By Mildred Caroline Goodridge.
"Stone blind, R&slyn Moore, has
been for a year. It came about
through the premature explosion of a
flashlight while an operator was tak
ing a view of the studio in which he,
.Roslyn Moore, had painted 'The
"It must have broken his heart to
know, later, that his picture was fa-
She Watched From the Little Booth
mous, but his eyes forever closed to
"No, he has been since the hour of
the catastrophe just what you see him
gentle, patient, smiling. Most men
would have raved and given up. Not
so this great nature. The picture
brought him a fortune That, of
course, made affliction more bearable,
but at once Moore took up music. He
has always loved the arts and graces.
His work at the piano, his marvelous I
improvisation have given a new, vast
pleasure in life. He is a happy man
through all his hard adversity."
"Ah! it is pathetic," was the re
sponse. "See how he moves along:"
The two speakers were Parisians,
in the Latin quarter. They were re
garding and speaking of Roslyn
Moore. Their brief colloquy had told
all the story there was to tell. Roslyn
Moore had remained amid the scenes
of the student life he loved so well,
although he could no longer view its
points of interest nor scan the friend
ly faces of his fellow bohemians.
Just now, cane in hand, he was
cautiously groping his way down the
pavement leading away from the en
trance to his hotel. He had not gone
ten steps when the ragged newsboy
at the corned stand ran up to him."
It was to seize one arm gently and
with infinite, eager tenderness lead
the unfortunate across a narrow alley
whence a vehicle might appear at any
moment. The little gamin flushed
with pleasure. As his duty ended
Moore thanked him with his sunny
smile and went on his way.
There was a race between the
street sweeper and the gendarme at
the next crossing as to which should
first reach Moore and guide him over
the crowded thoroughfare. Again
grateful thanks, and loyal hearts
lightened through a kindly act.
There was a little breathing spot of
a park a square further on. It was
here that Moore spent a portion of his
day, usually surrounded by the poor
children from the near tenements.
His pockets were always stocked with
sous arid sweetnieats, and he held
high court with the romping, lovable
groupf, to whom he told stories and
listened to their innocent prattle.
In order to reach the park Moore
had to cross a broad esplanade. At
its inner edge a young girl of eighteen
kept a cheap flower stand. Pity that
he could not see Cecile, as her face
brightened at the first glimpse of him!
Rainy days were all gloom to Tier,
missing his accustomed approach.
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