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WHAT CARE DO YOU TARE
OF YOUR EYES?
By JOHN EARL WETHERBY
W H E T H E R or not an acquired
characteristic, that
is, a positive ability or
power—one which is not
inherited but which is
made a part of the mental or physical
capital just as a friendless orphan may
in the long run by his own efforts gather
to himself a fortune—may be transmitted
to posterity is a moot question with
scientists. It is a positive fact, however,
that physical handicaps and defects may
be passed on to an unwilling but helpless
succeeding generation. It is hard to say,
of course, if this is true in all cases. The
less serious ailments usually are not on
record, scientists concerning themselves
more with the most serious, most interesting,
and most melodramatic of the
afflictions of mankind.
Eye troubles are well worth serious
study in heredity. The eyes abused by
protracted use in office or laboratory,
under artificial light or even in the light
of day, are irritated at night by the
flicker of the motion-picture film, by the
direct glare of electric lights in the home,
by the unmasked lamps of automobiles,
and by the flashing of swiftly moving
electric lighted signs. It is indeed a wonder
that we are not a race of blinking
neurotics. Astigmatism, myopia or nearsightedness,
and other similar evils afflict
the vision.
To what extent is posterity going to
suffer not only from its own evils in its
own generation but from the evils inflicted
upon it by a careless ancestry? A
spectacled race, a race prone to headache
or dizziness under moderate eye stress,
can hardly survive the test of a eugenic
"once-over." Such a race should leave
to others the task of being the fathers
of men. Possibly long investigation
no
might disclose the fact that defective or
weakened vision may be transmitted,
even though such defects are acquired
during the life time of the individual and
are not innate. It is a well-known fact
that color-blindness—which is not an acquired
affliction, but which is solely
hereditary—is transmitted from father to
grandson, but not from father to daughter.
The evil of misusing the eyes may
find its fruitage in a succeeding generation.
This is not a proved fact. Merely
an unsubstantiated theory.
In any case, the moral of all this is
that common sense practice would do
much to obviate the evils of eye abuse.
Hard, bright lights are bad for the eyes.
On the other hand neither are overshaded
lights good for the vision. The
eyes of one accustomed to shadowy lighting
will flinch from the normal light of
day.
Concealed lighting is the ideal—no
shadow on the book—no glare on the
paper—but the light should be of sufficient
candle-power to illuminate the
room. An artificial duskness is as bad
for the eyes as that provided by nature
for romantic lovers.
Reasonable rest for the eyes should be
had. One whose eyes are wearied from
the strain of keeping books by electric
lights should avoid the kind of novel that
simply won't let the reader put it down
until it is finished.
Above all, fine intensive work, whether
it be the sewing of fine stitches, or the
repairing of watches, is not the kind of
use to which the eye of man ever was
intended to be put, by nature. If we do
not care to conserve our own vision, let
us nevertheless reflect that we may be
doing posterity a gross injury and consequently
a gross injustice.