The Blind Leading the Blind

While there are some gentlemen of advanced Years who only adopt eyeglasses in their uttermost Senescence, such is Not the case for me: I have worn Spectacles for so long that, indeed, I scarcely recognize myself Without them. They rest atop my nose virtually all Day, generally the Blued-steel spectacles with a knocked-on Crank bridge; though I keep a pair of Gold-rimmed spectacles as well, suitable for meetings with visiting Dignitaries and occasions featuring particularly rare bottles of Scotch.

Now it so Happens that even though I am nearly never Without them, they must at Times part company from my Face; when they are in need of Cleaning, perhaps, with a clean Handkerchief; or perhaps after a particularly vigorous Sneeze. And whenever this Happens, it can lead to a most vexing Conundrum. For unless they are placed back astride my Nose with Alacrity, they may easily be Misplaced; and then I must face the virtual Impossibility of Finding my spectacles, while not Wearing them.

By Saint Eustace's beard, that is Precisely the situation I find myself in this Morning. Somehow, sometime between my First and Second pipe, this most necessary bit of Glass and lacquered Wire managed to Abscond: leaving me rather high and Dry, so to speak, and with a Pile of unanswered correspondence to complete - not to mention a Very Important Cribbage game after Lunch. Bother and Confusticate it all!

One must be Systematic in all such endeavors: and fortunately I have a keen Memory for detail, and a Routine for places to check. Steady at the Helm, and I shall find them for sure. First, I check my Drink: a 15 year old Glen Garioch. Carefully I drain the glass, for this is a Most Common place for me to lose my spectacles. Alas, no luck. I pour and drink a Second glass, just to be sure. Alas! Success eludes me.

Thence to stop Two, the Hat-rack: at least I think it is the Hat-rack; it could, reasonably, be one of the Lads (Emmett, perhaps). But several prudent wallops with my Walking-stick confirm that it is most probably the Hat-rack, unless Emmett has had a particularly rough night. No matter: the spectacles are No-where to be found.

Thus to the Third point of my Inquiry: the Butter-dish. Ephram and the lads are telling me something about the top of my Head - but this is no time to comment on my Hair-style! I find the Butter-dish after some travails. I must admit that without the help of my Lenses, our Babbage difference-engines look rather like the Ice-box. But eventually I locate the Correct hiding-place of the butter. Zounds - still no Luck.

Again Ephram says something about "atop your Head," but I have no time for Riddles, lad! The Fourth place I always look is on a particular mahogany End-table at the Club. I must try several Doors to locate the correct one to Exit; they do look much Alike without my corrective Lenses. But I have no time to Waste - I must drive to the club Forthwith! What is Ephram going on about? - No time!

It is not until much later in the Day that I arrive back once more at my Desk, defeated and with many an interesting Adventure, might I add. It is most Unusual not to find my spectacles after a thorough Search; but I have been through all Thirty-eight of my usual Searching spots, and for the first time, come up Empty. Most unusual! However, all is not Lost; I shall fetch my spare pair in the Evening, and in the meanwhile, though I cannot read the Labels, I can certainly tell my Scotches apart by Taste.

What the deuce is that atop my Head?