Blind

One day last week a blind violinist played in the street in front of the Fort Pitt Hotel, Pittsburgh. Blind musicians have doubtless played there before--they are not infrequent. A music lover, goaded to desperation, will from time to time resort to bribery to make them stop. Thus they eke out their precarious livelihood. In this case, strange things happened. Men, hurrying past, paused, listened, stayed. A crowd gathered. An occasional ear was strained to catch the excellences of an unexpected technique. For two hours the crowd stood, respectfully attentive to the program of classical favorites--Schumann's Traumerei, the prison scene from Trovatore, the Intermezzo from Cavalleria. Then the violin was silent again. A buzz of surprised admiration from the gathered audience; a collection on the spot netted more than $50 for the sightless wanderer with the magic gift.

Sixteen years ago, a new star was heralded on the horizon of music. A young Dutch violinist, Peter van der Meer, late of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, gave a violin recital in Carnegie Hall. His interpretation of Paganini's Concerto in D Major met with especial acclaim. But soon Van der Meer was forgotten. In 1915, he became blind, after a long illness. He spent six years in the Bellevue Hospital, Manhattan. Recently he was pronounced cured--but his sight had left him forever.

Peter Van der Meer, who enthralled a street crowd in Pittsburgh, has gone on his way southward, the magic violin under his arm. Where he is going he knows not. He has no money other than the gifts of casual hearers.