The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-01-21
thing I had to revd
nDS1lnnorfo3 Teoj

tl1ng RaQ TO reye e ana
unsupported. cod upon
the spot where the crime 49, Commit
: ted. / had ascertained that no house
In WalpOle street could be opened by
key similar to mine. There was no 9TH
er street of that name anywhere near.
My friend with the unsteady feet must
have misunderstood me and conducted
me TO another row of houses.
thought, at one time, of advertising
and asking him to communicate with
me, but I could not word q request
which should be Ineligible to him,
without, perchance, exciting the sus-
picions of those who were concerned in
the crime. Even now, il they had dis
covered nv true name and abode. there
might be some one en- the watch for any
movement might make / had been
spared once, but no mercy would be
shown me second time. Why should
/ risk my life by making disclosures
which would not be belieyed-accusa-
tons against men who were unknown
to meY What good could lido? By now
the aSsassins must have hidden all trace
of the crime, and made good their re-
treat. Why should face the ridicule
which must attach TO such tale as
mine, the truth of which could not
prove? No; let the horrors of that night
be as dream. Let them fade and be
forgotten.
Soon have something else to think
of; something that may well drive such
dismal memories from my mind. Hope
has become certainty. l am almost de-
lirious with delight. Science has tri-
umphedl My defeated foe has left me.
| l am told his return IS almost beyond
possibility. The world is light again.
| can see.
But my cure was a long and tedious
| affair. Both eyes were operated upon.
| First one, and. when the success of that
| operation was assured, the other. 1t
was months before | was allowed to
emerge altogether from darkness. Light
| vas doled ont to me sparingly and eau
| tiously. What did that matter so long
| that l knew there was light again for
me? l was patient, very patient and
| grateful. | followed Mr.. Jays instruc-
| tons to the letter, knowing l should
| reap the reward of so doing.
NV case had been treated by the SIM
| plest and safest method of operation
| the one which is always chosen when
| the nature of the disease and the age of
| the patient permits-solution of ABSORB
| ton it is termed. When it was all over.
! and all danger of Inflammation at an
end; when [ found that by the aid of
| strong convex glasses l could see well
| enough for all ordinary purposes, Mr..
| Jaw congratulated both himself and me.
| 1t promised, he said, to be the most
/ thoroughly successful cure he had ever
taken part in. 1t must have been some
| thing above the common, as | am in
formed that every book on the eye
which has since been published cites
my case as an example of what may be
! done.
Not until my dying day shall forget
that time when my cure was declared
fact: when the bandages were removed,
and L was told L might now use, spar
ingly, my uncurtained eyes.
The joy, from what seemed never
| ending night, to wake and see the sun,
| the stars-the clouds sped by the wind
| branches swaying with the breeze, and
| throwing trembling shadows on my
path! To mark the flower; bud but
! yesterday-to-day blooml To watch
| the broad bright sea grow splendid with
the crimson of the westl To gaze on
| pictures, people, mountains, streams
to know shape, color, form and tint! TIC
see, not hear alone, the moving lips and
laugh of those who grasped my hand
| and spoke kind words!
To me. in those first days of newborn
| light, the face of every woman, man
| and child seemed welcome as the face
of some dear friend, long lost and found
| again!
After this description of my ecstasy
it seems pure pathos to say that the
only thing which detracted from it wa
my being obliged to wear those strong
convex glasses. | was young and they
were horribly dishguring.
Shall | never be able to do without
| them% / asked, rather ruefully.
That" replied Mr.. Jay, lis point
upon which / wish TO speak to you.
You will never be able to do without
glasses. Remember, have DESTROYED,
absorbed, dissolved the glasses in your
eyes called crystalline lenses. Their
place is now supplied by the fiuid hui
NOR. This has high Tefracting pow
er. Very often if you don't give in to
Nature she will give in to you. If you
will gradually meet you. If any one
should do this, it is you. You are young;
you have no profession, and your bread
does not depend upon your sight. Glass
es you must always wear, but if you
insist that Nature shall act without
such strong aids as these, the chances
are she will at last consent to do so. 1t
is tedious process; few have been able
or have had patience to- persevere; but
my experience is that in many instances
it may be DONE"
l determined it should be done. fol-
lowed his advice. Atgreat personal in
convenience / wore glasses which only
permitted me to say could see at all.
But my reward came. Slowly, vefy
slowly, found my sight growing strong
er, till, in about two years time, could
by the aid of glasses, the convexity of
which was so slight as to be scarcely
noticeable, see as well as most of my
fellow creatures. Then l began once
more to enjoy life.
| cannot say that, during those two
years spent in perfecting my cure, |
thought no more about that terrible
night; but / made no further attempt
to unravel the mystery, or to persuade
any one that had not imagined those
events. | buried the history of my adj
venture in my heart, and never again
spoke of it. In case of need, l wrote
down all the particulars, and then tried
to Danish all memory of what / had
heard. | succeeded fairly well except
for one thing. | could not for any long
period keep my thoughts from the re-
membrance of that woman's moaning
that pitiable transition of the voice
from sweet melody to hopeless despair.
1t was that cry which troubled my
dreams, if ever dreamed of that night
it was that cry which rang in my ears
as | woke, trembling, but thankful to
| find that this time, at least, [ was only