Blindness. Vague Questions.
[Illustration]
There are natures that seem predestined for the gentle task of love, as
well as for the anxieties of sorrow,—natures in whom a sympathy for the
cares or griefs of others is a necessity as imperative as the air they
breathe. They have been endowed with that calmness so essential for the
fulfilment of every-day duties; all the natural longings for personal
happiness seem to have been restrained and held in subserviency to the
ruling characteristic of their temperaments. Such beings often appear
too placid, too reasonable, and devoid of sentiment. They are insensible
to the passionate longings of a life of pleasure, and follow the stern
path of duty with as much contentment as if it were yielding them the
most glowing joys. They seem as frigid and majestic as the mountain-tops.
Commonplace human life abases itself at their feet; even gossip and
calumny glide from their snowy white garments like spatters of mud from
the wings of a swan.
Peter’s little friend presented all the traits of this type, which as
the product of education or experience is but rarely seen. Like genius,
it falls to the lot of the chosen few, and generally manifests itself
early in life. The mother of the blind boy realized what good fortune
had befallen her son in winning the friendship of this child. Old Maxim
likewise appreciated this, and felt confident that since his pupil
now enjoyed the benefit of an influence heretofore wanting, his moral
development would make tranquil and continuous progress. But this proved
a sad mistake.