The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 4, 1901, Page 2

hard if it getting mother to ask Helen, she n if she will see she went near it on, It was no i1 was only a tired—when it e and say that, won't you? Only a little tired. And don’t make it sound as if I had done something great, because I haven't. There was nothing to it. I get so tired of having people make such 2 fuss about it as if I did some- thing to make a fuss over, Bhe talks fast and nervo always straight ahead. latter babit she saw you. was ove: Her woice, 1 tion, have the light and shade of under- stanfing that are almost unknown her those whose minds are Tisc hers. “We started out at 5 o'clock in the morning so a& to get a good start in the cool part of the day. And the weather was on our side. It was cloudy—lovely and cool—and the sun never rose until 9 o'clock. So we put in some good riding at the start. “We didn't have a single accident any kind. Not a puncture, not a bump. After I got home I fell and bumped my- self within a block of home. n f HEw E PLAYING ISWELL after going all those miles in fie pe? We didn't try to make good time—we weren't out to beat any records. We were just off for an outing Zood time. And we had it. I want to make the trip again, And the next time I'm not coming home v train. 1'm going to wheel back I could have done it then, I know I dently there was a restraining hand somewhere about and a restraining hand is above all things what Helen Masow detests. She wants to go to New York; wants to teach music; she wants to do anything, only to Be she go anywhere, free. She is young, feverish of tempera- ment, in a hurry—in such a mad, reckless hurry to live. The affiiction which has made negatives of so many who might therwise have been alive has had the exactly opposite effect upon her. It has irritated and lashed on her temperament to a higher pitch than it would otherwise ave reached. 'We got to San Jcse in time for lunch,” heard her saying when I-came back after a mental digression. ‘“We went to the hotel, and weren't we hungry! 1 never was so hungry. Then we rested and didn’t start for Los Gatos until late in the afternoon. So you see we could have made the whole distance in much ss time. We weren't trying at all. “The road is pretty hard from San Jose to Los Gatos—that is, not hard, but hilly. It's a beautiful road—the air is fine you can smell so many nice things. That's because of the plants and flowers, and just the open fields smeil good at this time of year, don’t you think so?” She has learned to love the tar weed and the dry wild grain as keenly as the st eye ever does, and she loves it with ense of which the esthetes of our world ibilities as ar! have barely learned the po: vet. ¥s 20 independent, so self-sufficient that..when we Jeft the house and went out under the live oaK tree to take her photograph on the wheel, T was at the child-like way that she for my hand and confidently snuggled her own into it. It is this very mixture of dependence and independence that malkgs her charming, anyway, just as it does all Would the I forgot my please? It's the . the big Manila straw.” Seeing the way it became her reminded me of something her mother had toid me. “‘Helen always does her own shop- ping. She won't let us pick out a thing for her. And she's lots more particular than my other girls ever think of being. She feels of the goods -ud if the quality doesn’t suit her she won't have it. And she'll try on nearly every pair in the store before she gets what she wants. She feels of every part and insists on having a perfect fit.” She has a right to demand a perfect fit, with that high-instepped foot of hers. Indeed she is beautifully formed in every respect. She is an American-born Ger- man girl, and she has the full curves that are German and the litheness that is not. She wanted no help about her wheel. She is mistress of it and tolerated no caprices of its quick wheels. She asked a question or two about the ground whither we had led her, and that was all. She does her own mounting. In fact, she often rides alone for a few blocks and would do so much more if it were not for the ogre “Must not.” Helen's wheeling is her only athletic pursuit. This is not for'lack of ambition. Think of the keen eye that golf, tennis and shooting call for. They would be im- possible. So she wraps herself up in her wheel when it is vacation. The rest of the year she studies. She ‘has done her studying so far at the Institution for the Deaf and Dumb and Blind. This year she will enter the High School, taking the last year of its course. Then the university. hat. one you on hail as to shoes, THE SUNDAY CALL. 3 R\ W 4 7 } , W o SECRETARY ForR THE the univer- “You know, { raps 1 shali put .»:fl. sity adittle longer,’ she said time doesn’t.count to me.” They were the only bittér or self-pitying words 1 ever heard her utter; she is so game. She may be seething within—she is at times I know, for it couldn’t be oth- erwise with a girl who has learned to think as far as she has. But she is, above all things, game. She will do more than take a 'varsity course. She will study music further and further, and she may-even teach it some day. She has had instruction at the in- stitution, and now she is ready for other masters. i “I don't practice any more,” she says; “I'm too lazy.” ‘Which is the same bluff that all ambi- tious, nervously energetic people run. Just as every lazy man will tell you how over- worked he is. Everybody in and around Berkeley knows what her playing and singing are. She is always in demand for entertain- ments: ‘“Her musie is not excellent for a blind girl,”” somebody once told m: excellent for any girl of her age. The great secret of Helen Masow's mu- sic is that she feels it herself. Her music is such as all the blind use— a cipher of punctures on heavy paper, looking like the perforated patterns of a kindergarten. She reads this over a very few times, plays from it, memorizes it. Once learned, her music is never forgot- ten. When she led me up stairs to her father’s study she stepped ahead to close the door of a room, where the children had been playing. “It looks so disorderly in there,” she said. “I am ashamed to have you see it."” She had already “seen” the disorder and it bothered her. That was one of the many little things from which I deduced that she sees more than a great many two-eyed people. “Here's where papa does his work,” she said, “and here's where I help him.’ She pointed out the typewriter desk. FAMILY v TG ) 7 hef “Not/papa afbne,” she added. “I'm sox{ of a corresponding secretary for the wholg family.” There at the typewriter which she uses rapidly she makes her headquarters much of the time. “Papa and I like the room because it's so sunny,” she said. She is quick to ce sunshine an@ shade. We had a try at cribbage before I left that afternoon, and my pegs plodded on not vainly behind hers as they galloped. That isn't saying much, for my only practice at cribbage dates back a long v to the time when I was a good little and used to play a game with my aunt in the too short time between din- ner and golng to bed. But Helen's repu- tation as a winner extends among really expert cribbage players. She is punctilious {n matters of cut- ting ‘and dealing. When she has her cards in hagd she feels them over carefully un- til she knows every one. They are a marked pack, and so deftly marked that none but herself can feel the tiny pricks she has made in the corners of their faces as cabalistic signs to herself. She has used six dots in different arrangements. After she has these in mind she lays the cards out on the table, in a row, face down. She knows them by their position. Then . she is ready to play. She has a solitaire game as well that helps her pass the time. The theater is another of her amuse- ments. When she told me this T thought she meant opera.” What could she enjoy of a performance except the music? “No, I don't mean opera,” she replied = crisply. “It is the theater I like, melo- drama especially. I don’'t care for com- edy.” She is not, at 17, at a humorous age, which ‘probably accounts for this. “Trilby” was running then at the Cen- tral and she went with me to “see™ it. She was by far the most interested in the party. “What amuses me most is that old couple,” she commented on the Bagots HER \) W Do) e between at® methodical?” After the first entrance of each charac- ter, upon which we told her his name, she recognized him as quickly .as anybody. She had a chuckle ready for Zou-Zou, a hardening for Svengali, a warmth for Trilby. £ “I love to hear themrave,” she said after Billee had met his rival in the foyer. And, mourning at the death, “I do wish Billee had come back after she died so that he could have raved scme more.” She gets the most out of her wheel, her studying, her writing, her music, her cards, her occasional visits to city thea- ters. But even so she isn’t living enough —not half enough. She wants to do every- thing; she chafes under restrictions. She is liked by young people, and she wants to be free to have her fun. Boys ask her to ride and drive with them just as they ask any girl. She wants to go, just as any girl does. She wants all the fun that life holds. Perhaps this has something to do with her not having been born blind. Perhaps “Aren’t they ridiculously HEELING 1S AMUS EMENT BEGINS CHIEF in those first preclous six years of her life before it happened—it came about in a child’s quarrel, when a little brother, in unrecking, childish fury, struck her— perhaps in those few years the love of living came to her and has never disap- peared. She remembers nothing of them, though. ‘When her mother asks, “Can’t you re- member anything about how I look?” “Not a thing,” she says. “I just imagine how you look. Don't you wonder what those imagin- ings look like? Those fanciful figures that she calls up before her to correspond with voices that she knows? She is keen to form her pictures of every one she meets. I hadn’t been with her half an hour before she had round- aboutly got at my age by a circuit re lating to how long I went to college and when I left. She seemed a little djsap- pointed when she got at the truth, for she said “I looked younger even than that.’ Then she asked me how much I weighed. “You look heavier than 11 It's a queer world she lives in, isn't it? ;qve There Two of Yolu? Continued from Page One. they welcome to the patient and enjoyed by her rs later the patient mar and became a most admirable wif telligent and effi- sehold. No. cient mistres “Later on, 2 condition or per rn with great- er frequency, b t length one night “Fwoey’ announced that she would soon teke her departure, but that another vi itor would come to take place. Pres- ently an alarming attack of syncope ing several hours, and when did at last return it was ed by a thir@ personality, entire- entirely distinct, both from If and also from the so well ac- oc- and Twoey quainted. new el f The announced it personality at once ‘The Bo; and that place of “Twoey' for and for several whenever this third personai 1l its behavior was entirely that announcement. ¥. however, she became accus- tomed and reconciled to her new role and it had come the the weeks, was present in special 2id of No. 1; new surroundings, and adapted herself with most astonishing grace to the duties of wife, mother and mistress of the house, though always when closely questioned she persisted seriously in her original declaration that she was ‘The Boy." The nality was of much more broad and ype than that of the frolicsome woey,' and while entirely separated in consciousness and personality from No. 1, was much nearer to her in general outline of character. The acquired book knowledge of No. 1 Latin, mathematics and philesophy uired at school—were entirely wanting the new personality; the extensive knowledge of general literature—the whcle poems of Tennyson, Browning and ‘Scott which No. 1 could repeat by heart, alsa her perfect familiarity with the most beautiful and poetic portions of the Bible—all these were entirely lacking in personality. In a general knowleage rs, however, in the news of the E from all over the world, and in car- rent literature, she at once became thor- oughly interested and thoroughly intelli- it, and the judament was keen and sound. She took the greatest delight ir every kind of amusement—the theater and she in B literary and musical entertainments, and her criticisms of performances and of books were independent, acute and reli- able. At the same time her household affairs and her interest in them and all subjects pertaining to the family wére conspicuous, “Of the preceding personalities she was fully cognizant, and had great admiration and affection for them both. She would listen to no disparaging remarks concern- ing ‘Twoey,’” and her admiration for No. 1 ‘was unbounded. Neither ‘Twoey’ nor No. 3 ever seemed anxious to continue and prolong their visits, but, on the contrary, were always desirous that No. 1 should regain her health sufficiently to get on without them; and they referred with much feeling to the cauSes which pre- vented it. “The peculiar and interesting incidents which diversified these different states of consciousness would fill a volume. No. 1, when in her condition of greatest weak- mess, would occasionally astonish her listeners by announcing to them event which they had kept profoundly secret from her. For instance: ‘You need not be so quiet about it, I have seen it all. Mrs. C. died the day before yesterday. She is to be buried to-morrow;’ or, ‘There has been a death over in such and such a street. “Who is it that died? ‘Twoey's’ sagac- some ity, amounting almost to prevision, was often noticed, and many a time the ne- glect to be guided by her premonitions was deeply regretted. ‘The Boy,' or No. 3, frequently exhibited peculiar perceptive powers. At times the sense of hearing would be entirely lost, so that the most violent noises-close to her ears, and when perfectly unexpected, failed to startle or disturb her in the slightest degree, al- though usyally she was easily startled by even a slight, sudden or unexpected noise. Under these circumstances she had a pe- culiar faculty of perceiving what was said by watching the lips of the speaker, though ordinarily neither she nor the primitive self had any such faculty. “In this condition she has often carried on conversations with entire strangers and entertained guests at -table without having it once suspected that all the while she could not near a sound of any sort.. I have myself seen her sit and attend to the reading of a new book simply by watch- ing the lips of the reader, taking in every word and sentiment, and laughing heart- ily at the funny passages, when I am per- fectly sure she could not have heard a pistol shot at her ear. “When the No. 3 personality had per- sisted for a considerable period—weeks, for instance, at a time, as it has some- times done—the temporary return of No. 1 under the influence of some soothing condition or pleasing sentiment or emo- tion has been keautiful to witness. I saw this transformation once while sitting with her in a box at the Metropolitan Opera-house. Beethoven's concerto in C major was on the programme. In the midst of the performance 1 saw the ex- pression of her countenance change; ‘a clear, calm, softened look came into the face as she leaned back in her chair and listened to the music with the most in- tense enjoyment. I spoke a few words to her at the close of the number, and she replied in the soft and musical tones pecu- liar to her own normal condition, and I recognized without the slightest doubt the presence of No. 1. A few minutes later her eyes closed; presently she drew two or three short, quick respirations; again her countenance changed, and No. 3 was back again. She turned her head to me and said, ‘So No. 1 came back to hear her favorite concerto? I replied, ‘Yes; and how did you know it?" ‘Oh, I was here and listened to it too.” ‘Where were you?" I asked. ‘I sat on the front of the box. I saw you speaking to her. How greatly she enjoyed the music!” And then she went on listening to the music and com- ‘menting upon the programme in the usual discriminating manner of No. 3.” The next case to which attention will be called is that of Rev. Ansel Bourne. This is a well known case and has been carefully studied, every point in connec- tion therewith having been thoroughly in- vestigated. Hudson gives a detailed state- ment of this case in his “Law of. Psychic Phenomena,” but a more condensed ac- count by another authority is here given: ““On January 17; 1887, Rev. Ansel Bourne of Green, R, I, an itinerant preacher, drew $550 from a bank in Providence with which to pay for a certain lot of land in Greene, paid certain bills, and got into a Pawtucket horse car. This 1s the last in- cident he remembers. He did not return home that day. He was published in the papers as missing, and. foul play being suspected, the police sought in vain his whereabouts. On the morning of March 14, however, at Norristown, Pa., a man calling himself A. J. Brown, who had rented a small shop six weeks previously, stocked it with stationery, confectionery, fruit and small articles, and carried on this quiet trade without seeming to any one uunnatural or eccentric, woke up in a fright and called in the people of the house to tell him where he was. He said that his name was Ansel Bourne, that he was entirely ignorant of Norristown, that he knew nothing of shopkeeping, and that the last thing he remembered—it seemed only yesterday—was drawing money from the bank in Providence. He would not belleve that two months had elapsed. The people of the house thought him insane. Soon his nephew came and took hira home. He had such a horror of the candy store that he refused to set foot in it again. “The first two weeks of the period re- mained unaccounted for, as he had no memory, after he had resumed his nor- mal personality, of any part of the timie and no one who knew him seems to have seen him after he left home. The remark- — able part of the change is, of course, tha peculiar occupation which the so-called Brown indulged in. Mr. Bourne has never in his life had the slightest contact with trade. Brown was described by the neighbors as taciturn, orderly in his habits and in no way queer. He went to Phila- delphia several times; replenished his stock; cooked for himself in the back shop, where he also siept; went regular- ly to church: and once at a prayer- ing made what was considered by the hearers a good address, in the course of which he related an incident he had wit- nessed in his natural state of Bourne. “This was all that was known of the case up to June 1, 1890, when I induced Mr. Bourne to submit to hypnotism, s tran as to see whether in the hy his Brown memory (Brown would come back. It did so with s ness—so much, indeed, that ssible to make h while in hypnosis remember any of th facts of his normal life. He had heard of Ansel Bourne, ‘but did not know as he had ever met the man.’ When confronted with Mrs. Bourne he said that he had never seen the woman before. On the other hand, he told us of his peregri- nations during the last fortnight and gave all sorts of details during the Norristown tsod 1 had hoped by suggestion to run the two personalities into one and make the memories continuous, but no artifice would avail to accomplish this, and Mz Bourne's skull to-day still covers two dis- tinct personal selves.” E. ELLSWORTH CAREY. notie