Tesla Will Try To Cure Rouss

The Recorder Brings Electrician and Millionaire Together.

LAST HOPE OF THE BLIND MERCHANT

Has the Subtle Fluid Power to Restore His Fading Sight?

EXPERIMENT TO BE TRIED

With No Thought of Gain, but Simply to Help His Fellow Man, the Scientist Will, Under a Specialist's Supervision, Apply 100,000 Volts to the Sufferer's Optic Nerve.

Through the endeavors of a Recorder reporter two of the best-known characters in this country — Nikola Tesla, the greatest electrician the world has, perhaps, yet produced, and Charles Broadway Rouss, the multi-millionaire merchant — were brought together yesterday. The meeting had an important object. It resulted from a free-will offer on Mr. Tesla's part to place the results of his inventive genius at the disposal of the merchant for the sake of holding out to him the only possible chance for a recovery of his fast-waning eyesight.

Some time ago The Recorder reporter brought the fact of Mr. Rouss' sad plight to Mr. Tesla's notice and suggested the possible efficacy of the high-voltage currents. Mr. Tesla was at once Interested, and quickly offered to place his apparatus at Mr. Rouss disposal.

"It cannot do him any harm, and it may possibly stimulate the optle nerves and awaken new life in them," he said, "and I am more than willing to render any service within my power."

The reporter found Mr. Rouss at first. loth to consider the idea.

"That man's time is worth too much to be bothered about an old man's eyesight," he exclaimed with characteristic energy. "I wouldn't want to bother him. He is doing the whole world so much good that it would be wrong to make him stop to consider individuals. Why, I consider him the greatest man in the world."

When made to understand that Mr. Tesla had made the offer, and had even asked The Recorder reporter to bring Mr. Rouss to his laboratory, the merchant wellnigh broke down and said:

"Yes, I'll go with you any time; but I can't pay for it I haven't money enough."

The reporter explained that Mr. Tesla would accept no remuneration for his services, but that his offer was prompted by sympathy and concern.

"But what are these currents like?" asked Mr. Rouss. "Maybe it will kill me!"

The reporter dispelled Mr. Rouss' fears by saying that he had had hundreds of thousands of volts passed through his own body at Mr. Tesla's laboratory without any ill effects.

"Take me to him!" cried Mr. Rouss. "I belleve if there is one man in the world who can give me back my eyesight it's Tesla. And if he hasn't got any machine that will do it now, he'll invent one in a year or two!"

The meeting was arranged for yesterday afternoon at 3 o'clock, and when the reporter called at Mr. Rouss' great Broadway store the blind millionaire was anxiously awaiting his arrival.

Mr. Rouss took the reporter's arm, and they started up Broadway together, but had not got past the store even before a crowd of newsboys and street urchins almost blocked the sidewalk.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Rouss!"

"How-de-do, Mr. Rouss?"

"Buy a paper, Mr. Rouss?"

There did not appear to be a man, woman or child on Broadway who did not seem to know him and have a kind word of greeting for him. To rid himself of the crowd of newsboys and gamins that thronged around, Mr. Rouss would now and again thrust his hand into his pocket and bring forth a handful of pennies, which he would toss inte the air. A wild scramble would follow as the boys darted between one's very legs almost after the rolling pennies.

Suddenly Mr. Rouss stopped short, and turned to the reporter.

"Have a drink?"

In spite of his almost total blindness, some occult sense seemed to tell Mr. Rouss of the proximity of a cafe, and in another minute they were both leaning over the bar, the best of friends imaginable.

"Give me the cheapest thing you've got in the house, and" — as the bartender turned toward the reporter — "he'll take the same."

The strangely ordered drink might have been far worse, for the bartender was evidently well posted in Mr. Rouss' wants, and proceeded to concoct a mock champagne a la Rouss.

"It tastes like champagne; it's as good as champagne, and it's so much cheaper," said Mr. Ross by way of explanation.

For the benefit of the uninitiated, the formula for this rarest of drinks is herewith given: Half a teaspoonful of powdered sugar, one and a half tablespoonfuls of whisky; ginger ale ad libitum.

After this dissipation Mr. Rouss was taken directly to Mr. Tesla's laboratory and there introduced to the great inventor.

"I was so sorry to hear about your affliction," said Mr. Tesla, looking into Mr. Rouss' vacantly staring eyes with a look of genuine concern. "My poor fellow, how dreadful it must be for you! Oh, I do hope I have some means of helping you. Sit down. Before we do anything else I am going to show you some experiments, just to give you an idea of what my work is like."

Then, with the tenderness of a woman, Mr. Tesla led the great merchant to a chair, and in a trice his visitors were transported to Wonderland.

It would be impossible to describe the many wonderful things that the inventor showed Mr. Rouss and the reporter. Electricity no longer seemed a new force, but a living thing, capable of putting life and motion into even inanimate objects.

"If I could only see better, perhaps I would understand more," said Mr. Rouss, "and I would give anything if I could only see you, but it's a privilege to even shake hands with you. I want you to give me a pair of new eyes, and if you can't do it now, you will some day. I want them to be blue eyes, please."

"My poor fellow." answered Mr. Tesla, "I only wish I could. Why don't you go into the country? The green is so restful to the eyes. I am sure that just to be among the waving trees and fair green fields would do your eyes good."

"I wouldn't leave the store; no, not for the world!" said Mr. Rouss. "It would kill me. I get down at 6 o'clock every morning, I leave at 7, and go to bed at 8. No, I couldn't leave the store, even for my eyes. Why, what would you do if you gave up your work and loafed around in the saloons here for even ten days? Why, it would kill you!"

"Yes," sighed Mr. Tesla, "the wretched liquors they sell would, if nothing else."

Then the great table-like spool which gathers the electric currents which Mr. Tesla's dynamoes charge the air with was wheeled in front of Mr. Rouss' chair, and the wire ends began to crackle ominously with the intensity of the current. Mr. Tesla took a hoop of metal in his hands, holding it by one of two handles that were attached to the centre piece. Then, taking Mr. Rouss' one hand in his, he placed the millionaire's other hand on the second handle of the hoop and held it over the huge spool or coll. A lurid flame played about the connection of the handles and hoop, and almost without his feeling it 100,000 volts were shot through Mr. Rouss' body.

"Perhaps," he whispered to the reporter, "you've all got me here to kill met and take my money."

When informed of the intensity of the current he was enduring Mr. Rouss' wonderment knew no bounds.

"That is all," said Mr. Tesla, putting away the hoop. "I merely wanted you to see that there was no pain or danger in the current. I take it constantly myself; and, indeed, don't think I could live without it. Of course, not being a physician, I would not venture to undertake any personal treatment, but what facilities I have are at your disposal. Under the guidance of your specialist, these currents might do good."

Then Mr. Rouss and the reporter left, and when again in the shady cool of the saloon, discussing more fake champagne (the reporter managed to get his hand on the bottle before it left the bar), Mr. Rouss decided to place his case in Mr. Tesla's hands, under the guidance of Dr. William F. Mittendorf. the well-known ophthalmologist of 140 Madison avenue.

Later, at Mr. Rouss' request, the reporter called on Dr. Mittendorf, and the latter expressed himself as most eager to test the efficacy of these wonderful currents.

"I doubt," said the doctor, "whether they will do much or any good in Mr. Rouss' case, but surely if there is any possible chance it lies in this one direction, and I will do my part with the utmost pleasure."

So the treatment is to be instituted, and the one slender straw that offers eyesight to the erratic millionaire has been held out through the efforts of The Recorder.