The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1909-08-23
Clarence Hawks in II

VIII graduated as a blind boy hav-
ing lost my sight at 10, from
Perkins institute. being valedictorian of
the class, and the following year went
back for a postgraduate course in
music and literary branches, while at
the same time I studied oratory with
teachers from the Emerson school, and
also began reading law. But after the
middle of the school year fell victim
to la grippe, and was obliged to give up
my studies for a while and return to
my home in Cummington, Miss (the
birthplace of the poet Bryant).
Here, in the spring of 1891. partly to
amuse myself and also because I could
not help 1t. began writing verses for
country newspapers. At the same time
I began iecturing to country audiences
upon various literary subjects. includ-
Ising lecture upon the life and work of
the blind. For three years 1 lectured
and sold poems to editors who did not
want them. and at the end of that time
was making fair living at that pre-
carious business.
In 1895 I published my first volume
Of verses, which went out of print in a
few months, netting me over $1,000. All
of my editor friends said that 1t was
three Ps again.
From 1895 to 1900 I published five
volumes of poems. which Melted me
about $4,000. which. together with my
lectures, made fair income for one
who lived in the country and who did
not care for luxuries.
In 1902 I published my frst animal
story book, which was an instantane-
GUS success, and since that time I
along the same lines.
In this work my early training afield
has stood me In good stead. In fact,
there Is no phase of nature and no
habit of bird or squirrel, or of any of
the little denigens of field and forest
that do not feel perfectly confident to
describe from my boyhood acquaintance
with them. I have written IL books In
all upon these subjects, and I do not
feel that I have yet nearly exhausted
| the reservoir of my boyhood observa-
lions of these little shy creatures.
1t was partly because of my impa-
| thence of those all about me who had
| eyes yet saw not, ears yet heard not.
| that took up this work. In this man.
| ner am able to reconcile my fate with
| the maxim that "a1l things work to-
gether for good"
| If 1t was my lot to lose my sight that
/ Iar <l,o hi In tl,ot
had seen. and then in turn point
these things out to my friends who had
eyes yet saw not, then had the dark
curtain not fallen in vain.
"How IL it." people often ask me,
that without eyesight you can de-
scribe all the minutiae of nature so
wildly and correctly? You have not
seen these things for over a quarter
of a century and 1 should think that
| you would forget"
| No, I have not forgotten, but I
doubt If 1t is all memory in the sense
that we usually consider It, 1t Is sense
| impression, pictures upon the retina
of the mind, sentttive plates which
were exposed many years ago, i'm
pressions builded into the brain cells,
that just the right sound or scent, or
touch of wind or vibration of sun,
light. will flash upon the screen, more
/ vivid than when first seen. because
now behind in darkness.
The first Whit of arbutus In the
spring brings as instantaneous picture
of the pasture land where I drove
cows as a small boy. I can see each
stump. each bush, each rock, just as
, they were then.
| never smell apple blossoms but that
I see the old balloon-topped apple tree
! that stood in the back yard of the old
farmhouse. The morning sunlight falls
aslant through It's pink and white
boughs, and the sunbeams are re-
frected in all their rainbow tints,
| while the whole glows and shimmers
like q wonderful cloud Of pink and
white loneliness,
So my inner self Is wonderful world
of Junes and Octobers, that come and
go in sympathy with the passing year;
but my June is always Just little
ahead Of the real June. for the heart