Cultivating the Eyesight

CULTIVATING THE EYESIGHT We May Sec and Unheed; — The Eye May be Taught. By Grace Wharton Montaigne What you may see at home. "Huh, Old Chimney Rock — why, I saw that twenty years ago!" And the person I spoke to tossed her head like a spoiled child — she had seen that twenty years ago. There was nothing about it. Just a common old rock on top of a lava flow; and for me now to try to interest her! — well, she gave notice there was nothing about that or- dinary old thing she hadn't seen. "Well, try to interest me if you can," was her attitude, "but I know — I've seen it twenty years ago!" But had she seen it? Did she use her eyes? Or did she, like scores of others, merely stumble up the hill, pant- ing and slipping, never once looking for interest in the old rock, and see unheeded? What could she have seen in Old Chimney Rock? The Great Stone Face "The Guardian of Deseret." Also a most remarkable likeness to the Prophet Joseph Smith She could have seen the most wonderful, clearest cut, most nearly exact face that I have ever seen pictured as having been found in Utah. A face with large, powerful, Roman nose, the nose of the leader of men, commanding, strong in character, purposeful, dominated by a

CULTIVATING THE EYESIGHT 1145 piercing eye from under the strength of eyebrows of a man of great mind. She could have seen two waves of hair combed so naturally as to arrest her attention at once; she could have seen (what most stone faces fail to show) not merely a profile, but the back head, long hair cut squarely, and the coat collar beginning just below that notch; she could have seen the spine at the back of the shoulders, just as naturally as if drawn to order. Were her eyes trained? Did she truly observe? Are we through yet? No; we are not. We are going to direct her eyes to this remark- able face yet further. We are going to show her an un-retouched photograph, on which not a single line has been added to make that white of the eye; we are going to have her look once again, more closely to see that mouth, firm lips, sharply closed in fixed determina- tion, exactly fitting a man with that chin, having that self-same Roman nose of leadership, and that acutely piercing eye of a man of keen vision. Are we done looking for her? Not yet. We will have her look once again to the neck leading out to the chin, and she will see that this man has the enormous collar of the period worn in the decade of about 1830-40; and strangest of all, add- ing as we go to the things she should have observed herself, that on the upper chest is the "stock" of linen which men of that fashion wore. Most wonderful profile that it is! This rock overlooks the little hamlet of Deseret, in Millard county, a place where altogether too many say, "Why there is noth- ing of interest about this old town. — We've seen it all for years, and there's nothing new." But it is not so. The eye trained to hunt for things to see, sees in this face "The Guardian of Deseret." Nor are we content to rest there. One further glance reveals a most astonishing likeness to a (reversed) profile of the Prophet Joseph Smith! The eye may be trained. It should be trained. Only a trained eye should accompany a vivid imagination. A lagging eye, an unheed- ing eye denotes the mentally slow. Glance back once more at this astonishing natural phenomenon, and see if you are one of the scores who clambered unseeing up that lava flow, not using your eyes. The artist cultivates the seeing eye. He visualizes, and then he expresses that visualization by his chisel, by means of his pallette, or, in the words of cold dull type — but no artist may successfully neglect to cultivate the "seeing eye." For without the trained eye, what need to spend years in learning his art — in toiling to cut stone, in study to fix colors into the beauty of form, or to engage the attention with apt words — if hand, eye, or soul is not directed with visualization? The hand can not express what the eye does not see.

1146 IMPROVEMENT ERA I went down through Deseret the other day and I saw an old mud fort — I saw the loop holes; I saw the straw in the mud; I saw the Old Fort Deseret "Old Fort Deseret," a refuge erected as a fortress to repel attacks by the Indians. canal; I saw the great gap where huge sections had washed down into heaps, crumbling, decayed. I saw an enclosure one hundred paces by one hundred and thirty- five. I saw a large gate in the north wall, and a small gate in the east wall, and I visualized teams entering the one, and men the other. And I thought I saw. Really, I did. I truthfully thought I saw. I felt I had seen all there was to be seen. But dear reader, what a poor pair of eyes I had. And what miserable, prosaic use I made of them. Let me borrow the eyes of a poet, one who visualized, one who saw the toil, the heart-suffering, the anxiety, the apprehension, that caused that old fort to be built. Let me apologize for my defects, and present what may be seen in "Old Fort Deseret," in the admirable poem of M. E. Eddy: — Old Fort Deseret The snow-capped mountains brooded o'er The desert valley. Now no more The haunt of passing warrior bold. The first white settlers came to hold And smooth the path for younger feet. They plowed and sowed their crops of wheat — Some hope they had, that little band, Of making this "A Promised Land," Of happy homes, and needful bread, And plenty, spite of lurking dread.

CULTIVATING THE EYESIGHT 1147 Then, on a day came one who told, With bated breath and blood run cold, Of Indian massacres! So near! — It blanched the cheek and brought a tear. "Haste, neighbor, haste! 'Tis come at last! The danger we had hoped was passed; We'll gather by the stream, and try To save our dear ones — or all die." So gathered all the wagon train — Some dozen households — on the plain, And longed for timbers they might make. Into a stockade of post and gate. Said one, "The Lord hath led us here, And for his help do not fear; See, here is water, straw and sand, — Let's build a wall around our band Of helpless wives and children weak. God is our help, if him we seek." They built the wall four square around The little camp; and soon the sound Of ploughs and spades the site surround; They dug a trench wherein they threw Brush, straw, or grass, whatever grew Nearest to hand to make it strong; And every man worked fast and long; He trampled straw in mud and water, With aid of wife, and son and daughter. > Three days they toiled, in gangs I ween; A sight so rare was seldom seen, By sun, or moon, or candle sheen. A bastion at the corner, too, Was made, to give a safer view; The watchman here might guard the gate, Nor tremble while he stood to wait; Within the walls the children slept. — The red skin spied and homeward crept; Too close a watch the paleface kept. The fort still stands, a crumbling wall; It marks th' treach'rous redskin's fall. Within the walls, once trampled bare, The soft green grass grows sweet and rare; The iron steed goes thundering past, — The settler's dream come true at last! The traveler sees, as west he goes, The desert blossom as the rose. No hand forges better than the eye sees. There, I thought I had seen the old fort fully — marked that it lay 100 by 135 yards, near a canal, some straw in the mud walls, and the railroad track close by! Oh, fatal defect of vision. Such strabismus of eyesight can not be cured by oculist. — Mr. Eddy had taught his eye to see. Delta, Utah.