilling to give them an opportunity to prove their ability? The public will cheerfully pay taxes to care for these men in idleness and seclusion, thus diverting to the rear of life's battle line these heroes who have given the most precious of all their physical possessions in their country's cause. The soldier killed on the field of battle pays the supreme sacrifice all in a moment, but the sacrifice of the blinded soldier is lifelong. Are we going to find employment for these returned heroes, or are we going to add yet another burden to their already heavy load? Are we going to add the burden of dependence to the burden of darkness? If we want these men to know that we appreciate the service they have rendered to their country, let us provide occupations for them, and in order to do this let us begin by employing the civilian blind, the blind right here in our midst. Let us study the problem with an open mind, freed from the old prejudice and unbelief; let us turn the light on ourselves, and see that it is we who sit in darkness. Let us ask the blind leaders of the blind what work can be done without eyesight, and let us be guided by their judgment, their experience. And, as a bit of Red Cross service, let us employ the blind; let us create a demand for their labor; let us ask for work made by the blind, and tell our friends to ask for it; let us buy our newspapers from the men on the streets, and let us give our magazine subscriptions to blind men who have subscription agencies; let us patronize blind lawyers, osteopaths, salesmen, piano tuners and musicians. Let us find other and broader avenues of usefulness for these our civil blind heroes, who went into the dark with no blare of trumpets, no applause from cheering multitudes, and who wear no badge of honor on their breasts. Let us do this, so that when the blinded soldiers return, we may welcome them with the glad tidings that we have work waiting for them, that we know they can do it, because blind men and women here have blazed the trail, and have, by their splendid courage and boundless enthusiasm, succeeded in changing the attitude of the public, and removing the last lingering vestige of doubt as to the ability of the blind to become self-supporting, self-respecting citizens. In this campaign of enlightenment, this bit of Red Cross service for the blinded soldiers and the blind adults of our civil communities, every one of you can help, and I feel sure it will be unnecessary for me to ask a pledge of co-operation from any one who has heard me speak this afternoon. The State Library is heartily with me in every phase of this campaign, and, with its co-operation and encouragement, I go fearlessly forward, overcoming obstacles, uprooting prejudices, laboring with heart and mind and voice in the service of the blind and in the hope of bringing about a clearer understanding of their needs in the minds of the public.

And now, in conclusion, let me tell you my dream for the future of the blind, a dream which, please God, will one day come true. I dream of seeing blind men occupying chairs in our colleges and universities, blind heart and lung specialists, anatomists and osteopaths, lawyers and lecturers. In my dream, I see blind salesmen, telegraphers, musicians, piano tuners and electricians, and other men making brooms, brushes, mattresses and furniture now so often made by prison labor. And in my dream, I see blind women teachers, stenographers, dictaphone and switchboard operators; and other women knitting, crocheting, sewing, cooking, weaving rugs and making baskets, and doing the work side by side with their more fortunate sisters, and doing it as well, and often better. Then and only then will the greatest sting be removed from blindness; then and only then will the blind beggar depart from our public thoroughfares, and when all these things come to pass, my dream for my people will be realized. Aren't you going to help to make my dream "come true"?