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SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
LIBRARY

EDUCATION
BOOK PURCHASE

FUND

STANFORD S^^ UNIVERSITY
LIBRARIES

HELEN KELLER AND MISS SULUVAN

THE
ORY OF MY J '

By iIELf:N IC^:LI-lR

WITH

H£K LETTERS Hf

HER KIjUCAI u >\, ;

rASSAGCS FROM THF. ii r K

flr^.^i. fUA"^:'rif,i*

l,H * .-V,'

Si Jom AttntT Uacv

n«r«nMVi»

NEW YORK

DOUBLEDAY, PAGT ^ rnXf»A*7

1910

^^^

AC 11^ KJILJA

THE
STORY OF MY LIFE

By HELEN KELLER

WITH

HER LETTERS (1887—1901)

AND

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT
OF HER EDUCATION, INCLUDING
PASSAGES FROM THE REPORTS
AND LETTERS OF HER TEACHER,
ANNE MANSFIELD SULUVAN

By JoEiN Albert Macy

ILLUtTtLATM^

NEW YORK

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE k COMPANY

1910

i '^-

Tbc CcDtuTT Compuir
Cnprriiht, tv^, ige^ t^5> bf

^ V*,-:mjh

ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL

'^ITHO has taught the deaf to speak

and enabled the listening ear to hear

speech from the Atlantic to the ^ockies^

1 DeDfcau

Mm Story of My Li/i^

EDITOR'S PREFACE

THIS book « in three parts. The first two. Miss XellerU
story and the extracts from her letters* form a com-
plete account ol tier life as iai as she l^bji give iL Uuch
of her eduoation she cannot cxplnin hpnelf, and sini^e a- knowl*
edge of that is necESS^jy to an undcrstajiding of what ahe has
wrillen. il was thought best tti supplement her antohiogrflphy
with the reports and letters of her teacher, Miss Anne Mansfidd
Sullivan- The addition of a further account of Miss Kdlcr'i
prTEouality and achievpments may he unnfrcessary; yet it will
help to make clear aome ol the traits oi her character and lh<
nature of the work which she and her teacher have done.

For the third pari of the book the Rrliior is reponsible, though
all that i£ valid in it he owes to authentic records and to the
adxdcc of Miss Sullivan.

The Editor desires to CTtpresE hie Eratitijde and the gratitude
of Misa Keller and Miss SulJivan to Tti^ Latlies' llomt Journal
anc] to its editnn. Mr. Edward Bole and Mr, WilUam V,
Alexander, who have been unfailingly kind and have given for
uw in this hcjok all the photographs which were taken expressly
for the yoiirfKU'. and the Editor thanks Miss Keller's many
friends who have lent hinx her letters to them and given him valu-
able information: especially Mrs, Laurence HuttoUn who supplied
him with her large collpction of notes and anecdotes; Mr. John
Kitz. Superintendent cf the Volta Bureau for the Increase and
DiHusioD of Knowled^ relating to the Deaf; and Mrs. Sophia
C. Hopkins, to whom Mi^ Sullivan wrote those illuminating
letters, the enlracts from which give a better idea of her methods
with her pupil than anything heretofore puhliahed.

Messrs Houghton, Mifflin and Company have courteously
permitted the reprinting of Mi£fi Keller's letter to Dr. Holmes,
which appeared in "Over the Teacups," and one of Whittier's
letters to Miss Keller Mr. S. T. Pickard. Whittier's literary
executur, kindly aent the origiual of another letter from Mies
KeUei to Whittier.

JoHPf Alssbt Mact<
Cambridge. MasKachusetta. Fehruary i, 1903,

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGI

Editor's Preface VII

PART 1

THE STORY OF MY LIPl

Chapters I— XXIII 3

PART II

FAGI

Introduction to Letters 143

Letters 14.5

PART in

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT OF HELEN KELLER's LIFE
AND EDUCATION

CHAPTER rACl

L The Writing of the Book , . . .283

II, Personality 286

IIL Education 397

IV. Speech 384

V. Literary Style 394

Index •»«!*«»•» 433

FACSIMILE OF PART OF LETTER TO
PHILLIPS BROOKS

5o.Bo.t

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TTLt

in a.

tn.Q.t -UDU rva'vt Irlt-n.
1L\Lt Ji_t\ttit\.-n.Q \rtcTL-u.3L

left tbe well-houae

e » g er

4> % W
If V « * »

to l(«)r n ,

• "3 «•.

Ever y th ing

had a

n a m a r

«M » * •

and e a ch

name

gave b

i r th to a

?'*•£ ^»:*.^i *

5* r^

new th ou

gh t . A

a we

return ed to the

h ou 3 e ,

ever y o b

j e c t I

at*,- t*

" V * k

t ou ch pd

seemed toquiver with 1 f f e .

Fftabnlle ot the bnJlLe nuDUKrirN of (Fw t*BaflF on paffc 14. with eq^t-nUm^
*^{^(It ndund. (Undrrlicul combinifniu of t?Krn liivc one lirn In TaUIc.
Nou thr Dtnision of iKc rowtli before *'r'* m "le^ni,"!!!!! the |«iuii| of (be (i^ (or
■'to"niTb tbe word ihii foUowi ilj

PART I
THE STORY OF MY LIFE

THE STORY OF MY LIFE
CHAPTER I

IT is with a kind of fear that T begin to write
the history of my hfe. I havCj as it were.
a superstitious hesitation in lifting the veil
that clings about my childhood like a golden mist.
The task of writing an autobiography is a difficult
one. U^en I try to classify my earlie&t impressions,
I Snd that fact and fancy look alike across the years
that link the past with the present. The woman
paints the child*s experiences in her own fantasy. A
few impressions stand out vividly from the first
years of my life; but "the shadows of the prison-
house are on the rest." Besides, many of the joys
and sorrows of childhood have lost their poignancy;
and many incidents of vital importance in my early
education have been forgotten in the excitement of
great discoveries. In order, therefore, not to be
tedious I shall trj^ to present in a series of sketches
only the episodes that seem to me to be the most
interesting and important.

I was bom on June a;, iSSo, in Tuscurabia, a
little town of northern Alabama.

Tbe family on my father's side is descended from
Caspar XcUcr, a native of Switzerland, who settled
in Mar>'land, One of my Swiss ancestors was the
first teacher of the deaf in Zurich and wrote a book
cm the subject of their education — rather a singular

4 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

coincidence; though it is true that there is no king
who has not had a slave among his ancestors, and
no slave who has not had a king among his.

My grandfather, Caspar Keller's son, ''entered"
large tracts oE land in Alabama and finally settled
there. I have been told that once a year he went
from Tuscumbia to Philadelphia on horseback to
purchase supplies for the plantation, and my aunt
has in her possession many of the letters to his
family, which give charming and vivid accounts of
these trips.

My Grandmother Keller was a daughter of one
of Lafayette's aides, Alexander Moore, and grand-
daughter of Alexander Spotswood, an early Colonial
Governor of Virginia. She was also second cousin
to Robert E. Lee.

My father, Arthur H, Keller, was a captain in the
Confederate Army, and my mother, Kate Adams,
was his second wife and many years younger. Her
grandfather, Benjamin Adams, married Susanna E.
Goodhue, and lived in Newbury, Massachusetts, for
many years. Their son, Charles Adams, was bom in
Newburyport, Massachusetts, and moved to Helena,
Arkansas. When the Civil War broke out, he fought
on the side of the South and became a brigadier-
general. He married Lucy Helen Everett, who
belonged to the same family of Everetts as Edward
Everett and Dr, Edward Everett Hale, After
the war was over the family moved to Memphis,
Tennessee.

I Eved, up to the time of the illness that deprived
me of my sight and hearing, in a tiny house consist-
ing of a large square room and a small one, in which
the servant slept. It is a custom in the South to

PART I
THE STORY OF MY LIFE

6 THE STORY OP MY LIFE

the whole air with their fragrance, untainted by any

earthy smell; and in the early morning, washed in
the dew, they felt so soft, so pure, I could not help
wondering if they did not resemble the asphodels of
God's garden.

The beginning of my Hfe was simple and much
like every other little life. I came, I saw, I con-
quered, as the first baby in the family always does.
There was the usual amount of discussion as to a
name for me. The first baby in the family was not
to be lightly named, every one was emphatic about
that. My father suggested the name of Mildred
Campbell, an ancestor whom he highly esteemed,
and he dechned to take any further part in the dis-
cussion. My mother solved the problem by giving
it as her wish that 1 should be called after her mother,
whose maiden name was Helen Everett. But in the
excitement of carrying me to church my father
lost the name on the way, very naturally, since it
was one in which he had declined to have a part.
When the minister asked him for it, he just remem-
bered that it had been decided to call me after my
grandmother, and he gave her name as Helen
Adams.

I am told that while I was still in long dresses
I showed many signs of an eager, self-asserting
disposition. Everything that I saw other people do
I insisted upon imitating. At six months I could
pipe out " How d'ye, " and one day I attracted every
one's attention by saying "Tea, tea, tea" quite
plainly. Even after my illness I remembered one of
the words I had learned in these early months. It
was the word "water," and I continued to make
some sound for that word after all other speech was

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

lost. I ceased making the sound "wah-wah" only
wbefi T leameJ to spell the word.

They tell me I walked the day I was a year old.
My mother had just taken me out of the bath-tub
and was holding me in her lap, when I was suddenly
attracted by the fliekering shadows of leaves that
danced in the sunlight on the smooth floor. I
slipped fn")m my mother's lap and ahnost ran toward
them. The impulse gone, I fell down and cried
for her to take me up in her arms.

These happy days did not last long. One brief
spring, rausical with the song of robin and raocking-
bini, one summer rich in fruit and roses, one autumn
of gold and crimson sped by and left their gifts at
the feet of an eager, delighted child. Then, in the
dreary month of February, came the illness which
closed my eyes and ears and plunged me into the
unconscirmsntss of a new-bnm baby. They called
it acute congestion of the stomach and brain. The
doctor thought t could not live. Early one morning,
however, the fever left me as suddenly and mysteri-
ously as it had come. There was gr^at rejoicing in
the family that mommg, but no one, not even the
doctor, knew that I should never see or hear again.

I fancy I still have confused recollections of that
illness. I especially remember the tenderness with
which my mother tried to soothe me in my waking
hours of fret and pain, and the agony and bewilder-
ment with which I awoke after a tossing half sleep,
and turned my eyes, so dry and hot. to the wall,
away from the once-loved light, which came to me
dim and yet more dim each day. But, except for
these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be memories,
it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare. Gradually

S THE STORY OF MY LIFE

I got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded
me and forgot that it had ever been different, until
she came — my teacher — ^who was to set my spirit
free. But during the first nineteen months of my
hfe I had cat^ht glimpses of broad, green fields,
a luminous sky, trees and flowers which the dark-
ness that followed could not wholly blot out. If
we have once seen, "the day is ours, and what the
day has shown."

CHAPTER II

( I CANNOT recall what happened during the first
months after my illness, I only know that I sat in
my mother's lap or clung to her dress as she went
about her household duties. My hands felt every
object and observed every motion, and in this way I
learned to know many things. Soon I felt the need
of some communication with others and began to
make crude signs. A shake of the head meant "No"
and a nod, "Vcs, "a pull meant 'Xomc" and a push,
" Go. " Was it bread that I wanted ? Then I would
imitate the acts of cutting the slices and buttering
them. If I wanted my mother to make ice-cream
for dinner I made the sign for working the freezer
and shivered, indicating cold. My mother, more-
over, succeeded in making me iinderstand a good
deaL I always knew when she wished me to bring
her something, and I would run upstairs or any-
where else she indicated- Indeed, I owe to her
loving wisdom all that was bright and good in my
long night.

I understood a good deal of what was going on
about me. At five I learned to fold and put away
the clean clothes when they were brought in from
the laundry, and 1 distinguished my own from the
rest. I knew by the way my mother and aunt
dressed when they were going out. and 1 invariably
begged to go with them. I was always sent for
when there was company, and when the guests took

10 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

their leave, I waved my hand to them, I think with
a vague remembrance of the meaning of the gestured

rie^day some gentlemen called on my mothe?, atffl
I felt the shutting of the front door and other sounds
that indicated their arrival. On a sudden thought
I ran upstairs before any one could stop me, to put
on my idea of a company dress. Standing before
the mirror, as I had seen others do, I anointed mine
head with oil and covered my face thickly with
powder. Then I pinned a veil over my head so
that it covered my face and fell in folds down to my
shoidders, and tied an enormous bustle round my
small waist, so that it dangled behind, almost
meeting the hem of my sldrt. Thus attired I went
down to help entertain the company.

I do not remember when I first realized that I was
different from other people ; but I knew it before my
teacher came to me. I had noticed that my mother
and my friends did not use signs as I did when they
wanted anything done, but talked with their mouths.
Sometimes I stood between two persons who were
conversing and touched their lips. I could not
understand, and was vexed. I moved my lips and
gesticulated frantically without result. This made
me so angry at times that I kicked and screamed
until I was exhausted.

I think I knew when I was naughty, for I knew
that it hurt Ella, my nurse, to kick her, and when
my fit of temper was over I had a feeling aldn to
regret. But I cannot remember any instance in
which this feeling prevented me from repeating
the naughtiness when I failed to get what I wanted.

In those days a httle coloured girl, Martha Wash-
ington, the child of our cook, and Belle, an old setter

THE STORV OF MY LIFE

and a great hunter in her day» were my constant
companions- Martha Washington understood my
dgns, and I seldom had any difficulty in making her
do just as I wished. It pleased me to domineer over
her, and she generally submitted to my tyranny
rather than risk a hand-to-hand encounter. I was
strong, active, indifferent to consequences. 1 knew
my own mind well enough and always had my own
way, even if I had to fight tooth and nail for it. We
spent a great ileal of time in tlie kitchen, kneading
dough balls, helping make ice-cream, grinding coffee.
quarreling over the cake-bowl, alid feeding the hens
and turkeys that swarmed about the kitchen steps.
Many of them were so lame that they would eat
from my band and let me feel them. One big
gobbler snatched a tomato from me one day and
Tan away with it. Inspired, perhaps, by Master
Gt>bbler'£ success, we carried off to the woodpile a
cake which the cook had just frosted, and ate every
trit of it. r was quite ill afterward, and I wonder
if retribution also overtook the turkey.

The guinea-fowl likes to hide her nest in outnDf-
the-way places, and it was one of my greatest
delights to hunt for the eggs in the long grasSn I
could not tell \tartha Washington when I wanted
to go egg-hunting, but I woulci double my hands
Rnd put them on the ground , which meant some-
thing round in the grass, and Martha always under-
stood. When we were fortunate enough to find a
nest I never allowed her to carry the eggs home,
making her understand by emphatic signs that she
might fall and break them.

The sheds where the corn was stored, the stable
where the horses were kept, and the yard where the

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

coTVS were milked morning and evening were imfail*
jng sources of interest to Martha and me. The
milkers would let me keep my hands on the cows
while they milked, and I often got well switched by
the cow for my curiosity.

The making ready for Christmas was always a
delight to me. Of course I did not know what it
was all about, but I enjoyed the pleasant odours
that filled the house and the tidbits that were given
to Martlia Washington and me to keep us quiet.
We were sadly in the way, but that did not interfere
with our pleasure in the least. They allowed us to
grind the spices, pick over the raisins and lick the
stirring spoons. I himg my stocking because the
others did; I cannot remember, however, that the
ceremony interested me e specially , nor did my
curiosity cause me to wake before daylight to look
for my gifts.

Martha Washington had as great a Inve of mischief
as L Two little children were seated on the veranda
steps one hot July afternoon. One was black as
ebony, with Httle bunches of fuzzy hair tied with
shoestrings sticking out all over her head like cork-
screws. The other was white, with long golden
curls. One child was six years old, the other two or
three years older. The younger child was blind^
that was I— and the other was Martha Washington.
We were busy cutting out paper dolls; but we soon
wearied of this amuscmont. and after cutting up
our shoestrings and clipping all the leaves off the
honeysuckle that were within reach. I turned my
attention to Martha's corkscrews. She objected at
first, but finally submitted. Thinking thai turn
and turn about is fair play, she seized the scissors

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

and cut off one of my curls, and would have cut them
all off but for my mother's timely interference.

Belle, our dog. my other comi.iankm, whs old and
lazy ^nd liked to sleep by the open fire rather than
to romp with me. I tried hard to teach her my sign
l^^iigu^gSi but she was dull and inattentive. She
sometimes started and quivered with excitement,
then she became perfectly rigid, as dogs do when
they point a bird. I did not then know why
Belle acted in this way; but I knew she was not
doing as I wished. This vcKed me and the lesson
always ended in a one-sided boxing match. Belle
would get up, stretch herself lazily, give one or two
contemptuous sniffs, go to the opposite side of the
hearth and lie down again, and I, wearied and
disappointed, went off in search of Martha,

Many incidents of those early years are fixed in
my memory, isolated, but clear and distinct, making
the sense of that silent, aimless, dayless life all the
more intense.

One day 1 happened to spill water on my apron,
and 1 spread it out to dry before the fire which was
flickering on the sitting-room hearth. The apron
did not dry quickly enough to suit me, so I drew
nearer and threw it right over the hot ashes. The
fire leaped into hfe; the flames encircled me so that
in a moment my clothes were blazing. I made a
terrified noise that brought Viny, my old nurse,
to the rescue. Throwing a blanket over me^ she
almost suffocated me. but she put out the fire.
Except for my hands and hair I was not badly
burned.

About this time I found out the use of a key.
One morning I locked my mother up in the pantry,

14 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

where she was obhged to remain three hours, as the

servants were in a detached part of the house. She
kept pounding on the door, while I sat outside on
the porch steps and laughed with glee as I felt the
jar of the pounding. This most naughty prank of
mine convinced my parents that I must be taught
as soon as possible. After my teacher, Miss Sullivan,
came to me, I sought an early opportunity to lock
her in her room. I went upstairs with something
which my mother made me understand I was to
give to Miss Sullivan ; but no sooner had I given it to
her than 1 slammed the door to, locked it, and hid
the key under the wardrobe in the hall. I could not
be induced to tell where the key was. My father
was obliged to get a ladder and take Miss Sullivan
out through the window — much to my delight.
Months after I produced the key.

When I was about five years old we moved from
the little vine-covered house to a large new one.
The family consisted of my father and mother, two
older half-brothers» and, afterward, a little sister,
Mildred. My earliest distinct recollection of my
father is making my way through great drifts
of newspapers to his side and finding him alone^
holding a sheet of paper before his face, I was
greatly puzzled to know what he was doing. I
imitated this action, even wearing his spectacles,
thinking they might help solve the mystery. But I
did not find out the secret for several years. Then
I learned what those papers were, and that my
father edited one of them.

My father was most loving and indulgent, devoted
to his home, seldom leaving us. except in the hunting
season. He was a great hunter. I have been told.

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

and a celebrated shot. Next to his family he loved
his dog£ and gun. His hospitality was great, almost
to a fault, and he sekJorn came home without bring-
ing a guest. His special pride was the big garden
where, it was said, he raised the finest ■watermelons
and strawberries in the county ; and to me he brought
the first ripe grapes and the choicest berries, I
remember his caressing touch as he led me from tree
to tree, from vine to vine, and his eager delight in
whatever pleased me.

He was a famous story-teller ; after I had acquired
language he used to spell clumsily into my hand
his cleverest anecdotes, and nothing pleased him
more than to have me repeat them at an opportune
moment.

I was in the North, enjoying the last beautiful
days of the summer of 1896, when I heard the news of
my father's death. He had had a short illness, there
had been a brief time oF acute suffering, then all was
over, This was my first great sorrow — my first
personal experience with death.

How shall I write of my mother? She is so near
to me that it almost seems indelicate to speak of her.

For a long time I regarded my little sister as an
intruder. I knew that 1 had ceased to be my
mother's only darling, and the thought filled me ^^th
jealousy. She sat in my mother's lap constantly.
where I ^lsed to sit, and seemed to take up all her
care and time. One day something happened which
seemed to me to be adding insult to injury.

At that time 1 had a much-petted, much-abused
doll, which I afterward named Nancy, She was,
alas, the helpless victim of my outbursts of temper
and of afTectioQ, so that she became much the worse

i6 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

for wear, T had dolls wliich talked, and cried, and
opened and shut their eyes ; yet I never loved one of
them as I loved poor Nancy, She had a cradle, and
I often spent an hoiir or more rocking her. I
guarded both doll and cradle with the most jealous
care ; but once I discovered my little sister sleeping
peacefully in the cradle- At this presumption on
the part of one to whom as yet no tie of love bound
me I grew angry. 1 rushed upon the cradle and
overturned it, and the baby might have been killed
had my mother not cai^ht her as she fell. Thus it
is that when we walk in the valley of twofold solitude
we know little of the tender affections that grow out
of endearing words and actions and companionship.
But afterward, when I was restored to my human
heritage, Mildred and I grew into each other's hearts,
so that we were content to go hand-in-hand wherever
caprice led us, although she could not understand
my finger language, nor I her childish prattle.

CHAPTER III

Mbanwrilk the desire to express myself grew.
The few signs I used became less and less adequate,
and my failures to make myself understCNDd were in-
variably followed by outbursts of passion, 1 felt as if
in\'isib]e hands were holding me, and 1 made frantic
efforts to free myself. I struggled — not that strug-
gling helped matters, but the spirit of resistance was
strong within me ; I generally broke down in tears and
physical exhaustion. If my mother happened to be
near I crept into her arms, too miserable even to
remember the cause of the tempest. After awhile
the need of some means of communication became
so urgent that these outbursts occurred daily, some-
times hourly.

My parents were deeply grieved and perplexed.
We lived a long way from any school for the blind
cr the deaf, and it seemed unlikely that any one
would come to such an out-of-the-way place as
Tuscimibia to teach a child who was both deaf and
blind. Indeed, my friends and relatives sometimes
doubted whether I could be taught. My mother's
only ray of hope came from Dickens's ''American
Notes." She had read his account of Laura Bridge
man, and remembered vaguely that she was deaf
and blind, yet had been educated. But she also
remembered with a hopeless pang that Dr. Howe,
who had discovered the way to teach the deaf and
blind, had been dead many years. His methods had

i8 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

probably died with him; and if they had not, how
was a little girl in a far-off town in Alabama to receive
the benefit of them ?

When I was about six years old, my father heard
of an eminent oculist in Baltimore, who had been
successful in many cases that had seemed hopeless.
My parents at once determined to take me to
Baltimore to see if anything could be done for
my eyes.

The journey, which I remember well, was very
pleasant, I made friends with many people on the
train. One lady gave me a box of shells. My father
made holes in these so that I could string them, and
for a long time they kept me happy and contented.
The conductor, too, was kind. Often when he went
bis rounds 1 clung to his coat tails while he collected
and punched the tickets. His punch, with which
he let me play, was a delightful toy. Curled up in
a comer of the seat I amused myself for hours
making funny little holes in bits of cardboard.

My aunt made me a big doll out of towels. It was
the most comical, shapeless thing, this improvised
doll, with no nose, mouth, ears or eyes — nothing
that even the imagination of a child could convert
into a face. Ciuiously enough, the absence of eyes
struck me more than all the other defects put
together. I pointed this out to everybody with
provoking persistency, but no one seemed equal to
the task of providing the doll with eyes. A bright
idea, however, shot into my mind, and the problem
was solved. I tumbled off the seat and searched
under it until I found my aunt's cape, which was
trimmed with large beads. I pulled two beads off
and indicated to her that I wanted her to sew them

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

on my doll. She raised my hand to her eyes in a
questioning way, and I nodded energetically. The
bea<is were sewed in the right place and I could not
contain myself for joy; but immediately I lost all
interest in the doll. During the whole trip T did not
have one fit of temper, there were so many things
to keep my mind and fingers busy.

When we arrived in Baltimore, Dr, Chisholm
received us kindly: but he could do nothing. He said,
however, that I could be educated, and advised my
father to consult Dr. Alexander Graham Bell, of
Washington, who would be able to give him infor-
mation about schools and teachers of deaf or blind
children. Acting on the doctor's advice, we went
immediately to Washington to see Dr. Bell, my
father with a sad heart and many misgivings, I
wholly unconscious of his anguish, finding pleasure
in the excitement of moving from place to place.
Child as I was, I at once felt the tenderness and
sympathy which endeared Dr. Bell to so many
hearts, as his wonderful achievements enlist their
admiration. He held me on his knee while
I examined his watch, and he made it strike
for me. He understood my signs, and I knew il
and loved hira at once. But I did not dream thai
that inter\-iew would be the door through which 1
shoulrl pass from darkness into light, from isolation
to friendship, companionship, know ledge » love<

Dr. Bell advised my father to write to Mr.
Anagnos, director of the Perkins Institution in
Boston, the scene of Dr. Howe's great labours
for the blind, and ask him if he had a teacher com-
petent to begin my education. This my father did
at once, and in a few weeks there came a kind letter

lAMtMbi

30 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

from Mr. Anagnos with the comforting assurance
that a teacher had been found. This was in the
summer of iS86. But Miss Sullivan did not arrive
until the following March,

Thus I came up out of Egypt and stood before
Sinai, and a power divine touched my spirit and
gave it sight, so that I beheld many wonders. And
from the sacred mountain 1 heard a voice which
said, "Knowledge is love and light and vision."

CHAPTER IV

(The most important day I remember in all my
me is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield
Sullivan, came to me. I am filled with wonder when
1 consider the immeasurable contrast between the
two hves which it connects. It was the third of
March, 1887, three months before I was seven years
old.

On the afternoon of that eventful day, T stood
on the porch, dumb, expectant. I guessed vaguely
from my mother's signs and from the hurrying to and
fro in the house that something unusual was about
to happen, so I went to the door and waited on the
steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of
honeysuckle that covered the porch, and fell on my
upturned face- My fingers lingered almost uncon-
sciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which
had just come forth to greet the sweet southern
spring. I did not know Vj^hat the future held of
marvel cr sinprise for me,' Anger anrl bittei-ness
had preyed upon mc continually for weeks and a
deep languor had succeeded this passionate struggle.

Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it
seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in,
and the great ship, Lciise and anxious, groped her
way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-
line, and you i^'aiteji with beating heart for sorac-
■thing to happen? 'J was like that ship before my
education began, only I was without compass or

32 THE STORY OP MY LIFE

sounding-line » and had no way of knowing how near
the harbour was, '* Light I give me light I " was the
wordless cry of my soul» and the light of love shone
on me in that very hour.

I felt approaching footsteps. I stretched out my
hand as I supposed to my mother. Some one took
it, and I was caught up and held close in the arms of
her who had come to reveal all things to me^ and,
more than all things else, to love^mej

The morning after my teacher came she led me
into her room and gave me a doll. The little
blind children at the Perkins Institution, had sent
it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it; but I did
not know this until afterward. When I had played
with it a Httle while» Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into
ray hand the word "d-o-1-1." I was at once inter-
ested in this finger play and tried to imitate it.
When I finally succeeded in making the letters
correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and
pride. Running downstairs to my mother I held up
my hand and made the letters for doll, I did not
know that I was spelling a word or even that words
exkted; I was simply making my fingers go in
monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed
I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a
great many words, among them ptn^ hat^ cup and
a few verbs like sit, stand and walk. But my
teacher had been with me several weeks before I
understood that everything has a name.

One day, while I was playing with my new doll.
Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also,
spelled "d-o-1-1" and tried to make me landerstand
that "d-o-M" applied to both. Earlier in the day
we had had a tussle over the words "m-u-g" and

HELEN KELLER AT THE AGE OF SEVEN

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

"w-a-t-e-r. *' Miss Su!3ivati had tried to impress
it upon me that '*ra-u-g" is 9nu^ and that
"w-a-t-c-r" is water, but I persisted in confound-
ing the two. In despair she had dropped the
subject for the time, only to renew it at the first
opportunity. I became impatient at her repeated
attempts and. seizing the new doU, I dashed it upon
the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the
fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither
sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst.
I had not loved the doll. In the stilly dark world in
which I lived there was no strong sentiment or
tenderness, I felt my teacher sweep the fragments
to one side of the hearth, and I had a sense of satis-
faction that the cause of my discomfort was removed.
She brought me my hat, and I knew T was going out
into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless
sensation may be called a thought, made me hop
and skip with pleasure.

We walked down the path to the well-house^
attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle iAith
which it was covered. Some one was dra^ving water
and my teacher placed my hand under the spout.
As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled
into the other the word water, first slowly, then
rapidly- I stood still, my whole attention fixed
upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly 1 felt a
misty consciousness as of something forgotten — a
thrill of returning thought; and somehow the
mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew
then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool
something that was flowing o\'er my hand. That
living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope,
joy, set it free ! There were barriers still, it

^4 THE STORY OP MY LIFE

is true, but barriers that could in time be swept
away.*

I left the well'house eager to learn. Everything
had a name, and each name gave birth to a new
thought. As we returned to the house every object
which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That
was because I saw everything with the strange, new
sight that had come to me. On entering the door
I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way
to the hearth and picked up the pieces, I tried
vainly to put them together. Then my eyes filled
with tear^ ; for I realized what I had done, and for
the first time I felt repentance and sorrow.

I learned a great many new words that day. I do
not remember what they all were; but I do know
that mother, father^ sister, teacher were among
them — words that were to make the world blos-
som for me, ** like Aaron's rod, with flowers." It
would have been difficult to find a happier child than
I was as I lay in my crib at the close of that eventful
day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and
for the first time longed for a new day to come,

•Se« Hiss Sullivan's letter, page 316.

CHAPTER V

I RECALL man/ incidents of the summer of
1SS7 that followed my souFs sudden awaken-
ing. I did nothing but explore with my hands
and leam the name of every object that I touched;
and the more I handled things and learned their
names and uses, the more joyous and confident
grew my sense of kinship with the rest of the world.

When the time of daisies and buttercups came
Miss Sullivan took mc by the hand across the fields,
where men were preparing the earth for the seed, to
the banks of the Tennessee River, and there, sitting
on the warm grass, I had my first lessons in the
beneficence of nature. I learned how the sun and
the rain make to grow out of the groxmd every tree
that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, how
birds build their nests and live arwi thrive from land
to land, how the squirrel, the deer, the lion and
every other creature finds food and shelter. As my
knowledge of things grew 1 felt more and more the
delight of the world I was in. Long before I learned
to do a sum in arithmetic or describe the shape of
the earth. Miss Sullivan had taught me to find
beauty in the fragrant woods, in every blade of grass,
and in the cur\"es and dimples of my baby sister's
hand. She linked my earliesst thoughts with nature,
and made me feel that "birds and flowers and I were
happy peers."

But about this time I had an experience which

a6 THE STORY OP MY LIFE

taught me that nature is not always kind. One
day my teacher and I were returning from a long
ramble. The morning had been fine, but it was
growing warm and sultry when at last we turned our
faces homeward. Two or three times we stopped to
rest imder a tree by the wayside. Our last halt was
tmder a wild cherry tree a short distance from the
house. The shade was grateful, and the tree was
so easy to climb that with my teacher's assistance
I was able to scramble to a seat in the branches. It
was so cool up in the tree that Miss Sullivan proposed
that we have our luncheon there. I promised to
keep still while she went to the house to fetch it.

Suddenly a change passed over the tree. All the
sun's warmth left the air. I knew the sky was
black, because all the heat, which meant light to
me» had died out of the atmosphere. A strange
odour came up from the earth. I knew it, it was the
odour that always precedes a thimderstorm, and a
nameless fear clutched at my heart. I felt abso-
lutely alone, cut off from my friends and the firm
earth. The immense, the unknown, enfolded me,
I remained still and expectant i a chilling terror
crept over me. I longed for my teacher's return;
but above all things I wanted to get down from
that tree.

There was a moment of sinister silence, then a
multitudinous stirring of the leaves. A shiver ran
through the tree, and the wind sent forth a blast that
would have knocked me off had I not clung to the
branch with might and main. The tree swayed and
strained. The small twigs snapped and fell about
me in showers. A wild impulse to jump seized me,
but terror held me fast. I crouched down in the

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 27

fork of the tree. The branches lashed about me. I
felt the intermittent jarring that came now and then.
as if something heavy had fallen and the shock had
traveled up till it reached the limb I sat on. It
worked my suspense up to the highest point, and
just as I was thinking the tree and I should fall
together, my teacher seized my hand and helped
me down. 1 clung to her, trembling with joy to feel
the earth under my feet once more. I had learned
a new Icsson^that nature "wages open war
against her children, and under softest touch hides
treacherous claws/'

After this experience it was a long time before I
climbed another tree. The mere thought filled me
with terror. It was the sweet allureraent of the
mimosa tree in full bloom that finally overcame my
fears. One beautiful spring morning when 1 was
alone in the summer-house , reading, I became
aware of a wonderful subtle fragrance in the air. I
started up and instinctively stretched out my hands.
It seemed as if the spirit of spring had passed throtigh
the summer-house. "What is it?" I asked, and the
next minute I recognized the odour of the mimosa
blossoms. I felt my way to the end of the garden,
knowing that the mimosa tree was near the fence,
at the turn of the path. Yes, there it was. all quiver-
ing in the warm sunshine, its blossom-laden branches
almost touching the long grass. Was th^e ever
anything so exquisitely beautiful in the world before !
Its dehcate blossonis shrank from the slightest
earthly touch; it seemed as if a tree of paradise
had been transplanted to earth, I made my way
through a shower of petals to the great trunk and
for one minute stood irresolute ; then, putting my foot

aS THE STORY OF MY LIFE

in the broad space between the forked branches, I
pulled myself up into the tree. I had some difficulty
in holding on» for the branches were very large and
the bark hurt my hands. But I had a delicious
sense that I was doing something unusual and
wonderful, so I kept on climbing higher and higher,
until I reached a little seat which somebody had
built there so long ago that it had grown part of the
tree itself. I sat there for a long, long time, feeling
like a fairy on a rosy cloud. After that I spent many
happy hours in my tree of paradise, thinking fair
thoughts and dreaming bright dreams.

CHAPTER VI

HAD now the key to all language, and I was
eager to learn to use it. Children who hear acquire
language without any particular effort; the words
that fall from others' lips they catch on the wing,
as it were, delightedly, while the Kttle deaf child
must trap them by a slow and often painful process.
But whatever the process, the result is wonderful.
Gradually from naming an object we advance step
by step iintil we have traversed the vast distance
between our first statntncrcd syllabic and the sweep
of thought in a line of Shakespeare.

At first, when my teacher told me about a new
thing r asked very few questions. My ideas were
vag^ue, and my vocabulary was inadequate: but as
my knowledge of things grew, and 1 learned more
and more words, my field of inquiry broadened,
and 1 would return again and again to the same
subject, eager for further information. Sometimes
a new word revived an image that some earlier
experience had engraved on my brain.

I remember the morning that I first asked the
meaning of the word, "love," This was before I
knew many words. I had foiuid a few early violets
in the garden and brought them to my teacher.
She tried to kiss me ; but at that time I did not Ukc
to have any one kiss mc except my mother. Miss
Sullivan put her arm gently roimd me and spelled
into my hand, '*! love Helen."

30 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

"What is love?" I asked.

She drew me closer to her and said, "It is here/'
pointing to my heart, whose beats I was conscious
of for the first time. Her words puzzled me very
much because I did not then understand anj^ihing
unless I touched it.

I smelt the violets in her hand and asked, half
in words, half in signs, a question which meant^
'*Is love the sweetness of flowers?"

*'No," said my teacher.

Again I thought. The warm sun was shining
onus.

"Is this not love?" I asked, pointing in the
direction from which the heat came, "Is this not
love?"

It seemed to me that there could be nothing more
beautiful than the sun, whose warmth makes all
things grow. But Miss Sullivan shook her head,
and I was greatly puzzled and disappointed. I
thought it strange that my teacher could not show
me love.

A day or two afterward I was stringing beads of
different sizes in symmetrical groups — two large
beads, three small ones, and so on. I had made
many mistakes, and Miss Sullivan had pointed
them out again and again with gentle patience.
Finally I noticed a very obvious error in the
sequence and for an instant I concentrated my atten-
tion on the lesson and tried to think how I should
have arranged the beads. Miss Sullivan touched
my forehead and spelled with decided emphasis,
"Think."

In a flash I knew that the word was the name of
the process that was going on in my head. This

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

was ray first conscious perception of an abstract
idea.

For a long time T was still — T was not tlnnking of
the beads in my lap. but trying to fmd a meaning
for "love" in the light of this new idea. The sun
had been under a cloud all day, and there had been
brief showers; but suddenly the sun broke forth in
all its southern splendour.

Again Tasked my teacher, "Is this not love?"

"Love is something like the clouds that were in
the sky before the sun came out." she repUed-
Then in simpler words than these, which at that
time I could not have understood, she explained:
"You cannot touch the clouds, you know; but you
feel the rain and know how glad the flowers and the
thirsty earth are to have it after a hot day. You
cannot touch love either; but you feel the sweetness
that it pours into everything. Without love yoa
would not be happy or want to play,"

The beautifid truth burst upon my mind — -I felt
that there were invisible lines stretched betweeo
my spirit and the spirits of others- - -"v

\ From the begTimlhg of my education Miss Sullivan
made it a practice to speak to me as she would speak
to any hearing child; the only difference was tlrnt
she spelled the sentences into my hand instead of
speaking them. If I did not know the words and
idioms necessary to express my thoughts she sup-
plied them, even suggesting conversation when
I was unable to keep up my end of the dialogue.

This process was continued for several years; for
the deaf child does not leam in a month, or even
in two or three years, the numberless idioms and
expressions used in the simplest daily intercourse.

33 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

The little hearing child learns these from constant
repetition and imitation. The conversation he
hears in his home stimulates his mind and suggests
topics and calls forth the spontaneous expression of
his own thoughts. This natural exchange of ideas is
denied to the deaf child. My teacher, realizing this,
determined to supply the kinds of stimulus I lacked.
This she did by repeating to me as far as possible,
verbatim, what she heard, and by showing me how
I could take part in the conversation. But it was a
long time before I ventured to take the initiative,
and still longer before I could find something
appropriate to say at the right time.

The deaf and the blind find it very difficult to
acquire the amenities of conversation. How mu(^
more this difficulty must be augmented in the case of
those who are both deaf and blind ! They cannot
distinguish the tone of the voice or, without assist-
ance, go up and down the gamut of tones that
give significance to words; nor can they watch
the expression of the speaker's face, and a look is
often the very soul of what one says.

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

downy chickens and wiklflowors. the dogwood
bloEsoms, mcadow-\"ioIet£ and budding fruit trees.
I felt the bursting cotton-bolls and fingered their soft
fiber and fuzzy seeds; I felt the low soughing of the
wind tlirctigh the cornstalks, the silky rustling of
the long leaves, and the indignant snort of my pony,
as wc caught him in the pasture and put the bit in
his mouth — ah me ! how well I remember the spicy,
clovery smell of his breath I

Sometimes 1 rose at dawn and stole into the
garden while the heavy dew lay on the grass and
flowerSn Few know what joy it is to feel the roses
pressing softly into the hand, or the beautiful motion
of the lilies as they sway in the morning breeze.
Sometimes I caught an insect in the flower I was
plucking, and I felt the faint noise of a pair of wings
nibbed together in a sudden terror, as the little
creature became aware of a pressure from v^Tthout.

Another favourite haunt of mine was the orchard,
where the fruit ripened early in July. The large,
downy peaches would reach themselves into my
hand, and as the joyous breezes flew about the trees
the apples tumbled at my feet. Oh, the delight
with whieh 1 gathered up the fruit in my pinafore,
pressed my face against the smooth cheeks of the
apples, still warm from the sun, and skipped back
to the house I

Our favourite walk was to Keller's Landing, an old
tumble-down lumber-wharf on the Tennessee River,
uaed during the Civil War to land soldiers. There
we spent many happy hours and played at learning
geography. 1 built dams of pebbles, made islands
and lakes, and dug river-beds, all for fun, and never
dreamed that I was learning a: lesson, I listened

36 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

with mcreasing wonder to Miss Sullivan's descrip-
tions of the great round world with its burning
mountains, buried cities, moving rivers of ice, and
many other things as strange. She made raised
maps in clay, so that I could feel the mountain
ridges and valleys, and follow with my fingers the
devious course of rivers, I liked this, too ; but the
division of the earth into zones and poles confused
and teased my mind. The iHustrative strings and
the orange stick representing the poles seemed so
real that even to this day the mere mention of
temperate zone su^ests a series of twine circles;
and I believe that if any one should set about it
he could convince me that white bears actually
climb the North Pole,

Arithmetic seems to have been the only study I
did not like. From the first I was not interested
in the science of numbers. Miss Sullivan tried to
teach me to count by stringing beads in groups, and
by arranging kintergarten straws I learned to add
and subtract. I never had patience to arrange
more than five or six groups at a time. When I
had accomplished this my conscience was at rest
for the day, and I went out quickly to find my
playmates.

In this same leisurely manner I studied zoology
and botany.

Once a gentleman, whose name I have forgotten,
sent me a collection of fossils — tiny mollusk shells
beautifully marked, and bits of sandstone with the
print of birds* claws, and a lovely fern in bas-relief.
These were the keys which unlocked the treasures
of the antediluvian world for me. With trembling
fillers I listened to Miss Sullivan's descriptions of

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

i€ terrible beasts, ^ith tincouth. unpronounceable
names, which once vrent tramping through the
primeval forests, tearing down the branches of
gigantic trees for food, and died in the dismal
swamps of an unknown age. For a long time these
strange creatures haunted my dreams, and this
gloomy period formed a somber background to
the joyous Now, filled wiih sunshine and roses
and echoing with the gentle beat of my pony's
hoof.

Another time a beautiful shell was given me, and
with a child's surprise and dehght 1 learned how a
tiny mollusk had built the lustrous coil for his dwell-
ing place, and how on still nights, when there is no
breez£ stirring the waves, the Nautilus sails on the
blue waters of the Indian Ocean in his "ship of
pearl/' After I had learned a great many interest-
ing things about the life and habits of the children
of the sea — how in the midst of dashing waves the
little pol)-ps build the beautiful coral isles of the
Pacific, and the foraminifera have made the chalk-
hills of many a land— my teacher read rae "The
Chambered Nautilus/' and showed me that the
Ehell-building process of the moUusks is symbolical
of the development of the mind. Just as the wonder-
working mantle of the Nautilus changes the material
it absorbs from the water and makes it a part of
itself, so the bits of knowledge one gathers
undergo a similar change and become pearls of
thought.

Again, it was the growth of a plant that furnished
the text for a lesson. We bought a lily and set it in
asunny^-indow, Verysoon the green, pointed buds
showed signs of opening. The slender, fingerlike

i^-i

-^ '

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

leaves on the outside opened slowly, reluctajit, I
thought, to reveal the loveliness they hid; once
having made a start, however, the opening process
went on rapidly, but in order and systematically.
There was always one bud larger and more beau-
tiful than the rest, which pushed her outer covering
back with more pomp, as if the beauty in soft, silky
robes knew that she was the lily-quceti by right
di\'ine, while her more timid sisters doffed their
green hoods shyly, until the whole plant was one
nodding bough of loveliness and fragrance.

Once there were eleven tadpoles in a glass globe
tiet in a window ftdl of plants. I remember the
eagerness with which I made discoveries about them.
It was great fun to plunge my hand into the bowl
and feel the tadpoles frisk about, and to let them
shp and slide between my fingers. One day a more
ambitious fellow leaped beyond the edge of the bowl
and fell on the floor, where I found him to all
appearance more dead than alive. The only sign of
life was a slight wriggling of his tail. But no sooner
had he returned to his element than he darted to
the bottom, swimming roimd and round in joyous
activity. He had made his leap, he had seen the
great world, and was content to stay in his pretty
glass house under the big fuchsia tree until he
attained the dignity of froghood. Then he went to
live in the leafy pool at the end of the garden,
where he made the summer nights musical with his
quaint love -song,

Thus r learned from life itself. At the begirming
I was only a little mass of possibilities. Ifc was my
teacher who unfolded and developed them. When
she came, e\'erything about me breathed of love and

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

joy and was full of meaning. She has never since
let pass an opportunity to point out the beauty that
is in everything, nor has she ceased irymg in thought
and action and example to make my life sweet and
useful,

\ It was my teacher^s genius, her quick sympathy,
her lo\Tng tact which made the first years of my
education so beautiful. It was because she seized
the right moment to impart knowledge that made
it so pleasant uxid acceptable to me. She railized
that a child's mind is hke a shallow brook which
ripples and dances merrily over the stony course of
its education and reflects liere a fiower, there a
bush, yonder a fleecy cloud; and she attempted to
guide my mind on its way, knowing that like a
brook it should be fed by moimtain streams and
hidden springs, until it broadened out into a deep
river, capable of reflecting in its placid surface,
billowy hills, the luminous shadows of trees and
the blue heavens, as well as the sweet face of a
littJe flower.

Any teacher can take a child to the classroom,
but not every teacher can make him learn. He
will not work joyously unless he feels that liberty is
his, whether he is busy or at rest; he must feel the
flush of victory and the heart-sinking of disappoint-
ment before he takes with a will the tasks distasteful
to him and resolves to dance his way bravely through
a dull routine of textbooks.

>^My teacher is so near to me that T scarcely think
/ of myself apart from her. How much of my delight
I in all beautiful things is innate, and how much is
I due to her influcncCt 1 can never tell. I feel that
\her being is inseparable from my own, and that

4D THE STORY OF MY LIFE

the footsteps of my life are in hers. All the best
of me belongs to her — ^there is not a talent^ or an
aspiration or a joy in me that has not been awakened
by her lovi:^ touch.

■r

CHAPTER VIII

The first Christinas after Miss Sullivan came to
Tuscumbia was a great event. Every one in the
family prepared surprises for me; but mhat pleased
me most, Miss Sullivan and I prepared surprises for
everybody else. The mystery that surrounded the
gifts was my greatest delight and amusement. My
friends did all they could to excite my curiosity by
hints and half-spelled sentences which they pre-
tended to break off in the nick of time. Miss Sullivan
and I kept up a game of guessing which taught me
more about the use of language than any set lessons
could have done. Every evening, seated round a
glowLng wood fire, we played our guessing game,
which grew more and more exciting as Christmas
approached.

On Christmas Eve the Tuscumbia schoolchildren
had their tree, to which they invited me. In the
centre of the schoolroom stood a beautiful tree
ablaze and shimmering in the soft lights its branches
loaded with strange, wonderful fruit. It was a
moment of supreme happiness. I danced and
capered round the tree in an ecstasy. When 1
learned that there was a gift for each child, I was
delighted, and the kind people who had prepared
the tree permitted me to hand the presents to the
children^ In the pleasure of doing this, I did not
stop to look at my own gifts; but when I was ready
for them, my impatience for the real Christmas to
begin almost got beyond control. I Itnew the gifts

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

T already had were not those of which friends had
thrown out such tantalizing hints» and my teacher
said the presents I was to have would be even nicer
than these, 1 was persuaded, however^ to content
myself with the gifts from tlie tree and leave the
others imtU morning.

That night, after I had hung my stockings I
lay awake a long timc^ pretending to be asleep
ard keeping alert to see what Santa Claus would
do when he came. At last I fell asleep with a
new doll and a white bear in my arms. Next morn-
ing it was I who waked the whole family with
my first "Merry Christmas!" I found surprises,
not in the stocking on]}^ but on the table, on all the
chairs, at the door, on the very window-sill; indeed,
I could hardly w^ilk without stumbling on a bit of
Christmas wrapped up in tissue paper. But when
my teacher presented mc with a canary, my cup of
happiness overflowed.

Little Tim was so tame that he would hop on
my finger and eat candied cherries out of ray hand.
Miss Sullivan taught me to take all the care of my
new pet. Every morning after breakfast I prepared
his bath, made his cage clean and sweet, tilled his
cups with fresh seed and water from the well-house.
and hung a spray of chickweed in his swing.

One rnnming T left the cage on the window-seat
while I went to fetch water for his bath. When
I returned I felt a big cat brush past me as I opened
the door. At first I did not realize what had hap-
pened; but when I put my hand in the cage and
Tim's pretty mngs did not meet my touch or his
small pointed claws take hold of my fiiiger, I knew
that I should never see my sweet little singer again.

CHAPTER IX

The next important event in my life was my visit
to Boston, in May, i8S8. As if it were yesterday I
remember the preparations, the departure with my
teacher and my mother, the journey, and finally the
arrival in Boston, How diiTerent this journey was
from the one I had made to Baltimore two years
before ! I was no longer a restless, excitable httle
creature, requiring the attention of everybody on the
train to keep me amused. I sat qiiietly beside Miss
Sullivan, taking m with eager interest all that she
told me about what she saw out of the car window:
the beautiful Tennessee River, the great cotton-
fields, the hiUs and woods, and the crowds of laughing
negroes at the stations, who waved to the people on
the train and brought delicious candy and popcorn
balls through the car. On the seat opposite me sat
my big rag doll, Nancy, in a new gingham dress
and a beruffled sunbonnet, looking at me out of two
bead eyes. Sometimes, when I was not absorbed
in Miss Sullivan's descriptions, I remembered
Nancy's existence and took her up in my amis, but
I generally calmed my conscience by making myself
believe that she was asleep.

As I shall not have occasion to refer to Nancy
again, T wish to teU here a sad exptrience she had
soon after our arrival in Boston. She was covered
with dirt — the remains of mud pies I had com-
pelled her to eat, although she had never shown

44 THE STORY OP UY LIFE

any special liking for them. The laundress at the
Perkins Institution secretly carried her off to give
her a bath. This was too much for poor Nancy,
When I next saw her she was a formless heap of
cotton, which I should not have recognized at all
except for the two bead eyes which looked out at me
reproachfully.

When the train at last pulled into the station at
Boston it was as if a beautiful fairy tale had come
true. The "once upon a time" was now; the "far-
away country" was here.

We had scarcely arrived at the Perkins Institution
for the Blind when I began to make friends with the
little blind children. It delighted me inexpressibly
to find that they knew the manual alphabet. What
joy to talk with other children in my own langu^e I
Until then I had been like a forever speaking
through an interpreter. In the school where Laura
Bridgman was tai^ht I was in my own cotmtry. It
took me some time to appreciate the fact that my
new friends were blind. I knew I coiald not see;
but it did not seem possible that all the eager, loving
children who gathered round me and joined heartily
in my frolics were also blind. I remember the sur-
prise and the pain I felt as I noticed that they placed
their hands over mine when I talked to them and
that they read books with their fingers. Although
1 had been toid this before, and although I under-
stood my own deprivations, yet I had thought
vaguely that since they could hear^ they must
have a sort of "second sight," and I was not
prepared to find one child and another and yet
another deprived of the same precious gift.
But they were so happy and contented that 1 lost

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

all sense of pain in the pleasure of their com-
panionship.

One day spent with the blind children made me
feel thoroughly at home in my new environment,
and T looked eagerly from one pleasant experience
to another as the days flew swiftly by, I could not
quite convince myself that there was much world
left, for I regarded Boston as the beginning and the
end of creation.

, While we were in Boston we visited Bunlcer
HiU, and there I had my first lesson in
history. The story o£ the brave men who had
fought on the spot where we stood excited me
greatly. I climbed the monument, coimting
the steps, and wondering as I went higher and
yet higher if the soldiers had climbed this great
stairway and shot at the enemy on the groimd
below.

The next day we went to Plymouth by water.
This was my first trip on the ocean and my first
voyage in a steamboat- How full of life and
motion it was 1 But the nimble of the machinery
made me think it was thundering, and I began to
cry, because I feared if it rained we should not be
able to have our picnic out of doors, I was more
interested, I think, in the great rock on which the
Pilgrims landed than in anything else in Plymouth.
I coiUd touch it, and perhaps that made the coming
of the Pilgrims and their toils and great deeds seem
more real to me. I have often held in my hand a
little model of the Plymouth Rock which a kind
gentleman gave me at Pilgrim Hall, and I have
fingered its curves, the split in the centre and the
embossed figures ''1630/' and turned over in my

46 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

mind all that I knew about the wonderful story
of the Pilgrims.

How my childish ima^ation glowed with the
splendour of their enterprise ! I idealized them as
the bravest and most generous men that ever sought
a home in a strange land. I thought they desired
the freedom of their fellow men as well as their own,
I was keenly surprised and disappointed years later
to learn of their acts of persecution that make us
tingle with shame, even while we glory in the courage
and energy that gave us our *'Country Beautiful."

Among the many friends I made in Boston were
Mr. William Endicott and his daughter. Their
kindness to me was the seed from which many
pleasant memories have since grown. One day we
visited their beautiful home at Beverly Farms,
1 remember with delight how I wentthrough their
rose-garden, how their dogs, big Leo and little
curly-haired Fritx with long ears, came to meet me,
and how Nimrod, the swiftest of the horses, poked
his nose into my hands for a pat and a lump of
sugar. I also remember the beach, where for the
first time I played in the sand. It was hard, smooth
sand, very different from the loose, sharp sand,
mingled with kelp and shells, at Brewster. Mr,
Endicott told me about the great ships that came
sailing by from Boston, bound for Europe. I saw
him many times after that, and he was always a
good friend to me; indeed, I was thinking of him
when I called Boston ''the City of Kind Hearts."

CHAPTER X

Just before the Perkins Institution closed for the
summer, it was arranged that my teacher and I
should s]jend our vacation at Erewstsr, on Cape
Cod, with oiur dear friend, Mrs, Hopkins- T was
delighted, for my mind was full of the prospective
joys and of the wonderful stories I had heard about
the sea.

My most vivid recollection of that summer is the
oceao. I had always lived far inland and had never
had so much as a whiff of salt air ; but I had read in a
big book called "Our World" a description of the
ocean winch filled me with wonder and an intense
longing to touch the mighty sea and feel it roar-
So my little heart leaped high with eager excitement
when I knew that my wish was at last to be realiaed.

No sooner had 1 been helped into my bathing-suit
than I sprang out upon the warm sand and without
thought of fear plunged into the cool water. I felt
the great billows rock and sink. The buoyant
motion of the water filled mc with an exquisite,
quivering joy. Suddenly my ecstasy gave place to
terror; for my foot struck against a rock and the
next instant there was a rush of water over my head.
I thrust out my hands to grasp some support, I
clutched at the water and at the seaweed which
the waves tossed in my face. But all my frantic
efforts were in vain. The waves seemed to be
playing a game with me, and tossed me from one to

48 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

another in their wild frolic. It was fearful ! The
good, firm earth had slipped from my feet, and
everything seemed shut out from this strange,
all-enveloping element — life, air, warmth and love.
At last, however, the sea, as if weary of its new toy,
threw me back on the shore, and in another instant I
was clasped in my teacher's arms. Oh, the comfort
of the long, tender embrace ! As soon as I had
recovered from my panic sufficiently to say anything,
I demanded: *'Who put salt in the water?"

After I had recovered from my first experience
in the water. I thought it great fun to sit on a big
rock in my bathing-suit and feel wave after wave
dash against the rock, sending up a shower of spray
which quite covered me. I felt the pebbles rattling
as the waves threw their ponderous weight against
the shore ; the whole beach seemed racked by their
terrific onset, and the air throbbed with their pulsa-
tions. The breakers would swoop back to gather
themselves for a mightier leap, and I clung to the
rock, tense, fascinated, as I felt the dash and roar of
the rushing sea !

I could never stay long enough on the shore. The
tang of the untainted, fresh and free sea air was like
a cool, quieting thought, and the shells and pebbles
and the seaweed with tiny living creatures attached
to it never lost their fascination for me. One day
Miss Sullivan attracted my attention to a strange
object which she had captured basking in the shallow
water. It was a great horseshoe crab — the first one
I had ever seen. I felt of him and thought it very
strange that he should carry his house on his back.
It suddenly occurred to me that he might make a
delightful pet; so I seized him by the tail with both

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 49

hands and carried him home. This feat pleased me
highly, as his body was very heavy, and it took all
my strength to drag him half a mile. I would not
leave Miss Sullivan in peace until she had put the
crab in a trough near the well where I was confident
he would be secure. But next morning I went to
the trough^ and lo, he had disappeared I Nobody
knew where he had gone, or how he had escaped/
My disappointment was bitter at the time ; but little
by little I came to realize that it was not kind or
■wise to force this poor dumb creature out of his
element, and after awhile I felt happy in the thought
that perhaps he had returned to the sea.

CHAPTER XT

In the autumn I returned to my Southern home
with a heart full of joyous memories. As I recall

that visit North I am filled with wonder at the
richness and variety of the experiences that cluster
about it. It seems to have been the beginning of
everything. The treasures of a new, beautiful world
were laid at my feet, and I took in pleasure and infor-
mation at every turn. I lived myself into all things.
I was never still a moment ; my life was as full of
motion as those little insects that crowd a whole
existence into one brief day, I met many people
who talked with me by spelling into my hand, and
thought in joyous sympathy leaped up to meet
thought, and behold, a miracle had been wrought!
The barren places between my mind and the minds
of others blossomed like the rose.

I spent the autumn months with my family at our
summer cottage, on a mountain about fourteen miles
from Tuscumbia. It was called Fern Quarry,
because nea^ it there was a limestone quarry, long
since abandoned. Three frolicsome little streams
ran through it from springs in the rocks above, leap-
ing here and tumbling there in laughing cascades
wherever the rocks tried to bar their way. The
opening was filled with ferns which completely
covered the beds of limestone and in places hid the
streams. The rest of the moimtain was thickly
wooded. Here were great oaks and splendid ever-

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

greens vAth trunks like mossy pillars, from tho
branches of which hung garlimds of Wy and mistletoe,
and persimmon trees, the odour of which pervaded
every noisk and comer of the woodman illusive,
fragrant something that made the heart glad. In
plactss the wild muscadine and scuppemong vines
stretched from tree to tree, making arbours which
were always full of butterflies and buzzing insects.
It was delightTul to lose ourselves in the green
hollows of that tangled wood in the late afternoon,
and to smell the cool, delicious odours that came
up from the earth at the close of day.

Our cottage was a sort of roiigh camp, beautifully
situatefi on the top of the mountain among oaks
and pines. The small rooms were arranged on
each side of a long open hall. Kound the house
was a wide piazza, where the mountain winds blew,
sweet with all wood-scents. We lived on the piazza
most of the time— there we workerl, ate and played.
At the back door there was a great butternut tree,
round which the steps had been built, and in front
the trees stood so close that I could touch them and
feel the wind shake their branches, or the leaves twirl
downward in the autumn blast.

Many visitors came to Fern Quarry. In the
evening, by the campfirc, the men played cards and
whiled away the hours in talk and sport. They told
stories of their w^onderful feats with fowl, fish and
quadruped — how many wild ducks and turkeys they
had shot, what " savage trout " they had caught, and
how they had bagged the craftiest foxes, outwitted
the most clever 'possums and overtaken the fleetest
deer, until I thought that surely the lion, the tiger,
the bear and the rest of the wild tribe would not be

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

able to stand before these -wily hunters. "To-morrow
to the cliase!" was their good-night shout as the
circle of merry friends broke up for the night. The
men slept in the hall outside our door, and I could
feel the deep breathing of the dogs and the huntera
as they lay on their improvised beds.

At dawn I was awakened by the smell of coffee,
the rattling of guns, and the heavy footsteps of the
men as they strode about, promising themselves the
greatest luck of the season. I could also feel the
stamping of the horses, which they had ridden out
from town and hitched under the trees, where they
stood all night, neighing loudly, impatient to be
off. At last the men mounted, and, as they say in
the old songs, away went the steeds with bridles
ringing and whips cracking and hounds racing
ahead, and away went the champion hunters "with
hark and whoop and wild halloo 1 "

Later in the morning we made preparations for a
barbecue. A fire was kindled at tlie tettom of a
deep hole in the ground, big sticks were laid cross-
wise at the top, and rpeat was hung from them and
turned on spits. Aroimd the fire squatted negroes,
driving away the flies with long branches. The
savoury odour of the meat made mc hungry long
before the tables were set.

When the bustle and excitement of preparation
was at its height, the hunting party made its appear-
ance, struggling in by twos and threes, the men hot
and weary, the horses covered with foam, and the
jaded hounds panting and dejected — and not a
single kill I Every man declared that he had seen
at least one deer, and that the animal had come very
close ; but however hotly the dogs might pursue the

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

game, however well the guns might be aimed, at the
snap of the trigger there was not a deer in sight.
They had been as fortunate as the little boy who
said he came very near seeing a rabbit — he saw his
tracks. The party soon forgot its disappointment,
however, and we sat down, not to venison, but to a
tamer feast of veal and roast pig.

One summer I had my pony at Fern Quarry. I
called him Black Beauty, as I had just read the book,
and he resembled his namesake in every way, from
his glossy black coat to the white star on his fore-
head. I spent many of my happiest hours on his
back» Occasionally, when it was quite safe, my
teacher would let gn the leadvng-rein. and the pony
sauntered on or stopped at his sweet will to eat grass
or nibble the leaves of the trees that grew beside the
•larrow trail.

On monoings when I did not care for the ride, my
teacher and I would start after breakfast for a ramble
in the woods, and allow ourselves to get lost amid
the trees and vines, with no road to follow except
the paths made by cows and horseSn Frequently
we came upon impassable thickets which forced us
to take a roundabout way. We always retiimed to
the cottage with armfuls of Iaiu"el, goldenrod. fems
and gorgeous swamp-flowers such as grow only in
the South.

Sometimes I would go with Mildred and my little
cousins to gather persimmons. I did not eat them;
but I loved their fragrance and enjoyed hunting
for them in the leaves and grass. We also went
nutting, and I helped them open the chestnut burrs
and break the shells of hickory-nuts and walnuts
— the big, sweet walnuts 1

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

At the foot of the mountain there was a railroad,
and the children watched the trains whiz by.
Sometimes a terrific whistle brought us to the steps,
and Mildred told mc in great excitement that a cow
or a horse hod strayed on the track. About a mile
distant there was a trestle spanning a deep gorge.
It was very difficult to walk over, the ties were wide
apart and so narrow tliat one felt as if one were
walking on knives. I had never crossed it until
one day Mildred, Miss Sullivan and 1 were lost in
the woods, and wandered for hours without finding
a path.

Suddenly Mildred pointed with her little hand and
exclaimed, ^'There's the trestle!" We would have
taken any way rather than this ; but it was late and
growing dark, and the trestle was a short cut home.
1 had to feel for the rails with my toe ; but T was not
afraid, and got on very well, until all at once there
came a faint "puif^ puff" from the distance.

" I see the train I" cried Mildred, und in another
minute it would have been upon us had we not
climbed down on the crossbraces while it rushed over
our heads. I felt the hot breath from the engine
on my face, and the smoke and ashes almost choked
us. As the train rumbled by. the trestle shook and
swayed until I thought we should be dashed to the
chasm below. With the utmost difficulty we
regained the track. Long after dark we reached
home and found the cottage empty ; the family were
all cut hunting for us.

CHAPTER XII

After my first visit to Boston, I spent almost
every winter in the North. Once 1 went on a visit
to a New England village with jts frozen lakes and
vast snoWfieltls, It was then that I had oppor-
tunities sucli as had never been mine to enter into
the treasures of the snow.

I recall my siuprise on discovering that a mys-
terious hand had stripped the trees and bushes,
leaving only here and there a wrinlded leaf. The
^Lbirds hail flown, nnd their empty nests hi the bare
^Vtrccs were filled with snow. Winter wa5 on liiU
I and field. The earth seemed benumbed by his icy
D touch, and the ver^' spirits of the trees had with-
I drawn to their roots, and there, curled up in the
1 dark, lay fast asleep. All life seemed to have ebbed
I away, and even when the sun shone the day was

Shnuik and cold,
As if her vcuia were sapless and old.
And «h* ruse up docrepiUy
For a last dim ktak at earth and s^A.

The withered grass and the bushes were transformed
into a forest of icicles.

Then came a day wlien the chill air portended
a snowstonn. We rushed ont-of-doors to feel the
first few tiny flakes descending. Hour by hour
the flakes dropped silently, softly from their airy
height to the earth, and the c^.iuntry bec;ime more
and more level A snowy rdght closed upon the

S6 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

world, aad in the moining one could scarcely recog-
nize a feature of the landscape. All the roads were
bidden, not a single landmark was visible, only a
waste of snow with trees rising out of it.

In the evening a wind from the northeast sprai^
up, and the flakes rushed hither and thither in
furious mel^. Around the great fire we sat and
told merry tales, and frolicked, and quite forgot that
we were in the midst of a desolate solitude, shut in
from all communication with the outside world.
But during the night the fury of the wind increased
to such a degree that it thrilled las with a vague
terror. The rafters creaked and strained, and the
branches of the trees surroimding the house rattled
and beat against the windows, as the winds rioted up
and down the country.

On the third day after the b^:inning of the stonn
the snow ceased. The sun broke through the clouds
and shone upon a vast, undulating white plain.
High mounds, pyramids heaped in fantastic shapes,
and impenetrable drifts lay scatttered in every
direction.

Narrow paths were shoveled through the drifts,
I put on my cloak and hood and went out. The
air stung my cheeks like fire. Half walking in the
paths, half working our way through the lesser
drifts, we succeeded in reaching a pine grove just
outside a broad pasture. The trees stood motion-
less and white like figures in a marble frieze. There
was no odour of pine-needles. The rays of the sun
fell upon the trees, so that the twigs sparkled like
diamonds and dropped in showers when we touched
them. So dazzling was the light, it penetrated even
the darkness that veils my eyes*

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

As the days wore on, the drifts gradually shninlc,
but before they were wholly gone another storm
came, so that I scarcely felt the earth under my
feet once all winter. At intervals the trees lost their
icy covering, and the bulrushes and underbrush
Tvere bare ; but the lake lay frozen aad hard beneath
the siui.

Our favourite amusement during that winter waa
tobogganing. In places the shore of the lake rises
abruptly from the water's edge. Down these steep
slopes we used to coast- We would get on our
toboggan, a boy would give us a shove, and oil we
went ] Plunging through drifts, leaping hollows,
swooping down upon the lake, we would shoot across
its gleaming surface to the opposite bank. What
joy I What exhikrating madness 1 For one wild,
glad moment wc snapped the chain that binds us to
earth, and joining bands with the winds we felt
ourselves divine 1

CHAPTER XIII

It was in the spring of 1890 that I learned to
speak.* The impulse to utter audible sounds had
always been strong within me. I used to make
noises, keeping one hand on my throat while the
other hand felt the movements of my lips. I was
pleased with anything that made a noise and liked
to feel the cat purr and the dog bark. I also liked
to keep my hand on a singer's throat, or on a piano
when it was being played. Before I lost my sight
and hearing, I was fast learning to talk, but after
my illness it was found that I had ceased to speak
because I could not hear. I used to sit in my
mother's lap all day long and keep my hands on her
face because it amused me to feel the motions of her
lips; and I moved my lips, too, although I had for-
gotten what talking was. My friends say that I
laughed and cried naturally, and for awhile I made
many sounds and word-elements, not because they
were a means of commimication, but because the
need of exercising my vocal organs was imperative.
There was, however, one word the meaning of
which I still remembered, water, I pronounced
it "wa-wa," Even this became less and less
intelligible until the time when Miss Sullivan
began to teach me. I stopped using it only after
I had learned to spell the word on my fingers.

I had known for a long time that the people about

*Por Misa Sullivan's account see page j&6.

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

mc used a method of communication different from
tnine ; and even before I knew that a denf child could
be taught to speak, I was conscious of dissatisfac-
tion with the means of communication I already
possessed. One who is entirely dependent upon the
manual alphabet has always a sense of restraint^ of
narrowness. This feeling began to agitate me with
a vexing, forward -reaching: sense of a lack that
should be filled. My thoughts would often rise and
beat up like birds against the wind; and T persisted
in using my lips and voice. Friends tried to dis-
courage this tendency, fearing lest it would lead
to disappointment. But 1 persisted, and an acci-
dent soon occurred which resulted in the breaking
down of this great barrier— I heard the story of
Ragnhild Kaata.

In i8qo Mrs. Lamson, who had been one of
Laura Bridgman's teachers, and who had just
returned from a visit to Norway and Sweden, came
to see me, and told me of Rsgnhild Kaata, a deaf
and blind girl in Norway who had actually been
taught to speak. Mrs. Lamson had scarcely
finished telling me about this girl's success before
I was on fire with eagerness. I resolved that I, too,
nvould learn to speak. I would not rest satisfied
until my teacher took me» for advice and assistance,
to Miss Sarah Fuller, principal of the Horace Mann
Schooh This lovely, sweet-natured lady offered to
^teach me herself, and we began the twenty-sixth of
Uarch, 1S90,

Miss Fuller's method was this: she passed my
hand lightly over her face, and let mc feci the posi-
tion of her tongue and lips when she made a sound.
I was eager to imitate every motion and in an hour

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

had learned six elements of speech: M, P, A, S, T, I,
Miss Fuller gave me eleven lessons in all. I shall
never forget the surprise and delight I felt when I
uttered my first connected sentence, "It is warm/'
True, they were broken and stammering syllables;
but they were human speech. My soul, conscious of
new stren^h, came out of bondage, and Tvas
reaching through those broken symbols of speech
to all knowledge and all faith.

No deaf child who has earnestly tried to speak
the words which he has never heard — to come out
of the prison of silence, where no tone of love, on
song of bird, no strain of music ever pierces the
stillness — can forget the thrill of surprise, the joy of
discovery which came over him when he uttered
his first word. Only such a one can appreciate the
eagerness 'with which I talked to my toys, to stones,
trees, birds and dumb nnimals, or the delight I felt
when at my call Mildred ran to me or my doga
obeyed my commands. It is an unspeakable boon
to me to be able to speak in winged words that need
no interpretation. As I talked, happy thouglits
fluttered up out of my words that might perhaps
have struggled in vain to escape my fingers.

But it must not be supposed that I could really
talk in this short time. I had learned only the
elements of speech. Miss Fuller and Miss SuTHvan
could understand me, but most people would not
have understood one word in a htmdred. Nor is it
true that, after I had learned these elements, I did
the rest of the work myself. But for Jttiss Sullivan's
genius, untiring perseverance and devotion, T could
not have progressed as far as I have toward natural
speech* In the first place, I laboured night and

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

day before T could be understood even by my most
intimate friends; in the second place, t needed Miss
SuBivan^s assistance constantly in my effcrts to
articulate eacli sound clearly and to combine all
sounds in a thousand ways. Even now she calls
my attention every day to mispronounced words-
All teachers of the deaf know what this means, and
only they can at all appreci^ite the peculiar difEi-
culties with which I had to contend. In reading
my teacher's lips I was wholly dependent on my
fiagere; 1 had to use the sense of touch in catching
the vibrations of the throaty the movements of the
mouth and the expression of the face; and often
this sense was at fault. In such cases I was forced
to repeat the words or sentences, sometimes for
hours, until 1 felt the proper ring in my own
voice. My work was practice, practice, practice.
Discouragement and weariness cast me down fre-
quently; but the next moment the thought that I
should soon be at home and show my loved ones
what t had accomplished, spurred me on, and I
eagerly looked forward to their pleasure in my
achievement.

"My little sister will understand me now," was a
thought stronger than all obstacles. I used to
repeat ecstatically, '*! am not dtmnb now." I could
not be despondent wliile I anticipated the delight of
talking to my mother and reading her responses from
her lips. It astonished me to find how mucli easier
it is to talk than to spell with the fingers, and I dis-
carded the manual alphabet as a medium of com-
munication on my part ; but Miss Sulhvan and a few
friends still use it in speaking to me, for it is more
convenient and more rapid than hp-reading.

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Just here, perhaps, I had better explain our use
of the manual alphabet, which seems to puzzle
people who do not know us. One who reads or talks
to me spells ^viLl1 his hand, usiTig the single-hand
manual alphabet generally employed by the deaf.
I place my hand on the band of the speaker so
lightly as not to impede its movements. The
position of the hand is as easy to feel as it is to see.
I do not feel each letter any more than you see each
letter separately when you read. Constant practice
makes the finj^ers very flexible, and some of my
friends spell rapidly — about as fast as an expert
writes on a typewriter. The mere spelling is, of
couree, no more a conscious act than it is in writing.

When I kid made speech my own, I could not wait
to go home. At last the happiest of happy moments
arrived, I had made my homeward journey, talking
constantly to Miss Sulhvan, not for the sake of talk-
ing, but determined to improve to the last minute.
Almost before I knew Jt, the train stopped at the
Tuscumbia station, tmd there on the platform stood
the whole family. My eyes fill with tears now as 1
think how my mother pressed me close to her,
speechless and trembling with delight, taking in
every syllabic that I spoke, while little Mildred
seized my free hand and kissed it and danced, and
my father expressed his pride and affection in a big
silence. It was as if Isaiah's prophecy had been
fulfilled in me, "The mountains and the hills shall
break forth before you into singing, and all the
trees of the field shall clap their hands 1"

CHAPTER XIV

TiTE winter of 1S92 was darkened by the one cloud
in my childhood's bright sky. Joy deserted my
heart, and for a long, long time I lived in doubt,
anxiety and fear. Books lost their charm for me,
and even now the thought of those dreadful days
chills my heart. A little story called "The Frost
King." which I \vrole and sent to Mr Anagnos, of
the Perkins Instiliition for the Blind, was at the
itxJt of the trouble. In order to make the matter
clear, I must set forth the facts cxifunected with this
episode, which justice to my teacher and to myself

rapels me to relate *

I wrote the story when I was at home, the autumn
after I had learned to speak. We had stayed up at
Fern Quarry later than usual. Wliile we were there.
Miss SulHvBn had described to me the beauties of the
late foliage, and it seems that her descriptions revived
the memory of a story, which must have been read to
me, and which T must have unconsciously retained.
I thought then that I was "making up a story," as
children say, and I eagerly sat down to write it
before the ideas should shp from me. My thoughts
flowed easily ; I felt a sense of joy in the composition.
Words and images came tripping to my finger ends,
and as I thought out sentence after sentence, I
wrote them on my braille slate. Now, if words
and images come to me without effort, it is a pretty

*For tbc documents la this matter ace page jgfi,

64 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

sure sign that they are not the offspring of my own
mind, hut stray waifs that I regretfully dismiss.
At that time I eagerly absorbed everything I read
without a thought of authorship, and even now I
cannot be quite sure of the boundary Une between
my ideas and those I find in books. I suppose that
is because so many of my impressions come to me
through the medium oF others' eyes and ears.

AVhen the story was finished, I read it to my
teacher, and I recall now vividly the pleasure 1 felt
in the more beautiful passages, and my annoyance
at being interrupted to have the pronounciation of
a word corrected. At dinner it was read to the
assembled family, who were surprised that I could
write so well. Some one asked me ii I had read it
in a bookn

This question surprised me very much; for I had
not the faintest recollection of having had it read
tome. 1 spoke up and said, "Oh, no, it is my story,
and I have written it for Mr, Anagnos/'

Accordingly I copied the story and sent it to him
for his birthday. It was suggested that I should
change the title from "Autumn Leaves" to "The
Frost King/' which I did- I carried the little story
bo the post-office myself, feeling as if I were walking
on air. I little dreamed how cruelly I should pay
for that birthday gift.

Mr. Anagnos was delighted with " The Frost
Kmg/' and published it in one of the Perkins
institution reports. This was the pinnacle of my
happiness, from which I was in a little while dashed
to earth. I had been in Boston only a short lime
when it was discovered that a story similar to '*The
Frost King," called "The Frost Fairies" by Miss

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Margaret T. Canby, had appeared before 1 was bom
in a book called "Birdie and His Friends." The two
stories were so much alike in thought and language
that it u-as evident Miss Canby's story had been
read to me, and that mine was — a plagiarism. It
was difficult to make me understand this; but when
I did imderstand I was astonished and grieved. No
child ever drank deeper of the cup of bitterness
than I did, I had disgraced myself; I had brought
suspicion upon those I loved best. And yet how
could it possibly have happened? I racked my
brain until I was weary to recall anything about the
froet that I had read before I wrote '*The Frost
King"; but I could remember nothing, except the
common reference to Jack Frost, and a poem for
children. "ITie Freaks of the Frost,'' and I knew I
had not used that in my composition.

At first Mr, Anagnos, though deeply troubled^
seemed to believe me. He was unusually tender
and kind to me, and (or a brief space the shadow
lifted. To please him I tried not to be unhappy,
and to make myself as pretty as possible for the
celebration of Washington's birthday, which took
place very soon after I received the sad news.

I was to be Ceres in a kind of masque given
by the blind girls. How well I remember the grace-
ful draperies that enfolded me, the bright autumn
leaves that wreathed my head, and the fruit and
grain at my feet and in my hands, and beneath all
the gaiety of the masque the oppressive sense of
coming ill that made my heart heavy.

The night before the celebration, one of the
teachers of the Institution had asked me a ques-
tion connected Tvith "The Frost King/' and I was

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Lelling her that Miss Sullivan had talked to me
about Jack Frost and his wonderful works. Some-
thing I said made her think she detected in my
words a confession that I did remember Miss
Canby s story of ' ' The Frost Fairies," and she laid
her conclusions before Mr. Anagnos, althougli I hatl
told her most emphatically that she was mistaken.

Mr. Anagnos, who loved mc tenderly, thinking that
he had been deceived, turned a deaf ear to the plead-
ings of love and innocence. He believed, or at
least suspected, that Miss Sullivan and 1 had delib-
erately stolen the bright thoughts of another and
imposed them on him to win his admiration. I was
brought before a court of investigation composed
of the teachers and officers of the Institution, and
Miss Sullivan was asked to leave me. Then I was
questioned and cross-questioned with what seemed
to me a determination on the part of my judges to
force me to acknowledge that I remembered having
had *' The Frost Fairies" read to me. I felt in every
question the doubt and suspicion that was in their
minds, and I felt, too, that a loved friend was looking
at mc reproachfully, although I could not liave put
all this into words. The blood pressed about my
thumping heart, and I could scarcely speak, except
in monosyllables. Even the consciousness that it
was only a dreadful mistake did not lessen my suffer-
ing, and when at last I Wcis allowed to leave the
room, I was dazed and did not notice my teacher's
caresses, or the tender words of my friends, who said
I was a brave little girl and they were proud of me.

As I lay in my bed that night, I wept as I hope
few children have wept, I felt so cold. I imagined
I should die before morning, and the thought com-

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

forted me. I think if this sorrow had come to me
when I was older, it woiiUI have broken my spirit
beyond repairing. But tlie angel of forget. fuhiess
has gathered up and carried away much of
the misery and all the bitterness of those sad
days.

Miss Sullivan had never heard of "The Frost
Fairies" or of the book in which it was pnblished.
With the assirtance of Dr, Alexander Graham
Bell, she investigated the matter carefully, and at
last it came out that Mrs. Sophia C. Hoptdns had a
copy of Miss Canby^s "Birdie and His Friends" in
1888, the year that we spent the summer with her
at Brewster. Mrs, Hopkins was unable to find her
copy ; but she has told me that at that time, while
Miss Sullivan was away on a vacation, she tried to
amuse me by reading from various books, and
although she could not remember reading ' ' The
Frost Fairies" any more than f. yet she felt sure
that *■ Birdie and His Friends" was one of them.
She explained the disappearance of the book by the
fact that she had a short time before sold her house

d disjxised c»f many juvenile books, such as old
school-books and fairy talcs» and that "Birdie and
His Friends" was probably among them.

The stories had little or no meaning for me then;
but the mere spelling of the strange words was suffi-
cient to amuse a litUe child who could do almost
nothing to amuse herself: and although 1 do not
recall a single circumstance connected with the read-
ing of the stories, yet I cannot help thinking that I
made a great effort to remember the words, with the
intention of having my teacher explain them when
she returned. One thing is certain, the language

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

was inefTaceably stamped upon my brain, though for
a long time no one knew it, least of all myself.

Wlten Miss SuUivan came back, I did not speak
to her about " The Frost Fairies," probably because
she began at once to read " Little Lord Fauntleroy/ '
which filled my mind to the exclusion of everything
else^ But the fact remains that Miss Canby's story
was read to me once, and that long after I had
forgotten it, it came back to me so naturally that I
never suspected that it was the child of another
mind.

In my trouble I received many messages of love
and sympathy. All the friends I loved best, except
one, have remained my ovm. to the present time.
Miss Canby herself wrote kindly, "Some day you
will write a great story out of your own head, that
will be a comfort and help to many.*' But this kind
prophecy has never been fulfilled. I have never
played with words again for the mere pleasure of
the game. Indeed, I have ever since been tortured
by the fear that what I write is not my own. For a
long time, when I wrote a letter, even to my mother,
I was seized with a sudden feeling of terror, and 1
would spell the sentences over and over» to make
sure that 1 had not read them in a book. Had it
not been for the persistent encouragement of Miss
Sullivan, I think I should have given up trying to
write altogether.

I have read "The Frost Fairies" since, also the
letters I wrote in which 1 used other ideas of Miss
Canby's I find in one of them, a letter to Mr,
Anagnos, dated September 39, 1891, words and senti-
ments exactly like those of the book. At the time
I was writing *'Tlie Frost King," and this letter.

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

like many others, contains phrases which show that
my mind was saturated with the stoiy. 1 represent
my teacher as saying to rne of the golden autumn
leaves, " Yes, they are beautiful enough to comfort
us for the flight of summer"— an idea direct from
Miss Canby's story.

This habit of assimilating what pleased me and
giving it out again as my own appears in much of
my early correspondence and my first attempts at
writing. In a composition which I wrote about
the old cities of Greece and Italy, I borrowed my
glowing descriptions^ with variations, from sources
I have forgotten. I knew Mr, Anagnos's great love
of antiquity and his enthusitistic appreciation of all
beautiful sentiments about Italy and Greece. I
therefore gathered from all the books 1 read every
bit of poetry or of history that I thought would give
him pleasure. Mr, Anagnos, in speaking of my
composition on the cities, has said, " These ideas are
poetic in their essence." But I do not understand
how he ever thought a blind and deaf child of eleven
could have invented them. Yet I cannot think that
because I did not originate the ideas, my little com-
position is therefore quite devoid of interest. It
shows me that I could express my appreciation of
beautiful and poetic ideas in clear and animated
language.

"niose early compositions were mental gymnastics.
I was learning, as all young and inexperienced
persons learn, by assimilation and imitation, to put
ideas into words. Everything L found in books that
pleased me I retained m my memory, consciously
or unconsciously, and adapted it. The young
writer, as Stevenson has said, instinctively tries to

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

copy whatever seems most admirable, and he shifts
his admiration with astonishing versatility. It 13
only after years of this sort of practice that even
great men have learned to marshal the legion of
words which come thronging through every byway
of the mind.

I am afraid I have not yet completed this process-
It is certain that I cannot always distinguish my
own thoughts from those I read, because what I read
become the very substance and textiire of my mind.
Consequently, in nearly all that I write, I produce
something which very much resembles the crazy
patchwork 1 used to make when I first learned to
sew. This patchwork was made of all sorts of odds
and ends — pretty bits of silk and velvet; but the
coarse pieces that were not pleasant to touch always
predominated^ Likewise my compositions are made
up of crude notions of my own, inlaid with the
brighter thoughts and riper opinions of the authors
I have read. It seems to me that the great difficulty
of writing is to make the language of the educated
mind express our confused ideas, half feelings, half
thoughts, when we arc httle more than bundles of
instinctive tendencies. Trying to write is very
much like trying to put a Chinese puzzle together.
We have a pattern in mind which we wish to work
out in words; but the words will not fit the spaces,
or, if they do, they will not match the design. But
we keep on tiy^ing because we know that others
have succeeded, and we are not willing to acknowl-
edge defeat.

"There is no way to become original, except to
be bom so," says Stevenson, and although I may
not be original, I hope sometime to outgrow my

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

artificiali periwigged compositions. Then, perhaps^

^^y own thoughts and experiences will come to

^Bfae surface- Meanwhile I trust and hope and

persevere, and try not to let the bitter memory

^if "The Frost King" trammel my efforts,

H| So this sad experience may have done me good

and set me thinking on some o£ the problems of

composition. My only regret is that it resulted in

the loss of one of my dearest friends, Mr. Anagnos.

Since the publication of "The Story of My Life"

in the Ladies' Honte Journal^ Mr. Anagnos has made

Ikl statement, in a letter to Mr* Macy, that at the

^tirae of the ''Frost King" matter, he believed I

I was innocent. He says, the court of Investigation

■before which I was brought consisted of eight people:

"lour bliad, four seeing persons. Four of them,

he says, thought I knew that Miss Canby's story

had been read to me^ and the others did not hold

^■this view. Mr. Anagnos states that he cast his vote

Bwith those who were favourable to me.

But, however the case may have been, with
whichever side he may have cast his vote, when I
^ w ent into the room where Mr, Anagnos had so often
■■held me on his knee and, forgetting his many cares,
^Bad shared in my frohcs, and found there persons
^Effho seemed to doubt me, I felt thai there was some-
thing hostile and menacing in the very atmosphere,
id subsequent events have bonie out this impres-
For two years he seems to have held the belief
that Miss Sullivan and 1 were innocent. Then he
evidently retracted his favourable judgment, why
■JU do not know. Nor did I know the details of the
investigation. 1 never knew even the names of the
members of the "court" who did not speak to me.

72 THE STORY OP MY LIFE

I was too excited to notice anything, too frightened
to ask questions. Indeed, I could scarcely think
what I was saying, or what was being said to me,

I have given this account of the "Frost King"
affair because it was important in my life and edu-
cation; and, in order that there might be no mis-
understanding, I have set forth all the facts as
they appear to me, without a thoi^ht of defending
myself or of laying blame on any one.

CHAPTER XV

The sunnner and winter following the '* Frost
King" incitkni T spent with my family in Alabama.
1 recpLli with delight that home-going. Everything
had budded and blossomed. I was happy. "The
Frost King" was forgotten.

When the ground was strewn with the crimson
and golden leaves of autumn, and the musk-scented
grapes that covered the arbour at the end of the
garden were tuniiiig golden brown in the sunshine,
I began to write a sketch of my life — a year after I
had written *'The Frost King."

T was still excessively scrupulous about everything
I wrote. The thought that what I wrote might
not be absolutely my own tormented me. No
one knew of these fears except my teacher, A
strange sensitiveness prevented me from referring
to the "Frost King"; and of ten when an idea flashed
out in the course of conversation I would spell softly
to her, " I am not sure it is mine/' At other times,
in the midst of a paragraph I was writing, I said to
myself, "Suppose it should be found that all this
was ^Titten by some one long agol" An impish fear
clutched my hand, so that I could not WTite any more
that day- And even now T sometimes feel the same
uneasiness and ilisqiiletude. Miss Sullivan consoled
and helped me in every way she could think of ; but
the terrible experience I had passed through left a
lasting impression on my mindj the significance of

74 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

which I am only just beginning to understand. It
was with the hope of restoring my self-confidence
that she persuaded me to write for the Youth's
Companion a brief accoimt of my life, I was then
twelve years old. As I look back on my stn^gle
to write that little story, it seems to me that I must
have had a prophetic vision of the good that would
come of the undertaking, or I should surely have
failed.

I wrote timidly, fearfully, but resolutely, urged
on by my teacher, who knew that if I persevered, I
should find my mental foothold again and get a grip
on my faculties. Up to the time of the "Frost
King" episode, I had lived the unconscious life
of a little child; now my thoughts were turned
inward, and I beheld things invisible. Gradually
I emerged from the penumbra of that experience
with a mind made clearer by trial and with a
truer knowledge of life.

The chief events of the year 1893 were my trip
to Washington during the inauguration of President
Cleveland, and visits to Niagara and the World's
Fair. Under such circumstances my studies were
constantly interrupted and often put aside for many
weeks, so that it is impossible for me to give a con-
nected account of them.

We went to Niagara in March, 1893, ItisdifGcult
to describe my emotions when I stood on the point
which overhangs the American Falls and felt the air
vibrate and the earth tremble.

It seems strange to many people that I should be
impressed by the wonders and beauties of Niagara.
They are always asking: " What does this beauty
or that music mean to you? You cannot see the

TtlE STORY OF MY LIFE J5

^aves rolling up the beach or hear their roar,
"What do they mean to you?" In the most evident
sense they meitn everything, l cannot fathom or
define their meaning any more than I can fathom
or define love or religion or goodness.

During the summer of 1893, Miss Sullivan and I
visited the World's Fair with Dr. Alexander
Graham Bell. T recall with unmixed deliglit those
days when a thousand childish fancies became
beautiful realities. Every day in imagination I
made a trip round the world, and I saw many
■wonders from the uttermost parts of the earth —
marvels of invention, treasures of industry and skill
and all the activities of human life actually passed
imder my finger tips.

1 liked to \'i3it the Midway Plaisancc, It seemed
like the "Arabian Nights,*' it v;as crammed so full
of novelty and interest. Here was the India of ray
"books in the curious bazaar with its Sbivas and
elephant -gods ; there was the laJid of the Pyramids
concentrated in a model Cairo with its mosques
lacd its long processions of camels; yonder were the
lagoons of Venice, where we sailed every evening
when the city and the fountains were illuminated.
I also went on board a Viking ship which lay a short
d4Stance from the little craft. I had been on a
man-of-war before, in Boston, and it interested me
to see, on this Viking ship, how the seaman w£ls once
all in all — how he sailed and took storm and calm
alike with undaunted heart, and gave chase to
whosoever reechoed his cry, '' Wc arc of the sea !"
and fought with brains and sinews, self-reliant^
self-sufficient, insteiid of being thrust into the back-
groimd by imintelligent machinery, as Jack is

76 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

to-day. So it always is — "man only is interestii^
to man."

At a little c1 {stance from this ship there was a
model of the Santa Maria, which I also exanuned.
The captain showed me Columbus's cabin and the
desk with an hour-glass on it. This small inBtru-
ment impressed me most because it made me think
how weary the heroic navigator must have fdt as
he saw the sand dropping grain by grain irtiile
desperate men were plotting against his life.

Mr. Higinbotham, President of the World's
Fair^ kindly gave me permission to touch the
exhibits, and with an eagerness as insatiable as
that with which Pizairo seized the treasures of
Peru, I took in the glories of the Fair with my
fingers. It was a sort of tangible kaleidoscope,
this white city of the West, Everything fascinated
me, especially the French bronzes. They were so
lifelike, I thought they were angel visions which the
artist had caught and boimd in earthly forms.

At the Cape of Good Hope exhibit, I learned much
about the processes of mining diamonds. Whenever
it was possible, I touched the machinery while it
was in motion, so as to get a clearer idea how the
stones were weighed, cut, and polished. I searched
in the washings for a diamond and found it myself
— the only true diamond, they said, that was ever
foimd in the United States.

Dr. Bell went everywhere with us and in bis
own delightful way described to me the objects of
greatest interest. In the electrical building we
examined the telephones, autophones, phonographs,
and other inventions, and he made me understand
how it is possible to send a message on wires that

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

mock space and outrun time, and, like Promctlicus,
to draw fire from the sky. We also visited the
anthropological department, and 1 was much inter-
ested in the reHcs of ancient Mexico, in the rude stone
implements that are so often the only record of an
age — the simple monuments of nature's unlettered
children (so I thought as I fingered them) that seem
bound to last while the memorials of kings and
sages crumble in dust away — and in the Egyptian
tnummiea, which I shrank from touching. From
these relics I learned more about the progress of
man than I have heard or read since.

All these experiences added a great many new
terms to my vocabulary, and in the three weeks I
spent at the Fair I took a long leap from the little
child's interest in fairy tales and toys to the appre-
ciation of the real and the earnest in the worl^day
world

CHAPTER XVI

Bbporb October, 1S93, 1 had studied various sub-
jects by myself in a more or less desultory manner.
I read the histories of Greece, Rome and the United
States. I had a French grammar in raised x)rint,
and as I already knew some French, I often amused
myself by composing in my head short exercises,
using the new words as I came across them, and
Ignoring rules and other technicalities as much as
possible, I even tried, without aid, to master the
French pronunciation, as I found all the letters and
sounds described in the book. Of course this was
tasking slender powers for great ends ; but it gave me
something to do on a rainy day, and I acquired a
sufficient knowledge of French to read with pleasure
La Fontaine's *' Fables," " Le Medecin Malgre Lui "
and passages from "Athalie."

I also gave considerable time to the improvement
of my speech, I read aloud to Miss Sullivan and
recited passages from my favourite poets, which I
had committed to memory; she corrected my pro-
nunciation and helped me to phrase and inflect.
It was not, however, until October, iSg^, after I
had recovered from the fatigue and excitement of
my visit to the World's Fair, that I began to have
lessons in special subjects at fixed hours.

Miss Sullivan and I were at that time in Hultcm,
Pennsylvania, visiting the family of Mr. WilUam
Wade. Mr, Irons, a neighbour of theirs, was a good

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Latm scholar; It was arranged that I should study
under him, I remember him as a man of rare,
sweet nature and of wide experience. He taught
me Latin grammar principally; but he often helped
me in arithmetic, which I found as troublesome as
it was uninteresting. Mr, Irons also read with me
Tennyson's "In Memoriam," I had read many
books before, but never from a critical point of view.
I learned for the first time to know an author, to
recognise his style as I recognize the clasp of a
friend's hand.

At first I was rather unwilling to study Latin
grammar. It seemed absurd to waste time analyzing
every word I came across — noun, genitive, singular,
feminine— when its meaning was quite plain, I
thought r might Just as well describe my pet in order
to know it — order, vertebrate; division, quadruped;
class, mammaUa; genus, felinus; species, cat; indi-
vidual. Tabby, But as I got deeper into the subject,
I became more interested, and. the beauty of the
language delighted me, I often amused myself by
reading Latin passages^ picking up words I under-
stood and trying to make sense. I have never
ceased to enjoy this pastime.

There is nothing more beautiful, I think, than
the evanescent fleeting images and sentiments pre-
sented by a language one is just becoming familiar
^\ith — ideas that flit across the mental sky, shaped
and tinted by capricious fancy. Miss Sullivan
sat beside me at my lessons, spelling into my
hand whatever Mr, Irons said, and looking up
new words for me. I was just beginning to read
Caesar's "Gallic War" when I went to my home in
Alabama,

CHAPTER XVII

In the summer of 1S94, I attended the meet-
ing at Chautauqua of the American Association
to Promote the Teaching of Speech to the Deaf,
There it was arranged that I should go to the
Wright-Humason School for the Deaf in New York
City. 1 went there in October, 1894, accompanied
by Miss Sullivan, This school was chosen especially
for the purpose of obtaining the highest advantages
in vocal culture and training in lip-reading. In
addition to my work in these subjects, I studied,
during the two years I was in the school, arithmetic,
phj-sical geography^ French and German,

Miss Reamy, my German teacher, could use the
manual alphabet, and after I had acquired a small
vocabulary, we talked together in (ierman whenever
we had a chance, and in a few months I could under-
stand almost everything she said. Before the end
of the first ye^T I read "Wilhelm Tell" with the
greatest delight. Indeed. I think I made more
progress in German than in any of my other studies.
I found French much more difficult. I studied it
mth Madame Olivier, a French lady who did not
know the manual alphabet, and who was obliged to
give her instruction orally. I could not read her
lips easily; so my progr^s was much slower than in
German. I managed, however, to read " Le Medecin
Malgre Lui" again. It was very amusing; but I did
not tike it nearly so well as " Wilhelm Tell."

THE STORY OF MY LIFE Si

Myprogress in lip-reading and speech was not what
my teachers and I had hoped and expected it would
be. It was my ambition to speak like other people,
and my teachers believed that this could be atcom-
plished;but, although we worked hard and faithfully
yet we did not quite reach our goal. 1 suppose we
aimed too high, and disappointment was therefore
inevitable. I still regarded arithmetic as a system
of pitfalls, I htrng about the dangerous frontier
of "guess/" avoiding with infinite trouble to myself
and others the broad valley of reason. When
I was not guessing, I was jumping at conclusions,
and this faulty in addition to my duliness,
.Gggravated my difficulties more than was right or
leccssary.

But although these disappointments caused me

great depression at times, £ pursued my other

studies with unflagging interest, especially physical

Lphy. It was a joy to learn the secrets of

'nature: how — in the picturesque language of the

Old Testament — the winds are made to blow from

.the four comers of the heavens, how the vapours

^ascend from the ends of the earth, how rivers are

cut out among the rocks, and mountains overturned

by the roots, and in what ways man may overcome

many forces mightier than himself. The two years

in New York were happy ones, and 1 look back to

them witTi genuine pleasure,

I remember especially the walks we all took
together every day in Central Park, the only part of
the city that was congenial to me. 1 never lost a
jot of my delight in this great park, I loved to have
it described every time I entered it; for it was
beautiful in all its aspects, and these aspects were

8a THE STORY OF MY LIFE

so many that it was beautiful in a different way each
day of the nine months I spent in New York.

In the spring we made excursions to various
places of interest. We sailed on the Hudson River
and wandered about on its green banks, of which
Bryant loved to sing. I lili^d the simple, wild
grandeur of the palisades. Among the places I
visited were West Point, Tarry town, the home
of Washington Irving, where I walked through
"Sleepy Hollow."

The teachers at the Wright-Humason School were
always planning how they might give the pupils
every advantage that those who hear enjoy — how
they might make much of few tendencies and
passive memories in the cases of the little ones —
and lead them out of the cramping circumstances
in which their lives were set.

Before I left New York, these bright days were
darkened by the greatest sorrow that I have ever
borne, except the death of my father. Mr, John P,
Spaulding, of Boston, died in February, 1896.
Only those who knew and loved him best can
understand what his friendship meant to me.
He, who made every one happy in a beautiful,
unobtrusive way, was most kind and tender to Miss
Sullivan and me. So long as we felt his loving
presence and knew that he took a watchful interest
in our work, fraught with so many difficulties, we
could not be discouraged. His going away left a
vacancy in our lives that has never been filled.

CHAPTER XVIII

In October, 1896, I entered the Cambridge School
for Young Ladies, to be prepared for Raddiife-

Wlien I was a little girl. I visited Wellesley
and surprised my friends by the announcement,
"Some day I shall go to college — but I shall go to
Harvard!" When asked why I would not go to
Wellesley, I replied that there were only girls there.
The thought of goingto college took root in my heart
and became an earnest desire, which imp^ned me to
enter into competition for a degree with seeing and
hearing girls, in the face of the strong opposition of
many true and wise friends. When I left New York
the idea had become a fixed purpose; and it was
decided that I ^should go to Cambridge. This was
the nearest approach I could get to Harvard and to
the fulfillment of my childish declaration.

At the Cambridge School the plan was to have
Miss Sullivan attend the classes with me and
Jnteqaret to me the inBtruction given.

Of course my instructors had had no experience
in teacliing any but normal pupils, and my only
means of conversing with them was reading
their lips. My studies for the first year were
English history, English literature, German, I^tin,
arithmetic, Latin composition and occasional
themes- Until then 1 had never taken a course of
study with the idea of preparing for college; but I
had been well drilled in English by Miss Sullivan^

§4

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

and it soon became evicletit to my teachers that I
needed no special instruction in this subject beyond
a criticitl study of the books prescribed by the
college. I had had, moreover, a good start in
French, and received six months' instruction in
Latin; but German was the subject with ■ft^hich I
was most familiar.

In spite, however, of these advantages, there
were serious drawbacks to my progress. Miss
SulHvan could not spell out in my hand all that the
books required, and it was very difficult to have
text-books embossed in time to be of use to me,
although my friends in London and Philadelphia
were willing to hasten the work. For a while,
indeed, I had to copy my Latin in braille, so that
I could recite with the other girls. My instructors
soon became sufficiently familiar with my imperfect
speech to answer my questions readily and correct
mistakes. I could not make notes in class or write
exercises; but I wrote all my compoations and
tninslations ;it home on my typewriter.

Each day Miss Sullivan went to the classes with
me and spelled into my hand ■Viith infinite patience
all that the teachers said. In study hours she had
to look up new words for me and read and reread
notes and books I did not have in raised print. The
tedium of that work is hard to conceive. Frau
Grote, my German teacher, and Mr. Oilman, the
principal, were the only teachers in the school who
learned the finger alphabet to give me instruction.
No one realized more fidly than dear Frau Grote
how slow and inadequate her spelling was. Never-
theless, in tine goodness of her heart she labouriously
spelled out her instructions to me in special lessons

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

twice a weet, to give Miss Sullivan a Tittle rest.
But, though evctybody was kind and ready to help
us, there was only one hand that could turn drudgery
into pleasure.

That yejir T finisheil aritltmetic, reviewed my
Latin grammar, and read three chapters of Ctesar's
-Gallic War." In German I read, partly with my
fingers and partly with Miss Sullivan's assistance,
Schiller's "Ued von der Glocke" and '^Tauclicr,"
Heine's " Harzreise," Fre3d^ag's "Aus dem Staat
Friedriclis des Grossen," Riehl's "Fluch Der
Schonhcit," Lessing's "Minna von Bamhclra/' and
Goethe's ^'AusmeinemLeben," I took the greatest
delight in these German books, especially Schiller's
wonderful lyrics, the history of Frederick the Great's
magnificent achievements and the account of
Goethe's life, I was sorry to finish "Die Harz-
rcisc." so full of happy witticisms and charming
descriptions of vine-clad hills, streams that sing and
ripple in the sunshine, and wild regions, sacred to
tradition and legend, the gray sisters of a long-
vanished, imaginative age — descriptions such as
can be given only by those to whom nature 13 *'a
ieeling, a love and an appetite,"

Mr, Gilman instructed me part of the year in
English literature. We read together "As You
Like It," Burke's "Speech on Conciliation with
America," and Macaulay's " Life of Samuel
Jotinson." Mr. Gilman's broad views of history
and literature and his clever explanations made
my wctrk easier and pleasanter than it could have
been had 1 ooly read notes mechanically with the
necessarily brief explanations given in the classes.

Burke's speech was more instructive than any

86 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

other book on a political subject that I had ever
read. My mind stirred with the stirring times, and
the characters round which the life of two contend-
ii^ nations centred seemed to move right before
me. 1 wondered more and more, while Burke's
masterly speech rolled on in mighty surges of
eloquence, how it was that King George and his
ministers could have turned a deaf ear to his warn-
ing prophecy of our victory and their humiliation.
Then I entered into the melancholy details of the
relation in which the great statesman stood to his
party and to the representatives of the people* I
thought how strange it was that such precious seeds
of truth and wisdom should have fallen among the
tares of ignorance and corruption.

In a different way Macaulay^s '*Life of Samuel
Johnson" was interesting. My heart went out to
the lonely man who ate the bread of affliction in
Grub Street, and yet, in the midst of toil and cruel
suffering of body and soul, always had a land word,
and lent a helping hand to the poor and despised.
I rejoiced over all his successes, I shut my eyes to
his faults, and wondered, not that he had them, but
tliat they had not crushed or d^"arfed his soul. But
in spite of Macaulay's brilliancy and his admirable
faculty of making the commonplace seem fresh and
picturesque, his positiveness wearied me at times,
and his frequent sacrifices of trutli to effect kept
me in a questioning attitude very unlike the atti-
tude of reverence in which I had listened to the
Demosthenes of Great Britain,

At the Cambridge school, for the first time in my
life, I enjoyed the companionsliip of seeing and hear-
ing girls of my own age, I lived with several others

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 87

in one of the pleasant houses connected with the
school, the house where Mr. Howells used to hve,
and we all had the advantage of home life, I joined
them in many o£ their games, even blind man's
TuiiiT and frolics in the snow; I took long walks \^ilh
them; \\'e disciisspd our studies and read aloud the
things that interested us. Some of the girls learned
to speak to me, so that Miss Sullivan did not have
to repeat their conversation.

At Cliristmas, my mother and liltle sister spent
the hoHdays with me, and Mr. Oilman kindly offered
to let Mildred study in his school. So Mildred
stayed 'vs'ith me in Cambridge, and for six happy
months we were hardly ever apart. Tt makes me
most happy to remember the hours we spent helping
each other in study and sharing our recreation
together.

I took my preliminary examinations for Radcliilc
fromtheagthof Juneto the3rdof July in 1897, The
subjects I ofTered were Elementary and Advanced
Genruf n, French , Latin , English , and G reek and
Roman history, making nine hours in ail. I passed
in everything, and received "honours" in German
and Enghsh.

Perhaps an explanation of the method that was
in use when I took my examinations will not be
amiss here> The student was required to pass in
sbttcen hours — twelve hours being called elementary
and four advanced. He had to pass five hours at
& time to have them counted. The examination
papers were given out at nine o'clock at Harvard
and brought to Radclifie by a special messenger.
Each candidate was known^ not by hia name,
but by a number, I was No, ^33, but, as 1

88 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

had to use a typewriter, my identity could not be
concealed.

It was thought advisable for me to have my
examinations in a room by myself, because the noise
of the typewriter might disturb the other girls.
Mr, Oilman read all the papers to me by means of
the manual alphabet, A man was placed on guard
at the door to prevent interruption.

The first day I had German. Mr. Gilman sat
beside me and read the paper through first, then
sentence by sentence, while I repeated the wt^^
aloud, to make sure that I understood him perf ectly>
The papers were difficult, and I felt very anxious as
I wrote out my answers on the typewriter. Mr,
Oilman spelled to me what I had written, and I made
such changes as I thought necessary, and he inserted
them. I wish to say here that I have not had this
advantage since in any of my examinations. At
RadclifTe no one reads the papers to me after th^
are written, and I have no opportunity to correct
errors unless I finish before the time is up. In
that case I correct only such mistakes as I can
recall in the few minutes allowed, and make notes
of these corrections at the end of my paper. If I
passed with higher credit in the preliminaries than
in the finals, there are two reasons. In the finals,
no one read my work over to me, and in the
preliminaries I offered subjects with some of which
I was in a measure familiar before my work in the
Cambridge school ; for at the beginning of the year
I had passed examinations in English, History,
French and German, which Mr. Gilman gave me
from previous Harvard papers.

Mr. Gilman sent my written work to the examiners

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

with a certificate that I, candidate No> 333, had
written the papers.

All the other preliminary examinations were
conducted in the same manner. None of them was
so difficult as the first. I remember that the day
the Latin paper was brought to us, Professor
Schilling came in and informed me I had passed
satisfactorily in German. This encouraged me
greatly, and I sped on to the end of the ordeal
with a light heart and a steady hand.

CHAPTER XIX

When I began my second year at the Gilman

school, I was full of hope and determination to
succeed. But during the first few weeks I was con-
fronted with unforeseen difficulties, Mr. Gilman had
agreed that that year I should study mathematics
principally. I had physics, algebra, geometry,
astronomy, Greek and Latin, Unfortimately, many
of the books I needed had not been embossed in
time for me to begin with the classes, and I lacked
important apparatus for some of my studies. The
classes I was in were very large, and it was impossible
for the teachers to give me special instruction.
Miss SulHvan was obliged to read all the books to me,
and interpret for the instructors, and for the first
time in eleven years it seemed as if her dear hand
would not be equal to the task.

It was necessary for me to write algebra and
geometry in class and solve problems in physics, and
this I could not do until we bought a braille writer^
by means of which I could put down the steps and
processes of my work. I could not follow with my
eyes the geometrical figures drawn on the black-
board, and my only means of getting a clear idea of
them was to make them on a cushion with straight
and curved wires, which had bent and pointed ends.
I had to carry in my mind, as Mr. Keith says in his
report, the lettering of the figures, the hypothesis
and conclusion, the construction and the process of

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

the proof. In a word, every study had its obstacles.
Sometirnes 1 lost all courage and betrayed my
feelings in a way I am ashamed to remember,
especially as the signs of my trouble were aftenv'ard
used against Miss Sullivan, the only person of all the
kind friends I had there, whtj could malce the croaked
Straight and the rougli places smooth.

Little by little, however, my difficulties began to
disappear. The embossed books and other appa-
ratus arrived, and I threw myself into the work with
renewed confidence. Algebra and geometry were
the only studies that continued to defy my efTorts
to comprehend themn As I have said before. I
had no aptitude for mathematics; the different
points were not explained to me aii fully as I wished.
The geometrical diagrams were particularly vexing
because I could not see the relation of the different
parts to one another, even on the cushion. It was
not until Mr. Keith taught mo that I had a clear
idea of mathematics.

I was beginning to overcome these difficulties
when an event occuired w^hich changed everything.

Just before the books came. Mr, Oilman had begun
to remonstrate with Miss Sullivan on the ground
that I was working too hard, and in spite of my
earnest protestations, he reduced the number of
my recitations. At the beginning we had agreed
that I should, if necessary, take five years to prepare
for college, but at the end of the first year the
success of my examinations showed Miss Sullivan,
Miss Harbaugh (Mr. Gilraan's head teacher), and
one other, that I could without too mucli effort
complete my preparation in two years more. Mr.
Gilraan at first agreed to this; but when my tasks

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

had become somewhat perplexing, he insisted that
1 was overworked, and that I should remain at his
school three years longer, 1 did not like his plan,
for I wished to eoter college with my class.

On the seventeenth of November I was not very
well, and did not go to school. Although Miss
Sullivan knew that my indisposition was not serious,
yet Mr. Oilman, on hearing of it, declared that
I was breaking down and made changes in my
studies which would have rendered it impossible for
me to take my final examinations with my class.
In the end the difference of opinion between Mr,
GiLman and Miss Sullivan resulted in my mother's
■withdrawing my sister Mildred and me from the
Cambridge School.

After si'mie flclay it was arranged that T should
continue my studies under a tutor, Mr. Mcrton S-
Kcith, of Cambridge. Miss Sullivan and I spent the
rest of the winter with our friends, the Chamberlins
in Wrentham, twenty-five miles from Boston.

From February to July, 1898, Mr. Keith came out
to Wrentham twice a week, and taught me algebra,
geometry. Greek and Latin. Miss Sullivan inter-
preted his instruction.

In October, 1898, we returned to Boston. For
eight months Mr, Keith gave me lessons five times a
week, in periods of about an hour. He explained
each time what I did not understand in the previous
lesson, assigned new work, and took home ^*ith him
the Greek exercises which I had written during the
week on my typewriter, corrected them fully, and
returned them to me.

In this way my preparation for college went
on without interruption, I found it much easier and

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 93

pleasanter to be taught b/ myself than to receive
instruction in class. There was no hurry, no con-
fiision. My tutor had plenty of time to explain
what I did not imderstand, so 1 ^t on faster and did
better work than I ever did in school. I still found
more difhculty in mastering problems in mathe-
matics than I did in any other of my studies. I
wish algebra and geometry had been half as easy
as the languages and literature. But even mathe-
matics Mr. Keith made interesting; he succeeded in
whittling problems small enough to get through
my brain. He kept my mind alert and eager, and
trained it to reason elearly, and to seek conclusions
calmly and logically, instead of jumping wildly into
space and arriving nowhere. He was always gentle
and forbearing, no matter how dull I might be, and
believe me, my stupidity would often have exlmusted
the patience of Job.

On the agth and 30th of June, 1899, I took my
final examinations for Radcliffe College. The first
day I had Elementary Greek and Advanced Latin,
and the second day Geometry, Algebra and Ad vanced
Greek,

The college authorities did not allow Miss Sullivan
to read the examination papers to me ; so Mr, Eugene
C, Vining, one of the instructors at the Perkins
Institution for the Blimh was employed to copy the
papers for mc in American braille. Jlr. Vining was
a stranger to me, and could not communicate with
me, except by writing braille. The proctor was also
a stranger, and did not attempt to communicate
with me in any way.

The braille worked well enough in the languages,
but when jt came to geometry and algebra, difl^culties

94 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

arose,* I was sorely perplexed, and felt discouraged
wasting much precious time, especially in algebra.
It is true that I was familiar with all literary
braille in common use in this country — English,
American, and New York Point; but the various
signs and symbols in geometry and algebra in the
three systems are very different^ and I had used only
the English braille in my algebra.

Two days before the examinations^ Mr. Viniug
sent me a braille copy of one of the old Harvard
papers in algebra. To my dismay I found that it
was in the American notation. I sat down immedi-
ately and wrote to Mr. Vining, asking him to explain
the signs. I received another paper and a table of
signs by return mail, and I set to work to leam the
notation. But on the night before the algebra
examination^ while I was struggling over some very
complicated examples, I could not tell the combina-
tions of bracket, brace and radical Both Mr,
Keith and I were distressed and full of forebodings
^r the morrow; but we went over to the college
a little before the examination began, and had
Mr, Vining explain more fully the American
symbols.

In geometry my chief difficulty was that I had
always been accustomed to read the propositions in
line print, or to have them spelled into my hand;
and somehow, although the propositions were right
before me, I found the braille confusing, and could
not fix clearly in my mind what I was reading. But
when I took up algebra I had a harder time still.
The s^ns, which I had so lately learned, and which
I thought I knew, perplexed me. Besides, I could

•See Misa Keller's letter, page 259,

THE STORV OF MY LIFE

not see what 1 wrote on my typewriter. 1 had
always done my work in braille or in my head.
Mr. Keith had relied too much on my ability to
solve problems mentally, and had not trained me to
write examination papers. Consequently my work
was painfully slow, and I had to read the examples
over and over before I could form any idea of
what I was required to do. Indeed, 1 am not sure
now that 1 read all the signs correctly, I found it
very hard to keep my wits atout me.

But I do not blame any one. The administrative
board of Radcliffe did not realiEC how difficult they
were making my examinations, nor did thev under-
stand the peculiar difficulties I had to surmount.
But if they unintentionally placed obstacles in
my way, I have the consolation of knowing that
I overcame them all.

CHAPTER XX

Thb stni^le for admission to college was endedt
and I could now enter Radcliffe whenever I pleased.
Before I entered collegej however, it was thought
best that I should study another year under Mr.
Keith. It was not, therefore, until the fall of 1900
that my dream of going to college was realized.

I remember my first day at Radcliffe, It was a
day full of interest for me, I had "locked forward to
it for years, A potent force within me, stronger
than the persuasion of my friends, stronger even
than the pleadings of my heart, had impelled me to
try my strength by the standards of those who see
and hear. I knew that there were obstacles in the
way; but I was eager to overcome them. I had
taken to heart the words of the wise Roman who
said, " To be banished from Rome is but to hve out-
side of Rome," Debarred from the great highways
of knowledge, I was compelled to make the journey
across coimtry by unfrequented roads — that was
all; and I knew that in college there were many
bypaths where I could touch hands with girls who
were thinking, loving and struggling like me.

I began my studies with eagerness. Before me
I saw a new world opening in beauty and Hght, and
I felt within me the capacity to laiow all things.
In the wonderland of Mind I should be as free
as another. Its people, scenery, manners, joys,
tragedies should be living, tangible interpreters of

THE STORY OF JIY LIFE

the real world. The lecture-halls seemed filled
with the spirit of the great and the wise, and I
thought the professors were the embodiment of
wisdom. If I have sinee learned differently, I am
not going to tell anybody.

But I soon discovered xhat college was not quite
the romantic lyceum I had imagined. Many of the
dreams that had delighted my young inexperience
became beautifully less and "faded into the light
of common day," Gradually 1 began to find that
there were disadvantages in going to college.

The one I fe!t and still feel most is lack of time,
I used to have time to think, to reflect^ my mind and
I. We would sit together of an evening and listen
to the inner melodies of the spirit, which one hears
only in leisure moments when the words of some
loved jKX^t touch a deep, sweet chord in the soul that
until then had been silent. But in college there is
no time to commune with one's thoughts. One goes
to college to !eam, it seems, not to think. When
one enters the portals of learning, one leaves the
dearest pleasures— solitude, books and imagination
— outside with the whispering pines. I suppose I
ought to find some comfort in the thought that I am
laying up treasures for future enjoyment, but 1 am
improvident enough to prefer present joy to hoard*
ing riches against a rainy day.

My studies the first year were French, German,
history, English compoaition and English literature.
In the French course I read some of the works of
Comeille, Moli^e, Racine, Alfred de Musset and
Sainte-Beuve, and in the German those of Goethe
and Schiller. I reviewed rapidly the whole period
of history from the fall of the Roman Empire to the

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

eighteenth century, and in English Literature studied
critically Milton's poems and " Areopagitica,"

I am frequently asked how I overcome the pecu-
liar conditiuns unrler which I work in college. In
the classroom I am of course practically alone. The
professor is as remote as if he were speaking through
a telephone. The lectures are spelled into my hand
as rapidly as possible, and much of the individuality
of the lecturer is lost to me in the effort to keep in the
race. The words rush through my hand like hoimda
in pursuit of a hare which they often miss. But in
this respect I do not think I am much worse ofE than
the girls who take notes. If the mind is occupied
with the mechanical process of hearing and putting
words on paper at pcIl-mcll speedy I should not
think one could pay much attention to the subject
under consideration or the manner in which it is
presented. I cannot make notes during the lectures,
because my hands are busy listening. Usually I
jot down what 1 can remember of them when I
get home. I write the exercises, daily themes,
criticisms and hour-tests, the mid-year and final
examinations, on my typewriter, so that the profes-
sors have no difficulty in finding out how little I
know. When 1 began the study of Latin prosody.
I devised and explained to my professor a system of
signs indicating the difTerent meters and quantities,

I use the Hammond typewriter. I have tried
many machines, and I find the Hammond is the
best adapted to the peculiar needs of my work.
With this machine movable type shuttles can be
used, and one can have several shuttles, each
with a different set of characters — Greek, French,
or mathematical, according to the kind of writing

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

one wishes to do on the typewriter. Without it, I
doubt if I could go to college.

Very few of the books required in the various
courses are printed for the bhnd, and I am obliged
to have them spelled into my hand. Consequently
I need more time to prepare ray lessons than other
girls. Tlie manual part takes longer, and I have
perplexities which they have not. There are days
when the close attention I must give to details chafes
my spirit, and the thought that I must spend hours
reading a few chapters, while in the world without
other girls are laughing and singing and dancing,
makes me rebellious ; but I soon recover my buoy-
ancy and laugh the discontent out ot my heart.
For, after aU^ every one who wishes to gain true
knowledge must climb the Hill Difficulty alone,
and since there is no royal road to the summit, I
must zigzag it in my own way. I slip back many
times, 1 fall, I stand still, 1 run against the edge of
hidden obstacles, I lose my temper and find it again
and keep it better, 1 trudge on, I gain a little, I feel
encotiraged, I get more eager and climb higher and
begin to see the widening horizon. Every struggle
15 a victory. One more effort and I reach the
liiminous cloud, the blue depths of the sky, the
uplands of my desiren I am not always alone, how-
ever, in these struggles, Mr. William Wade and
Mr. E. E. Allen, Principal of the Pennsylvania
Institution for the Instruction of the Blind, get
for me many of the books 1 need in raised print,
Their thoughtfulness has been more of a help and
encouragement to me than they can ever know.

Last year, my second year at Radcliffe, I studied
English composition, the Bible as English hterature.

loo THE STORY OF MV LIFE

the governments of America and Eim>pc, the Odes of
Horace, and Latin comedy. The class in composi-
tion was the pleasantest. It was very lively- The
lectures were always interesting, vivacinus, witty;
for the instructor, Mr. Charles Townscnd Copeland^
more than any one else I have had iintil this
year, brings before you literature in all its
original freshness and power. For one short
hour you are permitted to drink in the etema!
beauty of the old masters without needless inter-
pretation or exposition. You revel in their fine
thoughts. You enjoy with all your soul the sweet
thunder of the Old Testament, forgetting the exist-
ence of Jahweh anil Elohlm; and you go home feel-
ing that you have had ' ' a glimpse of that perfection
in which spirit and form dwell in immortal har-
mony; truth and beauty bearing a new growth
on the ancient stem of time-"

This year is the happiest because I am
studying subjects that especially interest me,
economics. Elizabethan literature, Shakespeare
under Professor George L. Kittredge, and the
History of Philosophy under Professor Josiah
Royce- Through philosophy one enters with sym-
pathy of comprehension into the traditions of
remote ages and other modes of thought, which
erewhile seemed ahen and without reason,
^^ But college is not the universal Athens I thought
it was. There one does not meet the grKit and the
wise face to face; one does not even feel their living
touch. They are there, it is true; but they seem
mummified. We must extract them from the
crannied wall ~of learning and dissect and analyze
them before we can be sure that we have a Milton or

THE STORY OF MY LIFE joi

an Isaiah, and not merely a clever imitation. Many
scholars forget, it seems to me, that ourenjo>*nient of
the great works of literature depends more upon the
depth of our sympathy than upon our understand*
ing. The trouble is that very few of their laborious
explanations stick in the memory. The mind drops
them as a branch drops its ovempe fruit. It is
possible to "know a flower, root and stem and all, and
ell the processes of growth, and yet to have no appre-
ciation of the Hower fresh bathed in heaven's dew.
Again and again 1 ask impatiently, "Why concern
myself with these explanations and hypotheses?"
They fly hither and thither in my thought like blind
birds beating the air with ineffectual ^-ings. I do not
mean to object to a thorough knowledge of the
famous worts we read. I object only to the inter-
minable comments and bewildering criticisms that
teach but one thing; there are as many opinions as
there are men. But when a great scholar like
Professor Kittrodfre interprets what the master said,
it is "as if new sight were given the blind," He
brings back Shakespeare, the poet.

There are, however, times when I long to sweep
away half the things I am expected to learn ; for the
overtaxed mind cannot enjoy the treasure it has
secured at the greatest cost. It is impossible, I
think, to read in one day four or five different books
in different languages and treating of widely different
subjects, and not lose sight of the very ends for which
one reads. When one reads hurriedly and nervously,
having in mind written tests and examinations,
one's brain becomes encumbered with a lot of choice
bric-i-brac for which there seems to be little use.
At the present time ray mind is so full of hetero-

ro3 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

geneous matter that I almost despair of ever being
able to put it in order. Whenever I enter the region
that was the kingdom of my mind 1 feel like the
proverbial bull in the china shop. A thousand odds
and ends of knowledge come crashing about my head
like hailstones, and when I try to escape them^
theme-goblins and college nixies of all sorts pursue
me, imtil I wish — oh, may I be forgiven the wicked
wish 1 — that I might smash the idols 1 came to
worship.

But the examinations are the chief bugbears of
my college life. Although I have faced them many
times and cast them down and made them bite the
dust, yet they rise again and menace mc with pile
looks, until like Bob Acres I feel my courage oozing
out at my finger ends» The days before these ordeals
take place are spent in cramming your mind with
mystic formulae and indigestible tJates — unpalatable
diets, until you wish that books and science and you
were buried in the depths of the sea.

At last tlie dreaded hour arrives, and you are a
favoured being indeed if you feel prepared, and are
able at the right time to call to your standard
thoughts that will aid you in that supreme effort.
It happens too often that your trumpet call is
unheeded. It is most perplexing and exasperating
that just at the moment when you need your
memory and a nice sense of discrimination, these
faculties take to themselves wings and fly away.
The facts you have garnered with such infinite
trouble invariably fail you at a pinch,

"Give a brief account of Hues and his work."
Huss ? Who was he and what did he do ? The name
looks strangely familiar. You ransack your builgeC

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 103

of historic facts much as you would hunt for a bit of
giUc in a rag-bag. You are sure It is somewhere in
your mind near the top — you saw it there the other
day when you were looking up the beginnmgs of the
Reformation, But where is it now ? You fish out
all manner of odds and ends of knowledge — revolu-
tions, schisms, massacres, systems of government;
but Huss — where is he ? You are amazed at all the
things you know which are not on the examination
paper. In desperation you seize the budget and
dump everything out, and there in a comer is your
man, serenely brooding on his own private thought,
unconscious of the catastrophe which lie has brought
Upon you.

Just then the proctor informs you that the time
is up. With a feeling of intense disgust you kick
the mass of rubbish into a comer and go home, your
bead full of revolutionary schemes to abolish the
divine right of professors to ask questions without
the consent of the questioned.

It comes over me that in the last two or tlu-ee
pages of this chapter I have used figures which will
turn the laugh against me. AJi, here they are — the
mixed metaphors mocking and strutting about before
me, pointing to the bull in the china shop assailed
by hailstones and the bugbears with pale looks,
an unanalyzed species ! Let them mock on. The
words describe so exactly the atmosphere of jostling,
tumbling ideas I live in that I will wink at them for
once, and put on a deliberate air to say that my
ideas of college have changed,

WTiile my days at Radcliffe were still in the future,
they were encircled with a halo of romance, which
they have lost ; but in the transition from romantic

104 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

to actual I have learned many things I should
never have known had I not tried the experiment.
One of them is the precious science of patience,
which teaches us that we should take our education
as we would take a walk in the country, leisurely,
our minds hospitably open to impressions of every
sort. Such knowledge floods the soul unseen with
a soundless tidal wave of deepening thought.
"Knowledge is power." Rather, knowledge is
happiness, because to have knowledge — ^broad, deep
knowledge — is to know true ends from false, and
lofty things from low. To know the thou^ts and
deeds that have marked man's progress is to feel
the great heart-throbs of humanity through the
centuries; and if one does not feel in these pulsa-
tions a heavenward striving, one must indeed be
d£af to the harmonies of life.

CHAPTER XXI

I HAVE thus far sketched the events o£ my life,
but I have not shown how much I have depended
on books not only for pleasure and for the wisdom
they bring to all who read, but also for that knowl-
edge which comes to others through their eyes and
their ears. Indeed, books have meant so much
more in my education than in that of others, that
I shall go back to the time when I began to read,

I read my first connected story in May, 1887, when
I was seven years old, and from that day to this [
have devoured everything in the shape of a printed
page that has come within the reach of my hungry
finger tips. As I have said, I did not study regu-
larly during the early years uf my education; nor
did I read according to rule.

At first I had only a few books in raised print —
"readers" for beginners, a collection of stories for
children, and a book about the earth called "Our
World." I think that was all ; but I read tliem over
and over, until the words were so worn and pressed
I could scarcely make tliem out. Sometimes Miss
Sullivan read to me. spelling into my hand little
stories and poems that she knew I should imder-
stand; but I preferred reading m>raelf to being
read to, because I liked to read again and again
the things that pleased me.

It was during my first visit to Boston that I really
began to read in good earnest, I wap permitted to

105

io6

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

spend a part of each day in the Institution library,
and to ni'aiider from bookcase to bookcase, and taloa
do'^Ti whatever book my fingers lighted upon. And
read I did, whether I understood one wDrd. in ten
or two words on a page. The words themselves
fascinated mc; but I took no conscious account of
what I read. My mind must, however, have been
very impressionable at that period, for it retained
many words and whole sentences, to the meaning of
which I had not the faintest clue; and afterward,
when I began to talk and T^Tite. these words and
sentences would flash out quite naturally, so that
my friends wondered at the richness of my vocab-
ulary, I must have rea^l parts of many books (in
those early days I think I never read any one book
through) and a great deal of poetry in this uncom-
prehending way, until I discovered "Little Lord
Fauntleroy," which was the fir^t book of any conse-
quence I read understandingly.

One day my teacher found me in a comer of the
library pouring over the pages of ''The Scarlet
Letter," I was then about eight years old, I
remember she asked me if I liked little Pearl, and
explained some of the words that had puzzled me.
Then she told me that she had a beautiful story
about a little boy which she was sure I should like
better than "The Scarlet Letter." The name of the
story was "Little Lord Fauntleroy/' and she
promised to read it to me the folloTj^Tng summer.
But we did not begin the story until August; the
first few weeks of my stay at the seashore were so full
of discoveries and excitement that I forgot the very
existence of books. Then my teacher went to visit
some friends in Boston, leaving me for a short time.

THE STORY OP MY LIFE 107

When she returned almost the first thing we did
was to begin the story of *' Little Lord Fauntlcroy/'
I recall distinctly the time a.nd place when we read
the first chapters of the fascinating child's story. It
was a warm afternoon in August. We were sitting
together in a hammock which swung from two solemn
pines at a short distance from the house. We had
hurried tlirough the dish-washing after luncheon,
in order that we might have as long an afternoon as
possible for the st-or>'. As we hastened throiigli the
long gTEiss toward the hammock, the grasshoppers
swarmed about us and fastened themselves on our
clothes, and I remember that my teacher insisted
upon picking them all off before we sat down, which
seemed to me an unnecessary waste of time. The
hammock was covered with pine needles, for it had
not been used while my teacher was away. The
warm sun shone on the pine trees and drew out all
their fragrance. The air was balmy, with a lang of
the sea in it. Before we began the stnry Miss
Sullivan explained to me the tiling that she knew
I should not understand, and as we read on she
explained the unfamiliar words. At first there were
many words I did not know, and the reading was
constantly interrupted : but as soon as I thoroughly
comprehended the situation, I became too eagerly
absorbed in the story to notice mere words, and I
am afraid I listened impatiently to the explanations
that Miss Sullivan felt to be necessary. When her
fingers were too tired to spell another word, I had for
the first time a keen sense of my deprivations. I
took the book in my hands and tried to feel
the letters with an intensity of longing that I can
never forget.

toS

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Afterward, at my eager request, Mr. Anagnos had
this story embossed, and I read it again and again^
until I almost knew it by heart; and all through my
childhood '* Little Lord Faiintleroy" was my sweet
and gentle companion. 1 have given these details
at the risk of being tedious, because they are in such
vivid contrast with my vague, mutable and confused
memories of earlier reading.

From " Little Lord Fauntleroy" 1 data the begin-
ning of my true interest in books. During the next
two years I read many books at my home and on my
visits to Boston. I cannot remember what they all
were, or in what order I read them ; but I know that
among them were '* Greek Heroes," La Fontaine's
"Fables," Hawthorne's *' Wonder Book," "Bible
Stories," Lamb's "Tales frum Shakespeare/' "A
Child's History of England" by Dickens. ''The
Arabian Nights." '^The Swiss Family Robinson,"
"The Pilgrim's Progress," " Robinson Crusoe."
"Little Women," and "Heidi." a beautiful little
story which I afterward read in German, 1 read them
in the intervals between study and play with an
ever-deepening sense of pleasure. I did not study nor
analyze them— I did not know whether they were
well written or not; I never thought about style or
authorship. They laid their treasures at my feet,
and I accepted them as we accept the sunshine and
the love of our friends. I loved "Little Women"
because it gave me a sense of kinship with giria and
boys who could see and hear. Circumscribed as my
life was in so many ways, 1 had to look between the
covers of books for news of the world that lay
outside my oiA-n.

1 did not care especially for "The Pilgrim's

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

109

Progress," which I think I did not finish, or for the
■■ Fables/' I read La Fontaine's " Fables" first in an
English transJation, and enjoyed them only after a
half-hearted fashion. Later I read the book again in
French, and I found that, in spite of the vivid word-
pictures, and the wonderful mastery of language, I
liked it no better. I do not know why it is, but
stories in which animals are made to talk and act like
human beings have never appealed to me very
strongly. The ludicrous caricatures of the animals
occupy my mind to the exclusion of the moral.

Then, again, La Fontaine seldom, if ever, appeals
to oiu' higher moral sense. The highest chords he
strikes are those of reason and self-love. Through
all the fables runs the thought that man's morality
Springs wholly from self-love, and that if that self-
love is directed and restrained by reason, happiress
must follow. Now, so far as I can judge, self-love
is the root of all evil ] but, of course, I may be wrong,
for La Fontaine had greater opportunities of observ*
ing men than I am likely ever to have. I do not
object so much to the cynical and satirical fables aA
to those in wWch momentous truths are taught by
monkeys and foxes.

But 1 love '' The Jungle Book" and " Wild Animals
I Have tCjiown." I feel a genuine interest in the
animals themselves, because they are real animals
and not caricatures of men. One sympathizes T^-ith
their loves and hatreds, laughs over their comedies,
and weeps over their tragedies. And if they point
a moral, it is so subtle that we are not conscious
of it. "

My mind opened naturally and joyously to a con-
ception of antiquity. Greece, ancient Greece, exer*

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

cised a mysterious fascination over me. In my
fancy the pagan gods and goddesses still walked on
earth anil talked face to face with men. and in my
heart I secretly built shrines to those I loved best.
1 knevr and loved the ivholc tribe of nymphs and
heroes and demigods — no, not quite all, for the
cruelty and greed of Medea and Jason were too
monstrous to be forgiven, and I used to wonder why
the gods permitted them to do wrong and then
punished them for their wickedness. And the
mystery is still unsolved. I often wonder how

God can dHmbnesi kpep

While Siu creeps griniimg tliroiigh His koiiBa □£ Tune.

It was the Diad that made Greece my paradise.
I was familiar with the story of Troy before I read
it in the original, and consequently I had little
difficulty in making the Greek words surrender their
treasures after 1 had passed the borderland of
grammar. Ureat poetry, whether wiittcn in Greek or
in English, needs no other interpreter than a respon-
sive heart. Would that the host of those who
make the great works of the poets odious by their
analysis, impositions and laborious comments
might Jeam this simple truth ! It is not necessary
that one should be able to define every word and give
it its principal parts and its grammatical position in
the sentence in urder to understand and appre-
ciate a fine poem. I know my learned professors
have found greater riches in the Iliad than I
shall ever find; but I am not avaricious. I am
content that others should be wiser than I. But
with all their wide and comprehensive knowledge,
they cannot measure their enjoyment of that splen-

THE STORY OF MY LIFE iii

did epic, nor can I. When 1 read tlie finest pass-
ages of the Iliad, I am conscious of a soul-sense
that lifts me above the narrow, cramping circum-
atances of my life. My physical limitations are
forgotten — my world lies upward, the length and
the breadth and the sweep o£ the heavens are
mine!

My admiration for the -Encid is not so great,
but it is none the less real, I road it as much as
possible without the help of notes or dictionary, and
1 always like to translate the episodes that pleased
mc especially. The word-painting of Virgil is won-
derful sometimes; but his gods and men move
through the scenes of passion and strife and pity
and love Hke the graceful figures in an Elizabethan
masTc, whereas in the Iliad they give three leaps
and go on singing. Virgil is serene and lovely
like a marble Apollo in the moonlight; Homer is a
beautiful, animated youth in the full sunlight with
the wind in his hair.

How easy it is to fly on paper wings I From
"Greek Heroes" to the Iliad was no day's journey,
nor was it altogether pleasantn One could have
traveled round the world many times while I trudged
my weary way through the labyrinthine maxes of
grammars and dictionaries, or fell into those dreadful
pitfalls called examinations, set by schools and
colleges for the confusion of those who seek after
knowledge. I suppose this sort of Pilgrim *s Progress
was justified by the end ; but it seemed interminable
to me, in spite of the pleasant surprises that met me
now and then at a lum in the ruad.

I began to read the Bible long before I could imder-
Btand it. Now it seems strange to me that there

lia

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

should have been a time wlien my spirit was deaf
to its wondrous harmonics; but 1 remember well a
rainy Sunday morning when, having nothing else to
do, I begged my cousin to read me a story out of the
Bible, AUhnugh she did not think I should under-
stand, she began to spell into my hand the story
of Joseph and his brothers. Somehow it failed to
interest me. The unusual language and repetition
made the story seem unreal and far away in the
land of Canaan, and I fell asleep and wandered
off to the land of Nod, before the brothers came with
the coat of many colours unto the tent of Jacob and
told their wicked lie I I cannot understand why the
stories of the Greeks should have been so full of
charm for me, and those of the Bible so devoid of
interest, unless it was that T had made the acquaint-
ance of several Greeks in Boston and been inspired
by their enthusiasm for the stories of their country;
whereas I had not met a single Hebrew or Egyptian,
and therefore concluded that they were nothing
more than barbarians, and the stories about
them were probably all made up. which hypothesis
explained the repetitions and the queer names-
Curiously enough, it never occurred to me to call
Greek patronymics "queer/*

Bi]t how shall T speak of the glories I have since
discovered in the Bible? For years I have read it
with an ever-broadening sense of joy and inspiration ;
and I love it as I love no other book. Stilt there is
much in the Bible against which every instinct of
my beijig rebels, so much that T regret the necessity
which has compelled me to read it through from
beginning to end. 1 do not think that the knowledge
which I have gained of its history and sources com-

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

pensates me for the unpleasant details it has forced
«pon my attention. For my part, 1 wish* with Mr-
Howellflj that the literature of the past might ba
purged of all that is ugly and barbarous in it,
although I should object as much as any one to
ha\'ing these great works weakened or falsified.

There is something impressive, awful, in the sim-
plicity and terrible directness of the book of Esther,
Could there be anything more dramatic than tho
scene in which Esther stands before her wicked lord ?
She knows her life is in his hands ; there is no one to
protect her from his wrath. Yet, conquering her
woman's fear, she approaches him, animated by the
noblest patriotism, having but one thought : "If I
perish, I perish; but if Ihve, my people shall live."

The story of Ruth, too— hoxv Oriental it is I Yet
how different is the life of these simple country folks
from that of the Persian capital 1 Ruth is so loyal
and gentle-hearted, we cannot help loving her, aa
fihe stands with the reapers amid the waving com.
Her beautiful^ unselfish spirit shmes out like a bright
star in the night of a dark and cruel age. I-ove like
Ruth's, love which can rise above conflicting creeds
and deep-seated racial prejudices, is hard to find in
all the world.

The Bible gives me a deep^ comforting sense that
things seen are teinporal, and things unseen are
eternal."

I do not remember a time since I have been capable
of loving books that I have not loved Shakespeare.
I cannot tell exactly when I began Lamb's "Tales
from Shakes[jeare''; but I know that t read them
at first with a child's imderstanding and a child's
wonder. "Macbeth" seems to have impressed me

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

most. One reading was suMcient to stamp every
detail of the story ujKJn my memory forever. For a
long time the ghosts and witches pursued me even
into Dreamland. I could see, absolutely see, the
dagger and Lady Macbeth's little white band^the
dreadful stain was as real to me as to the grief-
stricken queen,

I read ^' King Lear" soon after "Macbeth/' and I
shall never forget the feeling of horror when I came
to the scene in which Giostcr's eyes are put out.
Anger seised me, my fingers refused to move, I sat
rigid for one long moment, the blood throbbing in
ray temples, and all the hatred that a child can feel
concentrated in my heart-

I must have made the acquaintance of Shylock
and Satan about the same time, for the two charac-
ters were long associated in my mind. 1 remember
that I was sorry for them. I felt vaguely tliat they
could not be good even if they wished to, becaa^e no
one seemed willing to help them or to give them a
fair chance. Even now I cannot find it in my heart
to condemn them utterly. There are moments
when I feel that the Shylocks, the Judases, and even
the Devil, are broken spokes in the great wheel o£
good which shall in due time be made whole.

It seems strange that my first reading of Shake-
speare should have left me so many unpleasant
memories. The bright, gentle, fanciful plays — the
ones I lite best now — appear not to liave impressed
me at first, perhaps because they reflected the
habitual sunshine and gaiety of a child's life» But
" there is nothing more capricious than the memory
of a child : what it will hold, and what it will lose-"

I have since read Shakespeare's plays many times

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

>rS

and know parts of them by heart, but 1 cannot tell
which of them I hke best. My delight in them is as
varied as my moods. The little songs and the sonnets
have a meaning for me as fresh and wonderful as the
dramas. But, with all my love for Shakespeare, it
is often weary work to read all the meanings into
his lines whicla critics and commentators have given
them. I used to try to remember their interpreta-
tions ^ but they discouraged and vexed mc; so I made
a secret compact with myself not to try any more.
This compact I have only just broken in my study
of Shakcsi^eare under Professor Kittredge."' I know
there are many things in Shakespeare^ and in the
world, that I do not understand; and I am glad to
Gee veil after veil lift gradually, revealing new realms
of thought and beauty. '

Next to poetry T love history. T have read every
historical work that 1 have l:ieen able to lay my hEinds
on» from a catalogue of dry facts and dryer dates
to Green's impartial, picturesque "History of the
English People"; from Frtieman's "History of
Europe'* to Emerton^s ^"Middle Ages," The first
book that gave me any real sense of the value of
history was Swinton's *' World's History/' which I
received on my thirteenth birthday- Though I
believe it is no longer considered valid^ yet I have
kept it ever since as one of my treasures. From it
I learned how the races of men sj^read from land to
land and built great cities, how a few great rulers^
earthly Titans, put everything under their feet, and
with a decisive word opened the gates of happiness
for millions and closed them upon millions more;
how different nations pioneered in art and knowledge
and broke ground for the mightier growths of coming

ii6 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

ages; how civilization tuiderwent, as it were, the
holocaust of a degenerate age^ and rose again, like
the Phcenix, among the nobler sons of the North;
and how by liberty, tolerance and education the
great and the wise have opened the way for the
salvation of the whole world,'-

In my college reading I have become somewhat
familiar with French and German literature. The
German puts strength before beauty, and truth
before convention^ both in life and in literature.
There is a vehement, sledge-hammer vigour about
everything that he does. When he speaks, it is not
to impress others, but because his heart would burst
if he did not find an outlet for the thoughts that bum
in his soul.

Then, too, there is in German Hterature a fine
reserve which I like; but its chief glory is the
recognition I find in it of the redeeming potency of
woman's self-sacriiicing love. This thought per-
vades all German literature and is mystically
expressed in Goethe's "Faust";

All things transitory

But as symbols are sent.
Earth's insufficiency

Here gtowa to event.
The indescr^hle
Here it is done.
The Woman SotJ leads us upward and on [

Of all the French writers that I have read, I like
Moli^ and Racine best. There are fine things in
Balzac and passages in M^im^e which strike one
like a keen blast of sea air, Alfred de Musset is
impossible I I admire Victor Hugo — I appreciate
his genius, his brilliancy, his romanticism ; though he
is not one of my literary passions. But Hugo and

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Goethe and Scfiiller and all great poets of all
great nations are interpreters of eternal things,
and my spirit reverently follows them into the
regions where Beauty and Truth and GoodneBS
are one,

I am afraid T have written too much about my
book-friends, and yet I have mentioned only the
authors I love most ; and from this fact one might
easily suppose that my circle of friends was very
limited and xmdemocratic, which would be a very
wrong impression, [ like many writers for many
reasons — Carlyle for his ruggedness and scorn of
shams ; Wordsworth, who teaches the oneness of man
and nature ; I find an exquisite pleasure in the oddities
and surprises of Hood, in Merrick's quaintness and
the palpable scent of lily and rose in his verses j I
like Whittier for his enthusiasms and moral rectitude.
I knew him, and the gentle remembrance of our
friendship doubles the pleasure I have in reading
his poems, I love Mark Twain — ^who does not?
The gods, too, loved him and put into his heart all
manner of wisdom; then^ fearing lest he should
become a pessimist, they spanned his mind with a
rainbow of love and faith. I like Scott for his
freshness, dash and large honesty, I love all
writers whose minJs, like Loweirs^ bubble up in
the sunshine of optimism — foimtains of joy and
good will, with occasionally a splash of anger and
here and there a healing spray of sympathy and
pity.

In a word, literature is my Utopia. Here I am. not
disf ranch iseLl. v No barrier of the senses shuts me
out from the sweet, gracious discourse of my book-
friends. They talk to me without embarrassment of

ii8 THE STORY OF MT LIFE

awkwardness. The things I have learned and the
things I have been taught seem of ridiculously little
importance compared with their ''large loves and

heavenly charities."

CHAPTER XXII

T TRUST that my readers have not concluded from
the preceding chapter on books lliat reading is my
only pleasure; my pleasures and amusements are
many and varied.

More than once in the course of my story I have
referred to my love of the country and oul-of-door
sports. When I was quite a little girl, I learned to
row and smm, and during the Bummer, when I am
at Wrentham, Massachusetts, I almost live in my
boat. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to
take my friends out rowing when they visit me. Of
course, T cannot guide the boat very welh Someone
usually sits in the stem and manages the rudder
while 1 row. Sometimes, however, I go rowing
without the rudder. It is fun to try to steer by the
scent of watergrasses and lilies, and of bushes that
grow on the shore. I use oars with leather bands,
which keep them in posiLion in the oarlocks, and I
krow by the resistance of the water when the oars
are evenly poised. In the same manner I can also
tell when I am pulling against the current. I like to
contend with wind and wave. What is more
exhilarating than to make your staunch little boat,
obedient to your will and muscle, go skimming
lightly over glistening, tilting waves, and to feel the
steady, imperious surge of the water I

I also enjoy canoeing, and I supjxjse you will smile
when I say that I especially like it on moonlight

119

I20

THE STORY OF MY LIPE

nights. I cannot, it is tnie» see the moon climb up
the sky heliind the pines and steal softly across the
heavens^ making a slxining path for us to follow; but
I know she is there, and as I lie back among the
pillows and put my hand in the water, I fancy that
I feel the shimmer of her garments as she passes.
Sometimes a daring little fish slips between my
fingers, and often a pond-lily presses shyly against
my hand. Frequently, as we emerge from the
shelter of a cove or inlet, I am suddenly conscious
of the spaciousness of the air about me. A hiniin-
ous warmth seems to enfold me. Whether It comes
from the trees which have been heated by the sun.
or from the water. I can never discover. I have had
the same strange sensation even in the heart of the
city. I have felt it on cold, stormy days and at
night. It is like the kiss of warm, lips on my face.

My favourite amusement is sailing. In the sum-
mer of 1901 I \isited Nova Scotia, and had oppor-
tunities such as t had not enjoyed before to make
the acquaintance of the ocean. After spending a
few days in Evangeline's country, about which
Longfellow's beautiful poem has woven a spell of
enchantment. Miss Sullivan and I went to Halifax,
where we remained the greater part of the summer.
The harbour was our joy, our paradise. What
glorious sails we had to Bedford Basin, to McNabb's
Island, to York Redoubt, and to the Northwest
Arm ! And at night what soothing, wondrous hours
we spent in the shadow of the great, silent men-of-
war Oh, it was all so inleresiing. 50 beautiful !
The memory of it is a joy forever.

One day we had a thrilling experience. There
was a regatta in the Northwest Arm, in which

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

the boaU from the diHerent warships were engaged.
We went in a sail-boat along with many others to
watch the races. Hundreds of little sail-boats swung
to and fTD close by, and the sea was calm, When the
races were over, and we turned our faces homeward^
one of the party noticed a black cloud drilting in
from the sea, which grew and spread and thickened
until it covered the whole sky, The wind rose, and
the waves chopped angrily at unseen l>aTrieTs. Our
little boat confronted the gale fearlessly; with sails
spread and ropes taut, she seemed to sit upon the
wind. Now she swirled in the billows, now she
sprang upward on a gigantic wave, onl/ to be driven
down with angry howl and hiss. Down came the
mainsail. Tacking and jibbing, we wrestled with
opposing winds that drove us from side to side with
impetuous fury. Our hearts beat fast, and our
hands trembled with excitement, not fear; for we
had the hearts of vikings, and we knew that our
skipper was master of the situation. He had steered
through many a storm with firm hand and sea-wise
eye. ^\s they passed us, the large craft and the
gunboats in the harbour saluted and the seamen
shouted applause for the master of the only little
sail-boat that ventured out into the storm. At last,
I cold, hungry and weary, we reached our pier.

^^p Last summer I spent in one of the loveliest nooks
^^^ of one of the most charming villages in New England,
I Wrentham, Massachusetts, is associated with nearly

I all of my joys and sorrows- For many years Red

I Farm, by King Philip's Pond, the home of Mr,

I J. E. Chamberlin and his family, was ray home,

I I remember with deepest gratitude the kindness of

I these dear friends and the happy days I spent with

12a

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

them. The sweet companionship of their children
meant much to me. I joined in all their sports
and rambles through the woods and frolics in the
water. The prattle of the little ones and their
pleasure in the stories I told them of elf and
gnome, of hero and wily bear, are plea.sant things to
remember, Mr, Chamberlin initiated me into the
mysteries of tree and wild-flower, until with the
little ear of love I heard the flow of sap in the
oak, and saw the sen glint from leaf to leaf. Thus
it is that

Even as the roots, shut in the darksome earth.
Share in the tree-top's joyance, and conceive
Of sunshine and widi? air and winged thlc^fl,
B/ sympathy of nature;, su do I

have evidence of things unseen.

It seems to me that there is in eaeh of tis a capacity
to comprehend the impressions and emotions which
have been experienced by mankind from the begin-
ning. Each individual has a subconscious memory
of the green earth and murmuring waters, and blind-
ness and deafness cannot rob him of this gift from
past generations. This inherited capacity is a sort
of sixth sense — a soid-sense which sees, hears, feels,
all in one,

I have many tree friends in Wrentham. One of
them, a splendid oak, is the special pride of my heart.
I take all my otlier friends to see this king-tree. It
stands on a bluiT overlooking King Philip's Pond,
and those who arc wise in tree lore say it must have
stood there eight hundred or a thousand years.
There is a tradition that under this tree King
Philip, the heroic Indian chief, gaiced his last on
earth and skj'.

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

I had another tree friend, gentle and more
approachable than the great oak — -a linden that
grew in the dooryard at Red Farm. One afternoon,
during a terrible thunderstorm^ I felt a tremendous
crash against the side of the house and knew, even
t)efore they told me, that the linden had fallen.
We went out to see the hero that had withstood
so many tempestSj and it wrung my heart to see
him prostrate who had mightily striven and was
now mightily fallen.

Bat 1 must not forget that I was going to write
about last summer in particular. As soon as my
eJtaminations were over. Miss SuUivan and I hastened
to this green nook, where we have a little cottage on
one of the three lakes for which Wrentham is famous.
Here the long, sunny days were mine, and all
thoughts of work and college and the noisy city
were thrust into the background. In Wrentham we
caught echoes of what was happening in the world
— war, alliance, social conflict. We heard of the
cruel, unnecessary fighting in the far-away Pacific,
and learned of the struggles going on between capi-
tal and labour. We knew that beyond the border
of our Eden men were making history by the sweat
of their brows when they might better make a
holiday. But we little heeded these things. These
things would pass away ; here were lakes and woods,
and broad daisy-starred fields and sweet-breathed
meadows, and they shall endure forever.

People who think that all sensations reach us
through the eye and the ear have expressed surprise
that I should notice any tiifTerence, except possibly
the absence of pavements, between walking in city
streets and in country roads. They forget that my

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

whole body is alive to the conditioiiB about me. The
rujnble and roar of the city smite the nerves of my
face» and I feel the ceaseless tramp of an unseen
multitude^ and the dissonant tumult frets my spirit.
The grinding of heavy wagons on hard pavements
and the monotonous clangour of machinery are all
the more torturing to the nerves if one's attention is
not diverted by the panorama that is always present
in the noisy streets to people who can see.

In the country one sees only Nature's fair works,
and one's soul is not saddened by the cruel struggle
for mere existence that goes on in the crowded city.
Several times I have visited the narrow, dirty streets
where the poor live, and I grow hot and indignant to
think that good people should be content to hve in
fine houses and become strong and beautiful, while
others are condemned to live in hideous, sunless
tenements and grow ugly, withered and cringing.
The children who crowd these grimy alleys, half -clad
and underfed, shrink away from your outstretched
hand as if from a blow. Dear little creatures, they
crouch in my heart and haunt me with a constant
sense of pain. There are men and women, too, all
gnarled and bent out of shape. I have feJt their
hard, rough hands and realized what an endless
struggle their existence must be— no more than a
series of scrimmages, thwarted attempts to do some-
thing. Tlieir life seems an immense disparity
between effort and opportunity. The sun and the
air are God's free gifts to all, we say ; but are they so ?
In yonder city's dingy alleys the suji shines not, and
the air is foul. Oh, man, how dost thou forget and
obstruct thy brother man, and say, "Give us this
day our daily bread," when he has nonel Oh,

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

1^5

would that men would leave the city, its splendcpiir
and its tumult and its gold, and return to wood ajid
field and simple, honest living! Then would their
children grow stately as noble trees, and their
thoughts sweet and pure as wayside flowers. It is
impossible not to think of all this when I return to
the country after a year of work in town.

What a joy it is to feel the soft, spring earth
under my feet once more, to follow grassy roads
that lead to ferny brooks where I can bathe my
fingers in a cataract of rippling notes, or to clamber
over a stone wall into green fields that tumble
and roll and climb in riotous gladness I

Next to a leisurely walk I enjoy a "spin" on my
tandem bicycle. It is splendid to feel the wind
blowing in my face and the springy motion of my
iron steed. The rapid rush through the air gives
me a delicious sense of strength and buoyancy, and
the exercise makes my pulses dance and my heart
sing.

Whenever it is possible, my dog accompanies me
on a walk or ride or sail. I have had maiiy dog
friends — huge mastiffs, soft-eyed spaniels, wood-
wise setters and honest, homely bull terriers* At
present the lord of my affections is one of these bull
terriers. He has a long pedigree, a crooked tail and
the drollest "phiz" in dogdom. My dog frienda
seem to understand my limitations, and always
keep close beside me when I am alone, I love
their affectionate ways and the eloquent wag of
their tails.

When a rainy day keeps me indoors, 1 amuse
myself after the manner of other girls. I like to
knit and crochet; 1 read in the happy-go-lucky way

ia6 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

I love, here and there a line; or perhaps I play a
game or two of checkers or chess with a friend. I
have a special board on which I play these games.
The squares are cut out, so that the men stand in
them iirmly. The black checkers are flat and the
white ones curved on top. Each checker has a hole
in the middle in which a brass knob can be placed
to distinguish the king from the commons. The
chessmen are of two sizes, the white larger than the
black, so that I have no trouble in following my
opponent's manoeuvers by moving my hands li^tly
over the board after a play. The jar made by
shifting the men from one hole to another tells me
when it is my tirni.

If I happen to be all alone and in an idle mood, I
play a game of solitaire, of which I am very fond.
I use playing cards marked in the upper right-hand
comer with braille symbols which indicate the value
of the card.

It there are children around, nothing pleases me
so much as to frolic with them. I find even the
smallest child excellent company, and I am glad to
say that children usually like me. They lead me
about and show me the things they are interested in.
Of course the little ones cannot spell on their fingers ;
but I manage to read their lips. If I do not succeed
they resort to dumb show. Sometimes I make a
mistake and do the wrong thing. A burst of childish
laughter greets my blunder, and the pantomime
begins all over again. I often tell them stories or
teach them a game, and the wing&l hours depart
and leave us good and happy.

Museums and art stores are also sources of pleasure
and inspiration. Doubtless it will seem strange to

MJ&S KELLER AND "PHIZ"

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

many that the hand unaided by sight can feci action,
sentiment^ beauty in the cold raarble; and yet it is
true that I derive genuine pleasure from touching
great works of art. As my fmger tips trace line and
curve, they discover the thought and emotion which
the artist has portrayed, I can feci in the facea of
gods and heroes hate, courage and love, just as I
can detect them in living faces I am permitted to
touch. 1 feel in Diana's posture the grace and free-
dom of the forest and the spirit that tames the
mountain lion and subdues the fiercest passions.
My soul delights in the repose and gracious curves
of the Venus; and in Barry's bronzes the secrets of
the jungle are reveala:! to me.

,A medallion of Homer hangs on the wall of my
study, conveniently low, so that I can easily reach
it and touch the beautiful, sad face with loving
reverence. How well 1 know each line in that
majestic brow — tracks of life and bitter evidences
of struggle and sorrow ; those sightless eyes seeking,
even in the cold plaster, for the light and the blue
skies of his beloved Hellas, but seeking in vain;
that beautiful mouth, firm and true and tender.
It is the face of a poet, and of a man acquainted
with sorrow. All, how well I ujiderstand his
deprivation — the perpetual night in which he
dwelt —

to darV, flnrk, dflTk, amid the blaze of rcxm,
Irrocovi^raUy dark, Uital tclipw
Without all nope e( da/ !
In imagination I can hear Homer singing, as with
unsteady, hesitating steps he gropes his way from
camp to camp — singing of life» of love, of war, of the
splendid achievements of a noble race. It 'n^as a

1^8

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

wonderful, glorious song, and it won the blind poet
an immortal crown» the admiration of al! ages»

I sometimes wonder if the hand is not more
sensitive to the beauties of sculpture than the
eye. I should think the wonderful rhythmical
flow of lines and ciirves could be more subtly felt
than seen- Be this as it may, I know that I can
feel tlie heart -throbs of the ancient Greeks in
their marble gods and goddesses.

Another pleasure, which comes more rarely than
the others, is going to the theatre. I enjoy having
a play described to me while it is being acted on the
stage far more than reading it, because then it seems
as if 1 were living in the midst of stirring events. It
has been my privilege to meet a few great actors and
actresses who have the power of so bewitching you
that you forget time aiid place and live again in the
romantic past. I have been permitted to touch the
face and costume of Miss Ellen Terry as she imper-
sonated oiir ideal of a queen ; and there was about her
that divinity that hedges sublimest woe. Beside her
stood Sir Henry Irving:, wearing the symbols of
kingship ; and there was majesty of intellect in his
every gesture and attitude and the royalty that
subdues and overcomes in every line of his sensitive
face- In the king's face, which he wore as a mask,
there was a remoteness and inaccessibihly of grief
which 1 shall never forget.

I also know Mr. Jefferson. I am proud to coimt
him among my friends. I go to see him whenever I
happen to be where he is acting. The first time I
saw him act was while at school in New York. He
played "Rip Van Winkle." I had often read the
Btoiy, but I had never felt the charm of Eip's

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

1 29

stow, quaint, kind ways as I did in the play, Mr,
Jefferson's beautiful, pathetic representation quite
carried me away with delight. I have a picture of
old Rip in my fingers which they will never lose.
After the play Miss Sullivan took mc to see hiin
behind the scenes, and I fclt of his curious garb aod
bis flowing hair and beard. Mr. Jefferson let me
touch his face so that I could imagine how he looked
on waking from that strange sleep of twenty year«.
and he showed me how poor old Rip staggered to
his feet.

I have also seen him in*' The Rivals, '* Once whale
I was calling on him in Boston he acted the most
striking parts of " The Rivals " for me. The reception-
room where wc sat served for a stage. He and
his son seated themselves at the big table, and Bob
Acres wrote his challenge. I followed all his move-
ments with my hands, and caught the drollery of his
blunders antl gestures in a way that would have been
impossible had it all been spelled to me. Then they
rose to fight the duel, and 1 followed the swift thrusts
and parries of the swords and the waverings of poor
Bob as his courage oozed out at his finger ends.
Then the great actor gave bis coat a hitch and his
mouth a twitch, and in an instant I was in the
village of Falling Water and felt Schneider's shaggy
head against my knee. Mr, Jefferson recited the
best dialogues of "Rip Van Winkle," in which the
tear came close upon the smile. He asked me to
indicate as far as I could the gestures and action
that should go with the lines. Of course, I have no
sense whatever of dramatic action, and could make
only random guesses; but with masterful art he
suited the action to the word. The sigh of Rip as he

130 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

munnurs, " Is a man so soon forgotten when he is
gone?" the dismay with which he searches for dog

and gun after his long sleep, and his comical irreso-
lution over signing the contract with Derrick — all
these seem to be right out of life itself; that is, the
ideal life, where things happen as we think they
should.

I remember well the first time I went to the
theatre. It was twelve years ago, Elsie Leslie, the
little actress, was in Boston, and Miss Sullivan took
me to see her in "The Prince and the Pauper." I
shall never forget the ripple of alternating joy and
woe that ran through that beautiful little play, or the
wonderful child who acted it. After the play I was
permitted to go behind the scenes and meet her in
her royal costume. It would have been hard to
find a lovelier or more lovable child than Elsie, as
she stood with a cloud of golden hair floating over
her shoulders, smiling brightly, showing no signs of
shyness or fatigue, though she had been playing to
an immense audience. I was only just learning to
speak, and had previously repeated her name imtil I
crould say it perfectly. Imagine my delight when
she imderstood the few words I spoke to her and
without hesitation stretched her hand to greet me.

Is it not true, then, that my life with all its
limitations touches at many points the life of the
World Beautifid? Everything has its wonders,
even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever
state I may be in, therein to be content.

Sometimes, it is true, a sense of isolation enfolds
me like a cold mist as I sit alone and wait at life's
shut gate. Beyond there is light, and music, and
sweet companionship; but I may not enter. Fate,

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 131

silent, pitiless, bars the way. Fain would I qiiestion
his imperious decree ; for my heart is still undisci-
plined and passionate ; but my tongue will not utter
the bitter, futile words that rise to my lips, and
they fall back into my heart like unshed tears.
Silence sits immense upon my soul. Then comes
hope with a smile and whispers, "There is joy in
self-foi^tfulness," So I try to make the light in
others* eyes my sun, the music in others' ears my
symphony, the smile on others' lips my happiness.

CHAPTER XXIII

Would that I could enricli this sketch with the
names of all those who have ministered to my happi-
ness ! Some of them would be foimd \\Titten in our
literature and dear to the hearts of many, while
others would be wholly unknown to most of my
readers. But their influence, though it escapes
fame, sliall live immortal in the lives that have been
sweetened and ennobled by it- Those are red-letter
days in our lives when we meet people who thrill us
like a fine poem, people whose handsliake is brimful
of unspoken sympathy, and whose sweet, rich natures
impart to our eager, impatient spirits a wonderful
restfuhiess which, ia its essence, is divine. The
perplexities^ irritations and worries that have
absorbed us pass like unpleasant dreams, and we
wake to see with new eyes and hear with new ears
the beauty and harmony of God's real world. The
solemn nothings that fill our everyday life blossom
suddenly into bright possibihties. In a word, while
such friends are near us we feel that all is we!L
Perhaps we never saw them before, an^l they may
never cross our life's path again; but the influence
of their calm, mellow natures is a libation poiu-ed
upon our discontent, and we feel its healing touch,
as the ocean feels the mountain stream freshening
its brine.

I have often been asked, *'Do not people bore
you?" 1 do not understand quite what that means.

13a

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

I suppose the calls of the stupid and curious, espe-
cially of newspaper reporters, are always inop-
porttine. I also ilislike people who try to talk down
to my understanding. They are like people who
when walking with you tr>' to shorten their steps
to suit yours i the hypocrisy in both cases is equaUy
exasperating.

Tlie hands of those I meet are dumhly eloquent
to me. The touch of some hands is an impertinence.
1 have met people so empty of joy, that when I
clasped their frosty finger-tips, it seemed as if I were
shaking hands with a northeast storm. Others
there are whose hands have sunbeams in them, so
that their grasp warms my heart. It may be only
the clinging touch of a child's hand ; but there is as
much potential sunshine in it for mc as there is in a
loving glance for others. A hearty handshake cr a
friendly letter gives me genmine pleasure,

I liave many far-ofT friends whom T have never
&een. Indeed they arc so many that 1 have often
been unable to reply to their letters; but I wish to
say here that I am always grateful for their Idnd
words, however insufficiently T acknowledge them.

I count it one of the sweetest privileges of my life
to have known and conversed mth many men of
genius. Only those who knew Bishop Brooks can
appreciate the joy his friendship Tv^as to those who
possessed it. As a child I loved to siL on his knee
and clasp his great hand with one of mine, while
Miss Sullivan spelled into the other his beautiful
words about God and the spiritual world, I heard
him with a child's wonder and delight. My spirit
could not reach up to his, but he gave me a real
sense of ji.iy in life, and I never left him without

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

carrying away a fine thought that grew in beauty
and depth of meaning as I grew. Once, when 1 was
puzzled to know why there were so many religions,
he said: ''Tliere is one universal religion. Helen — »
the rehgion of love. Love your Heavenly Father
with your whole heart and soul, love every child of
God as much as ever you can, and remember that
the possibilities of good are greater than Lhe possi-
bilities of evil; and you have the Icey to Heaven/'
And his life was a happy illustration of this great
truth, la his noble soul love and widest knowledge
were blended with faith that had become insight.
He saw

God in al! that liberates and lifts,

In all that hmnbies, sweetens and codeoIcs.

Bishop Brooks taught me no special creed or
dogma; but he impressed upon my mind two great
ideas — the fatbt^rhood of God and the hrotlierhood
of man, and made me feel that these .truths underlie
all creeds and forms of worship. God is love> God
is our Father, we are His children; therefore the
darkest clouds will break, and though right be
worsted, wrong shall not triumph-

I am too happy in this world to think much about
the future, except to remember that 1 have cher-
ished friends awaiting me there in God's beautiful
Somewhere, In spite of the lapse of years, they
seem so close to me that I shoiikl not think it
strange if at any moment they should clasp my
hand and speak words of endearment as they used
to before they went away.

Since Bishop Brooks died 1 have read the Bible
through; also some philosophical works on religion,

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

among; them Swedenborg'a "Heaven and HeU"
and Drurnmond's ''Ascent of Man," and I have
found no creed or system more soul-satisfying than
Bishop Brooks's creed of love. I knew Mr. Henry
Drummond, and the memory of his strong, warm
hand-ciasp is like a benediction. He was the most
sympathetic of companions. He knew so much
and was so genial that it was impossible to feel dull
in his presence.

I remember well the first time I saw Dr. Oliver
Wendell Holmes. He had invited Miss Sullivan and
me to call on him one Sunday afternoon. It was
early in the spring, just after I had learned to speak.
We were shown at once to his library where we found
him seated in a big armchair by an open fire which
glowed and crackled on the hearth, thinking, he said,
of other days.

"And listening to the murmur of the River
Charles," I suggested,

**Yes," he replied, "the Charles has many dear
associations for me/' There was an odour of print
and leather in the room which told me that it was
full of books, and I stretched out my hand instinc-
tively to find thera. My fingers lighted upon a
beautiful volume of Tennyson's pf»ems, and when
Miss Sullivan told me what it was I began to recite;

Brc&k, break, break

Oa thy cxjld gray fttones, O H«a

But T stopped suildenly, I felt tears on my hand.
I had made my beloved poet weep, and I was
greatly distressed. He made me sit in his arm-
chair, while he brought different interesting things
for me to examine, and at his request I recited

13^

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

'*The Chambered Nautilus." which was then my
favorite poem. After that I saw Dr. Holmes many
limes and learned to love the man as well as the poet.

One beautiful summer day^ not long after my
meeting with Dr. Holmes. Miss Sullivan and I
visited Whittier in his quiet home on the Merrimac.
His gentle courtesy and quaint speech won my heart.
He had a book of his poems in raised print from
which 1 read '* In School Days. " He was delighted
that 1 could pronounce the words so well, and
said that he had no difficulty in understanding me.
Then I asked many questions about the poem, and
read his answers by placing my fingers on his lips.
He said he was the little boy in the poem, and that
the girl's name was Sally, and more which I have
forgotten. I also recited *' Laus Deo," and as I
spoke the concluding verses, he placed in my hands
a statue of a slave from whose crouching figure the
fetters were falling, even as they fell from Peter's
limbs when the angel led him forth out of prison.
Afterward we went into his study, and he wrote his*
auti">graph for my teacher and expressed his admira-
tion of her work, saying to me, '" Slie is thy spiritual
liberator, " Then he led me to the gate and kissed
me tenderly on my forehead. I promised to visit
him again the following summer; but he died before
the promise was fulfilled.

Dr. Edward Everett Hale is one of my very
oldest friends. 1 have knovk-n him since I was eight,
and my love for him has increased with my years.
His wise, tender sympathy has been the support of

• " with great ariinlraiion of thy noblfworkin re1f a^dng from
bondiifle tikt; minil uf ihy dear pupil. 1 am ^^l1y thy Inc^Tid,
John G. WFiirrJbR,"

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

137

Miss Sullivan and me in times of trial and sorrow,
and his etrong hand has helped us over many rough
places ; and what he has done for us he has done for
thousands of those who have difficult tasks to accom-
plish. He has filled the old skins of dogma with
the new wine of love, and shown men what it is to
beheve. hve and be free. What he has taught we
have seen beautifully expressed in his own life —
love of country, kindness to the least of his brethren,
and a sincere desire to live upward and onward. He
has been a prophet and an inspirer of men, and a
mighty doer of the Word, the friend of all hia
race^God bless him !

I have already written of my first meeting with
Dr, Alexander Graham Bell. Since then I have
Spent many happy days with him at Washington
and at his beautiful home in the heart of Cape
Breton island, near Baddeck, the village made
famous by Charles Dudley Warner's book. Here
in Dr. Bell's Laboratory, or in the fields on the
shore of the great Bras d'Or, I have spent many
delightful hours listening to what he had to tell me
about his experiments, and helping him fly kites by
means of which he expects to discover the laws
tJiat shall govern the future air-ship. Dr. Bell is
proficient in many fields of science, and has the
art of making every subject he touches interesting,
even the most abstruse theories. He makes you feel
that if you only had a little more time, you, too,
might be an inventor. He has a humorous and
poetic sLle, too. His dominating passion is his
love for children. He is never quite so happy as
when he has a little deaf child in his arms. His
labours in behalf of the deaf vnll live on and bless

138 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

generatiom of children yet to come ; and we love him
alike for what he himself has achieved and for what
he has evoked from others.

During the two years I spent in New York I had
many opportunities to talk with distinguished
people whose names I had often heard, but whom I
had never expected to meet. Most of them I met
first in the house of my good friend, Mr, Liaurence
Hutton, It was a great privilege to visit him and
dear Mrs, Hutton in their lovely home, and see their
library and read the beautiful sentiments and bright
thoughts gifted friends had written for them. It
has been truly said that Mr. Hutton has the faculty
of bringing out in every one the best thoughts and
kindest sentiments. One does not need to read
"A Boy I Knew" to understand him — the most
generous, sweet-natured boy I ever knew, a good
friend in all sorts of weather, who traces the foot-
prints of love in the life of dogs as well as in that
of his fellowmen.

Mrs. Hutton is a true and tried friend. Much that
I hold sweetest, much that I hold most precious,
I owe to her. She has oftenest advised and helped
me in my progress through college. When I find
my work particularly difficult and discouraging,
she writes me letters that make me feel glad and
brave ; for she is one of those from whom we learn
that one painful duty fulfilled makes the next
plainer and easier.

Mr. Hutton introduced me to many of his literary
friends, greatest of whom are Mr. William Dean
Howells and Mark Twain. I also met Mr. Richard
Watson Gilder and Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman.
I also knew Mr, Charles Dudley Warner, the most

THE STORY OP MY LIFE

delightful of story-tellers and the most beloved
friend, whose sympathy was so broad that it may
be truly said of him, he loved all living things and
his neighbour as himself. Once Mr Warner brought
to see me tlic dear poet of the woodlands — Mr_ John
Burroughs. They were all gentle and sympathetic
and i felt the charm of their manner as much
as I had felt the brilliancy of their essays and poems.
I could not keep pace with all these literary folk as
they glanced from subject to subject and entered into
deep dispute, or made conversation sparkle with
epigrams and happy witticisms. I was like httle
Ascanius, who followed with unequal steps the
heroic strides of ^ueas on his march toward
mighty destinies. But they spoke many gracious
words to me. ifr. Gilder told me about Iiis
moonlight journeys across the vast desert to the
Pyramids, and in a letter he WTote me he made
his mark under his signature deep in the paper so
that 1 could feel it. This reminds me that Dn Hale
used to give a personal touch to his letters to me
by pricking his signature in braille, I read from
Mark Twain's lips one or two of his good stories.
He has his own way of thinking, saying and doing
everything. I feet the twinkle of his eye in his hand-
shake. Even while he utters his cynical wisdom
in an indescribably droll voice, he makes you feel
that his heart is a tender Iliad of human sympathy-
There are a host of otha* interesting people I met
in New York: Mrs. Maty Mapes Dodge, ihe beloved
editor of St. Nkk^Ias, and Mrs. Riggs (Kate Douglas
Wiggin), the sweet author of "Patsy." I received
from them gifts that have the gentle concurrence of
the heart, books containing their own thoughts,

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Eoul-illumined letters, and photographs that I
love to have flescribetl again and again. But there
is not space to mention all my friends, and indeed
there arc things about them hidden behind the
wings of cherubim, things too sacred to set forth in
cold print. It is with hesitancy that I have spoken
even of Mrs, Laurence Hutton.

I shaJl mention only two other friends. One is
Mrs, William Thaw, of Pittsburgh, whom I have often
visited in her home, Lyndhurst. She is always
doing something to make some one happy, and her
generosity and wise coimsel have never failed my
teacher and me in all the years we have known her.

To the other friend 1 am also deeply indebted.
He is well known for the powerful hand with which
he guides vast enterprises, and his wonderful abili-
ties have gained for him the respect of all. Kind
to every one, he goes about doing good, silent and
unseen. Again I touch upon the "Circle of honoured
names I must not mention ; but I would fain acknowl-
edge his generosity and affectionate interest which
make it possible for me to go to college.

Thus it is that my friends have made the story of
my hfe_ In a thousand ways they have turned my
limitations into beautiful privileges, and enabled
me to walk serene and happy in the shadow cast by
my deprivation-

PART n

LETTERS (1887-1901)

INTRODUCTION

HELRN KEM.ER'S letteni arc important, not only as
a fiupplemtnlaty slopy of her life, bub as a demonBtra-
tion of her growth in thought and expression — the
growth whit'li in itself hjLS niiide her disLinKUi&hptl.

Those tetters, ;kre. however, not merely rcmorkcLble oA thu
productions of a deaf and blind f^\, to be read with wonder
and curiosity; ihey are gond letters almost from, the firsts Tho
best passages are those in which she talks about herself, and gives
her world in terms of her experience of it. Her views on the
precession of the et]iiinoxes are not importsnt. but most impor*
tant are her accounts of what cpeech meanb to her, of how shs
£ell the statues, the do^. the cbickcxis at the poultry show, and
how she stood in the aisle of St. Bartholomew's and fdt the organ
rumble. Those arc passages of which one would ask for mortt.
The rt:a»jn they arc comparatively few Is that all her life she
has been trying tci be "like other people," and so she too often
deEcribes things not as they appear to her, but as they appear
U> one wilh eyes and eai?.

One cause for the eiccellBnce of her letters is the great number
of them. They are the exereitcs which have trained her to
write- She has lived at different times in difierenl psirts of the
country, and so has been separated frnm most of her friends
and relatives. Of her friends, many have been distinguished
people, to whom — Jiot often, I think, at the sacrifice nf spon-
taneily — she has felt h necessary to write well. To them and
to a few friends with whom she is in closest sympathy she writes
with intimate frankness whatever she is thinking about. Her
naive retelling of a child's tale she has heard, litce the Btcry of
"Little Jakej','* which she rehearecB for Dr. Holmes and Bishop
Biooks, IS charming, and her grave paraphrase of the day's
lesson in geography or botany, her pairot-lite repetition of
what Ehe hixs heard, and her conecious display of new words, arc
delightful and instructive; for they show nob ouly what she was

"43

144 THE STORY OF MY LIFE

learning, but how, hy putting it all into letters, she made tho
new knowledge and tie new wofds her own.

So these selections from MisA Keller's correspondence are
made with two purposes — to show her development and to
preserve the most entertaining and significant possagei from
several hundred letterB. Many of those written before 1891
were published in the reports of the Perkins Institution for the
Blind. All lettera up to that year are printed intact, for it ift
legitimate to be interested in the degree of skill the child showed
in writing, even to detaiU of punctuation; bo it is well to preserve
a literal integrity of reproduction. From the letters after the
year 1S92 I have culled in the spirit of one making an anthology,
choosing the passages best in style and most important from
the point of view of biography. Where 1 have been ab!e to
collate the original letters I have preserved everything as Misa
Keller wrote it, punctuation, spellingt and all. I have done
nothing but select and cut-

The letters are arranged in chronological order. One or two
lettera from Bishop Brooks, Dr. Holmes, and Whittier are put
immediately after the letters to which they are rephes. Except
for two or three important letters of igoi, these selections cease
with the year 1900. In that year Miss Keller entered college.
Now that she is a grown woman, her mature lettera should be
judged like those of any other person, and it seems best that
no more of her correspondence be published unless she should
become distinguished beyond the fact that she is the only wel^
educated deaf and blind person in the worlds

LETTERS (1887-1901)

Miss Sullivan began to teach Helen Keller on
March 3d, 1887, Three months und a half lifter th*:
6r5t word was spelled into her hand, she wrote in
pencil this letter.

TO HER COUSl^f ANNA {mRS. GEORGE T, TURNER)

[TuscuMDiA, Alabama, June 17, 1887,]
helon write anna gcor^e will give helen app!e
Simpson will shoot bird jack will give helen stick of
candy doctor will give mildred inedicnie mother will
make mildred new dress

[No signature.]

Twenty-five days later, while she was on a short
visit away from homc» she wrote to her mother.
Two words are almost illegible, and the angular
print slants in every direction:

TO MRS, KATB ADAMS KELLER

[HuNTsvjLLK, Alabama^ July 12, 1887.]
Helen will write mother letter papa did ^ve
helcn medicine mildred ^ill sit in swing mildred did

145

146 THE STORY OF MY LIFE lSef4.. 'S?

kiss helen teacher did give helen peach george is sick
an bed george arm is hurt anna did give helen lemon-
ade dog did stand up,

conductor did punch ticket papa did give helen
drink of water in car

carlotta did give helen flowers anna will buy helen
pretty new hat helen will hug and kiss mother helen
will come home grandmother does love helen

good-by

[No signature.]

By the following September Helen shows improve-
ment in fulness of construction and more extended
relations of thought.

TO THB BLIND GIRLS AT THE PERKINS INSTITUTION

IN SOUTH BOSTON

(TuscuMBiA, September^ 1887.]
Helen will write little blind girls a letter
Helen and teacher will come to see little blind
girls Helen and teacher will go in steam car
to boston Helen and bhnd girls will have fun
blind girls can talk on fingera Helen will see Mr
anagnos Mr anagnos will love and kiss Helen Helen
will go to school with blind girls Helen can read and
count and spell and write like blind girls mildred
will not go to boston Mildred does cry prince and
jumbo will go to boston papa does shoot ducks with
gun and ducks do fall in water and jumbo and mamie
do swim in water and bring ducks out in mouth to

A^.?l

LETTERS

147

papa Helen does play with dogs Helen does ride
on horseback with teacher Helen does give handee
grass in hand teacher doe^s whip handee to go fast
Helen is blind Helen will put letter in envelope
for blind girls good-by

Helen Keller

A few weeks later her style is more nearly correct
and fr^ in movement. She improves in idiom,
although she still omits articles and uses the *• did"
construction for the simple past- This is an idiom
common among children.

TO THE BLIND GUaS AT THE PBUKJNS INSTITUTION

(TuscuMBU, October 34, 1&87,]

dear httle blind girls

I will write you a letter T thank yon for pretty
desk I did TVTitc to mother in mcmphis on it
mother and mildrcd came home Wednesday mother
brought me a pretty new dress and hat papa did go
to huntsville he brought me apples and candy I
and teEicher will come to boston and see you nancy
is my doll she does cry I do rock nancy to sleep
mildred is sick doctor will give her medicine to
make her well. I and teacher did go to church
Bunday mr. lane did read in book and talk Lady
did play organ. I did give man money in basket.
I will be good girl and teacher will curl my hair

I4S THE STORY OF MY LIFE ^av.,'87

lovely. I will hug and loss little blind girls mr.
anagnos will come to see me.
good-by

Hblbn Kbllbr.

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS, DIRECTOR OP THE
PERKINS INSTITUTION

ITuscuMBTA, November, 1887.]
dear mr, an£^:nos I will write you a letter. I and
teacher did have pictiires. teacher will send it to
you, photographer does make pictures, carpenter
does build new houses, gardener does dig and hoe
groimd and plant vegetables, my doll nancy is
sleeping, she is sick, mildred is well tmcle ^ank
has gone hunting deer, we will have venison for
breakfast when he comes home. I did ride in wheel
barrow and teacher did push it. simpson did give
me popcorn and walnuts, cousin rosa has gone to
see her mother, people do go to church Sunday. I
did read in my book about fox and box. fox can
sit in the box, I do Hke to read in my book, you
do love me. I do love you.

good by

Helen Keller.

TO DR. ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL

[TuscuMEiA, November, 1887. ]
Dear Mr. Bell.

I am glad to write you a letter. Father will

LETTERS

send you picture I and Father and aunt did
go to see you in Washington, i did play with
your watch. I do love you. I saw doctor in
Washington, He looked at my eyes. I can read
stories in my book. I can write and spell and count.
good girl. My sister can walk and run. Wc do have
fun with Jumbo. Prince is not good dog. He can
not get birds. Rat did kill baby pigeons. I am
sorry. Rat does not know wrong. T and mother
and teacher will go to Boston in June. I will see
little blind girls. Nancy will go with mc. She is
a good doll. Father will buy me lovely new watch.
Cousin Anna gave me a pretty doll. Her name is
Allie.

Good by,

Hblsn Kellbr.

By the beginning of the next year her idioms are
firmer. More adjectives appear, including adjec-
tives of colour. Althcugh she can liave no sensuous
knowledge of colour, she can use the words, as we
use n:ost of our vocabulary, intellectunlly, with
truth, not to impression, but to fact, Tljis letter
is to a school-mate at the Perkins Institution.

TO MIBS SAKAH TOMLINSOK

TuscuMBiA, Ala, Jan, and iS&8.
(ear Sarah

I am happy to write to you tliis morn-
ing, I hope Mr, Anagnos is coming to see me soon,

ISO

THE STORY OF MY LIFE {yan.s/8S

I will go to Boston in June and I will buy father
gloves, and James nice collar, and Simpson cufTs. I
saw Miss Betty and her scholars- They had a pretty
Christmas -tree, and there were many pretty presents
on it for little children. I had a mug, and little
bird and candy. I had many lovely things for
Christmas. Aunt gave me a trunk for Nancy and
clothes^ I went to party with teacher and mother.
We did dance and play and eat nuts and candy and
cakes and oranges and I did have fun with little boys
and girls. Mrs. Hopkins did send me lovely ring, I
do love her and little blind girls.

Men and boys do make carpets in mills. Wool
grows on sheep. Men do cut sheep's wool off with
large sheais, and send it to the mill. Men and
women do make wool cloth in mills.

Cotton grows on large stalks in fields. Men and
boys and girls and women do pick cotton. We do
make thread and cotton dresses of cotton. Cotton
has pretty white and red flowers on it. Teacher did
tear her dress. Mildred does cry. I will nurse
Nancy, Mother mil buy me lovely new aprons and
dress to take to Boston. I went to Knoxville with
father and aimt. Bessie is weak and little. Mrs.
Thompson's chickens killed Leila's chickens, Eva
does sleep in my bed. I do love good girls.
Good by

Hblbk Keller.

The next two letters mention her visit in January
to her relatives in Memphis, Tennessee. She was
taken to the cotton exchange. When she felt the

151

maps and blactboards she asked, "Do men go to
school?" She ^Tote on the blackboard the names
of all the gentlemen present. Wliile at Memphis,
she went over one of the large Mississippi steamers.

TO DR. EDWARD EVERETT HALK

TuscuMBiA, Alabama, Pebniary rgth [i88S]-
Dear Mr. Hale,

1 am happy to ■write you a letter this
morning. Teacher told me about kind gentleman
I shall be glad to read pretty story I do read
stories in my book about tigers and lions and sheep.
I am coming to Boston in June to see little blind
girls and I will come to see you. 1 went to Memphis
to see grandmother and Aunt Nannie, Teacher
bought me lovely new dress and cap and aprons^
Little Natalie is a very weak and small baby.
Father took us to see steamboat. It was on a large
river. Boat is like house. Mildred is a good baby,
I do love to play with little sister, Nancy was not
a good cliild when I went to Memphis, She did cry
loud- I will not write more to-day. I am tired,

Good-by

Helen Ksllzr,

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS

TuscUMBiA, Ala.. Feb» 24th, iSS8,
My dear Mr. Anag^os^ — 1 am glad to write you a

»5a

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Ft^.-r*/JJ

letter in Braille, This morning Lucien Thompson
sent me a beautiful bouquet of violets and crocuses
and jonquils. Sunday Adeline Moses brought me
a lovely doll It came from New York. Her name
is Adeline Keller. She can shut her eyes and bend
her arms and sit down and stand up straight. She
has on a pretty red dress. She is Nancy's sister and
1 am their mother. Allie is their cousin, Nancy
\vas a bad child when I went to Memphis slie cried
loud, I whipped her %vith a stick.

Mildred does feed little chickens with crumbs. I
love to play with little sister.

Teacher anri I went to Memphis to see aunt
Nannie and grandmother. Louise is aunt Nannie's
child. Teacher bought me a lovely new dress and
gloves and stocldngs and collars and grandmother
made me warm flannels, and aunt Nannie made me
aprons. Lady made me a pretty cap. I went to
sec Robert and Mr. Graves and Mrs, Graves and
little Natalie, and Mr. Farris and Mr. Mayo and
Mary and everyone. I do love Robert and teacher.
She does not want me to write more today. I feel
tired,

T found box of candy in Mr. Grave's pocket-
Father took us to see steam boat it is like house.
Boat was on very large river. Yates plowed yard
today to plant grass. Mule pulled plow. Mother
will make garden of vegetables. Father will plant
melons and peas and beans.

Cousin Bell will come to see us Saturday, Mother
will make ice-cream for dinner, we will have ice-
cream and cake for dinner, Lucien Thompson is
sick. I am sorry for htm.

Teacher and I went to walk in the yard, and I
learned about Iiow flowers and trees grow. Sun

^S3

rises in the cast and sets in the ^-ost, Sheffield is
north and Tuscumbia is south. We ^^1 go to Boston
in June- I will have fun with little blind girls.

Good bye

Helen Keller,

"Uncle Morrie" of the next letter is Mr. Morrison
Heady, of Normandy. Kentucky, who lost his sight
and hearing when he was a boy. He is the author
of some commendable verses.

TG MRh MORRISON HEADY

Tuscumbia, Ala. March ist 1888.

My dear uncle Morrie, — I am happy to ^Tite you
a letter, I do love you, and I will hug and kiss you
when I see you,

Mr. Anagnos is coming to see me Monday. I do
love to run and hop and skip with Robert in bright
warm sun. 1 do know little girl in Lexington Ky,
her name is KaLherine Hobson.

I am going to Boston in June with mother and
teacher, I will have fxin with httlc blind girls, and
Mr. Hale u-ill send me pretty story, I do read
stones in my book about lions and tigers and bears,

Mildred will not go to Boston, she does cry, I
love to play with little sister, she is weak and small
baby. Eva is better.

Yates killed ante, ants stung Yates. Yates is
digginq; in garden- Mr. Anagnos did see oranges,
they look like golden apples.

154 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [May 3,^33

Robert will come to see me Simday when sun
shines and I will have fun with him. My cousin
Frank hves in Louisville. I will come to Memphis
again to see Mr, Farris and Mrs, Graves and Mr»
Mayo and Mr, Graves. Natalie is a good girl and
does not cry, and she will be big and Mrs, Graves is
making short dresses for her. Natalie has a little
carriage. Mr. Mayo has been to Ehick Hill and he
brought sweet flowers home.

With much love and a kiss

Hblbn a, Kbller.

In this account of the picnic we get an^Hlumi'
nating glimpse of Miss Sullivan's skiU in teaching
her pupil during play hours. This was a day when
the child's vocabulary grew.

TO UR, UICHAEL ANAGN03

TuscuMBiA, Ala. May 3rd 188S.

Dear Mr. Anagnos, — I am glad to write to you
this morning, because I love you very much. I was
very happy to receive pretty book and nice candy
and two letters from you. I will come to see you
soon and will ask you many questions about
countries and you will love good child.

Mother is making me pretty new dresses to wear
in Boston and I will look lovely to see little girls and
boys and you. Friday teacher and I went to a
picnic with little children- We played games and
ate dinner under the trees, and we found ferns and

LETTERS

wild flowers. I walked in tlie woods and learned
names o£ many trees. There are poplar and cedar
and pine and oak and ash and hickory and maple
trees. They make a pleasant shade and the Httle
birds love to swing to and fro and sing sweetly up in
the trees. Rabbits hop and squirrels run and ugly
snakes do crawl in the woods. Geraniums and
roses jasamines and japonicas arc cultivated flowers,
I help mother and teacher water them every night
before supper.

Cousin Arthur made me a swing in the ash tree-
Aunt Ev. has gone to Memphis. Uncle Frank is
here. He is picking strawberries for dinner. Nancy
]£ sick again, new teeth do make her ill. Adeline Is
well and she can go to Cincinnati Monday with me.
Aunt Ev. will send me a boy doll, Harry will be
Nancy's and Adeline's brother. Wee sister is a
good girl, I am tired now and I do want to go
dowo stairs, i send many kisses and hugs with
letter.

Your darling child

Helen Keller,

Toward the end of May Mrs Kieller, Helen, and
Miss Sullivan started for Boston. On the way they
spent a few days in Washing:ton, where they
saw Dr. Alexander Graham Bell and called on
President Cleveland. On May afith they arrived
in Boston and went to the Perkins Institution; here
Helen met the little blind girls with whom she had
corresponded the year before.

IS6

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Scpt.'SS

Early in July she went to Brewster, Massachu-
setts, and spent the rest of the summer. Here
occurred her first encounter with the sea, of which
she has since written.

TO MISS MARY C. MOORB

So. BosroM, Mass- Sept. i88S.
My dear Miss Moore

Are you very glad to receive a nice
letter from your darling httle friend? I love you
very dearly because you are my friend. My
precious little sister is quite well now. She likes
to sit in my little rocking-chair and put her kitty to
sleep- Would you like to see darling Httle Mildred?
She is a very pretty baby. Her eyes are very big
and blue, and her cheeks arc soft and roimd and rosy
and her hair is ver>' bright and golden. She is very
good and sweet when she does not cry loud. Next
summer Mildred will go out in the ganlen with me
and pick the big sweet strawberries anil then she will
be very happy. I hope she will not cat too many
of the delicious fruit for they will make her very ill.

Sotnetimc will you please come to Alabama and
\'isit me ? My uncle James is going to buy me a very
gentle pony and a pretty cart and I sliall be very
happy to take you and Harry to ride. 1 hope Harry
will not be afraid of my pony. I think my father
will buy me a beautiful little brother some day, I
shall be very gentle and patient to my new little
brother. When I visit many strange countries my
brother and Mildred will stay %^'ith grandmother

IS7

because they tviII be too small to see a great many
people and I think they would cry loud on the great
rough ocean.

When Capt. Baker gets well he will take me in his
big ship to Africa. Then I shall see lions and tigers
and monkeys. I will get a baby lion and a white
monkey and a mild bear to bring home. I had a
very pleasant time at Brewster, I went in bathing
ahnost every day and Carrie and Frank and little
Helen and I had fun. We splashed and jumped and
waded m the deep water. I am not afraid to float
now. Can Harry float and swim? We came to
Boston last Thursday, and Mr. Anagnos was de-
lighted to see me, and he hugged and kissed me.
The little girls are coming back tu school next
Wednesday.

Will you please tell Harry to write me a very long
letter soon? When you come to Tuscumbia to sec
me I hope my father will have many sweet apples
and juicy peaches and fine pears and delicious
grapes and large water melons.

I hope you think about me and love me because
I ara a good little child.

With much love and two kisses

From your little friend

Hklem a. Keller.

Tn this account of a visit to some friends, Helen's
thought is much what one would expect from an
ordinary child o£ eight, except perhaps her naive
satisfaction in the boldness of the young gentlemen.

i^a THE STORY OF MY LIFE [s^pL^^/sfi

TO MRS, RATE ADAMS EBLLBR

So. Boston. Mass, Sept, 24th [18S8].
My dear Mother,

I think you will be very glad to know
all about my visit to West Newton. Teacher and I
had a lovely time with many kind friends. West
Newton is not far from Boston and we went there
in the steam cars very quickly.

Mrs. Freeman and Carrie and Ethel and Frank
and Helen came to station to meet us in a huge
carriage. 1 was delighted to see my dear little
friends and I hugged and kissed them. Then we
rode for a long time to see all the beautiful tilings in
West Newton. Many very handsome houses and
large soft green lawns around them and trees and
bright flowers and fountains. The horse's name
was Prince and he was gertle and liked to trot very
fast. When we went home we saw eight rabbits
and two fat puppies, and a nice little white pony,
and two wee kittens and a pretty curly dog named
Don. Pony's name was Mollie and I had a nice ride
on her back; I was not afraid. I hope my uncle will
get me a dear little pony and a little cart very soon_

Clifton did not kiss me because he does not like
to kiss little gir^s. He is shy. I am very glad that
Frank and Clarence and Robbie and Eddie and
Charles and George were not very shy. I played
with many little giris and we had fun- I rode on
Carrie's tricicle and picked flowers and ate fruit,
and hopped and skipped and danced and went to
ride. Many ladies and gentlemen came to see us.
Lucy and Dora and Charles were bom in China. I
was bom in America, and Mr. Anagnos was bom in

X0.il

LETTERS

"59

Greece, Mr. Drew says little girls in China cannot
talk on their fingers but I think when I go to China
I will teach them. Chinese nuree came to see me,
her name was Asu. She showed me a tiny atze that
very rich ladies in China wear because their feet
never grow large. Amah means a nurse. We
came home in horse cara because it was Sunday and
steam cars c!o not go often on Sunday. Conductors
and engineers do get very tired and go home to rest.
I saw little Willie Swan in the car and he gave me a
juicy pear. He was six years old. What did I do
when I was six years old ? Will you please ask my
father to come to train to meet teacher and me?
I am very sorry that Eva and Bessie are sick. I
hope i can have a nice party my birthday, and I
do want Carrie and Ethel and Frank and Helen to
come to Alabama to visit me. Will Mildred sleep
with me when I come home.

With much love and thousand kisses.

from your dear little daughter.

Hhlek a. Keller,

Her visit to Plymouth was in July. This letter,
written three months later, shows how well she
remembered her first lesson in history.

TO MR. MORIUSON HEADY

South Boston, Mass, October ist, 1888,
My dear uncle Morrie. — I think you will be very
gtad to receive a letter front your dear little fnend

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Oct-i^SS

Helen, I am very happy to write to you because I
think of you and love you, I read pretty stories in
the book you sent rae, about Charles and his boat,
and Arthur and Iiis dream, and Rosa and the sheep.

1 have been in a large boat, Tt was Uke a ship.
Mother and teacher and Mrs. Hopkins and Mr.
Anagnos and Mr. Rodocanachi and many other
friends went to Plymouth to see many old things. I
will tell you a httle story about Plymouth,

Many years ago there lived in England many good
people, but the king and his friends were not kind
and gentle and patient with good people, because
the king did not like to have the people disobey hira.
People did not like to go to church with the king;
but they did like to build very nice little churches
for themselves.

The king was very angry with the people and they
were sorry and they said , we vdU go away to a strange
country to live and lea\'e very dear home and friends
and naughty king. So, they put all their things into
big boTtes, and said, Good-bye, I am sorry for them
because they cried much. When they went to
Holland they did not know anyone; and they could
not know what the people were talking about
because they did not know Dutch. But soon they
learned some Dutch words ; but they loved their own
language and they did not want little boys and girls
to forget it and Icam to talk funny Dutch. So they
said. We must go to a new country far away and
build schools and houses and churches and make
new cities. So they jmt all their things in boxes
and said, Good bye to Iheir new friends and sailed
away in a large boat to find a new country. Poor
people were not happy for their hearts were full of
sad thoughts because they did not know much about

Airf.^

LETTERS

I iSi

America. I think little children must have bei
afraid of a great ocean for it is very strong and if
makes a large boat rock and then the little children
would fall down and hurt their heads. After they
had been many weeks on the deep ocean where they
could not see trees or flowers or grass, but just watOT
and the beautiful sky» for ships could not sail quickly
then because men did not know about engines antj-
steam. One day a dear little baby-boy was bon^|
His name was Peregrine White. 1 am very sorry
that poor little Peregrine is dead now. Every day
the people went upon deck to look out for land.
One day there Avas a great shout on the ship for the
people saw the land and they were full of joy because^
they had reached a new country safely. Littln
girls and boys jumped and clapped their hands.
They were all glad when they stepped upon a huge^
rock. I did see the rock in Plymouth and a littU
ship like the Mayflower and the cradle that dear^
little Peregrine slept in and many old things that_
came in the Mayflower. Would you like to
Plymouth some time and see many old tilings.
Now I am very tired and I will rest.
With much love and many kisses, from your lit!
friend,

Hbl£N a. Kellsk.

The foreign words in t1^
which was \*Titten durin;^
for the blindn she had
had stowed them away

^-^»erB, the first

tia

THE STORY OP MY LIFE lOd.t7,*SS

latcd words and practised with them, sometimes
using them intelligently, sometimes repeating them
in a parrot-like fashion. Even when she did not
fully understand words or ideas, she liked to set
them down as though she did. It was in this way
that she learned to use correctly words of soimd and
vision which express ideas outside of her experience.
"Edith " IS Edith Thomas.

TO MR. HICHABL AMAGNO&

RoxBURY. Mass, Oct. 17th, i8&3.
Man clier Monsieur Anagncs,

I am sitting by the window and the "beautiful
sun is shining on me Teacher and I came to
the kindergarten yesterday- There are twenty
seven little children here and they are all blind.
I am sorry because they cannot see much.
Sometime will they have very well eyes? Poor
Edith is blind and deaf and dimib. Are you very
sad for Edith and me? Soon I shall go home
to see my mother and my father and my dear good
and sweet little sister. I hope you vvill come to
Alabama to visit me and I will take you to ride in
my little cart and I think you will like to see me on
my dear little pony's back, I shall wear my lovely
cap and my new riding dress. If the sun shines
brightly I will take you to see Leila and Eva and
Bessie. When 1 am thirteen years old I am going
to travel in many strange and beautiful countries.
I shall climb very high mountains in Norway and
see much ice and snow I hope I will not fall and
hurt my head I shall visit little I^ord Fauntleroy
in England and he will be glad to show me his grand

A^.r\

LETTERS

163

and very anricnt castle And we will nifi with the
deer and feed the rabbits and catch the squirrels. I
shall not be afraid of Fauntleroy's great dog Dougal,
I hope Fauntleroy take me to see a very kind
queen. When I go to France I will talt French. A
Httle French boy will say, Parles-vous Francatsf and
I will say, Out, Monsieur, vous avez un joii chapeau^
Donnez mot un baiser. I hope you '^■iU go with me
to Athens to see the maid of Athene. She was
very lovely lady and I will talk Greek to her.
I will say, se agapo and, pos ecliete and I think
she will say, kalos, and then I will say chat^r^.
Will you please come to sec mc soon and take
me to the theater? When you come I will say,
Kale emera^ and when you go home I will say. KaU
nyhia. Now I am too tired to write more. Je vous
aime. Au revoir

From your darling httle friend

Helen A, Keller,

TO MISS EVELINA F, KELLER

[So. Boston, Mass. October 29, 1888,]
My dearest Aunt. — I am coming home very soon
and I think you and every one will be very glad
to see my teacher and me. I am very happy because
1 have learned much about many things^ I am
studying French and German and Latin and Greek.
Se agapo is Greek, and it means I love Ihee. J^ai
it tie banfie petite sccur is French, and it means I have a
good little sister. Nous avons un b&n per: et une
bonne mere means, we have a good father and a good

164

THE BTORY OF MY LIFE [D^.u^sa

mother, Pucr is boy in Latin, and Mutter is mother
in German. I will teach Mildred many languages
when 1 come home,

Hblen a. Khllbr.

TO MRS. SOPHIA C_ HOPKINS

TuscuMBiA, Ala. Dec. nth, 188S,

My dear Mrs. Hopkins:^

I have just fed my dear little
pigeon. My brother Simpson gave it to me
last Sunday, I named it Annie, for my teacher.
My puppy has had his supper and gone to bed. My
rabbits are sleeping, too; and very soon I shall go
to bed- Teacher is writing letters to her friends.
Mother and father and their friends have gone to
see a huge furnace. The furnace is to make iron.
Tlie iron ore is found in the ground ; but Jt cannot be
used imtil it has been brought to the furnace and
melted, and all the dirt taken out, and just the pure
iron left. Then it la all ready to be manufactured
into engines, stoves, kettles and many other things.

Coal is found in the groimd, too. Many years ago,
before people came to live on the earth, great trees
and tall grasses and huge ferns and all the beautiful
flowers covered the earth. When the leaves and
the trees fell, the water and the soil covered them;
and then more trees grew and fell also, and were
buried under water and soil. After they had all
been pressed together for many thousands of years,
the wood grew very hard^ like rock, and then it was
all ready for people to bum. Can you see leaves
and ferns and bark on the coal? Men go down into

Ait 8] LETTERS 165

the ground and dig out the coal, and steam<ars take
it to the large cities, and sell it to people to bum.
to make them warm and happy when it is cold out of
doors.

Are you very lonely and sad now? I hope you
will come to see me soon, and stay a. long time.
With much love from your Uttle friend

Helen A. Kbller.

TO MISS DELLA BENNETT

TuscuMBiA, Ala., Jan. 39, 1889,

My dear Miss Bemiett: — T am delighted to write
to you this moming. We have just eaten our
breakfast, Mildred is runnmg about downstairs.
I have been reading in my book about astronomers.
Astronomer comes from the Latin word astra, which
means stars; and astronomers are men who study
the stars, and tell us about them. When we are
sleeping quietly in our beds, they are watching the
beautiful sky through the telescope. A telescope
is like a very strong eye. The stars are so far away
that people cannot tell much about them, without
very excellent instruments. Do you like to look out
of your window, and see little stars? Teacher says
she can see Venus from our window, and it is a large
and beautiful star. The stars are called the earth's
L brothers and sisters,

I There are a great many instruments besides those

^^ft which the astronomers use. A knife is an instru-
^" xnent to cut with, I tliink the bell is an instnanent,
I too- I will tell you what I know about bells.

i«6

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [F^.^i.'Sp

Some bells are musical and others are unmusical-
Some arc very tiny and some are very large. 1 saw
a very large bell at Wellesley. It came from Japan-
Bells are used for many purposes. They teJl us
when breakfast js ready, when to go to school,
when it is time for churcli, and when there is a
firc> They tell people when to go to work» and
when to go home and rest. The engine-bell tells
the passengers that they are coming to a sta-
tion, and it tells the people to keep out of the
way. Sometimes very terrible accidents happen,
and many people arc burned and drowned and
injured. The other day I broke my doll's head off;
but that was not a dreadful accident, because dolls
do not live and fee!, like people. My little pigeons
are well, and so is my little bird, I would like to
have some clay. Teacher says it is time for me to
study noWn Good-bye.

With much love, and many kisses,

Helen A, Kklleil

TO DR. EDWARD EVERETT HALB

Tuscumbia, Alabama, February arst, 1889.
My dear Mr. Hale,

I am very much afraid that you are
thinking in youF mind that httle Helen has forgotten
all about you and her dear cousins. But I think
you will be delighted to receive this letter because
then you will know that I of{ten] think about
you and I love you dearly for you arc rny dear cousin.
I have be^ at home a great many weeks now. It

LETTERS

167

made me feel very sad to leave Boston and I missed

all of my friends greatly, but of course I was glad
to get back to my lovely home once more. My
darling tittle sister is growing very fast. Sometimes
she tries to spell very short words on her small
[fingers] but she is too young to remember hard
words. When she is older I will teach her many
things if she is patient and obedient. My teacher
says, if children learn to be patient and gentle while
they are Utile:, that when they grow to be young
ladies and gentlemen they will not forget to be kind
and loving and bra\'e. I hope I shall be courageous
always, A little girl in a stor^^ was not courageous.
She thought she saw little elves with tall pointed
[hats] peeping from between the bushes and dancing
down the long alleys, and the poor little girl was
terrified. Did you have a pleasant Christmas? I
had many lovely presents given to me. The other
day I had a fine party. All of my dear little friends
came to see me. We played games, and ate ice-
cream and cake and fruit. Then we had great fun.
The sun is shining brightly to-day and 1 hope we
shall go to ride if the roads arc dry. In a few days
the beautiful spring will be here. 1 am very glad
because I love the warm sunshine and the fragrant
flowers, T think Flowers grow to make people
happy and good. I have four dolls now, Cedric
is my little boy, he is named for Lord Fauntlcroy.
He has big brown eyes and long golden hair and
pretty round cheeks, Ida is my baby. A lady
brought her to me from Paris, She can drink milk
like a real baby. Lucy is a fine young lady. She
has on a dainty lace dress and satin slippers. Poor
old Nancy is growing old and very feeble. She is

i6S THE STORY OF MY LIFE iMayiS.'S^

almost an invalid. I have two tame pigeons and
& tiny canary bird. Jumbo is very strong and
faithful. He will not let anything harm us at night.
I go to sch<x)1 every day I am studying reading,
writing, arithmetic, geography and language. My
Mother and teacher send you and Mrs, Hale their
kind greetings and Mildred sends you a kiss.
With much love and kisses, from your
Affectionate cousin

Hblen a, Keller.

During the winter Miss Sullivan and her pupil
were working at Helen's home in Tuscumbia, and to
good purpose, for by spring Helen Iiad learned to
write idiomatic English. After May, 18S9, I find
almost no inaccuracies, except some evident slips of
the pencil. She uses words precisely and makes
easy. Suent sentences.

TO UR. MICHAEL ANACNOS

TuscuMDiA, Ala., May 18, 1889^
My Dear Mr. Anagnos:^You cannot imagine
how delighted I was to receive a letter from you
last evening. 1 am very sorry that you are going so
far away- We shall miss you very, very much. I
would love to visit many beautiful cities with you.
When I was in Huntsville 1 saw Dr. Bryson. and he
told me that he had been to Rome and Athens and
Paris and London. He had climbed the high moun-
tains in Sw^itzeriand and visited beautiful churches in

At1.S}

LETTERS

t6g

Italy and Prance, and he saw a great many ancient
castles. 1 hope you will please write to me from all
the cities you visit. When you go to Holland please
give my love to the lovely princess Wilhelmina.
She is a dear little girl, and when she is old enough
she will be the queen of Holland, If you go to
Roumania please ask the good queen Ehzabeth
about her little invalid brother, and tell her that I
am very sorry that her darling little girl died. I
should like to send a kiss to Vittorio. the little prince
of Naples, but teacher says she is afraid you will not
remember so many messages. When I am thirteen
years old I shall visit them all myself.

I thank you very much for the beautiful story
about Lord Fauntleroy, and so does teacher,

I am so glad that Eva is coming to stay with me
this stmimer. We will have fine times together.
Give Howard my love, and tell him to answer my
letter, Thursday we had a picnic. It was very
pleasant out in the shady woods, and we all enjoyed
the picnic very much,

Mildred is out in the yard playit^, and mother is
picking the delicious strawberries. Father and
Uncle Frank are down town. Simpson is coming
home soon. Mildred and I had our pictures taken
while we were in Huntsville. I will send you one.

The roses have been beautiful. Mother has a
great many tine roses. The La France and the
Lamarque are the mcst fragrant; but the Marechal
Neil, Solfaterre, Jacqueminot, Nipheots, Etoile de
Lyon, Papa Gontier, G-abrielle Drevet and the Perle
des Jardines are all lovely roses.

Please give the little boys and girls my love. I
think of them every day and I love them dearly in

170 THE STORY OF MY LIFE {May ir/Sii

my heart. ^Yhen you come home from Europe I
hope you will l^e all well and very happy to get
home again. Do not forget to give my love to
Miss Calliope Kehayia and Mr. Francis Demetrios
Kalopot hakes.

Lovingly, your little friend,

Helen Adams Keller.

Lite a good many of Helen Keller's early letters,
this to her French teacher is her re-phrasing of a
story. It shows how much the ^ft of writing is.
in the early stages of its development, the gift of
mimicry.

TO MISS FANNIE S. MARRETT

TuscuMBiA, Ala,, May 17, 1889,
Ky Dear Miss Marrett — I am thinking about
a dear little girl, who wept very hard. She wept
because her brother teased Ijer very much- I will
tell you what he did. and I think you will feci very
sorry for the little child. She had a most beautiful
doll given hen Oh, it was a lovely and delicate doll !
but the little girl's brother, a tall lad, hafi taken the
doll, and set it up in a high tree in the garden, and
had run away. The httle girl could not reach the
doll, and could not help it down, and thci'cfore she
cried- The doU cried, too» and stretched out its
arms from among the green branches, and looked
distressed. Soon the dismal night would come —
and was the doLI to sit up in the tree all night, and

^ft.S]

LETTERS

171

by herself? The little girl could not endure that
thought, ''I will stay with you," said she to the
doll, although slie was not at all courageous. Already
she began to see quite plainly the little elves in their
tall pointed hats, dancing down the dusky alleys,
and peeping from between the bushes, and they
seemed to come nearer and nearer; and she stretched
her hands up towards the tree in which the tloll sat.
and they laughed, and pointed their fingers at her.
How terrified was the httlc girl; but if one has
not done anything -^Tong. these strange Hltle elves
cannot harm one, "Have I done anything wrong?
Ah, yes !'' said the little girl. " I have laughed at
the poor duck, with the red rag tied round its leg.
It hobbled^ and that made me laugh; but it is wrong
to laugh at the poor animals I"

Is it not a pitiful story? I hope the father pun-
ished the naughty little boy. Shall ynu be very
glad to see my teacher next Thursday? She is
going home to rest, but she will come back to me
next autumn.

Lovingly, your little friend,

Helen Adams Kkllkk,

TO MISS MART H. RILEY

TuscuMBTA, Ala., May 17. 1S89.

My Dear Miss Riley: — ] wish you were here in

the warm, sunny south today. Little sister and I

would take you out into the garden, and pick the

delicious raspberries and a fe^v strawberries for you.

JJ2

THE STORY OF MY LIFE IM^Ay^r.'S^

How would you like that? The strawberries are

nearly all gone. In the evening, when it is cool and
pleasant, we would walk in the yard, and catch the
grasshoppers and butterflies. We would talk about
the birds and flowers and grass and Jumbo and
Pearh If you liked, we would run and jump and hop
and dance, and be very happy, I think you would
enjoy hearing the mocking-birds sing. One sits on
the twig of a tree, just beneath our window, and he
Jills the air with his glad songs- But 1 am afraid
you cannot come to Tuscumbia; so I will write to
you, and send you a sweet kiss and my love. How
is Dick? Daisy is happy, but she would be happy
ever if she had a little mate. My little children are
aU well except Nancy, and she is quite feeble. My
grandmother and aunt Corinne are here. Grand-
mother is going to make me two new dresses. Give
my Icjve to all the little girls, and tell them that
Helen loves them very^ very much. Eva sends lov^r
to alL

With much love and many kiHse5^ from your affec-
tionate little friend,

Helen Adams Keller,

During the summer Miss Sullivan was away from
Helen for three months and a half, the first separa-
tion of teacher and pupil. Only once afterward in
fifteen years was their constant companionship
broken for more than a few days at a time.

LETTERS

TO MISS ANNB MAHSFI&LD SULLIVAN

TuscuMBiA, Ala,, August 7, 1S89,
Dearest Teacher-^I am very glad to write to
you this evening, for I have been thinking much
about you all day. I am sitting on the piazza, and
my little white pigeon is perched on the back of my
chair, watching me write. Her Jittle brown mate has
flown away with the other birds ; but Annie is not sad ,
for she likes to stay with me. Fauntleroy is asleep
upstairs, and Nancy is putting Lucy to bed. Perhaps
the mocking bird is singing them to sleep. AH the
beautiful flowers are in bloom now. The air is sweet
with the perfume of jasmines, heliotropes and roses.
It is getting warm here now, so father 15 going to
take us to the Quarry on the 20th of August. I
think we shall have a beautiful time out in the cool,
pleasant woods. I will write and tell you all the
pleasant things we do. I am so glad that Lester
and Hemy are good little infants. Give them many
sweet kisses for me.

What was the name of the little boy who fell in
love with the beautiful star? Eva has been telling
me a story about a lovely little girl named Heidi-
Will you please send it to me ? I shall be delighted
to have a typewriter.

Little Arthia- is growing very fast. He has on
short dresses now. Cousin Leila thinks he will walk
in a little wliile. Then I will take his soft chubby
hand in mine, and go out in the bright sunshine with
him. He will pull the largest roses, and chase the
gayest butterflies. I will take very good care of
him, and not let him fall and hurt himfielf. Father
and some other gentlemen went hunting yesterday.

174

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Au^.y/Sg

Father killed thirty-eight birds. We had some of
them for supper, and they were very nice. Last
Monday Simpson shot a pretty crane. The crane is
a large and strong bird. His wings are as long as
my arm, and his bill is as long as my foot. He eats
little fishes, and other small animals. Father says
he can fly nearly all day without stopping.

Mildred is the dearest and sweetest Uttle maiden in
the world. She is very roguish, too. Sometimes,
when mother does not know it, s!ie goes out into
the vineyard, and gets her apron full of delicious
grapes. I think she would like to put her two
soft anns around your neck and hug you.

Sunday I went to church, I love to go to church,
because I lake to see my friends.

A gentleman gave me a beautiful card. Tt was a
picture of a mill, near a beautiful brook. There was
a boat floating on the water, and the fragrant lilies
were growing all around the boat. Not far from
the mill there was an old house, with many trees
growing close to it. There were eight pigeons on the
roof of the house, and a great dog on the step.
Pearl is a very proud mother-dog now. She has
eight puppies, and she thinks there never were such
fine puppies as hers,

I read in my books every day. I love them very,
very, very much. I clo want you to come back to
me soon. I miss you so ver>'. very much. I cannot
know about many things, when my dear teacher is
not here. I send you five thousand kisses, and more
love than I can tell. T send Mrs. H, much love and
a kiss.

From your affectionate little pupil,

Helen A. Keller.

17S

In the fall Helen and ^!iss Sullivan returned to
Perkins Institution at South Boston.

TO MISS MILDRED KBLLBTl

South Boston, Oct. 24, iSSp.

My Precious Little Sister;— Good morning. I
am going to send you a birthday gift with this letter.
I hope it will please you very much, because it makes
me happy to send it. The dress is blue like your
eyes, and candy is sweet just like your dear littJe
self. I think mother will be glad to make the dress
for you, and when you wear it you will look as pretty
as a rose. The picture-book will tell you all about
many strange and wild animals. You must not be
afraid of thera. They cannot come out of the picture
to harm you.

I go to school every day, and I Icam many new
things. At eight I study arithmetic. I hke that.
At nine I go to the gymnasium with the little girls,
and we have great fun. I wish you could be here to
play three little squirrels, and two gentle doves,
and to make a pretty nest for a dear little robin.
The mocking bird does not live in the cold north.
At ten I study about the earth on which we aU Hve,
At eleven I talk with teacher and at twelve I study
zoology, I do not know what I shall do in the after-
noon yet.

Now, my darling little Mildred, good bye. Give
father and mother a great deal of love and many
hugs and kisses for nie. Teacher sends her love too.
From your loving sister,

Helen A. Kbllbr,

ir6

THE STORY OF MY L1FE[N^^. 3f>,'S9

TO MR, WILLIAM WADE

"^ South Boston, Mass.. Nov, ao, 1889.

My Dear Mr. Wade:— J have just received a
letter from my mother, telling me that the beautihil
mastiff puppy you sent me had arrived in Tuscutnbia
safely. Thank you very much for the nice gift, I
am very sorry that I was not at home to Tvelcome
her; but my mother and my baby sister will be very
kind to her while her mistress is away. I hope she
is not lonely and unhappy- I think puppies can feel
very home-sick, as well as little girls. I should like
to call her Lioness, for your dog. May I ? I hope
she will be very faithful,— and brave, too,

I am studying in Boston, with my dear teacher,
I learn a great many new and wonderful things, I
study about the earth, and the animals, and I like
arithmetic exceedingly. 1 leam many new words,
too. Exceedingly is one that I learned yesterday.
When 1 see Lioness I will tell her many things
which will surprise her greatly. I think she will
laugh when I tell her she is a vertebrate, a mammal,
a quadruped ; and I shall be very sorry to tell her that
she belongs to the order Camivora, I study French,
too. When I talk French to Lioness I will call her
nwn heaii chien. Please tell Lion that 1 ^ill take
good care of Lioness^ I shall be happy to have a
letter from you when you like to write to me.
From your loving little friend,

Helen A. Kbllbr,

P. S. I am studying at the Institution for the
Blind. H- A. K.

Tliis letter is indorsed in Whitlier's hand, "Helen
A. Keilcr — deaf dumb and bljnd — aged nine years/*
"Browns" is a lapse of the pencil for '* brown eyes,'

TO JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

Inst, for thb Blind, So. Boston, Mass.,

Nov, 37, iSSg,
Dear Poet,

I think you will be surprised to
receive a letter from a little girl whom you do not
know, but I thought you would be glad to hear
that your beautiful poems make me vety happy.
Yesterday I read '' In School Days" and " My Play-
mate," and I enjoyed them greatly. I was very
Sony that the poor little girl with the browns and
the '^ tangled goJden curls " died- It is very pleasant
to Hve here in our beautiful world, I cannot see the
lovely things with my eyes, but my mind can see
them all, and so I am joyful all the day long-
When I walk out in my garden I cannot see the
beautiful flowers but I know that they are all
aroimd me; for is not the air sweet with their fra-
grance? I know too that the tiny lily -bells are
whispering pretty secrets to their companions else
they would not look so happy- I love you very
dearly, because you have taught me so many lovely
things about flowers, and birds, and people. Now
I must say, good-bye- 1 hope [you] will enjoy the
Thanksgiving very much.

From your loving little friend,

Helen A, Kbller.
To Mr. John Greenleaf Whittier.

ijS

THE STORY OF MY LIFE rz>«-j.'5()

"Whittier's reply, to which there is a reference in

the following letter, has been lost.

TO MRS. KATS ADAMS KELLER

South Boston, Mass,, Dec. 3, 1S89.

My Dear Mother: — Your little daughter is very
happy to write to you this beautiful morning. It
is cold and rainy here to-day. Yesterday the
Countess of Meath came again to see me. She gave
me a beautiful bunch of violets. Her little girls are
named Violet and May. The Earl said he sliould
be delighted to visit Tuscumbia the next time he
comes to America- Lady fileath said she would
like to see your flowers, and hear the mocking-birds
sing. When I \'isit England they want me to come
to see them, and stay a few weeks. They will take
me to see the Queen.

I had a lovely letter from the poet WhittJcn He
loves me. Mr, Wade wants teacher and me to
come and see him next spring. May we go? He
said you must feed Lioness from your hand,
because she will be more gentle if she docs not eat
with other dogs.

Mr, Wilson came to call on us one Thursday. I
was delighted to receive the flowers from home.
They came while we were eating breakfast^ and my
friends enjoyed them with me. We had a very nice
dinner on Thanksgiving day, — turkey and plum-
pudding, Last week I visited a beautiful art store,
I saw a great many statues, and the gentleman gave
me an angel.

Sunday I went to chim^h on board a great war-
ship. After the services were over the soldier-

A^.g]

LlilTERS

179

sailors showed us around. There were four hundred

and sixty sailors. Tlicy u'ere very kind to me.
One carried me iia hts arms so tliat my feet would
not touch the water. They wore blue uniforms
and queer little caps. There was a terrible fire
Thursday. Many stores were burned, and four men
were killed. I am very sorry for them. Tell father,
please, to write to me. Hoav is dear little sister?
Give her many kisses for me. Now I must close.
With much love, from your darling child.

Helem a, Keller.

TO MRS> KATE ADAMS KHLLBR

So, Boston, Mass., Dec. 54, 1889.
My dear Mother,

Yesterday I sent you a little Christ-
mas box. 1 am very sorry that I could not send
at before so that you would receive it to morrow,
but I could not finish the watch-case any sooner.
I made all of the gifts myself, excepting father's
handkerchief. 1 wish I could have made father a
gift too, but I did not have sufficient time. I hope
you will like your watch-case, for it made me very
happy to TOiike it for you. You must keep your
lovely new montre in it. If it is too warm in
Tuscumbia for httle sister to wear her pretty
mittens, she can keep them because her sister made
them for her. I imagine she will have fun with the
little toy man. Tell her to shake him, and then he
will blow his trumpet. I thank my dear kind father
for sending me some money, to buy gifts for my

iSo

THE STORY OF MY LIFE p.. .?^/*p

friends, I love to make everybody happy. I
should like to be at home on Christmas day. We
would be very happy together. I think of my
beautiful home every day. Please do not forget to
send me some pretty presents to hang on my tree.
I am going to have a Christmas tree, in the parlor
and teacher -will hang all of my gifts upon it. It
will be a funny tree. All of the girls have gone home
to spend ChristmEis Teacher and I are the only
babies left for Mrs. Hopkins to care for. Teacher
has been sick in bed for many days> Her throat
was very sore and the doctor thought she would
have to go away to the hospital, but she is better
now, I have not been sick at all. The little girls
are well too. Friday I am going to spend the day
with my little friends Carrie. Ethel, Frank and Helen
Freeman. We will have great fim I am sure.

Mr. and Miss Endicott came to see rtie, and I went
to ride in the carriage. They are going to give me
a lovely present, but I cannot guess what it will be,
Sammy has a dear new brother. He is very soft
and delicate yet. Mr. Anagnos is in Athens now
He is delighted because £ am here. Now I must
say» good-bye. I hope 1 have written my letter
nicely, but it is very difficult to write on this paper
and teaclier is not liere to give me better. Give
many kisses to little sister and much love to all,
liOvingly Hbl£H,

-Irf.p]

LETTERS

iSi

TO DR, EDWARD EVBRBTT HALH

South Boston, Jan. 8. 1890.

My dear Mr. Hale :

The beautiful shells came last night,
T thank you very much for them. I shall always
keep them, and it will make me very happy to
think, that you found them, on that far away
island, from which Columbus sailed to discover
our dear country. When 1 am eleven years oM it
will be four hundred years since he started with the
three small ships to cross the great strange ocean.
He was very brave. The Httic girls were delighted
to see the lovely shells. I told them ail I knew
about them. Are you very glad that you could
make so many happy? I am. I should be very
happy to come antl teach you the Braille sometime,
if you have time to Icam, but I am afraid you are
too busy. A few days ago I received a little box
of English violets from Lady Meath. The flowers
were wilted, but the kind thought which came with
them was as sweet and as fresh as newly pulled
violets.

With Io\"]ng greeting to the little cousins, and
Mrs. Hale and a sweet kiss for yourself,
From your little friend,

HsLBN A. Keller.

This, the first oF Helen's letters to Dr. Holmes^
Tvritten soon after a visit to him, he published in
''Over the Teacups."

1&2

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Mar.A j. 'po

TO DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES*

South Bosrou. Mass., March t, 1890.

Dear, Kind Poet: — I have thought of you many
times since that bright Sunday when I bade you
good-bye; and I am going to write you a letter,
because I love you. I am sorry that you have no
little children to play with you sometimes; but I
think you are very happy with your books, and your
many, man^' friends. On Washington's birthday a
great many people came here to see the blind chil-
dren; and I read for them from your poems, and
showed them some lieautiful shells, which came from
a little island near Palos.

I am reading a very sad story, called "Little
Jakey/' Jakey was the sweetest little fellow you
can imagine, but he was poor and blind. I used to
think — when I was small, and before I could read —
that everybody was always happy, and at first it
made me very sad to know about pain and great
sorrow; but now I know that we could never leam
to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the
world.

I am studying about insects In zoology, and I have
learned many things about butterilics. ITicy do not
make honey for us, like the bees, but many of them
are as beautiful as the flowers they light upon, and
they always delight the hearts of little children.
They live a gay life, flitting from flower to flower,
sipping the drops of honeydew. withoi:t a thought
for the morrow. They are just like little boys and
girls when they forget books and studies, and run
Away to the woods and the fields, to gather wild

' * Tbe Atlantic Monthly, Ua^^ iS^o. By pcnnission ot
Ueun, Houghton. Miffiin * Co.

Jft. 9]

LETTERS

183

flowers, or wade in the pontls For fragrant Klies,
happy in the bright sunshine,

if my little sister comes to Boston next June, will
you let me bring her to see you? She is a lovely
baby, and I am sure you lA'ill love her_

Now I must tell ray gentle poet good-bye, for I
have a letter to write home before 1 go to bed,
From your loving little friend,

Hel£N a. Keller.

TO MISS SARAH FULLER'

South Boston, Mass., April 3, 1890.
My dear Miss Fuller,

My heart is full of joy this beautiful
morning, because I have learned to speak many
new words, and I can make a few sentences. Last
evening I went out in the yard and spoke to the
moon. I said, "O ! moon come to me t" Do you
think the lovely moon was glod that I could speak to
her? How glad my mother will be I can hardly
wait for June to come 1 am so eager to speak to her
and to my precious little sister. Mildred conJd not
understand me when I spelled with my fingers, but
now she will sit in my lap and I will tell her many
things to please her, and we shall be so happy
together. Are you very, very happy because you
can make so many people happy? I think you are
very kind and patient, and I love you very dearly.
My teacher told me Tuesday that you wanted to

• Miss Fuller gave Hel^Ti Keller her 6rat Waaon in artieulatiQil.
Fctran account of ihk v*e pa^e jSO.

i84

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Afriij, 'go

know how I came to wish to talk with my mouth, I
will tell you all about it, for I remember my thoughts
pcrfecjtly. When I was a very little child I used to
sit in my mother's lap all the time, because 1 was
very timid, and did not like to be left by myself.
And I would keep my little hand on lier face all the
while, because it amused me to feel her face and lips
move when she talked with people, 1 did not know
then what she was doing;, for 1 was quite ignorant of
all things. Then when I was older I learned to play
with my nurse and the little negro children and I
noticed that they kept moving their lips just like
my mother, so I moved mine too. but sometimes it
made me angry and I would hold my playmates'
mouths verj' hard, I did not know then that it was
very naughty to do so. After a long time my dear
teacher came to me, and taught me to communicate
with my fingers and I was satisfied and happy. But
when I came to school in Boston I met some deaf
people who talked with their mouths like all other
people, and one day a kdy who had been to Norway
came to see me, and told me of a blind and deaf girl*
she had seen in that far away land who had been
taught to speak and understand others when they
spoke to her. This good and happy news delighted
me exceedingly, for then I was sure that I should
learn also. I tried to make sounds like my little
playmates^ but teacher told me that the voice waa
very delicate and sensitive and that it would injurs
it to make incorrect sounds, and promised to take
me to see a kind and wise lady who would teach me
rightly. That lady was yourself. Now I am as
happy as the little birds, because I can speak and

* Ragnhild Kaata. '

iss

perhaps 1 shall sing too. All of my friends will
be so surprised and glad.

Your loving little pupil»

Hblbk a* Kbller.

When the Perkins Institution closed for the sum-
mer, Helen and Miss Sullivan went to Tuscumbia.
This was the first home-going after she had learned
to " talk with her mouth,"

TO REV, PHILLIPS BROOKS
TUSCUMBIA, AlABAUA, Jul/ I4. 189O,

My dear Mr. Brooks, I am very glad to write
to you this beautiful day because you are my
kind friend and I love you» and because I -wish to
know many things. I have been at home three
weeks, and Oh, how happy I have been with dear
mother and father and preciotis little sister. T was
very, very sad to part with all of my friends in
Boston, but I was so eager to see my baby sister I
could hardly wait for the train to take me home.
But I tried very hard to be patient for teacher's
sake. Mildred has gro^^-n much taller and stronger
than she was when I went to Boston^ and she is the
sweetest and dearest little child in the world My
parents were dchghlcd to hear me speak, and I waa
overjoyed to give them such a happy surprise. I
think it is so pleasant to make everybody happy.
Why does the dear Father in heaven think it best
for ufl to have very great sorrow sometimes ? I am

iS6

THE STORY OF MY LIFE {J^iy f4, 'go

always happ/ and so was Little Lord Fauntleroy,
but dear Little Jakcy's Kfe was full of sadness- God
did not put the light in Jakey's eyes and he was
blind, and his father was not gentle and loving. Do
you think poor Jakey loved his Father in heaven
more because his other father was unkind to him?
How did God tell people that his home was in
heaven? Wlien people do very wrong and hurt
animals and treat children unkindly God is grieved.
but what will he do to them to teach them to be
pitiful and loving? I think he will tell them how
dearly He loves them and that He wants them to be
good and happy, and they will not wish to grieve
their father who loves them so much, and they will
want to please him in everything they do, so they
will love each other and do good to everyone, and
be kind to animals.

Please tell me something that you know about
God. It makes me happy to know much about my
loving Father, who is good and wise. I hope you
will write to your little friend when you have time.
1 should like very much to see you today Is the
sun very hot in Boston now? this afternoon if it is
cool enough I shall take Mildred for a ride on my
donkey- Mr, Wade sent Neddy to me, and he is
the prettiest donkey you can imagine. My great
dog Lioness goes with us when we ride to protect
us. Simpson, that is my brother, brought me some
beautiful pond Uties yesterday — he is a very brother
to me.

Teacher sends you her kind remembrances, and
father and mother also send their regards.
From your l-^ving httle friend,

Helen A. Keller.

LETTERS

DR. BROOKs'S REPLY

1B7

London^ August 3, 1890.

My Dear Helen — I was very glad indeed to get
your letter. It has followed me across the ocean
and found me in this magnificent great city which
I should like to tell you all about if I could take time
for it and make my letter long enough. Some
time when you come and see me in my study in
Boston I shall be glad to talk to you about it all if
you care to hear.

But now I want to tell you how glad I am that you
are so happy and enjoying your home so very much,
I can almost think I see you with your father and
mother and little sister, with all the brightness of
the beautiful countiy about you, and it makes me
very glad to know how glad you are.

I'am glad also to know, from the questions which
you ask me, what you are thinking alxiut. I do not
see how we can help thinking about GcxI when He
is so good to us all the time. Let me tell you how it
seems to me that we come to know about our
heavenly Father, It is from the power of love
which is in our own hearts. Love is at the soul of
everything. (Whatever has not the power of loving
must have a very dreary life indeed. We like to
think that the sunshine and the winds and the trees
are able to love in some way of their own, for it
would make us know that they were happy if we
knew that they could love. And so God who is the
greatest and happiest of all beings is the most
loving too. All the love that is in our hearts
comes from him, as all the light which is in the
flowers comes from the aim. Aiid the more we love
the more near we are to Gcwl and His Love-

jds

THE STORY OF MY LIFE |/iug j/jw

I told you that I was very happy because of your
happiness. Indeed I am- So are your Father and
your Mother and your Teacher and all your friends.
But do you not think that God is happy too because
you are happy f I am sure He is. And He is
happier than any of us because He is greater than
any of us, and also because He not merely sees your
happiness as we do, but He also ffiade it. He
gives it to you as the sun gives light and color
to the rose. And we are always most glad of what
we not merely see our friends enjoy, but of wliat we
give them to enjoy. Are we not?

But God does not only want us to be happy; He
wants us to be good. He wants that most of alL
He tnows that we caji be really happy only when we
arc g^ood. A great deal of the trouble that is in the
world is medicine which is very bad to take, but
which it is good to take because it makes us better.
We see how good people may be in great trouble
when we think of Jesus who was the greatest
suflerer that ever lived and yet was the best Being
and so, I am sure, the happiest Being that the world
has ever seen,

I love to tell you about God. But He will tell you
Himself by the love which He will put into your
heart if you ask Him, And Jesus, who is His Son,
but is nearer to Him than all of us His other
Children, came into the world on purpose to tell
us all about our Father's Love, If you read His
words, you will see how full His heart is of the love
of God, "We know that He loves us," He says-
And so He loved men Himself and though they
were very cruel to Him and at last killed Him, He
was willing to die for them because He loved them

A^^ T0\

LETTERS

189

so, And, Helen, He loves men still, and He loves
Ti3» and He tells us that we may love Him,

And so love is everything. And if anybody asks
you, or if you ask yourself what God is, answer,
"God is Love." That is the beautiful answer which
the Bible gives.

AH this is what you are to think of and to under-
stand more and more as you grow older. Think of
it now, and let it make every blessing brighter
because yuur dear Father sends it to you.

You will come back to Boston I hope soon after
I do. I shall be there by the middle of September.
I shall want you to tell me all about everything, and
not forget the Donkey.

I send my kind remembrance to your father and
mother, and to your teacher. I wish I could see
your little sister.

Good Bye, dear Helen. Do write to me soon
again, directing your letter to Boston.
Your afTecLionate friend

Phillips Brooks.

DR, HOLMES'S RBPLY

to a letter which has been lost.

Beverly Farms, Mass., August i, 1890.
My De^r Little Friend Helen:

I received your welcome letter several days ago,
but I have so much writing to do that I am apt to
make my letters wait a good while before they get
answered.

It gratifies me very much to find that you remem*

19^

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Aug.trpa

ber me so kindly. Your letter is channing, and I
am greatly pleased with it. I rejoice to know that
you are well and happy. I am very much dehghted
to hear of your new acquisition^that you "talk
with your mouth" as well as wth your iingers.
"VMiat a curious thing speech is ! The tongue is so
ser\'iceable a member (taking all sorts of shapes,
just as is wanted), — the teeth, the lips, the roof of
the mouth, all ready to help, and so heap up the
sound of the voice into the solid bits which we call
consonants, and make room for the curiously shaped
breathings which we call vowels [ You have studied
all this, I don't doubt, since yovi have practised vocal
speaking.

I am surprised at the mastery of language which
your letter shows. It almost makes me think the
world would get along as well without seeing and
hearing as with them. Perhaps people would be
better in a great many ways, for they could not fight
as they do now. Just think of an army of blind
people, with (^ns and cannon I Think of the poor
drummers I Of what use would they and their drum-
sticks be? You are spared the pain of many sights
andsoundSpwhichyouare only too happy in escaping.
Then think how much kindness you are sure of as
long as you live. Ever>'body will feel an interest in
dear little Helen; everybody will want to do some-
thing for her; and, if she becomes an ancient, gray-
haired woman, she is still sure of being thoughtfully
cared for.

Your parents and friends must take great satisfac-
tion in your progress. It does great credit, not only
to you, but to your instructors, who have so broken
down the walls that seemed to shut you in that now

191

your outlook seems more bright and cheerful than
that of many seeing and hearing children.

Good-bye. dear little Helen ! With every kind
wish from your friend,

Oliver Wendell Holmbs.

This letter was written to some gentlemen in
Gardiner, Maine, who named a lumber vessel after
her.

TO MESSRS. BRADSTRE^T

TuscuMBiA. Ala,, July 14, 1S50,

My Dear, Kind Friends: — I thank you very, very
much for naming your beautiful new ship for me.
Jt makes me very happy to know that I have kind
and loving friends in the far-away State of Maine. I
did not imagine, when I studied about the forests of
Maine, that a strong and beautiful ship would go
sailing all over the world, carrying wood from those
rich forests, to build pleasant homes and schools and
churches in distant coimtries, I hope the great
ocean will love the new Helen, and let her sail over
its blue waves peacefully. Please tell the brave
sailors, who have charge of the Helen Keller,
that little Helen who stays at home wiH often think
of them with loving thoughts, I hope I shall sec
you and my beautiful namesake some time,

With much love, from your little friend,

Helen Ah Kelleil
To the Messrs. Bradstreet,

X9S

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [iV«r, lo, V

Helen and Kiss Sullivan returned to the Perkins
Institution early in November,

TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER

South Boston, Nov. io, 1890.

^^y Dearest Mother: — My heart has heen full of
thoughts of you and my beautiful home ever since
we parted so sadly on Wednesday night. How I
wish I could see you this lovely morning, and tell you
all that has happened since I left home 1 And my
darling little sister, how I wish I could give her a
hundred kisses l And my dear father, how he would
like to hear about our journey ! But I cannot see
you and talk to you, so I will write and tell you all
that I can think of.

We did not reach Boston until Saturday morning.
I am sorry to say that our train was delayed in
several places, which made us Jate in reaching New
York. When we got to Jersey City at six o'clock
Friday evening we were obliged to cross the Harlem
River in a ferry-boat. We found the boat and the
transfer carriage T^ith much less difficulty than
teacher expected. When we arrived at the station
they told us that the train did not leave for Boston
until eleven o'clock, but that we could take the
sleeper at nine, which we did. We went to bed and
slept until morning. "UTien we awoke we were in
Boston, I was delighted to get there, though I was
much disappointed because we did not arrive on
Mr, Anagnos' birthday. We surprised our deal
friends, however, for they did not expect us Satur-
day ; but when the bell rung Miss Marrett guessed

Att^ jo]

LETTERS

193

who Tvas at the door, and Mrs. Hopkins jumped up
from tlie breakfast table and ran to the door to meet
us; she was indeed much astonished to see us.
After we had had some breakfast we went up to se«
Mr. AnagTios. I was overjoyed to see my dearest
and kindest friend once more. He gave me a
beautiful watch. I have it pinned to my dress. I
teil everybody the time when they ask me. I have
only seen Mr, Anagnos twice. I have many ques-
tions to ask him about the countries he has been
travelling in. But I suppose he is very busy now.

The hills in Vii^nia were very lovely. Jack
Frost had dressed them in gold and crimson. The
view was most charmingly picturesque. Pennsyl-
vania is a ve^ beautiful State. The grass was as
green as though it was springtime, ami the golden
cars of com gathered together in heaps in the great
fields looked very pretty. In Harrisburg we saw a
donkey like Neddy. How I wish I could see my own
donkey and my dear Lioness ! Do they miss their
mistress very much ? Tell Mildred she must be kind
to them for my sake.

Our room is pleasant and comfortable.

My typewriter was much injured coming. The
ease was broken and the keys are nearly all out-
Teacher is going to see if it can be fixed.

There are many new books in the Hbrary. What
a nice time I shall have reading them ! I have
already read Sara Crewe. It is a very pretty
story, and I will tell it to you some time. Now,
sweet mother, your little girl must say good-bye.

With much love to father, Mildred, you and all
the dear friends^ lovingly your little daughter,

Hblen a. Kellbil

19*

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [D«, /r. V

TO JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIHH

South Boston Dec. 17 1890-

Dear Kind Poet.

This 5s your birthday ; that was the first
thought which came into my mind when I awoke
this morning; and it made me glad to think
I could write you a letter and tell you how much
your little friends love their sweet poet and his birth-
day. This evening they are going to entertain
their friends with readings from your poems and
music. I hope the swift winged messengers of love
will be here to carry some of the sweet melody to
you, in your little study by the Merrimac, At first
I was very sorry when I found that the sun had
hidden his shining face behind dull clouds, but after-
wards I thought why he did it, and then I was happy.
Tlie sun knows that you like to see the world covered
with beautiful white snow and so he kept back all his
brightness, and let the little cr>^stals form in the sky.
When they are ready, they will softly fall and ten-
derly cover every object. Then the sun will appear
in all his radiance and fill the world with light. If I
were with you to-day I would give you eighty-three
kisses, one for each year you have lived. Eighty-
three years seems very long to me. Does it seem long
to you ? I wonder how many years there ^^il\ be in
eternity. I am afraid I cannot think about so much
time. I received the letter which you wrote to ma
last summer, and 1 thank you lor it, I am staying
in Boston now at the Institution for the Blind, but
I have not commenced my studies yet, because my
dearest friend, Mn Anagnos wants me to rest and
play a great deal.

Teacher is well and sends her kind remembrance

AH. loj LETTERS 193

to you. The liappy Christmas time is almost here !
1 can hardly wait for the fuii to begin I 1 hope your
Christmas L)ay will be a very happj' one and that the
New Year will be full of brightness and joy for you
and every one.

From your little friend

Helen A. Kellbil

whittier's beplt

My Dear Young Friend — I was very glad to have
guch a pleasant letter on my birthday. I had two
or three hiuidred othem and thine was one of the
most welcome of all. I must tell thee about how
the day passed at Oak Knoll. Of course the sun
did not shinCt but wc had ^cat open wood fires in
the rooms, which were all very sweet with roses and
other flowers, which were sent to me from distant
friends; and fruits of all kinds from California and
other places. Some relatives and dear old friends
were with me through the day, I do not wonder
thee thinks eighty three years a long time, but to
me it seems but a very little while sijice I was a boy
no older than thee, pkying on the old farm at
Haverhill. I thank thee for all thy good wishes,
and wish thee as many. I am glad thee is at the
Institution; it is an excellent place. Give my best
regards^ to Miss Sullivan, and with a great deal oE
love I am

Thy old friend,

John G. WnirpiEit,

196

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [March 2a,'pt

Tommy Stringer, tvIio appears in several of the fol-
lowing letters, became blind and deaf when he was
four years old. His mother was dead and his father
was too poor to take care of him. For a while he
was kept in the general hospital at Allegheny,
From here he was to be sent to an almshouse, for
at that time there was no other place for him in
Pennsylvania. Helen heard of him through Mr-
J, G, Brown of Pittsburgh, who wrote her that
he had failed to secure a tutor for Tommy. She
wanted him brought to Boston, and when she
was told that money would be needed to get him
a teacher, she answered, '*We will raise it/' She
began to solicit contributions from her friends, and
Baved her pennies.

Dr. Alexander Graham Belt advised Tommy's
friends to send him to Boston, and the trustees of
the Perkins Institution agreed to admit him to the
kindergarten for the blind.

Meanwhile opportimity came to Helen to make
a considerable contribution to Tommy's education.
The winter before, her dog Lioness had been killed,
and friends set to work to raise money to buy Helen
another dog. Helen asked that the contributions,
which people were sending from all over America
and England, be devoted to Tommy's education.
Turned to this new use, the fund grew fast, and
Tommy was provided for. He was admitted to the
kindei^arten on the sixth of Aprih

Miss Keller wrote lately, "I shall never forget
the pennies sent by many a poor child who could
ill spare them, 'for little Tommy/ or the swift
sympathy v^-ith which people from far and near»
whom I had never seen, responded to the dumb cry
of a little captive soul for aid,"

197

TO UR. GEORGE R, KREHL

Institution for the Blind,
South Boston, Mass., March 20, 1891.
My Dear Friend, \tr. Krehl: — I have just heard,
through Mr, Wacb, of your kind ofTer to buy me
a gentle dog, and I want to thank you for the
kind thought. It makes me very happy indeed to
know that I have such dear friends in other lands. It
makes me think that all people are good and loving.
I have read that the English and Americans are
cousins ; but I am sure it would be much truer to say
that we arc brothers and sisters. My friends have
told me about your great and magnificent city, and
I have read a great deal that wise Englishmen have
written. I have begun to read ** Enoch Arden,"
and 1 know several of the great poet's poems by
heart, I am eager to cross the occaUt for I want to
see my English friends and their good and wise
queen. Once the Earl of Meath came to see me, and
he told me that the queen was much beloved by
her peoplCf because of her gentleness and wisdom.
Some day you will be surprised to see a little strange
girl coming into your office; but when you know it
is the httle girl who loves dogs and all other animals,
you will laugh, and I hope yon will give her a kiss,
just as Mr, Wade does. He has another dog for me,
and he thinks she will be as brave and faithful as
my beautiful Lioness. And now I want to tell you
what the dog lovers in America are going to do.
They are going lo send me some money for a poor
little deaf and dumb and blind child. His name is
Tommy, and he is five years old* His parents are
too poor to pay to have the httle fellow sent to
school; so^ instead of giving me a dog. the gentle-

xgS

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [AprQ. 'pr

men are going to help make Tommy's life as bright
and joyous as mine. Is it not a beautiful plan?
Education will bring light and music into Tommy's
toul, and then he cannot help being happy.
From your loving Httle friend,

Helen A. Keller.

TO DE. OLIVER TVEKDELL HOLMES

[South Bostok, Mass., April, 1891.]
Dear Dr. Holmes: — Your beautiful words about
spring have been mating music in my heart,
these bright April days. I love every word of
"Spring" and '^Spring Has Come," I think you
will be glad to hear that these poems have taught
me to enjoy and love the beautiful springtime,
even though I cannot see the fair, fmil blossoms
which proclaim its approach, or hear the joyous
warbling of the home-coming birds. But when I
read ** Spring Has Come," lo ! I am not blind any
longer, for I see with your eyes- and hear ■with your
ears. Sweet Mother Nature can have no secrets
from me when my poet is near. I have chosen
this ijaper because I want the spray of violets in
the comer to tell you of my grateful love. I want
you to see baby Tom, the little blind and deaf and
dumb child who has just come to our pretty garden.
He is poor and helpless and lonely now, but before
another April education will have brought light and
gladness into Tommy's life. If you do come, you
will want to ask the kind people of Boston to help
brighten Tonuny's whole life. Your loving friend,

Helen Keller.

LETIERS

to sm john everett m3llais

Perkins Institution for thk Blind,
South Boston', Mass., April 30. 1S91.
My Dear Mr. Millais: — Your little American
rister is going to write you a letter, because she wante
you to know how pleased she was to hear you were
interested in our pK»r little Tommy, and had sent
some money to help educate him. It is very
beautiful to think that people far away in England
feel sorry for a Httle helpless child in America. I
used to think, when I read in my books about your
great city, that when I visited it the people would be
strangers to me, but now I feel differently. It seems
to me that all people who have loving, pitying hearts,
are not strangers to each other. I can hardly wait
patiently for the time to come when I shall see my
dear English friends, ant! their beauLifnl island home.
My favorite poet has written some lines about
England which I love very much, I think you will
like them too, so I will try to write them for you.

*■ Hugged En the clin^fiR billow'a daapn

From seaweed fringe to mountAin heather.
The BritJah oak with rooted grasp

Her slender handful holds together,
TVith cliffs of white and bowers of green,

And ocean narrowing to caress her,
Jiiid hilU and threaded streams between,

Ourlittk mother isle, Gud bless her I"

You will be glad to hear that Tommy has a kind
lady to teach him, and that he is a pretty, active
little fellow. He loves to climb much better than to
spell, but that is because he does not know yet what
a wonderful thing language is. He cannot imagine
how very, very happy he will be when he can tell us

aoo

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Maytrpr

his thoughts, and we can tell him how we have loved
him so long.

Tomorrow April will hide her tears and blushes
beneath the flowers of lovely May, I wonder if the
May-days in England are as beautiful as they are
here.

Now I must say good-bye. PJeasc think of me
always as your loving little sister,

Helen Keller.

TO REV, PHILLIPS BROOKS

So. Boston, May i, 1891.
My Dear Mr, Brooks:

Helen sends you a loving greeting this bright
May-day. My teacher has just told me that
you have been made a bishop, and that your
friends eveiywhere are rejoicing beciiuse one whom
they love has been greatly honored. I do not
understand very well what a bishop's work is, but
I am sure it. must be good and helpful, and I am
glad that my dear friend is brave, and wise, and
loving enough to do it. It is very beautiful to think
that you can tell so many people of the heavenly
Father's tender love for all His children even when
they are not gentle and noble as He ;^"ishes them to
be. I hope the glad news which you will tell them
will make their hearts beat fast with joy and love.
I hope too. that Bishop Brooks' whole life will be
as rich in happiness as the month of May is full of
blossoms and singing birds.

From your loving little friend,

Hblen Kbllbb,

Afi. ;a]

LETTERS

9or

Before a teacher was foimd for Tommy and while
he was still in the care of Helen and Miss Sullivan, a
reception was held for him at the kindergarten. At
Helen's request Bishop Brooks made an address.
Helen wrote letters to the newspapers which brought
many generous replies. All of these she answered
herself, and she made public acknowledgment in
letters to the newspapers. This letter is to the editor
of the Boston Herald, enclosing a complete list of the
subscribers. The contributions amounted to more
than sixteen hundred dollars.

TO HR. JOHN H. HOLMES

South Boston, May i$, 1891,

Editor of the Boston Herald:

My Dear Mr. Hohnes:— Will you kindly print, in
the H&rald, the enclosed list ? I think the readers of
your paper will be glad to know that so much has
been done for dear little Tommy, and that they will
all viish to share in the pleasure of helping him.
He is very happy indeed at the kindergarten, and is
learning something every day. He has found out
that doors have locks, and that little sticks and bits
of paper can be got into the key -hole quite easily;
but he does not seem very eager to get them out after
they are in. He loves to climb the bed-posts and
Tinscrewthe steam valves much better than to spell,
but that is because he does not xinderstand that
words would help him to make new and interesting
discoveries. I hope that good people will continue to
work for Tommy until his fund is completed, and
education hac brought li^ht and music into his little
life. From your little friend,

Helen Kbllcr,

309

THE STORY OF MY LIFE W^y ^T, V

TO BR. OLIVER WHNDBLL HOLMBS

SoHTH Boston, May 27, iSqt,
Dear, Gentle Poet:^I fear that you will think
Helen a very troublesome little girl if ehe writt
to you too often; but how is she to help send-
ing you loving and grateful messages, when you
do so much to make her glad? I cannot begin
to tell you how delighted 1 was when Mr. Anagnos
told me that you had sent him some money
to help educate "Baby Tom/' Then I knew
that you had not forgotten the dear little
child, for the gift brought wit!i it the thought of
tender sympathy. I am very sorry to say that
Tommy has not learned any words yet. He is the
same restless Ultle creattye he was when you saw him.
But it is pleasant to think that he is happy and
playful in his bright new home, and by and by that
strange, wonderful thing teacher calls mitui. will
begin to spread its beautiful wings and fiy away in
search of knowledge-land- Words are the mind's
wings, are they not ?

I have been to Andover since I saw you, and I
was greatly interested in all that my friends told me
about Phillips Aeademy, because I knew you had
been there, and I felt it was a place dear to you>
I tried to imagine my gentle poet when he was a
school-boy, and I wondered if it was in Andover he
learned the songs of the birds and the secrets of
the shy little woodland children. I am sure his heart
was always full of music, and in God's beautiful
world he must have heard love's sweet replying.
When r came home teacher read to me "The
School-boy," for it is not in our print.

Did you know that the blind children are going.

AeS. 10}

LE'PTEI^

203

to have their commencement exercises in Tremont
Temple, next Tuesday afternoon? I enclose a
ticket, hoping that yon will come. We shall all be
proud and happy to welcome our poet friend. I
shall recite about the beautiful cities of sunny
Italy^ 1 hope our kind friend Dr, Ellis will come
toOj and take Tom in hJs arms.

With much love and a kiss, from your little friend,

Helen A. Keller,

TO REV. PHILLIPS BROOKS

South Boston, June 8, i8gi.

My dear Mr. Brooks,

I send you my picture as I promised, and I
hope when you look at it this summer your
thoughts will fiy southward to your happy
httle friend. I used to wish that I could see
pictures with my hands as I do statues, but now I
do not often think about it because my dear Father
has filled my mind with beautiful pictures, even of
things I cannot see. If the light were not in your
eyes, dear Mr, Brooks, you would understand better
how happy your little Helen was when her teacher
explained to her that the best and most beautiful
things in the world cannot be seen nor even touched,
but just felt in the heart. Every day I find out
something which makes me glad. Yesterday I
thought for the first time wliat a beautiful thing
motion was, and it seemed to me that everything
was trying to get near to God, does it seem that way
to you ? It is Sunday morning, and while I sit here

204 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [A/or./o/fl^

in the library writing this letter you are teaching
hundreds of people some of the grand and beautiful
things about their heavenly Father. Are you not
very, very happy? and when you are a Bishop you
will preach to more people and more and more will
be made gTari_ Teacher sends her kind remem-
brances, and I send you with my picture my dear
love.

From your Lttle friend

HeLHN K£LLEa.

When the Perkins Institution closed in June,
Helen and her teiicher went south to Tuseumbia,
where they remained until December. There is a
hiatus of several months in the letters^ caused by the
depressing effect on Helen and Miss Sullivan of the
"Frost King" episode. At the time this trouble
seemed very grave and brought them much unhap-
piness. An analysis «f the case has been made
elsewhere,* and Miss Keller has written her
account of it.f

TO MR, ALBERT H. MUNSELL

Brewster, Mar, lo, 1S92,

My dear Mr, MunselJ,

Surely I need not tell you that your letter
was very welcome. I enjcyed every word of it
and wished that it was longer. I laughed when
you spoke of old Neptune's wild moods. He

has, m truth, behaved very strangely ever since
we came to Brewster, It is evident that something
has displeased his Majesty but 1 cannot imagme
what it can be. His expression has been so turbu^
lent that 1 have feared to give him your kind message.
Who knows ! Perhaps the Old Sea God as he lay
asleep upon the shore, heard the soft music of grow-
ing things — the stir of life in the earth's bosom,
and his stormy heart was angry, because he knew
that his and Winter's reign was almost at an end.
So together the unhappy monarch[s] fought most
despairingly, thinking that gentle Spring would
turn and fly at the very sight of the havoc caused
by their forces. But lo I the lovely maiden only
smiles more sweetly, and breathes upon the icy
battlements of her enemies, snd in a moment they
vanish, and tiie glad Earth gives her a royal welcome.
But I must put away these idle fancies until we meet
again. Please give your dear mother my love.
Teacher wishes me to say that she liked the photo-
graph very much and she will see about having some
when we return. Now, dear friend^ Please accept
these few words because of the love that is linked
with them.

Lovingly yours

This letter was reproduced in facsimile in St.
Nicholas, June, 1892. It is undated, but must
have been written two or three months before it
was pubhshed.

2o6

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

[tSgi

TO Si. Nicholas*

Dear St. Nicholas:

It gives me veiy great pleasure to send you
my autograph Ixrause I want the boys and
girls who read St. Nicholas to know how blind
children write. I suppose some of them wonder
how we keep the lines so straight so I will try
to tell them how it is done. We have a grooved
board which we put between the pages when we
wish to write. The parallel grooves correspond to
lines and when we have pressed the paper into them
by means of the blunt end of the pencil it is very
easy to keep the words even. The small letters are
all made in the grt>oves, while the long ones extend
above and below them. We guitle the pencil ^^^th
the right hand» and feel carefully with the forefinger
of the left hand to see that we shape and space the
letters correctly. It is very difficult at first to form
them plainly, but if we keep on trying it gradually
becomes easier^ and after a great deal of practice
we can write legible letters to our friends. Then we
are very, very happy. Sometime they may visit a
school for the blind. If they do, 1 am sure they ^411
wish to see the pupils write.

Very sincerely your little friend

H£L£N Keller.

In May, iSga, Helen gave a tea in aid of the

kindergarten for the blind. It was quite her own
idea, and was given in the house of Mis. Mahlon D.
Spaulding, sister of Mr. John P. Spaulding, one of
• Reprinted by eourtcoqE permission of the Ccntiuy Co,

LETTERS

ao7

TO MISS CAROLINE DERBY

Helen's kindest and most liberal friends. The tea

brought more than two thousand dollars for the
. blind children.

F South Boston, May 5, 189a.

My dear Miss Carrie: — T was much pleased to
receive your kijid letter. Need I tell you that I was
more than delighted to hear that you arc really
interested in the "tea"F Of course we must not
give it up- Very soon I am going far away, to my
own dear home, in the sunny south, and it would
always make me happy to think that the last thing
■which my dear friends in Boston did for my pleasure
was to help make the lives of many little sightless
children good and happy. I know that kind people
cannot help feeling a tender sj"m^Jathy for the little
ones, who cannot see the beautiful light, or any of
the wonderful things which give them pleasure; and
it seems to me that all lo\'ing sympathy must express
itself in acts of kindness; and 'when the friends of
little helpless blind children understand that we are
■working for their happiness, they will come and make
our "tea" a success, and 1 am sure I shall be the
happiest httle girl in all the world. Please let Bishop
Brooks know our plans, so that he may arrange to be
with us. I am glad Miss Eleanor is interested.
Please give her my love, I will see you tomorrow
and then we can make the rest of our plans. Please
give your dear aunt teacher's and my love and tell
her that we enjoyed our little visit very much indeed>
Lovingly yours,

Hblen Keller.

zoS

THE STORY OF MY LIFE imy sz. ffs

TO MR, JOHN P. SPAULDINC

South Boston, May nth, 189a.

My dear Mr, Spaulding: — I am afraid you will
think your little friend, Helen, very troublesome
when you read this letter ; but I am sure you will not
blame me when I tell you that I am very anxious
about something. You remember teacher and I
told you Sunday that I wanted to have a little tea in
aid of the kindergarten. We thought everything
was arranged; but we found Monday that Mrs.
Elliott would not be willing to let us invite more
than fifty people, because Mrs. Howe's house is quite
small. I am sure that a great many i;>eople would
like to come to the tea, and help me do something
to brighten the lives of little blind children; but
some of my friends say that I shall have to give up
the idea of having a tea unless we can find another
house. Teacher said yesterday, that perhaps Mrs,
Spaulding would be willing to let us have her beauti-
ful house, and [I] thought I would ask you about it.
Do you think Mrs, Spaiilding would help me, if I
wrote to her? I shall be so disappointed if my little
plans fail, because I have wanted for a long time to
do something for the poor little ones who are waiting
to enter the kindergarten. Please let me know
what yon think about the house, and try to forgive
me for troubling you so much.

Lovingly your little friend,

Kblek Kellsr.

J,t. J/] LETTERS

TO MR. EDWARD H. CLEMENT

•09

South Boston. May iSlh, 1893,

My dear Mr. Clement : — I am going to write to
you this beautiful morning because my heart is
brimful of happiness and 1 want you and all my dear
friends in the Transcript office to rejoice with mc-
The preparations for my tea are nearly completed,
and I am looking forward joyfully to the event. I
Itnow I shall not fail. Kind people will not disap-
point me» when they know that I plead for helpless
little children who live in darkness and ignorance.
They wiH come to my tea and buy light, — the beau-
tiful light of knowledge and love for many little ones
who are blind and friendless. I remember perfectly
when my dear teacher came to me. Then I was like
the little blind children who are waitirg to enter the
kindei^artcn. There was no light in my soul. This
wonderful world with all its sunlight and beauty
was hidden from me. and I had never dreamed of its
loveliness- But teacher came to me and taught my
little fingers to use the beautiful key that has
imlocked the door of my dark prison and sot my
spirit free.

It is my earnest wish to share my happiness with
others, and I ask the kind people of Boston to help
me make the lives of little blind children brighter
and happier.

Lovingly your little friend.

Helen Kbllbr.

At the end of June Misa Sullivan and Helen went

home to Tuscumbia.

310

THE STORY OF MY LIFE \:fMtyg, 'p>

TO UISS CAROLINE DERBY

TuscuMBiA, Alabama, July 9th iS^a,
My dear Carrie — You are to look upon it as a
mostpositiveproof of inylovethat I write to you to-
day. For a whole wetk it has been '*colc3 and dark
and dreary" in Tuscumbia, and I must confess tlie
continuous rain and dismalness of the weather fills
me with gloomy thoughts and makes the writing of
letters, or any pTeasant employment, seem quite
impossible. Nevertheless, 1 must tell you that we
are alive, — that we reached home safely, and that we
speak of you daily, and enjoy your interesting letters
very much, 1 had a beautiful visit at Hulton.
Everything was fresh and spring-like^ and we stayed
out of doors all day. We even ate our breakfast
out on the piazza. Sometimes we sat in the ham-
mock, and teacher read to me. 1 rode horseback
nearly every evening and once I rode five miles at a
fast gallop, 0, it was great fun ! Do you like to
ride ? I have a very pretty little cait now^ and if it
ever stops raining teacher and I are going to drive
every evening. And 1 have another beautiful
Mastiff— the largest one I ever saw— and he will go
along to protect us. His name is Eumer, A queer
name, is it not f I think it is Saxon. We expect to
go to the mountains next week. My little brother^
Phillips, is not well, and we think the clear mountain
air will benefit him. Mildred is a sweet little sister
and I ara sure you would love her. I thank you
very much for your photograph, 1 like to have my
friends* pictures even though I cannot see them. I
was greatly amused at the idea of your WTiting the
square hand. I do not wTite on a Braille tablet, as
you suppose, but on a grooved board like the piece

LETTERS

9tt

which I enclose, You could not read Braille; for it
is written in dots, not at all like ordinary letters-
Please give my love to Miss Derby and tell her that
T hope she gave my sweetest love to Baby Ruth.
What was the book you sent me for my birthday?
I received several, and I do not know which was
from you. I had one gift which especially pleased
me. It was a lovely cape crocheted, for me, by an
old gentleman, seventy-five years of age. And
every stitch, he writes, represents a kind wish for
my health and happiness. Tell your little cousins
I think they had better get ujjon the fence with nie
until after the election ; for there arc so many parties
and candidates that I doubt if such youthful poli-
ticians would,';make a wise selection. Please give
my love to Rosy when you write, and believe me.
Your loving friend

Helen Keller.
P, S, How do you like this typewritten letter ?

H.K,

TO MRS, GROVBR CLEVELAND

My dear Mrs. Cleveland,

I am going to write you a little letter this
beautiful morning because I love you and dear
little Ruth very much indeed, and also because
I wish to thank you for the loving message
which you sent me through Miss Derby. I am
glad, very glad that such a kind, beautiful lady
loves me. I have loved you for a long time, hut I
did not think you had gvct heard of me until your

213

THE STORY OF MY LIFE pr., ig, 'p*

Bweet message came. Please kiss your dear little
baby for me, and tell her I have a little brother
nearly sixteen months old. His name is Phillips
Brooks. I named him myself after my dear friend
Pliillips Brooks, 1 send you vrith this letter a pretty
book which my teacher thinks will interest you, and
my picture. Please accept i]iem with the love and
good wishes of your friend,

Hblem Kbllbk.
TuacuMHiA, Alabama.
November fourth. [iSga,]

Hitherto the letters have been ^ven in full; from
this point on passages are omitted and the omis-
sions are indicated.

TO MR. JOHN HIT3

TirscuHBiA, Alabama, Dec, 19, 1892,
My Dear Mr. Hitz,

I hardly know how to begin a letter to you,
it has been such a long time since your kind
letter reached me, and there is so much that I
woidd like to write if I could. You must have
wondered why your letter has not had an answer,
and perhaps you have thought Teacher and me very
naughty indeed. If so, you will be very sorry when
I tell you something. Teacher's eyes have been
htirting her so that she could not write to any one,
and I have beea trying to fulfil a promise which I
made last summer. Before I left Boston, I was

Aet. 12]

LETTERS

3t3

asked to write a sketch of my life for the Youth's
Companion. I Imd intended to write the sketch
during my vacation: but I was not well, and I did
not feel able to write even to my friends. But when
the bright, pleasant autumn days came, and I felt
strong again I began to think about the sketch.
It was some time before I coiild plan it to suit me.
You see, it is not v^ry pleasant to write all about
one's self. At last, however, I got something bit
by bit that Teacher thought would do, and 1 set
about putting the scraps together, which was not an
easy task; for, although I worked some on it every
day, I did not finish it until a week ago Saturday,
I sent the sketch to the Companion as soon as it
was finished; but I do not know that they will
accept it- Since then, I have not been well, and I
likve been obhged to keep very quiet, and rest;
but today I am better, and to-morrow 1 shall be
well again, I hope.

The reports which you have read in the paper
about me are not true at all. We received the
Silent Worker which you sent, and I wrote right
away to the editor to tell him that it was a mistake.
Sometimes I am not well; but I am not a '* wreck,"
and there? is nothing "distressing" about my con-
dition.

I enjoyed your dear letter so much ! I am always
delighted when anyone writes me a beautiful
thought which 1 can treasure in my memory forever.
It is because my books are full of the riches of
which Mr. Ruskin speaks that I love them so deariy.
I did not realize until I began to write the sketch for
the Companion, what precious companions books
have been to me^ and how blessed even my life has
been; and now I am happier than ever because I do

ai4

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [F<,b,z8rffj

realize the happiness that has come to me. T hope
you will write to me as often as you can. Teacher
and I are always delighted to hear from you. I
want to write to Mr. Bell and send him my picture,
r suppose he has been too busy to write to his little
friend. I often think of the pleasant time we had
all together in Boston last spring.

Now I am going to tell you a secret. I think we.
Teacher, and my father and little sister, and myself.
will visit Washington next March I f I Then I shall
see you, and dear Mr. Bell, and Elsie and Daisy
again ! Would not it be lovely if Mrs. Pratt could
meet us there? I think I ^-ill write to her and tell
her the secret too, , , .
,, Lovingly your little friend,

Helem Keller,

P, S- Teacher says you want to know what kind
of a pet I would like to have. I love all living tilings,
— I suppose everyone does: but of course I cannot
have a menagerie, I have a beautiful pony, and a
large dog. And I would like a little dog to hold in
ray lap, or a big pussy (there are no fine cats in
Tuscumbia) or a parrot, I would like to feel a parrot
talk, it would be so much fun ! but I would be pleased
with, and love any little creature you send me.

H-K.

TO MISS CAROLINE DBRBT

Tuscumbia, Alabama, February iS, 1893,

, , , You have often been in my thoughts

during these sad days, while my heart has been

Att. 13}

LETTERS

aiS

grie\'mg; over the loss of my beloved friend,* and I
have \vislied many times that I was in Boston vnth
those who knew and loved him as I did , . , he
was so much of a friend to me ! so tender and loving
always I I do try not lo mourn his death too sadly.
I do try to think tliat he is still near, very near ; but
sometimes the thought that he is not here, that I
shall not see him wlien I go to Boston, — that he
is gone, — rushes over my soul hke a great wave of
sorrow. But at other times, when I am happier, I
do feel his beautiful presence, and his loving hand
leading me in pleasant ways. Do you remember
the happy hour we spent with him last June when
he held my hand, as he always did, and talked to ua-
about his friend Tennyson, and our own dear poet
Dr. Holmes, and I tried to Leach him the manual
alphabet, and he laughed so gaily over his mistakes,
and afterward I told him about my tea, and he
promised to eome? I can hear him now, saying in
lus cheerful, decided way, in reply to my wish that
my tea m.ight be a success, " Of course it will, Helen.
Put your whole heart in the good work, my child,
and it cannot faiL " 1 am glad the people arc going
to raise a monument to his memory. . » ,

In March Helen and Miss Sullivan went North,
and spent the next few months traveling and visit-
ing friends.

In reading this letter about Niagara one should
remember that Miss Keller knows distance and shape,
and tliat the size of Niagara is witliin her expcri*

• Phillips BrcMibs, died January 33. 1B93-

91'

THE STORY OF MY LIFE[4^;rj,'pj

cncQ after she has explored it, crossed the bridge,
and gone down in the elevator. Especially impor-
tant are such details as her feeling the rush of the
water by putting her hand on the window, Dt,
Bell gave her a down pillow, which she held against
her to increase the vibrations.

TO MRS- KATE ADAMS KELLER

South Bostom, April 13, 1895.

. , , Teacher, Mrs. Pratt and I very unex-
pectedly decided to take a journey with dear
Dr. Bell , . , Mr. Westervelt, a gentleman
■whom father met in Washington, has a school for the
deaf in Rochester, We went there first. . . .

Mr, Westervelt gave us a reception one afternoon.
A great many people came. Some of them asked
odd questions, A lady seemed surprised that I
loved flowers when I could not see their beautiful
colors, and when I assured her I did love them, she
said, "no doubt you feel the colors with your
fingers." But of course, it is not alone for their
bright colors that we lave the flowers. . , , A
gentleman asked me what beauty meant to my mind.
1 must confess I was puzzled at first. But after a
minute I answered that beauty was a form of good-
ness, — and he went away.

When the reception was over we went back to the
hotel and teacher slept quite unconscious of the
surprise which was in store for her. Mr. Bell and
1 planned it together and Mr. Bell made all the
arrangements before we told teacher anythmg
about it. This was the smprise — 1 was to have

the pleasure of taking my dear teacher to see
Niagara Falls I , _ ,

The hotel was so near the river that 1 couM feel
it rushing past by putting my hand on the windovr.
The ncjtt morning the sun rose bright and warm,
and we got up quickly for our hearts were full
of pleasant expectation, , , , You can never
imagine how I felt when I stood in the presence of
Niagara until you have the same mysterious sensa-
tions yourself. I could hardly realize that it was
water that 1 felt rushing and plunging with impetu-
ous fury at my feet. It seemed as if it were some
living thing rushing on to some terrible fate. I wish
I could describe the cataract as it is, its beauty
and awful grandeur, and the fearful and irresistible
plunge of its waters over the brow of the precipice.
One feels helpless and overwhelmed in the presence
of such a vast force, I had the same feeling once
before when I first stood by t}»e great ocean and felt
its waves beating against the shore. I suppose you
feel so, too, when you gasc up to the stars in the
stillness of the night, do you not? . . » We
went down a hundred and twenty feet in an elevator
that we might see the violent eddies and whirlpools
in the deep goi^e below the Falls. Within two miles
of the Falls is a wonderful suspension bridge. It is
thrown across the gorge at a height of two hundred
and fifty-eight feet above the water and is sup-
ported on each bank by towers of solid rock, which
are eight hundred feet apart. When we crossed
over to the Canadian side, I cried, "God save the
Queen !" Teacher said I was a little traitor. But
I do not think so, I was only doing as the Canadiang
do, while I was in t!ieir countryj and besides I honor
England's good queen . , ,

3i8 THE STORY OP MY LIFE [Apr.ijrpS

You will be pleased, dear Mother, to hear that a
kind lady whose name is Miss Hooker is endeavor-
ing to improve my speech. Oh, I do so hope and
pray that I shall speak well some day ! . . ,

Mr. Munsell spent last Sunday evening with us.
How you would have enjoyed hearing him tell about
Venice 1 His beautiful word-pictures made us feel
as if we were sitting in the shadow of San Marco,
dreaming, or sailing upon the moonlit canal, , . ,
1 hope when I visit Venice, as I surely shall some
day, that Mr, Munsell will go with me, Tliat is my
castle in the air. You see, none of my friends
describe things to me so vividly and so beautifully
as he does, - . -

Her visit to the World's Fair she described in

a letter to Mr. John P, Spaulding, which was pub-
lished in St. Nicholas, and is much like the following
letter. In a prefatory note which Miss Sullivan wrote
for St. Nicholas, she says that people frequently
said to her, *' Helen sees more with her fingers
than we do with our eyes." The President of the
Exposition gave her this letter:

To THE Chiefs of the Departments and Officers

IN CHARGE OF BuiLDINGS AND EXHIBITS,

Gentlemen — The bearer^ Miss Helen Keller,
accompanied by Miss Sullivan, is desirous of mak-
ing a complete inspection of the Exposition in all

Xrf, JJl

LETTERS

3ig

Departments. She is blind and deaf, but is able
to converse, and is introduced to me as one having
a wonderful ability to understand ihc objects she
visits, and as being possessed of a high order of
intelligence and of culture beyond her years. Please
favour her with every facility to examine the
exhibits in the se\'eral Departments, and extend
to her such other courtesies as may be possible.

Thanking you in advance for the same, 1 am,
with respect,

Very truly yours,
(signed) H- N, Higinbotham,

President.

TO M1S5 CAROLTNE DERBY

HuLTON, Pbnn., August 17, 1893.
, - . Every one at the Fair was very kind
to me. , . Nearly all of the exhibitors seemed
perfectly willing to let me touch the most delicate
things, and they were very nice about explaining
everything to me. A French gentleman, whose
name 1 cannot remember, showed me the great
French bronzeSn I believe they gave me more
pleasure than an^'thing else at the Fair: they
were so lifelike and wonderful to my touch,
Dr, Bell went with us himself to the electrical
building, and showed us some of the histori-
cal telephones, I saw the one through which
Emperor Dom Pedro listened to the words,
"To be, or not to be," at the Centennial. Dr.
Gillett of Illinois took us to the Liberal Arts and
"Woman's buildings. In the former 1 visited Tiffany's

310

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Ah£. 17. 'm

exhibit, and held the beautiful Tiffany diamond,
which IS valued at one hundred thousand dollars,
and touched many other rare and costly things.
I sat in King Ludwigs armchair and felt like a.
queen wh'^n Dr. Gillett remarked that I had
many loya! subjects. At the Woman*s building
we met the Pnncess Maria Schaovskoy of Russia,
and a beautiful Syrian lady. I liked them both very
much. I went to the Japanese department with
Prof. Morse who is a wclMcnown lecturer. I never
realized what a wonderful people the Japanese
are until I saw their most interesting exhibit. Japan
must indeed be a paradise for cliildren to judge
from the great number of playthings which are
manufactured thcre^ The queer-looking Japanese
musical instruments, and their beautiful works of
art were interesting. The Japanese books are very
odd. There are forty-seven letters In their alpha-
bets. Prof, Morse knows a great deal about Japan,
and is very Idnd and wise. He invited mc to
visit his museum in Salem the next time I go to
Boston, But I think I enjoyed the sails on the
tranquil lagoon, and the lovely scenes, as my friends
described them to me, more than anything else at
the Fair. Once, while we were out on the water,
the sun went down over the rim of the earth, and
threw a soft, rosy light over the White City, making
it look more than ever like Dreamland.

Of course, we visited the Midway Plaisance. It
was a bewildering and fascinating place. 1 went
into the streets of Cairo, and rode on the camel.
That was fine fun. We also rode in the Ferris
wheel, and on the ice-railway, and had a sail in the
Whaleback. , , ,

A^- 13]

LETTERS

301

In the spring of 1393 a club Tvas started in
TuEcumbia, of which Mrs. Keller was president, to
establish a public libraiy. Miss Keller says :

"I wrote to niy friends about the work and enlisted
their sympathy. Several hundred books, including
many fine ones, were sent to me in a short time, as
well as money and encouragement. This generous
assistance encouraged the ladies, and they have
gone on collecting and buying books ever since,
until now they have a very respectable public
\ibrary in the town, "

TO MRS, CHARLES E, INCHES

HULTON, PeKH,, Oct. 2T, 1S93.

, , , We spent September at home in Tus-
cumbiti , ^ . and were all very happy together,
, , , Our quiet mcnintain home was especially
attractive and restful after the excitement and
fatigue of our visit to the World's Fair. We enjoyed
the beauty and solitude of the hills more than ever.

And now we are in Hulton, Penn. again where I
am goiiig to study this winter with a tutor assisted
by my dear teacher. I study Arithmetic, Latin and
literature, I enjoy my lessons very much. It is so
pleasant to learn about new things. Every day I
find how little I know, but I do not feel discouraged
since God has given me an eternity in which to learn
more. In literature I am studying Longfellow's
poetry. I know a great deal of it by heart, for I
loved it long before I knew a metaphor from a
synecdoche. I used to say I did not like arith-
metic very well, but now I have changed my mind.

»22

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Orf.ai.'pj

I see what a good and useful study it is, though I
must ccmfess my mind wanders from it sometimes !
for, nice and useful as arithmetic is, it is not as
interesting as a beautiful poem or a lovely story.
But bless me, how time does fly. I have only a few
moments left in which to answer your questione
about the '^ Helen Keller" Public Library,

I- I think there are about 3,000 people in
Tuscumbia, Ala., and perhaps half of them are
colored people, a. At present there is no library
of any sort in the town. That is why I thought
about starting one. My mother and several of my
lady friends saiJ they would help me, and they
formed a club, the object of which is to work for the
establishment of a free public library in Tuscumbia.
They have now about 100 books and about $55 in
money, and a kind gentleman has given us land on
which to erect a library building. But in the mean-
time the club has rented a little room in a central
part of the town, and the books which wc already
have are free to all. 3. Only a few of my kind
friends in Boston know anything about the library,,
I did not like to trouble them while I was trying to
get money for pxjr little Tommy ; fur of course it was
more important that he should be educated than
that my people should have books to read* 4. I do
not know what books we have, but I think it is a
miscellaneous (I think that is the word) collec-
tion. , , ,

P. S. My teacher thinks it would be more busi-
nesslike to say that a hst of the contributors toward
the building fund will be kept and published in my
father's paper, the " North Alabamian.'*

H. K,

TO MISS CAROLINE DERBY

HuLTON. Penn.> December 28. rSgj.
. , , Please thank dear Miss Derby for me
for the pretty shield which she sent me. It is a very
interesting souvenir of Columbus, and of the Fair
White City; but I cannot imagine what discoveries
1 have made, — I mean new discoveries. We are all
discoverers in one sense, being bom quite ignorant
o£ all things; but I hardly think that is what she
meant. Tell her she must explain why I am a
discoverer. . . .

TO DR. KDWARD EVERETT HA LB

HuLTON. Pennstlvamia. January 14, [1894].
My dear Cousin: I had thought to write to you
long before this in answer to your kind letter which
I was so glad to receive, and to thank you for the
beautiful little Ixiok which you sent me: but I have
been ver>' busy since the beginning of the New Year.
The publication of my little story in the Youtit's
Companion has brought me a large number of letters,
— last week I received sixty-one I — and besides
replying to some of these letters, I have many lessons
to leam, among them Arithmetic and Latin; and.
you know, Cicsar is Oesar still, imperious and
tyrannical, and if a little girl would understand so
great a man. and the wars and conquests of which
he tells in his beautiful Latin language, she must
study much and think much, and study and thought
require time.

274

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Oct. 23/04

I shall prize the little book always, not only for its
own value; but because of its associations with you.
It is a delight to think of you as the giver of one of
your books into which, 1 am sure, you have wrought
your own thoughts and feelings, and I thank you
very much for remembering me in such a very
beautiful way. , , ,

In February Helen and Miss Sullivan returned to
Tuscumbia, They spent the rest of the spring read-
ing and studying. In the summer they attended
the meeting at Chautauqua of the American
Association for the Promotion of the Teaching of
Speech to the Deaf, where Miss Sullivan read a
paper on Helen Keller's education.

In the Tall Helen and Miss Sullivan entered the
Wright-Humason School in New York, which makes
a specialty of lip-reading and voice-culture. The
"singing lessons" were to strengthen her voice.
She had taken a few piano lessons at the Perkins
Institution. The experiment was interesting, but
of course came to little.

TO MISS CAROLINE DERBY

The Wright-Humason School,

42 West 76th St-

New York, Oct. 33, iSg4H

, , . The school is very pleasant, and bless

you I it is quite fashionable. . . , I study

Arithmetic, English Literature and United States

Aa. i4\

LETTERS

2SS

HistoTj' as T did last winter. I also keep a diary.
I enjoy my singing lessons with Dr. Huniason more
than I can say, 1 expect to take piano lessons
some time H . . .

Last Saturday our kind teachers planned a
delightful trip Lo Be<:!loe's Island to see Bartholdi's
great statue of Liberty enlightening the worlds
, , , The ancient cannon^ which look seaward,
wear a very menacing expression; but I doubt if
there is any un kindness in their rusty old hearts.

Liberty is a gigantic figure of a woman in Greek
draperies, holding in her right hand a torch, . . .
A spiral stairway leads from the base of this pedestal
to the torch. We climbed up to the head which
will hold forty persons, and viewed the scene on
which Liberty gazes day and nighty and 0, how
wonderful it was I We did not wonder that the great
French artist thought the place worthy to be the
home of his grand ideal. The glorious bay lay calm
and beautiful in the October sunshine, and the ships
came and went like idle dreams ; those seaward going
slowly disappeared like elcmds that change from
gold to grayi those homeward coming sped more
quickly like birds that seek their mother's nest. . . ,

TO M153 CAROLINE DERBT

Thk Wright-Humason School.
New York, March 15, 1895.
. , T think I have improved a httle in Up-
reading, though 1 still hnd it very difficult to read

§26

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Afar, ij.'ffj

fapid speech ; but I am sure I shall succeed some day
if 1 only persevere. Dr. Humason is still trying to
improve my speech, Oh» Carrie, how I should
like to speak like other people ! 1 should be willing
to work night and day if it could only be accom-
plished. Think what a joy it would be to all of my
friends to hear me speak naturally I ! I wonder why
it is so difficult and perplexing for a deaf child to
learn to speak when it is so easy for other people ;
but I am sure I shall speak perfectly some time if I
am only patient. , , .

Although I have been so busy, I have found time
to read a good deal, . _ . I have lately read
" WimelmTell" by Schiller, and "The Lost Vestal/"
, , . Now I am reading "Nathan the Wise" by
Lessing and " King Arthur " by Miss Mulock.

, . , You know our kind teachers take us to
see everything which they think will interest us,
and we Icam a great deal in that delightful way.
On George Washington's birthday we all went to
the Dog Show, and although there was a great crowd
in the Madison Squ;ire Garden, and despite the
bewilderment caused by the variety of sounds made
by the dog-orchestra, which was very confusing to
those who could hear them, wc enjoyed the after-
noon very much. Among the dogs which received
the most attention were the bull-dogs. They per-
mitted themselves startling liberties when any one
caressed them, crowding themselves almost into
one's arms and helping themselves without ceremony
to kisses, apparently unconscious of the impropriety
of their conduct. Dear me, what unbeautiful little
beasts they are ! But they are so good natured and
friendly, one cannot help hking them.

Act. 14]

LETTERS

121

TO MRS, KATE ADAMS KCLLER

Dr. Humason, Teacher, and I left the others at
the Dog Show and went to a reception given by
the " Metropolitan Clnh, '' . , , Tt is sometimes
called the "Millionaires' Club." The building is
magnificent, being built of white marble; the rooms
are large and splendidly furnished; but I must
confess, so much splendor is rather oppressive to
me; and 1 tlidn't envy the millionaires in the least
all the happiness their gorgeous surroundings ar**
supposed to bring them. , , .

^ New York, March 31, 1895,

I , • . Teacher and I spent the afternoon at

[^ Mr, Hutton*s» and had a most delightful time !

. . . We met Mr. Clemens and Mr. Howells
there! I had kno^-n about them for a long time;
but I had never thought that I should see them,
and talk to them; and 1 can scarcely realize now
that this great pleasure has been mine I But,
much as I wonder that I, only a little girl of fourteen,
should come in contact with so many distinguished
people^ I do realize that I am a very happy child,
and very grateful for the many beautiful privileges
I have enjoyed. The two distinguished authors
were very gentle and kind, and I could not tell
which of thera I loved best. Mr. Clemens told
us many entertaining stories, and made us laugh
till we cried, I only wish you could have seen and
heard him I He told us that he would go to Europe

92S

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [ii/cr j/."p5

in a few days to bring his wife and his daughter,
Jeanne, back to America, because Jeanne, who is
studying in Paris, has learned so much in throe
years and a half that if he did not bring her home,
she would soon know more than he did. T think
Mark Twain is a very appropriate ytom de plume for
Mr. Clemens because it has a funny and quaint
sound, and goes well with his amusing writings, and
its nautical significance suggests the deep and
beautiful things that he has written. I think be
is very handsome indeed. , . . Teacher said
she thought he looked something like Paradcuski.
(If that is the way to spell the name.) Mr. Howells
told me a little al>out Venice, which is one of his
favorite cities, and spoke very tenderly of his dear
little girl, Winnifrcd, who is now with God. lie
has another daughter, named Mildred, who knows
Carrie, 1 might have seen Mrs. Wiggin, the sweet
author of "Birds' Christmas Carol," but she had
a dangerous cough and couki not come. 1 was
much disappointed not to see her ; but I hope I shall
have that pleasure some other time. Mr. Hutton
gave me a lovely little glass, shaped like a thistle,
which belonged to his dear mother, as a souvenir
of my delightful visit. We also met Mr. Rogers
. , , who kindly left his carriage to bring us
home.

When the Wright-Humason School closed for the
summer, Miss Sulhvan and Helen went South.

LETTERS M9

TO MRS- LAURENCE BUTTON

TuscuMBU, Alabama. July ag, 1895

. , . I am spending my vacation very quietly
and pleasantly at my beautiful, sunny home, with
my loving parents, my darling little sister and my
small brother, Phillips My precious teacher is
with mc too, and so of course I am happy I read
a little, walk a Ettle, write a little and play with the
children a great deal, and the days slip by delight-
fully I , . .

My friends are so pleased with the improvement
which I made in speech and lip-reading last year,
that it has been decided best for me to continue my
studies in New York another year I am delighted
at the prospect of spending another year in your
great city I used to think that I should never
feel '*at home" in New York; but since I have made
the acquaintance of 30 many people, and can look
back to such a bright and successful winter there,
I find myself looking forward to next year, and
anticipating still brighter and better times in the
Metropolis

Please give my kindest love to Mr Hutton. and
Mrs Riggs and Mr Warner too, although 1 have
never had the pleasure of knowing him personally
As I listen Venicewards, I hear Mr Mutton's pen
dancing over tht pages of his new book It is a
pleasant sound because it is full of promise How
niuch I shall enjoy reading it I

Please pardon me, my dear Mrs Hutton, for send*
ing you a typewritten letter across the ocean I
have tried several times to write with a pencil on
my little writing machine since 1 came home; but
I have found it very difficult to do so on account of

a^o THE STORY OF MY LIFE [cw. /ff. '95

the heat The moisture of my hand soils and blurs
the paper so dreadfully, that I am compelled to
use my typewriter altogether And it is not my
''Remington" either, but a naughty little thing
that gets out of order on the slightest provocation,
and cannot be induced to make a period . . .

TO MRS, WILLIAM THAW

New York, October 16, 1895,
Here w© are once more in the great metropohs !
We left Hulton Friday night and arrived here
Saturday morning. Our friends were greatly sur-
prised to see us, as they had not expected us before
the last of this month. I rested Saturday afternoon,
for I was very tired, and Sunday I visited with my
schoolmates, and now that 1 feel quite rested, I
am going to write to you ; for I know you will want
to hear that we reached New York safely. We
had to change cars at Philadelphia: but we did not
mind it much. After we had had our breakfast,
Teacher asked one of the train-men in the station if
the New York train was made up. He said no. it
would not be called for about fifteen minutes; so
we sat down to wait ; but in a moment the man came
back and asked Teacher if we would like to go to the
train at once. She said we would, and he took
us way out on the track and put \is on board our
train. Thus we avoided the rush and had a nice
quiet visit before the train started. Was that not
very kind ? So it always is. Some one is ever ready
to scatter little acts of kindness along our pathway,
making it smooth and pleasant. , , .

A^.i^

LETTERS

33*

We had a quiet but very pleasant time in Hulton,
Mr. Wade is just as dear and good as ever I He has
lately had several books printed in England for me,
"Old Mortality;' ^"The Castle of Otranto" and
"King of No-land-" . . .

TO MISS CAROLINE DERBY

Nfiw York, December 29, i&95-

. , . Teacher and I have been very gay of late.
We have seen our kind friends. Mrs, Dodge, Mr. and
Mrs, Hutton, Mrs. Riggs and her husband, and met
many distinguished people, among whom were Miss
Ellen Terry, Sir Henry Irving and Mr. Stockton I
Weren't we very fortunate ? Miss Terry was lovely.
She kissed Teacher and said, " I do not know whether
I am glad to see you or not ; for I feel so ashamed of
myself when I think of how much you have done
for the little gtrl, " We also met Mr. and Mrs. Terry,
Miss Terry's brother and his wife. I thought her
beauty angellic. and oh, what a clear, beautiful voice
she had ! We saw Miss Terry again with Sir Henry
in " King Charies the First, '* a week ago last Friday,
and after the play they kindly let me feel of them
and get an ideaof how they locked. How noble and
kingly the King was. especially in his misfortunes !
And how pretty and faithful the poor Queen was !
The play seemed so real, we almost forgot where we
were, and believed we were watching the genuine
scenes as they were acted so long ago. The last act
affected us most deeply, and we all wept, wondering
how the executioner could have the heart to tear
the King from his loving wife's arms.

9S2 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [M.^'ptf

I have just finished reading "Ivanhoe." It was
very exciting ; but I must say I did not enjoy it very
much. Sweet Rebecca, with her strongs brave
spirit and her pure, generous nature, was the only
character which thoroughly won my admiration.
Now I am reading "Stories from Scottish History,"
and they are very thrillmg and absorbing I , . .

The next two letters were written just afi^r the
death of Mr. John P. Spaulding.

TO MRS. GEORGB H. BRADFORD

New York, February 4, 1896,
What can I say which will make you understand
how much Teacher and I appreciate your thoughtful
kindness in sending us those little souvenirs of the
dear room where we first met the best and kindest
of friends? Indeed, you can never know all the
comfort you have given us. We have put the dear
picture on the mantel-piece in our room where we
can see it every day, and I often go and touch it,
and somehow I cannot help feeling that our beloved
friend is very near to me, • . » It was very
hard to take up our school work again, as if
nothing had happened; but I am sure it is well
that we have duties which must be done, and
which take our minds away for a time at least
from our sorrow. . ,

Aet. ij]

LETTERS

1J3

TO MISS CAROLINE DERBY

New York, March snd, i8g6.
, Wc miss dear King Join sadly^ It
was so hard to lose him. he was the best and
kindest of friends, and I do not know what we
shall do without him. , , ,

We went to a poultry-show > - . and the
man there kindly permitted us to feel of the birds.
They were so tame» they stood perfectly still
when I handled them. I saw great big turkeys,
geese, guineas, ducks and many others.

Almost two weeks ago we called at Mr. Hutton's
and had a delightful time. Wc always do I We
met Mr. Warner, the writer, Mr. Mabic, the editor o!
the Outlook and other pleasant people. I am
sure you would like to know Mr. and Mrs. Hutton,
they are so kind and interesting. I can never tell
you how much pleasure they have given us.

Mr. Warner and Mr. Burroughs, the great lover of
nature, came to see us a few days after, and we had a
delightful talk with them. They were both very,
very dear 1 Mr, Burroughs told me about his home
near the Hudson, and what a happy place it must be I
I hope we shall visit it some day. Teacher has read
me his lively stories about his boyhood, and I
enjoyed them greatly. Have you read the beautiful
poem, " Waiting" ? T know it, and it makes me feel
so happy. It has such sweet thoughts. Mr. Warner
showed me a scarf-pin with a beetle on it which was
made in Eg^'pt fifteen hundred years before Christ,
and told me that the beetle meant immortality to
the Egyptians because il wrapped itself up and went
to sleep and came out again in a new form, thus
renewing itself, , . ,

234 ^HE STORY OF MY LIFE \yuiy is, "ptf

TO MISS CAKOLIKB DBRD7

New York. April 35^ 1896,
, . . My studies are the same as they were
when I saw you, except that 1 have taken up French
with a French teacher who comes three times a week.
I read her lips almost exclusively, (she does not know
the manual alphabet) and we get on quite well, I
have read "l*e M^decin Malgr^ Lui, " a very good
French comedy by Molifere, with pleasure; and they
say I speak French pretty well now, and German
also. Anyway, French and German people under-
stand what I am trying to say, and that is very
encouraging. In voice-training I have stiU the same
old difficulties to contend against ; and the fulfilment
of my wish to speak well seems O, so far away !
Sometimes I feel sure that I catch a faint glimpse of
the goal I am striving for; but in another minute a
bend in the road hides it from my view, and 1 am
again left wandering in the dark ! But I try hard
not to be discouraged. Surely we shall all find at
last the ideals we ore seeking. . , .

TO UE. JOHN HIT2

,BaEwSTER, Mass. July 15. iSg6.

. > , As to the book, I am sure I shall enjoy it
very much when I am admitted^ by the magic of
Teacher's dear fingers, into the companionship of
the two sisters who went to the Immortal Fountain,

rti 1 sit by the window writing to you, it is so
lovely to have the soft, cool breezes fan my cheek.

Art, tti]

and to feel that the hard work of last year is over !
Teacher seems to feel benefitted by the change too;
for she is already beginning to look like her dear old
self. We only need you, dear Mr. Hitz, to complete
our happiness. Teacher and Mrs, Hopkins both
say you must come as soon as you can I We will
try to make you comfortable.

Teacher and I spent nine days at Philadelphia,
Have you ever been at Dr. Crouter's Institution?
Mr. Howes has probably given you a full account of
our doings. We were busy all the time ; we attended
the meetings and talked with hundreds of people,
among whom were dear Dr. Bell, Mr, Bancrji of
Calcutta^ Monsieur Magnat of Paris with whom I
conversed in French exclusively, and many other
distinguished persons. We had looked forward to
seeing you there, and so we were greatly disap-
pointed that you did not come. We think of you so»
so often 1 and our hearts go out to you in tenderest
sympathy ; and you know better than this poor letter
can tell you how happy we always are to have you
with us! 1 made a "speech" on July eighth, telling
the members of the Association what an unspeakable
blessing speech has been to me, and urging them to
give every little deaf child an opportunity to learn
to speak.* Every one said I spoke very well and
intelligibly. After my little "speech," we attended
a reception at which over six hundred people were
present. I must confess 1 do not like such lat^e
receptions; the people crowd so» and we have to do
so much talking; and yet it is at receptions like
the one in Philadelphia that we often meet friends
whom we Icam to love afterwards. We left the city
last Thursday night, and arrived in Brewster

*See page SQ^^

A36 THE STORY OF MY LIFE I5.irf.j/pd

Friday afternoon. We missed the Cape Cod train
Friday morning, and so we came down to Province-
town in the steamer Longfellow, I am glad we did
so; for it was lovely and cool on the water, and
Boston Harbor is always interesting.

We spent about three weeks in Boston » after
leaving New York, knd I need not tell you we had a
most deliglitful time. We visited our good friends,
Mr, and Mrs, Chambcrlin, at Wrcntham, out in the
country, where they have a lovely home. Their
house stands near a channing lake where we went
boating and canoeing, which was great fiui. We
also went in bathing several times. Mr. and Mrs.
Chamberlin celebrated the 17th of June by giving a
picnic to their literary friends. There were about
forty persons present, all of whom were writers and
publishers. Our friend, Mr, Alden, the editor of
Harper's was there, and of course we enjoyed his
society very much- - , *

TO CHARLES DUDLBT WARNETE

Brewster, Mass., September 3, i8g6,
, . , I have been meaning to write to you all
ETimmer; there were many things I wanted to tell
you, and I thought perhaps you would like to hear
about our vacation by the seaside, and our plans for
next year; but the happy, idle days shpped away so
quickly, and there were so many pleasant things to
do every moment, that I never found tiine to clothe
my thougiit in words, and send them to you. 1

Att.i6l

LETTERS

337

wonder what becomes of lost opportunities. Per-
haps our guardian angel gathers Ihem up as we drop
them, and will give them back to us in the beautiful
aoinetimc when we have grown wiser, and learned
how to use them rightly. But, however this may be,
I cannot now write the letter which has Lain in my
thought i<yr you so long. My heart is too full of
sadness to dwell upon the happiness the summer has
brought me. My father is dead. He died last
Saturday at my home in Tuscurabia. and I was not
there^ My own dear loving father ! Oh, dear
friend, how shall I ever bear it J , , .

On the first of October Miss Keller entered the
Cambridge School for Young Ladies, of which Mr.
Arthur Oilman is Principal. The "examinations"
mentioned in this letter were merely tests given in
the school, but as they were old Harvard papers, it
is evident that in some subjects Miss Keller was
already fairly well prepared for RadclifTe.

TO MRS. LAURENCE HUTTON

3J Concord Avenue, Cawbridge, Mass.

October 8, 18915.
. , . I got u[. early this morning, so that I
could write you a few lines. I know you want to
hear how 1 like my school. I do wish you could
come and see for yourself what a beautiful school
it is I There are about a hundred girls, and they are
all so bright and happy ; it is a joy to be with them.

S3i THE STORY OF MY LIFE

You will be glad to hear thjit T passed my examina-
tions successfully, I have been examined in English
German, French, and Greek and Roman history.
They were the entrance examinations for Harvard
College : so 1 feel pleased to think I could pass them,
This year is going to be a very busy one for Teacher
and myself. I am studying Arithmetic, Enghsh
Literature, Enghsh History> German, Latin, and
advanced geography ; there is a great deal of prepara-
tory reading required, and, as few of the books are
in raised print, poor Teacher has to spell them all out
to me ; and that means hard work.

You must tell Mr, Howells when you see him, that
we are living in his house, , » .

to mrs. william thaw

37 Concord Avenue, Cambridge, MasSh,
December 2, 1S96.

, , . It takes mc a long time to prepare my
lessons, because I have to have every word of them
spelled out in my hand. Not one of the text-
books which 1 am obliged to use is in raised print;
50 of course my work is harder than it would be
if I could read my lessons over by myself. But it
is harder for Teacher than it is for me because the
strain on her poor eyes is so great, and I cannot help
worrying about them. Sometimes it really seems
as if the task which we have set ourselves were
more than we can accomplish; but at other times
I enjoy my work more than 1 can say.

It is such a delight to be with the other girls, and

Art.i6l

LETTERS

239

do everything that they do. I study Latin. German,
Arithmetic and English History', all of which 1 enjoy
except Arithmetic. I am afraid I have not a mathe-
matical mind; for my figures always manage to get
into the wrong places ! . , .

TO MRS. LAORHNCB BUTTON

Cambridge, Mass.. May 3. 1S97.

, . . You know 1 am trying very hard to get
through with the reading for the examinations in
June, and this, in addition to my regular school-
work keeps me awfully busy. But Johnson, and
"The Plague" and everything else must wait a
few minutes this afternoon, while I say, thank you,
my dear Mrs. Hutton. . , ,

, . » What a splendid time we had at the
"Players' Club" I always thought clubs were
dull, smoky places, where men talked politics, and
told endless stories, all about themselves and their
wonderful exploits: but now I sec, I must have
been quite wrong, . . ,

TO MR. JOHK HITS

Wrentham, Mass. July 9, 1S97.

Teacher and 1 are going to spend the
Bommer at Wrentham, Mass. with our friends, the
Chamberlins, 1 think you remember Mr. Chamber-
lin, the "Listener" in the Boston TranscripU They
are dear, kind people. , . ,

^^o

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Feb. 20, 'pS

But I know you want to hear about my examina-
tions. 1 know that you will be glad to hear that I
passed all o£ them successfully^ The subjects I
offered were elementary and advanced German,
French, Latin. English, and Greek and Roman
History, It seems almost too good to be true, does
it not? All the time I was preparing for the great
ordeal, I could not suppress an inward fear and
trembling lest I should fail, and now it ts aa
unspeakable relief to know that I have passed the
examinations with credit. But what I consider
my crown of success is the happiness and pleasure
that my victory has brought dear Teacher, Indeed.
I feel that the success is hers more than mine; for
she is my constant inspiration, . -

At the end of September Miss Sullivan and Miss
Keller returned to the Cambridge School, where
they remained until early in December. Then the
interference of Mr, Gilman resulted in Mrs. Keller's
withdrawing Miss Helen and her sister, Miss Mildred,
from, the school. Miss Sullivan and her pupil went
to Wrentham, where they worked under Mr- Merton
S. Keith, an enthusiastic and skilful teacher*

TO MRS- LAURENCB BUTTON

Wrentham, February ao, i8g8.
. , . I resumed my studies soon after your
departure, and in a very little while we were work-
ing as menily as if the dreadful experience of a

LETTERS

341

month ago had been but a dream. I cannot tell you
how much I enjoy the country. It is so fresh, and
peaceful and free ! I do think I could work all
day long without feeling tired if they would let me.
There are so many pleasant things to do^ — not always
very easy things, — much of my work in Algebra
and Geometry is hard: but T love it all. especially
Greek, Just think. I shall soon finish my grammar 1
Then comes the "Iliad>" What an inexpressible
joy it will be to read about Achilles, and Ulysses,
and Andromache and Athene, and the rest of my
old friends in their own glorious language I ! I think
Greek is the loveliest language that I know any-
thing about. If it is true that the violin is the
most perfect of musical instruments, then Greek
is the violin of human thought,

We have had some splendid tobogganing this
month. Every morning, before lesson-time, we
all go out to the steep hill on the northern shore of
the lake near the house, and coast for an hour or
so. Some one balances the toboggan on the very
crest of the hill, while we get on, and when we are
ready, off we dash down the side of the hil! in a
headlong rush, and, leaping a projection, plunge
into a snow-drift and go skimming far across the
pond at a tremendous rate 1 . . .

TO Mas, LAURENCE HUTTON

[Wrentham] April 12. 189S
. . . I am glad Mr. Keith is so well pleased
with my prepress. It is true that Algebra and

^4^

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Moy79.'9S

Geometry are growing easier all the time, especiaUy
algebra; and 1 have just received books in raised
print which will greatly facilitate my work, . , <
I find I get on faster, and do better work with
Mr. Keith than I did in the classes at the Cambridge
School, and I think it was well that 1 gave up that
kind of work. At any rate, I have not been idle
since I left school; I have accomplished more, and
been happier tlian I ccoUd have been there. . . ,

TO MES» LAURENCE HUTTOK

[Wrentham] May 39. 1898.

. , . My work goes on bravely. Each day is
filled to the brim with hard study; for 1 am anxious
to accomplish as much as possible before 1 put
away my books for the summer vacation. You will
be pleased to hear that I did three problems in
Geometry yesterday without assistance, Mr. Keith
and Teacher were quite enthusiastic over the achieve-
ment, and I must confess, I felt somewhat elated
my^lf. Now I feel as if I should succeed in doing
something in mathematics, although I cannot see
why it is so very important to know that the lines
dra^Ti from the extremities of the base of an isosceles
triangle to the middle points of the opposite sides
are equal [ The knowledge doesn't make Ufe any
sweeter or happier, does it? On the other hand,
when we leam a new word, it is the key to untold
treasures. , . ,

TO CHARLES DUDLEY WARKER

Wrentham, Mass.. June 7, 1898,
I am afraid you will conclude that I am not very
anxious for a tandem after all, since I have let
nearly a week pass without answering your letter
in regard to the kind of wheel 1 should like. But
really. I have been so constantly occupied with my
studies since we returned from New York, that I
have not had time even to think of the fun it would
be to have a bicycle I You see, I am anxious to
accomplish as much as possible before the long
summer vacation begins. I am glad, though, that
it is nearly time to put away my books; for the sun-
shine and flowers, and the lovely lake in front of our
house are doing their best to tempt me away from
my Greek and Mathematics, especially from the
latter I I am sure the daisies and buttercups have
as little use for the science of Geometry as I, in
spite of the fact that they so beautifully illustrate
its principles.

But bless me, I mustn't forget the tandem ! The
truth is, I know very little about bicycles, I have
only ridden a ''sociable/* which is very different from
the ordinary tandem. The ''sociable" is safer,
perhaps, than the tandem; but it is very heavy an J
awkward, and has a way of taking up the greater
part of the road. Besides, I have been told that
" sociables'' cost more than other kinds of bicycles.
My teacher and other friends think I could ride a
Columbia tandem in the country with perfect safety.
They also think your suggestion about a fixed handle-
bar a good one. I ride with a divided skirt, and so
does my teacher; but it would be easier for her to
mount a man's wheel than for me; so, if it could be

244

THE STORY OF MY LIFE ioa.stj.'pS

arranged to have the ladies' seat behind, I think it
would be better, , . .

TO MISS CAROLINE DERBY

Wrentham, September ii, 1S98.

, . , I am out of dours all the time, rowing,
swimming, riding and doing a multitude of other
pleasant things. This morning I rode over twelve
miles on my tandem ! I rode on a rough road, and
fell off three or four times, and am now awfully lame I
But the weather and the scenery were so beautiful^
and it was such fun to go scooting over the smoother
part of the road, 1 didn't mind the mishaps in the
least,

I have really learned to swim and dive — after a
fashion ! I can swim a little under water, and do
almost anything I like, without fear of getting
drowned I Isn't that fine ? It is almost no effort
for mc to row around the lake, no matter how heavy
the load may be. So you can well imagine how
strong and brown I am. , - .

TO MRS. LAURBWCE HUTTON

13 Newbury Street. Bostow,
October 33, 1898,
This IS the first opportunity I have had to write
to you since we came here last Monday, We have
been in such a whirl ever since we decided to como

Att^j^

LETTERS

S45

to Boston; it seemed as if we shoulil never get
fiettled. Poor Teacher has had her hands fiUl^
attending to movers, and express-men, and all sorts
of people, I wish it were not such a bother to
move, especially as we have to do it so often I , , „
. • , Mr. Keith comes here at half past three
every day except Saturday. He says he prefers to
come here for the present, I am reading the " Iliad, "
and the "JEneid" and Cicero, besides doing a lot
in Geometry and Algebra, The "Iliad" is beautiful
with all the truth, and grace and simplicity of a won-
derfully childlike people, while the '*^neid" is more
stately and reserved. It is like a beautiful maiden,
who always lived in a palace, surrounded by a mag-
nificent court; while the "Iliad" is like a splendid
youth, who has had the earth for his playground.

The weather has been awfully dismal all the week;
but to-day is beautiful, and our room floor is flooded
with sunlight. By and by we shaD take a little walk
in the Public Gardens, I wish the 'Wrentham woods
were round the comer ! But alas I they are not,
and I shall have to content myself with a stroll in
the Gardens, Somehow, after the great fields and
pastures and lofty pine-groves of the country^ they
seem shut-in and conventional. Even the trees
seem citiiied and self-conscious. Indeed, I doubt if
they are on speaking terms with their countiy
cousins I Do you know, I cannot help feeling sorry
for these trees with all their fashionable airs ? They
are like the people whom they see every day» who
prefer the crowded, noisy city to the quiet and free-
I dom of the country. They do not even suspect how

I circumscribed thetr hves are. They look down

I pityingly on the country-folk, who have never had

24^

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [£»«. 6, '<^

an opportunity "to see the great world/' Oh m/l
if they only realized their limitations, they would
flee for their lives to the wootjs and fields. But what
nonsense is this ! You will think I'm pining away
for my beloved Wrcntham, which is true in one sense
and not in another, I do miss Red Farm and the dear
ones there dreadfully; but I am not unhappy. £
have Teacher and my books, and I have the certainty
that something sweet and good will come to me in
this great city, where human beings struggle so
bravely all their lives to wring happiness from cniel
circumstances. Anyway, I am gtad to have my
share in life, whether it be bright or sad. , . ,

TO MRS, WILLIAM THAW

Boston, December Gth. 1998.
My teacher and I had a good laugh over the girls'
frolic. How funny they must have looked in their
"rough-rider" costumes, mounted upon their fiery
steeds ! "Slim*' would describe them, if they were
anything like the saw-horses I have seen. What
jolly times they must have at - — - — I I cannot
help wishing sometimes that I could have some of
the fun that other girls have. How quickly I should
lock up all these mighty warriors, and hoary sages,
and impossible heroes, who are now almost my only
cocnpanions ; and dance and sing and frolic hke other
girls ! But I must not waste my time wishing idle
^v-ishes ; and after all my ancient friends are very wise
and interesting, and 1 usually enjoy their society

LETTERS

very much indeed. It is only once in a ^reat while
that I feel discontented, and allow myself to wish for
things i cannot hope for in this life. But, as you
Icnow, my heart is usually trimful of happiness.
The thought that my dear Heavenly Father Is always
near, giving mc abundantly of sU those things, which
truly enrich life and make it sweet and beautiful,
makes every deprivation seem of little moment
compared with the countless blessings I enjoy,

^^^^P 13 Newbury Street, Boston,

^^^^" December igth, 1898.

W ... I realize now what a selfish, greedy girl

I 1 was to ask that my cup of happiness should be

I filled to overflowing, without stopping to think how

I many other people's cups were quite empty. I feel

I heartily ashiimed of my thoughtlessness. One of the

I childish illusions, which it has boen hardest for me

I to get rid of, is that we have only to make our wishes

P known in order to have them granted. But I am

slowly learning that there is not happiness enough in
the world for everyone to have all that he wants;
and it grieves me to think that I should have
forgotten, even for a moment, that I already have
more than my share, and that like poor little
Oliver Twist I should have asked for " more," , . .

TO MRS- WILLIAM THAW

248

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [?«'»■ i7/s?g

TO MRS. LAURENCB HUTTON"

T2 Kewhury Street, Boston,
December 22, [1898-]
. , . I suppose Mn Keith writes you the M^ork-
a-day news. If so, you loiow that I have finished
all the geometry, and nearly all the Algebra required
for the Harvard examinations, and after Christmas
I shall begin a very careful review of both subjects.
You will be glad to hear that I enjoy Mathematics
now. Why, I can do Jong, complicated quadratic
equations in my head quite easily, and it is great
fun I I think Mr. Keith is a wonderful teacher, and
I feel very grateful to him for having made me see
the beauty of Jlalhematics, Next to my own dear
teacher, he has done more than any one else to
enrich and broaden my mind. . . ,

TO MRS, LAURENCE HUTTON

12 Newburv Strest, Boston,
January 17, 1899,
, , . Have you seen Kipling's ''Dreaming
True," or ''Kitchener's School?" It is a very strong
poem and set me dreaming too, 0£ course you
have read about the '^Gordon Memorial College,"
which the English people are to erect at Khartoum.
Wlitle I was thinking over the blessings that would
come to the people of Egypt through this college,
and eventually to England herself, there came into
my heart the strong desire that my own dear coun-
try should in a similar wav convert the terrible loss

Ati,i8\

LETTERS

S49

of her brave sons on the "Maine" into a like blessing
to the people of Cuba. Would a college at Havana
not be the noblest and most endy.ring monument
that could be raised to the brave men of the ''Maine»"
as well as a source of infinite good to all concerned ?
Imagine entering the Havana harbor, and having
the pier, where the ''Maine*' was anchored on that
dreadful night, when she was so mysteriously
destroyed, pointed out to you, and being told that
the great, beautiful building overlooking the spot
was the "Maine Memorial College," erected by the
American people, and having for its object the
education both of Cubans and Spaniards! What
a glorious triumph such a monument woidd be of
the best and highest instincts of a Christian nation !
In it there would be no suggestion of hatred or
revenge, nor a trace of the old-time belief that
might makes right. On the other hand, it would
be a pledge to the world that we intend to stand
by our declaration of war, and give Cuba to the
Cubans, as soon as we have fitted them to assume
the duties and responsibilities of a self-governing
people- - - .

TO MR. JOPN HITZ

:2 Newdury Street, Boston,
February 3, 1899.
, . . I had an exceedingly interesting experi-
ence last Monday. A kind friend took me over in
the morning to the Boston Art Museum. She had
previously obtained permission from General Loring

a so

THE STORY OF MY LIFE tf^.j.'w

Supt, of the Museum, for me to toucli the
statues, especially those which represented my old
friends in the "Iliad** and "Aeneid.'^ Was that not
lovely? While I was there. General Loring himself
came in, and showed mc some of the most beautiful
statues, among which were the Venus of Medici,
the Minerva of the Parthenon^ Diana, in her hunt-
ing costume, with her band on the quiver and a
doe by her side, and the unfortunate Laocoon and
his two littTe sons, struggling in the fearful coils of
two huge serpents, and stretching their arms to the
skies with heart-rending cries. I also saw Apollo
Betvidere. He had just slain the Python and was
standing hy a great pillar of rock, extending his
graceful hand in triumph over the terrible snakc.
Oh, he was simply beautiful ! Venus entranced
me. She looked as if she had just risen from the
foam of the sea, and her loveliness was like a strain
of heavenly music. I also saw ]X)or Niobe with
her youngest child clinging close to her while she
implored the cruel goddess not to kill her last
darling, I almost cried» it was all so real and
tragic. General Loring kindly showed me a copy
of one of the wonderful bronze doors of the Baptistr>-
of Florence, and I felt of the graceful pillars, resting
on the backs of fierce lions. So you see, 1 had a
foretaste of the pleasure which I hope some day
to have of visiting Florence. My friend said, she
would sometime show me the copies of the marbles
brought away by Lord Elgin from the Parthenon.
But somehow^ I should prefer to see the originals
in the place where Genius meant them to remain,
not only as a hymn of praise to the gods, but
also as a monument of the glory of Greece. It
really seems wrong to snatch such sacred

things away from the sanctuary of the Past where

they belong. . - _

TO MR. WILLIAU WAD2

Boston", February 15th. ifitjg.

Why, bless you, I thought I wrote to you the day
after the "Eclogues" arrived, and told you how
glad I was to have them I Perhaps you never got
that letter. At any rale, I tliank you, dear friend,
for taking such a world of trouble for me. You
will be glad to hear that the books from England
are coming now» I already have the seventh and
eighth books of the " Aeneid " and one book of
the "Iliad/' all of which is most fortunate, as 1 have
come almost to the end of my embossed text-books.

It gives mc great pleasure to hear how much is
being done for the deaf -blind. The more I learn of
them, the more kindness I find. Why, only a little
while ago people thought it quite impossible to teach
the deaf-blind anythijig ; but no sooner was it proved
possible than himdrcds of kind, sympathetic hearts
were fired with the desire to help thcm» and now
we see how many of those poor, unfortunate persons
are being taught to see the beauty and reality of
life. Love always finds its way to an imprisoned
soul, and leads it out into the world of freedom and
intelligence I

As to the two-handed alphabet, I think it is much
easier for those who have sight than the manual
alphabet; for most of the letters look like the large
capitals in books ; but I think when it comes to teach-

2$2

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [K-ir, j. 99

ing a deaf -blind person to spell, the manual alphabet
isnmchinoreconvenient,andlessconspicuous» . . .

TO UKS. LAURBNCS UUTTON

12 Newbury Street. Boston,
March 5, 1S99,

. ■ , I am now sure that 1 shall be ready for
ray examinations in June, There is but one cloud
in my sky at present; but that is one which casts
a dark shadow over my life, and makes me very
anxious at times. My teacher's eyes are no better;
indeed, I think they grow more troublesome, though
she is very brave and patient, and will not give up.
But it is roost distressing to me to feel that she is
sacrificing her sight for me, I fee! as if I ought to
give up the idea of going to college altogether: for
not all the knowledge in the world could make me
happy, if obtained at such a cost. I do wish,
Mrs. Hutton, you would try to perstiade Teacher
to take a rest, and have her eyes treated. She will
not listen to me,

I have just had some pictures taken, and if they
are good. I would like to send one to Mr. Refers, if
you think he would like to have it. I would like
so much to show him in some way bow deeply I
appreciate all that he is doing for me, and I cannot
think of anything better to do.

Every one here is talking about the Sargent
pictures* It is a wonderful exhibition of portraits,
they say. How I wish I had eyes to see them !
How 1 should delight in their beauty and color I

AeL iS\

LETTERS

= 53

However, I am glad that I am not debarred from
all pleasure in the pictures, I have at least the
satisfaction of seeing them through the eyes of my
friends, whicli is a real pleasure. I am so thankful
that I can rejoice in the beauties, which my friends
gather and put into my hands !

We are all so glad and thankful that Mr, Kipling
did not die I I have his "Jungle-Book" in raised
print, and what a splendid, refreshing book it is!
I cannot help feeling as if 1 knew its gifted author,
Whatareal, manly, lovable nature hia must be I . . .

TO DR, DAvm U» GREER

12 Newbury Street, Boston^
May S, 1899,
. , . Each day brings me all that 1 can possibly
accomplish, and each night brings me rest, and the
sweet thought that 1 am a little nearer to my goal
than ever before. My Greek progresses finely. I
have finished the ninth book of the " Iliad ** and am
just beginning the "Odyssey," I am also reading
the '*Aeneid" and the "Eclogues." Some of my
friends tell me that I am very foohsh to give so
much time to Greek and Latin; but I am sure
they would not think so, if they realizetl what a
wonderful world of experience and thought Homer
and Virgil have opened up to me, I think I shall
enjoy the *'Odyssey" most of all. The "Iliad"
tells of almost nothing but war, and one sometimes
wearies of the clash of spears and the din of battle;
but the "Odyssey" tells of nobler courage — the

aS4

THK STORY OP MY LIFE [May $,'97

courage of a soul sore tried, but steadfast to the
end- I often wonder, as T read these splendid poems
why, at the same time tliat Homer's songs of war
fired the Greeks v^ith valor, his songs ot manly virtue
did not have a stronger influence upon the spiritual
life of the people, Perhaps the reason is, that
thoughts truly great are like seeds cast into the
human mind, and cither lie there unnoticed, or are
tossed ahout and played with, like toys, until.
grown wise through suffering and experience, a race
discovers and cultivates them. Then the world has
advanced one step in its heavenward march.

I am working very hard just now, I intend to
take my examinations in June, and there is a great
deal to be done, before I shall feel ready to meet the
ordeah . , .

You will be glad to hear that my mother, and
little sister and brother are coming north to spend
this summer with me. Wc shall all live together
in a small cottage on one of the lakes at Wrentham,
while my dear teacher takes a much needed rest-
She lias not had a vacation for twelve years, think
of it, and all that time she has been the sunshine of
my lifCp Now her eyes arc troubling her a great
deal, and we all think she ought to be relieved, for
a while, of every care and responsibility. But we
shall not be quite separated ; we shall see each other
every day, I liope. And, when July comes, you can
think of nic as rowing my dear ones aroimd the
lovely lake in the htlle boat you gave mc, the hap-
piest girl m the world 1 . . .

Ati.t8\

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255

TO MRS* LAURBNCB HUTTON

[Boston] May 28th [1899].
' . . , We have had a hard day, Mr, Keith
was here for three hours this afternoon, pouring a
torrent of Latin and Greek into my poor bewildered
brain. I really believe he knows more LaLin and
Greek Grammar than Cicero or Homer ever dreamed
ofl Cicero is splendid, but his orations arc very
difficult to translate. I feel ashamed sometimes,
when I make that eloquent man say what sounds
absurd or insipid ; but how is a school-girl to interpret
such genius? Why» I should have to be a Cicero
to talk like a Cicero I , . ,

Linnie Haguewood is a deaf-blind girl, one of

tbe many whom Mr. William Wade iias helped.
She is being educated by Miss Dora Donald who,
at the beginning of her work with her pupil, was
supplied by Mr, Hits, Su]:ierintendent of the Volta
Bureau, with copies of all documents relating to
Miss Sullivan's work with Miss Keller,

TO lift. WILLIAM WADE.

Wrentfiam, Mass., June g, 1899,

« , . Linnie Haguewood's letter, which you
sent roe some weeks ago, interested me very much.
It seemed to show spontaneity and great sweetneBB
of character. I was a good deal amused by what

256

THE STORY OF MY LIFE U^'^S^gp

she said about history. I am sony she does not
enjoy it; but I too feel sometimes how dark, and
mysterious and even fearful the history of old
peoples, old religions and old forms of govemmenl
really is.

Well» I must confess. I do not like the sign-
language, and I do not think tt would be of much use
to the deaf-blind. T find it very difficult to follow
the rapid motions made by the deaf-mutes, and
besides, signs seem a great hindrance to them in
acquiring the power of using language easily and
freely. Why, I find it hard to understand them
sometimes when they spell on their fingers. On the
wtLole, if they cannot be taught articulation, the
manual alphabet ^eems the best and most convenient
means of communication. At any rate, I am siu^
the deaf-blind cannot learn to use signs with any
degree of facility.

The other day, 1 met a deaf Nor^^egian gentleman,
who knows Ragnhild Kaata and her teacher very
well, and we had a very interesting conversation
about her. He said she was very industrious and
happy. She spins, and does a great deal of fancy
work, and reads, and leads a pleasant, useful life-
Just think, she cannot use the manual alpliabet I
She reads the lips well, and if she cannot understand
a phrase, her friends write it in her hand ; and in this
way slie converses 'with strangers. I cannot mako
out anything TATitten in my hand, so you see,
ahead of me in st

Ragnhi

got

things.

hope I shall see her sometime.

^57

TO MRS. LAURENCB nUTTON

WaBKTHAM, July ag, 1899.
, , 1 passed in all the subjects I offered, and
with credit in advanced Latin. ^ . But I

must confess, I had a hard time on the second day
of my examinations. They would not allow Teacher
to read any of the papers to me ; so the papers were
copied for me in bntille. This arrangement worked
very well in tlie languages, but not nearly so well in
the Mathematics. Consequently, I did not do so well
as I should have done, if Teacher had been allowed to
read the Algebra and Geometry to me. But you
must not think I blame any one. Of course they did
not realize bow difficult and perplexing they were
making the cKaminations for me. How cxjuld they —
they can see and hear, and I suppose they could not
understand matters from my point of view. , . .
Thus far my summer has been sweeter than any-
thing I can remember. My mother, and sister and
little brother have been here five weeks, and our
happiness knows no bounds. Not only do wc enjoy
being together; but we also find our Uttle home most
delightful. 1 do wish you could see the view of the
beautiful lake from our piazza, the islands looking
like httle emerald peaks in the golden sunlight, and
the canoes flitting here and there, like autiunn leaves
in the gentle breeze, and breathe in the peculiarly
delicious fragrance of the woods, which comes like a
murmur from an unknown clune. I cannot help
wondering if it is the same fragrance that greeted
the Norsemen long ago, when, according to tradition,
they visited our shoresman odorous echo of many
centuries of silent growth and decay in flower and
tree. , , ,

358 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [(kt, 20, '99

TO MRS. SAMUEL RICHARD FULLBIL

Wrentham, October 70, 1899.
, . . I suppose it is time for me to tell you
something about our plans for the winter. You
know it has long been my ambition to go to RadcMe,
and receive a degree, as many other girls have done;
but Dean Irwin of Radcliffe, has persuaded me to
take a special course for the present. She said I
had ah^ady shown the world that I could do the
college work, by passing all my examinations suc-
cessfully, in spite of many obstacles. She showed
me how very foolish it would be for me to pursue
a four years* course of study at RadcIifFe, simply to
be like other girls, when I might better be culti-
vating whatever ability I had for writing. She said
she did not consider a degree of any real value, but
thought it was much more desirable to do some-
thing original than to waste one's energies only for
a degree. Her arguments seemed so wise and
practical, that I could not but yield. I found it
hard, very hard, to give up the idea of going to
college ; it had been in my mind ever since I was a
little girl ; but there is no use doing a foolish thing,
because one has wanted to do it a long time, is there ?
But, while we were discussing plans for the winter,
a suggestion which Dr, Hale had made long ago
flashed across Teacher's mind — that I might take
courses somewhat Hke those offered at Radcliffe,
under the instruction of the professors in these
courses. Miss Irwin seemed to have no objection
to this proposal, and kindly offered to see the pro*
fessors and find out if they would give me lessons.
If they will be so good as to teach me and if we have
money enough to do as we have planned, my studies

HELEN KELLER IN 1904

A€t. Tg]

TO MR. JOHK HITZ

this year will be EnglLsh, English Literature of the
L Elizabethan period, Latin and German, . . •

^^^^H 13S Brattle St., Camsridgb,

^^^^^^ Nov. II, iS^f).

r , , , As to the braille question, T cannot tell how

f deeply it distresses me to hear that my statement
I ^-ith regard to the examinations has been doubted.
Ignorance seems to be at the bottom of all these
contradictions. Why, you yourself seem to think
that T taught you American braille, when you do
not know a single letter in the system ! I could
not help laughing when you said you had been writ-
ing to me in American braille^and there you were
writing your letter in English braille I

The facts about the braille examinations are as
follows:

How I passed my Entrance Examinations

for Radclifle College,

On the 39th and 30th of June, 1899, I took my

examinations for Radcliffe College. The first day I

had elementary Greek and advanced Latin, and the

second day Geometry, Algebra and advanced Greek.

The college authorities would not permit Miss

Sullivan to read the examination papers to me; so

Mr. Eugene C. Vining, one of the instructors at the

Perkins Institution for the Blind, was employed to

copy the papers for me in braille, Mr. Vining was a

perfect stranger to me, and could not communicate

with me except by writing in braille. The Proctor

]

26a

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Y^.Tr/pi*

also was a stranger, and did not attempt to com-
mxmicate vnih me in any way; and, as they were
both unfamiliar with my speech, they could not
readily understand what I said to them.

However, the braille worked well enough in the
languages; but when it came to Geometry and
Algebra, it was different. 1 was Eorely perplexed,
and felt quite discouraged, and wasled much
precious time, especially in Algebra. It is true tliat
i am perfectly familiar with all Htcrary braille-
English, American, and New York Point; but the
method of writing the various signs used in Geometry
and Al^bra in the tliree systems k very diHerent,
and two days before the examinations T knew only
the English method. I had used it all through my
school work, and never any other system.

In Geometry, my chief difficulty was, that 1 had
always been accustomed lo reading the propositions
in Line Print, or having them spelled into my hand;
and somehow, although the propositions were right
before mc, yet the braille confused me, and I could
not fix in my mind clearly what I was reading.
But, when I took up Algebra, I hnd a harder time
still — I was terribly handicapped by my imperfect
knowledge of the notation. The signs, which I
had learned the day before, and which 1 thought
I knew perfectly, confused me. Consequently my
work was painfully slow, and I was obliged to read
the examples over and over before I could form a
clear idea what I was required to do. Indeed, I am
not sure now that I read all the signs correctly,
especially as I was much distressed, and found it
very hard to keep my wits about me. , . .

Now there is one more fact, which I wish to state

Awt. jpj

LETTERS

a6i

very plainly, in regard to what Mr. Oilman wrote
to you, I never received any direct instruction in
the Oilman School. Miss Sullivan always sat
beside me, and told me what the teachers said. I
did teach Miss Hall, my teacher in Physics, how
to write the American braille, but she never gave
mc any instruction by means of it, imlcss a few
problems written for practice, which made me waste
much precious time deciphering them, can be called
instruction. Dear Frau Grote learned the manual
alphabet, and used to teach me herself; but this
was in private lessons, which were paid for by my
friends. In the German class Miss Sullivan inter-
preted to me as well as she could what the teacher
said.

Perhaps, if you would send a copy of this to the
head of the Cambridge School, it might enlighten
his mind on a few subjects, on which he seems to
be in total darkness just now. . • .

TO MISS MILDRED KELLER

138 Brattlb Stpeet, Cambridge,
November 26, 1899.
At last we are settled for the winter, and
our work is going smoothly- Mr. Keith comes
every afternoon at four o'clock, and gives me a
''friendly lift" over the rough stretches of road,
over which every student must go_ I am studying
English history, English literature, French and
Latin, and by and by i shall talte up German and
English composition— let us groan I You know,

762

THE STORY OF MY LIFE {N^.s6. %>

1 detest granmiar as much as you do; but I suppose
I must go through it if I am to write, just as we had
to get ducked in the lake hundreds of times before
we could swim ! In French Teacher is reading
"Columba" to me. It is a delightful novel, full of
piquant expressions and tlirilling adventures, (don't
dare to blame me for using big words, since you do
the same!) and, if you ever read it, I think you
will enjoy it immensely. You are studying English
history, aren't you, but it's exceedingly inter-
esting! I'm making quite a thorough study of
the Elizabethan period— «f the Reformation, and
the Acts of Supremacy and Conformity, and the
maritime discoveries, and all the big things, which
the "deuce" seems to have invented to plague
innocent youngsters like yourself 1 . . .

Now we have a swell winter outfit — coats, hats,
gowns, flannels and all. We've just had four lovely
dresses made by a French dressmaker. I have
two, of which one has a black silk skirt, with a black
lace net over it, and a waist of white poplin, with
turquoise velvet and chiffon, and cream lace over a
satin yoke. The other is woollen, and of a very
pretty green. The waist is trimmed with pink and
green brocaded velvet, and white lace, I think, and
has double reefers on the front, tucked and trimmed
with velvet, and also a row of tiny white buttons.
Teacher too has a silk dress. The skirt is black,
while the waist is mostly yellow, trimmed with
delicate lavender chiilon, and black velvet bows
and lace. Her other dress is purple, trimmed
with purple velvet, and the waist has a collar of
cream lace. So you may imagine that we look quite
like peacocks, only we've no trains^ • . .

263

A weelt ago yesterday tliere was [a] great football
game between Harvard and Yale, and there was
tremendous excitement here. We could hear the
yells of the boys and the cheers of the lookers-on
as plainly in our room as if we had t>een on the field.
Colonel Roosevelt was there, on Harvard's side;
but bless you, he wore a white sweater, and no crim-
son that we know of [ There were about twenty-
five thousand people at the game^ and, when we
went out, the noise was so terriiic^ we nearly jumped
out of our skins, thinking it was the din of war,
and not of a football game that we heard. But, in
spite of all their wild efforts, neither side was scored,
and we all laughed and said, "Oh, well, now the pot
can't call the kettle black I" , . .

to mrs. lauhehce hutton

559 Madison Avenue, New York,
January a, 1900.
, , We have been here a week now, and are
going to stay with Miss Rhoades until Saturday,
We are enjoying every moment of our visit, every
one is so good to us. We have seen many of our old
friends, and made some new ones. We dined with
the Rogers last Friday, and oh. they were so kind
to.usl The thought of their gentle courtesy and
genuine kindness brings a warm glow of joy and
gratitude to my heart, I have seen Dr. Greer
too. He has such a kind heart ! I love him more
than ever. We went to St. Bartholomew's Sunday,
and I have not felt so much at home in a church

364

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [F^b. 3, '00

Birce dear Bishop Brooks died. Dr. Greer read

so slowly, that my teacher could tell me every word.
His people must have wondered at liis unusual
deliberation. After the service he asked Mr. Warren,
the organist to play for me, I stood in the middle
of the church, where the vibrations from the great
organ were strongest, and I felt the mighty waves of
sound beat against me, as the great billows beat
against a little ship at sea. . . ,

TO MB» JOHN HITZ

13S Brattle Street, Cambridge,
Feb. 3, 1900.
. . - My studies are more interesting than ever.
In Latin, I am reading Horace's odes. Although I
find them difficult to translate^ yet I think they
are the loveliest pieces of Latin poetry 1 have read
or shall ever read. In French we have finished
"Colomba," and I am reading "Horace'^ by Comeille
and La Fontaine's fables,bothof which are in braille.
I have not gone far in either; but 1 know I shall
enjoy the fables, they are so delightfully written,
and give such good lessons in a simple and yet
attractive way, I do not think T have told you
that my dear teacher is reading '"The Faery Queen"
to me- I am afraid I find fault with the poem as
much as I enjoy it. I do not care much for the
allegories, indeed I often find them tiresome, and
I cannot help thinking that Spenser's world of
knights, paynims, fairies, dragons and all sorts of
strange creatures is a somewhat grotesque and

365

arousing world ; but the poem itself is lovely and as
musical as a running brook,

I am now the proud owner of about fifteen new
books, which we ordered from Louisville. Among
them are "Henry Esmond," "Bacon's Essays'' and
extracts from "English Literature." Perhaps next
week I shall have some more books. *'Thc Tempest/*
"A Midsummer Night's Dream" and possibly some
selections from Green's history of England. Am I
not very fortunate?

1 am afraid this letter savors too much of books —
but really they make up my whole life these days,
and r scarcely see or hear of anything else ! I do
believe I sleep on books every night I You know a
student's life is of necessity somewhat circum-
scribed and oarrow and crowds out almost every-
thing that is not in books. . . .

TO THE CHAIRMAN OF TITE ACADEMIC BOAKD

OF RADCLIFPB COLLEGE

1^8 Brattle Street, Cambridge, Mass.,

May s. 19^-
Dear Sir:

As an aid to me in determining my plans for
study the coming year, I apply to you for infor^
mation as to the possibility of my taking the
regular courses in RadclifTe College,

Since receiving my certificate of admission to
Radcliffe L^st July. I have been studying with a
private tutor, Horace, Aeschylus, French, German,
Rhetoric, English History. English Literature and
Criticism, and English composition.

966

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [7«H#p.'wi

In college I should wish to continue most, if not
all of these subjects. The conditions under which
I work require the presence of Miss Sullivan^ who
has been my teacher and companion for thirteen
years, as an interpreter of oral speech and as a reader
of examination papers, In college she, or possibly
in some subjects some one else, would of necessity
be with me in the lecture-room and at recitations,
I should do all my written work on a typewriter,
and if a Professor could not understand my
speech » I could write out my answers to his
questions and hand them to him after the recitation.

Is it possible for the College to accommodate
itself to these unprecedented conditions, so as to
enable me to pursue my studies at Radcliffe? I
realize that tlie obstacles in the way of my receiving
a college education are very great — to others they
may seem insurmountable; but, dear Sir, a true
soldier does not acknowledge defeat before the
battle.

to mrs- laurence hutton

138 Brattle Street, Cambridge,
June 9, 1900.
... I have not yet heard from the Academic
Board in reply to my letter; but I sincerely hope
they will answer favorably. My friends think it
very strange that they should hesitate so long,
especially when I have not asked them to simplify
my work in the least, but only to modify it so as to
meet the existing circumstances, Cornell has offered

Ael. 20]

LETTERS

267

to make arrangements suited to the conditions under
which t work, if I should decide to go to that college,
and the University of Chicago has made a similar
offer; but I am afraid if I went to any other college,
it would be thought that I did not pass my exami-
nations for RadcMe satisfactorily, , . ,

In the fall Miss Keller entered Radcliffe College.

TO MRh JOHN HITS

14 CooLiDGE Ave,, Cambhidge,
Nov, 26, 1900.

t . • has already communicated with you in

regard to her and my plan of establishing an institu-
tion for deaf and hlind children. At first i was most
enthusiastic in its support^ and 1 never dreamed
that any grave objections could be raised except
indeed by those who are hostile to Teacher ; but now,
after thinking most serioitdy and consulting my

friends, 1 have decided that 's plan is by no

means feasible. In my eagerness to make it possible
for deaf and blind chiMren to have the same advan-
tages that I have had, I quite forgot that there might
be many obstacles in the way of my accomplishing
anything like what proposed.

My friends thought we might have one or two
pupils in our own home, thereby securing to me the
advantage of being helpful to others without any of
the disadvantages of a large school. They were very
kind; but I could not help feeling that they spoke

263

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Nov. ^6^00

more from a business than a humanitarian point of
view- 1 am sure ihey did not quite understand how
passionately I desire that all who are afllicted like
myself shall receive their rightful inheritance of
thought, knowledge and love. Still I could not
shut my eyes to the force and weight of their argu-
ments, and I saw plainly that I must abandon 's

scheme as impracticable. They also said that I
ought to appoint an advisory committee to control
my affairs while 1 am at Radcliffe, I considered
this suggestion carefully, then I told Mr. Rhoades
that I should be proud and glad to have -Kise friends
to whom I could always turn for advice in all
important matters. For this committee I chose six.
my mother, Teacher, because she is lilce a mother to
me, Mrs. Hutton, Mr- Rhoades, Dr. Greer and
Mr. Rogers, because it is they who have supported
me all these years and made it possible fur me to
enter college, Mrs, Hutton had already written to
mother, asking her to telegraph if she was willing
for me to have other advisers besides herself and
Teacher^ This morning we received word that
mother had given her consent to this an-angement.
Now it remains for me to write to Dr, Greer and
Mr, Rogers. , . .

We had a long talk with Dr. Bell Finally he
proposed a plan which delighted us all beyond words.
He said that it was a gigantic blunder to attempt to
found a school for deaf and blind children, because
then they would lose the most precious opportuni-
ties of entering into the fuller, richer, freer life tff
seeing and hearing children, I had had misgivings
on this point i but I could not see how we were to
help it_ However Mr. Bell suggested that

Ael. 3t>]

LETTERS

369

and all her friends wlio are interested in her scheme
should organize an association for the promotion of
the education of the deaf and blind, Teacher and
myself being included of course. Under his plan
they were to appoint Teacher to train others to
instruct deaf and blind children in their own homes,
just as she had taught me. Funds were to be raised
for the teachers' lodgings and also for their salaries.
At the same time Dr, Bell added that I could
rest content and fight my way through RadchfTe in
competition with seeing ancj hearing girls, while the
great desire of my heart was being fulfilled. We

clapped our hands and shouted; went away

beaming with pleasure, and Teacher and I felt more
tight of heart than we had for sometime. Of course
we can do nothing just now; but the painful anxiety
about my coUege work and the future welfare of the
deaf and blind has been lifted from our minds. Do
tell me what you think about Dr, Bell's sugges-
tion. It seems most practical and ^'ise to me; but
I must know all that there is to be known about it
before I speak or act in the matter, . . ,

TO MR, JOHN D, WRIGHT

Cambiudgb, December g, 1900,
Do you think me a villain and— I can't think of
a word bail enough to express your opinion of me,
unless indeed horse-thief will answer the purpose.
Tell mc truly, do you think mc as bad as that ? 1
hope not; for I have thought many letters to you

a7o

THE STORY OF MY LIFE {D^.tf/oo

which never got on paper, and I am delighted to
gel your good letter, yes, 1 really was, and I intended
to answer it immediately; but the days slip by
unnoticed when one is busy, and 1 have been very
busy this fall. You must believe that, Radcliffe
girls are always up to their ears in work. If you
doubt it, you'd better come and see for yourself.

Yes. I am taking the regular college course for a
degree. When I am a B.A., I suppose you will
not dare call me a villain ! I am studying English —
Sophomore English, if you please, (though I can*t
see that it is different from just plain English)
German, French and History, I'm enjoying my
work even more than I expected to, which is another
way of saying that Vm glad I came- It is hard,
very hard at times; but it hasn't swamped me yet.
No, I am not studying Mathematics, or Greek or
Latin either. The courses at Radcliffe are elective,
only certain courses in English are prescribed.
I passed off my English and advanced French
before I entered college, and I choose the courses T
lilce best, 1 don't however intend to give up
Latin and Greek entirely. Perhaps I shall take up
these studies later; but Tve said goodbye to Mathe-
matics forever, and I assure you, I was delighted
to see the last of those horrid goblins ! I hope to
obtain my degree in four years; but I^m not very
particular about that. There's no great hurry, and
I want to get as much as possible out of my studies.
Many of my friends would be well pleased if I would
take two or even one course a year; but I rather
objecttospending therestof my life in college. . . .

Z7I

TO MR. WILLIAM WADB

14 COOLIDGZ AVKMUH, CaMBRIDGB,

Detrember 9, 1900.
. . Since you are so much interested in the
deaf and blind, I will begin by telling you of several
cases I have come across lately. Last October I
heard of an unusually bright little girl in Texas,
Her name is Ruby Rice, and she is thirteen years old,
I think. She has never been taught; but they
say she can sew and likes to help others in this sort
of work. Her sense of smell is wonderf;U> Why,
when she enters a store, she will go straight to the
showcases, and she can also distinguish her own
things. Her parents are very anxious indeed to
find a teacher for her. They have also written to
Mr. Hita about her,

I also know a child at the Institution for the Deaf
in Mississippi- Her name is Maud Scott, and she
is six years old. Miss Watkins, the lady who has
charge of her wrote me a most interesting letter.
She said that Maud was bom deaf and lost her sight
when she was only three months old, and that
when she went to the Institution a few weeks ago,
she was quite helpless. She could not even walk
and had very little uae of her hands. When they
tried to teach her to string beads, her little hands fell
to her side. Evidently her sense of touch has not
been developed, and as yet she can walk only when
she holds some one's hand; but she seems to be an
exceedingly bright child. Miss Watkins adds that
she is very pretty. I have written to her that when
Maud learns to read, I shall have many stories to
send her. The dear, sweet little girl, it makes my
heart ache to think how utterly slie is cut off from all

373

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [zj*.-.^o/od

that is good and desirable in life. But Miss Watkins
seems to be just the kind of teacher she needs.

I w:is in Kew York not long ago and I saw Miss
Rhoades. who told me that she liad seen Katie
McGirr. She said the poor young girl talked and
acted exactly like a little child, Katie played with
Miss Rhoades's rings and took them away, saying
with a merry laugh, "You shall not have them
again r She could only understand Miss Rhoades
when she talked about the simplest things. The
latter wished to send her some books ; but she could
not find anything simple enough for her I She said
Katie was very sweet indeed, but sadly in need of
proper instruction. 1 was much surprised to hear
all this; for I judged from your letters that Katie waa
a very precocious girl. , , ,

A few days ago I met Tommy Stringer in the
railroad station at Wrentham. He is a great,
strong boy now, and he will soon need a man to
take care of him ; he is really too big for a lady to
manage. He goes to the public school, I hear, and
his progress is astonishing, they say ; but it doesn't
show as yet in his conversation^ which is limited
to '^Yes" and "No/' . . .

TO MR- CHARLES T. COPELANt*

December so, igoo*
My dear Mr. Copeland;

I venture to write to you because I am afraid
that if I do not explain why I have stopped

writing themes, you will think I hare become
discouraged, or perhaps that to escape criticism
I have beat a cowardly retreat from yoiir class.
Please do not think either of these very unpleas-
ant thoughts. I am not discouraged, nor am I
afraid. I am confident that I could go on writ-
ing themes like those I have written, and I
suppose I should get through the course with fairly
good marks; but this sort of literary patch-work has
lost all interest for me. I have never l>een satisfied
with my work; but I never knew what my difficulty
was until you pointed it out to me. When I came
to your class last October, I was trying with all my
might to be like everybody else, to forget as entirely
as possible my limitations and peculiar environment.
Now, however, I see the folly of attempting to hitch
one's wagon to a star vnih Immess that does not
belong to it,

I have always accepted other people's experiences
and observations as a matter of course. It never
occurred to me that it might be worth while to make
my own observations and describe the experiences
pectdiarly my own. Henceforth 1 am resolved to
be myself, to live my owti life and write my own
thoughts when I have any. When I have written
something that seems to be fresh and spontaneous
and worthy of yoiu" criticisms, 1 will bring it to you,
if 1 may, and if you think it good. I shall be happy ;
but if your verdict is unfavorable, I shall try again
and yet agahi imtil i have succeeded in pleasing
you ' • «

274

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Dt^.s^r^oo

TO MRS. LAuaENCE HUTTOK

14 COOLIDGE AVHNUE, CaMBRTDGE,

Dece mber 27, 1 900,
, . . So you read about our class luncheon in
the papers? How in the world do the papers find
out everything, I wonder. I am sure no reporter
was present, I had a splendid time ; the toasts and
speeches were great fun. J only spoke a few words.
as I did not know 1 was expected to speak until a
few minutes before I was called upon, 1 think I
wrote you that I had been elected Vice-President of
the Freshman Class of Radcliffe,

Did I tell you in my last letter that I had a new
dress, a real party dress with low neck and short
sleeves and quite a train? It is pale blue, trimmed
with chiffon of the same color, I have worn it only
once^ but then I felt that Solomon in all his glory
was not to be compared with me \ Anyway, lie
certainly never had a dress like mine ! . . .

A gentleman in Philadelphia has just written to
my teacher about a deaf and blind child in Paris,
whose parents are Poles, The mother is a physician
and a brilliant woman, he says. This little boy
could speak two or three languages before he lost his
hearing through sickness, and he is now only about
five years old- Poor little fellow, I wish I could do
something for him; but he is so young, my teacher
thinks it would be too bad to separate him from his
mother. 1 have had a letter from Mrs. Thaw with
regard to the possibihty of doing something for
these children. Dr. Bell thinks the present census
will show that there are more than a thousand*

♦ The number of denf-blind ytning enough to be benefited by
educaiLon i^ not eo large as this; bui the educaUon of this class
of defectives his beoa neglected.

Att.aol

LETTERS

a75

in the United States alone; and Mrs. Thaw
thinks if all my friends were to unite their efforts,
"it would be an easy matter to establish at the
beginning of this new century a new line upon which
mercy might travel," and the rescue of th^e unfor-
tunate children could be accomplished, , , .

TO MR. WILLIAM WADB

Cambridge, February 2, igor,

. , , By the way, have you any specimens of
English braille esijecially printed for those who have
lost their sight late in life or have fingers hardened
by long toil, so that their touch is less sensitive than
that of other blind people? I read an account of
such a system in one of my English magazines, and
I am anxious to know more about it. If it is as
efficient as Lhey say. I see no reason why English
braille should not be adopted by the blind of all
countries. Why, it is the print that can be most
readily adapted to many dKTerent languages. Even
Greek can be embossed in it, as you Icnow, Then,
too, it will be renilered still more efficient by the
" interpointing system, " which will save an immense
amount of space and paper. There is nothing more
absiu-d, I think, than to have five or six different
I prints for the blind. , > .

I oEe:

This letter was written in response to a tentative
offer from the editor of Tlte Great Roufid World to

37^

THE STORY OF MY LIFE {Feb, rS. -or

have the magazine publislied in raised type for the
blind, if enough were willing to subscribe. It is
evident that the blind should have a good magazine,
not a special magazine for the blind, but one of our
best monthlies, printed in embossed letters. The
blind alone could not support it, but it ^^ould not
take very much money to make up the additional
expense.

TO The Great Roinid World

Cambridge, Feb. i6, 1901,
The Great Round World,
New York City.

Gentlemen: i have only to-day found time to
reply to your interesting letter. A little bird had
already sung the good news in my ear; but it was
doubly pleasant to have it straight from you.

It would be splendid to have The Great Round
World printed in ''langiinge that can be felt." I
doubt if any one who enjoys the wondrous privilege
of seeing can have any conception of the boon such
a publication as you contemplate would be to the
sightless. To be able to read for one's self what is
being willed, thought and done in the world — the
world in whose joys and sorrows, failures and suc-
cesses one feels the keenest interest — that would
indeed be a happiness too deep for words. 1 trust
that the effort of The Great Round World to bring
light to those who sit in darkness will receive the
encouragement and support it so richly deserves.

I doubt, however, if the number of subscribers to
an embossed edition of The Great Ron»d World would
ever be large ; for I am told that the blbil as a class

An. 2i]

LETTERS

377

are poor. But why should not the friends of the
blind assist The Great Round World, if recessary?
Surely there are hearts and hands ever ready to
make it possible for generous intentions to be
wrought into noble deeds-
Wishing you godspeed in an undertaking that is
very dear to my heart, I am, etc.

TO MISS NINA. RHOA.DES

Cambridge, Sept, 35. igoi.

. . , We remained in Halifax until about the
middle of August. . . . Day after day the
Harbor, the warships, and the park kept us busy
thinking and feeling and enjoying. . , . When
the Indiatta \':sited Halifax, we were invited to go
on board, and she sent her own launch for us. I
touched the immense cannon, read with my fingers
several of the names of the Spanish ships that were
captured at Santiago, and felt the places where she
had been pierced with shells. The Indiana was the
largest and finest ship in the Harbor, and wc felt
very proud of her.

After we left Halifax, we visited Dr. Bell at
Cape Breton. He has a charming, romantic house
on a mountain called Beinn Bhreagh, which over-
looks the Bras d'Or Lake. . . .

Dr. Bell told me many interestinfj things about
his work. He had just constructed a boat that
could be propelled by a kite with the wind in
its favor, and one day he tried experiments to

ayS THE STORY OF MY LIFE [Arm,,jo/or

see if he could steer the kite against the wind. I
was there and really helped him fly the kites. On
one of them I notieed that the strings were of wire,
and having had some exjierierce in bead work, I
said r thought they woulcJ break. Dr. Eell said
"No !" with great confidence, and the kite was sent
up. It began to pull and tug, and lo, the wires broke,
and off went the great red dragon, and poor Dr.
Bel! stood looking forlornly after it. After that he
asked me if the strings were all rjght and changed
them at once when I answered in the negative.
Altogether wc had great fun. » * .

TO DR. EDWARD EVERETT HALE*

Cambridge, Nov. lo, igoi.

My teacher and I expect to be present at the
meeting tomorrow in commemoration of the one
hundredth anniversary of Dr. Howe's birth; but
I very much doubt if we shall have an opportunity
to speak with you; so I am writing now to tell you
how delighted I am that you are to speak at the
meeting, because I feel that you, better than any one
I know will express the heartfelt gratitutle of those
who owe their education, their opportimitics, their
happiness to him who opened the eyes of the blind
and gave the dumb lip language.

Sitting here in my study, surrounded by my books,
enjoying the sweet and intimate companionship oE

• Read by Dr. Hale at Ihe ceEcbralion of the centenary of Dr,
Samuel Gridley Howe, at Tremont Temple, Boston. Nov. 1 1 ,i^i.

LETTERS

2?9

the great and the wise, T am trying to realize what
my life might have been, if Dr, Howe hatl failtd
in the great task God gave him to perform. If he
had not taken upon himself the responsibility of
Laura Bricigman's education and led her out of the
pit of Acheron back to her human inheritance,
should I be a sophomore at Radcliffe College
to-day — who can say? But it is idle to speculate
about what might have been in comicction with
Dr. Howe's great achievement,

I think only those who have escaped that death-
in-life existence, from which Laura Bridgman was
rescued, can realize how isolated, how shrouded in
darkness, how cramped by its own impotence is a
soul without thought or faith or hope. Words are
powerless to describe the desolation of that prison-
house, or the joy of the soul that is delivered out of
its captivity. When, we compare the needs and
helplessness of the blind before Dr. Howe began
his work, with their present usefulness and inde-
pendence, we realize that great things have been
done in our midst. What if physical conditions
have built up high walls about us? Thanks to our
friend and helper, our world lies upward; the length
and breadth and sweep of the heavens arc ours I

It is pleasant to think that Dr. Howe's noble
deeds will receive their due tribute of affection and
gratitude, in the city which was the scene of his
great labors and splendid victories for hxmianity.

With kind greetings, in which my teacher joins
me, I am

Affectionately your friend,

Helen Keller.

28o

THE STORY OF MY LIFE [.V«j, is, "«

TO THE UON. G&ORGB PRISBIB HOAR

Cambridge, ^[ASS., November aj. 1901,
My Dear Senator Hoar;—

1 am glad you liked my letter about Dr. Howe.
It was written out of my heart, and perhaps that
is why it met a sympathetic response iii other
hearts. I will ask Dr. Hale to lend me the letter,
so that I can make a copy of it for you.

You see, I use a typewriter — it is my right hand
nian, so to speak. Without it I do not see how I
could go to college, I write all my themes and
examinations on it, even Greek, Indeed, it has
only one drawback, and that probably is regarded
as an advantage by the professors; it is that one's
mistakes may be detected at a glance; for there is
no chance to hide them in illegible writing,

I know you will be amused when T tell you that I
am deeply interested in politics. I like to have the
papers read to me, and 1 try to understand the great
questions of the day ; but I am afraid my knowledge
is very imstable; for I change my opinions with
every new bonk 1 read. I used to think that when I
studied Civil Government and Economics, all my
diffic\ilties and perplexities would blossom into
beautiful certainties; but alas, I find that there are
more tares than wheat in these fertile fields of
knowledge. , . ,

■■*-

■v.^

PART III.

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

OF HELEN KELLER^S LIFE AND

EDUCATION

The Wiitiat: of the Book.

Person Rlity>

Educalion.

Speech.

LitenuT Style,

CHAPTER I

THE WRITING OF THE BOOK

IT u fitting that Misa Keller's "Stpry tii My Life" fihould
appear al thi*L time. What is remarkable in her tareer U
already accomplished, and whatever she may do in the
future vrill be but a rdativcly slight addition to thf: success which
diftliaguishes her now. Thai success has jusl been assured, £or
it is her work at RadclifTe during the last two yeara which has
ahown that ahe can curry her cducatidn as fat as 11 she were
Btudyiug under normal conditions Whatever doubts Mis*
Keller herself may have had txre now at rest.

Several passages of her autobiography, as it appeared in seridi
form, have been made the subject of a grave editorial in a Baston
newspaper, in which the writer regretted Miss Keller's apparent
diailluaionmeat In TeE^rd Xa the value of her college life. He
quoted the passages m which she eKplamE that college is noil
the "universal Athens" she had hoped to Snd, and cited the
cases of other Teniarkablc persona whose college life had proved
disappointing. But it is to be reraerabcred thai Miss Keller
has written many thinRs in her aulobioErnphy for the fun of
writing thenij and the disillusion, which the writer af the edi-
torial took seriously, is in great pari humorous. Miss Keller
does not suppose her views to be of great importance, and
when aht; utters her opinions on important matters she ia.'kes
it lor granted that her reader will receive them as the opinions
of a junior in college, not of one who writes with the wisdom
cf maturity. Fur inaiancc. it surprised her that some people
were annoyed at what she said about the Bible, and she was
amused that they did not see, what was plain enough* that
she had been obliged to lead the whole Bible in a course in
English literature, not aa a rehgious duty put upon her by
her teacher or her parents.

1 ought to apologize to the reader and lo Miss Keller for pr&
Euuiing to say what het subject matter ii wortli, but one mora

283

a84 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

PXpIanAtion Is necessary. Tn h^ amount of her ^arly ediic&'
lion Mis5 Kollcristiotgivitie a scientifically Eiccarate record of her
life, nor even of the important events. She cannot know in
detail how she was taught* and her memory of her childhocid
is in some cases £Ln idealized memory of what sht; has learned
later from her teavher and titUers. She is less able tt> recall
events of fiftppn j^ears ago thnn mcst of its are to recollect our
c-hitdhood^ That ia why her teacher's records mfty be found
to differ in sonic particulars from Miss Keller's account.

The way in which Miss Keller wrote her story shows, at
nothing else can show, the dilScuItiea eho Jyid_tO overcome.
When we write, we can go hatk over our work, ahulfle Lbo
pages, interline, rearrange, sec how the paragraphs look in proof,
and ao construct the whole work heforc the eve, ad an architect
constructs his plans. When Miss Kelk'r puts her work ia
typewritten form, she cannot refer to it agam unless some on©
reads it to her by means of thtj manual alphabet.

This difilculty is in part obviated by the use of her braille
machine, wbich. makes a manuscript that she can readi hut flS'J
her work must be put ultimately in typewritten form, and as
a braille machine is somewhat cumbersome, she h^ got into
the habit oi writing directly on her typewriter. She depends
so hltle on her braille manuscript, tbatj when she began to write
her story more than a year ago and had put in braille a hundred
pages of materia! and notes, slw made the mistake of destroying
thc^e not^a before she had Jiiiiahcd her manuscript. Thus
she composed much of her stury on the typewriter, and in con-
structing it as a whole depended on her memory to guide her
in putting together the detached episodes, which Miss Sullivan
read over to her.

Last July, when she had finiehed under great preEsure of
work her fioal chapttr, she set to work to rewrite the whole
story. Her good (ricnd, Mr. William Wade, had a complete
braille copy made for her from the magazine proofa. Then
for the first time she had her whole manuscript under her finger
at once. She iaw imperfections in Che nrranEement of para-
graphs and the repetition of phrases. She saw, too, that her
story propetly fell into abort chapters and rcdivided it.

Partly from temperament, partly from the conditions of her
%vork, Gbe boa written rathi-r a series of brilliant passages
than tL unifJtd narrative; in point of fact, several paragraphs

THE WRITING OF THE BOOK

28s

of her story are short thcmca writtm m her EnRlish courses,
antl the ^mall unit £uiiietime£ sJio^vs itsori^nal limits.

In rewriLing the story^ Miss Keller made correctionB oq sppa-
TALc pages on her br^lle machine. Long corrcctiona ahe wrote
out on her typewriter, with catch-words to indicate ■where they
belonged. Then ehe read from her braiUe copy the entire
fitory, makiQg corrections as she read, wliich were taken down
on the manuscript that went to the printer During this
revifiion she diecussed questions of subject matter and phrneing.
She Bat running her linger over the br&illc manuscript, stopping
row and then to refer lo the braille notes on which she had
indicated her corrections, all the time reading aloud to verify
the iTLtmuscript,

She listened to oriticism just as any author 1ist/>ns to his
friends or hia editor. Miss Sullivan, who is an excellent critic.
made suggeationA at many pointd in the course of composition
and revision. One newspaper suggested that Minn Keller
had been led into wHtLng the book and had been influenced
to put ceriflin thlags into it by icalous £riend5> As a matter
of (act, most of the advice she has received and heeded has led
to cjEciBions rather than to additions. The^boi& k U MLesJtelleT'E
and i& £nai-prQ jf of_her indejjeqdcntx'PW^-

CHAPTER II

PERSONALITY

Mark T^ain has said that the two most lotcresting charoo
tffs of the ninetecnih century are Napoleon and Helen Keller.
The admiration with n'hich the world has regarded her is mon
than jufltl&ed by what &hc haa done, fio cne cB.a tcU any
great truth about her which has not already been written, and
all that 1 can do U ti> give a few more facts about Miss Kelicr's
ninrk and add a little to whi^t \i knijwn of her |>crsonality.

Miss Keller is tall and strongly built, and has always bad good
health. She seems to be more nervous than she really is, because
she expresses more with her hand^ thiLn do moat English--
speaking people One reason for this habit of gesture is
that her bands have been go long her instruments of ooth-
munication that they havt taken to ihemscLvcs the quick
ihiftmgs of the eye, and express some of the things that we
ftay in a glance- AH deaf p<jopte nalurally gesticulate Indeed,
at one time it was believed tliat the best way for them to com-
rminieaie was through systematized gestures, the sign language
invented by the Abbfi dc TEp^-c.

When Miss Keller speaks, her face is animated and expresses
all the modes of her thought^the expressions that make the
features eloquent and give speech half its meaning. On the
other hand she dots not know another's expression. When
she is talking with an intimate friend, however, her hand goca
quickly to her friend's face to sec, as she says, "the twi»t of
the mouth. '^ In this way she is abh- to get the meanifi£ of
thoae half Eentences which we complete rniconsciouEly from
the tone of Lhc voice or the twinkle of the eye.

Her memory of people is remarkable. She rememberB thoj
grasp of fingers she has hold before, all the characteristic
tightening of the musclca that makes one person's handshake
different from that of another.

The trait most chaiaetenBtieH perhaps, of Miss Keller (ajid also

286

PERSONALITY

2S7

of Miss Sullivan) is humour. Skill in the use 0/ wor^Js and her
habit of playing with them mfikti her ready with mot; and epi-

Some one aslced her if she liked to stTidj.

"Yea," she replied, "but 1 like to play also, and I feci some-
times as if I vfttc a music box Avlth all iLic play shut up inside
me/'

When ahc met Dr. Fumeas, the Shakespearean scholar, he
warned her not to let the college profeasora lell htr too many
a.'iBiimi^d fafis about the life of Shakespeari!! all we know, he
fiaidn ii that Shakespeare was baptizedt married, and died,

"WcIIh" she replied, "he secnta to have doue SilL the essential
things."

Once a friend who was learning the manual alphabet kept
making "g,'^ which is Like the handof aaij^^ii-post. foi "h.'^ which
is m^de with two fingers eKteoded. Finally Miss Keller told
him to "fife both barrels."

Mr. Joseph JofTeisoo was once explaining to Miss Keller what
the bumps on her head meant,

'^Tbat/' he said, "is your prize-fighling bump,"

"1 never fightn" she replied, "except against diflicuUics,"

Miss ICeller's humour i£ that deeper kind of humour which is
Goura^e-

Thirteen years ago she made up her mind to learn to speak,
and she gave her teacher no rest until she was allowed to take
leaaons, although wise people, even Miss SnUivonj the wisest o£
tbi?m all, regarded it as an espCTimenl unlikely to succeed and
almost sure to make her unhappy. It was this same persever-
ance that made iicr £9. to college- Alter she bod passed her
examinations and received her certificate of admission, she was
advised hy the Dean oE Radcliffe and others not to go on. She
accordingly delayed a year. But she was not satisfied until
she had carried out her purpose and entered college.

Her life has been a Eeries of attempts to do whatever other
people do. and to do it as well. Her success has been complete,
for in trying to he like other people she has come most full/
to be herself. Her unwillingness to be beaten has developed
her courage. Where another can go, she can go. Her respect
for physical bravery is like Stevenson's— I be boy's contempt for
the fellow who criefi, with a touch of young bravado in it. Sha
takes tramps m the woods, plunging through the underbrush,

aZS A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

where she is ecratch^ luid bniised; yet you could not get i^tr ta
Eidmit that fhe is hurt, and you certainly could not persuade hei
to stay at home next time.

So when people try experiments with her, she displays a
Bpartsmmilike dctt;nmnH.tiaa lo win in any test, huwevtr unrea-
Bonabie, that one may wish to put her to.

If she does not know the ai^svct to a question, she ^csv^
with mischievous assurance, Aslt her the colour of your coat
(no blind person can tdl colour), she will feel it and say
"black." If it happens to be blue, and you tell her m> triumph-
antly, sbc is likely lu answtT. "Thaak you. I am £lad you
know. Why did you ash me ?'*

Her whimsical and adventuresome spirit puts her so much
cm her mettle that she makes rather a poor suhjpnt for the
psychological eiperimenler. Moreover, Miss SuJlivan docs not
see i?hy Mias Keller should be eubjecced to the investigation
of the scientist, and haR not herself made many experimcnts-
Wh«n a psychologist ^Iced her if Miss Keller spelled on her
fingers in her sleep, MUs Sullivan replied that she did not think
it worthwhile tu sit up and watch.suchmaLterswercof so little
consequence,

Misa Keller likea to be part of the company, IE any one
whom she is touching laughs at a jnke, she laughs;, too, juRt as
if she had hi*ard it. H othere arc aglow with mu^ie, a roapond-
ing eIow, caught ss^npathcticallyH ahincs in her face. Indeed,
she feels the movements of Miss SulUvan su minutely that she
responds to her moodSr and so the sscms to know what is going
on, even though the converaation has not been apcbed to her
for some time, Tn the same way her response to music is in
part sympathetic , although she en joys it for its own sake.

Music probably can mean Utile to her but beat and pulsation.
She cannot sing and she cannot play ihp pmno, filthough, as
soTne early experiments sho^, she could leam mechanically to
beat out a tune on the keys. Ucr enjoyment of muaiCj howcvc^^
is very genuine, for she has a tactile recognition of sound when
the wavcfl of air beat against her. Part of her experience of
the rhythm of muiic comes, no doubtj from the vibration of
soHd objects which she is totiching: the floor, or, what is more
cxrident, the cose of the piano, on which her hand rests. But Ehe
seems to feel the piJaatlon of the air itself. When the organ was
played for her In St. Bartholomew's,* the whole building shook

■See pogB i^i.

PERSONALITY

389

frith the greal pedal notes, but that doca not altogether account
for what she fell and enjoyed. The vibraiion of the air as the
ofgsn notes swelled made her sway in anawer, Somelimes
ahe puts her hand ati a dinger's throat to feel the mu&culAT thrill
and cfHitracliun^ and from this she gets genuine pleasure. No
one knows, However, just what her sen aationa are. It is amusing
to rcftd in one of the maffftEinca of iBgs that Miss Kollcr "has
a jiLst and iniellipent apprcdaiJon of different composers fmm
having literally felt their music, Schumann being her favourite."
If ahc knoirs the diflerence between Schumoun and Bectho%'en,
it i& because th^ha^ read ii. and if Ehe has read it.&he remernbers
it and can tell any one who aske her.

Miss Keller's effort to reach out and meet other people on tbeir
own intellectual ground has kept her informed of daily affairs.
When her education became more systematic and she was
busy Tfith books, it would have been very easy for Miss Sullivan
to let her draw into herselt if she had been so inclined. But
every one who has met her has givea his best ideas to her and she
has taken them. Hi in the course of a conversation , the friend
next to her has ceased for some moments to spell into her hand,
the question comes inevitably, " What are you talking about ? "
Thus she picks up the fragments of the daily inleruourse of
fiormal people, so that her detailed information is singularly full
and accurate. She is a good talker on thchttle occasTonal affairs
of life.

Much of her Imowlpdge comes to her directly. When she is
out walking she often stops suddenly, attracted by the odour of
a bit of shrubbery. She Teaches out and touches the Icavca,
and the world of growing things is hers, as truly as ii is ours, to
enjoy while she holds the leaves in her fingers and smells the
blossoms, and to rerucmbcr when the walk is done.

When she is in a new place, especially an Interesfing place like
Niagara^ whoever accompanies her — usually, of coutsOh Miss
Sullivan — la kept busy giving her an idea of visible dctailsn
Miss Sullivan, who knows her pupil's mind, selei^La frcim the
passing landscape essential elements, which give a ccrtaio clear-
cess to Miss Keller's imagined view of an outer world that to
our eyes is confused and overloaded with particulars. If her
companion doe* not give her enough details. Miss Keller a&k*
QUefitiouS until slic hius completed Uie view to her satisfaction.
She Joes not see with her eyes, but through the limer faculty

290 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

to serve which eyes were given to us- When she returns from
A WElk anfl telh snme one sbnul it. hot descriptions are accurate
and vivid, A comparative experience drawn from wrivten
deacripiiutis and from her leacher'ti words his kept her free from
errors in her use ol tentis of sound and vision. True, her view
of life iQ highl/ coloured and EuU of poetic exaggeration; the
universe, as she sees it. is do doubt a liltle belter than It leally
is. But her knowledge of it is not so iueompleto as one might
AUppDfie. Occasionally she astonishes you by ignorance of Bome
fact which no one happens to have told her: for ioetance,
she did not know, until her first plunge inio the sea, that it is
Bait, Many ot the detached incidents and lacts of our daily life
pass arcKind aua over her uuohserved^ but she ha» enough
detailed aequaintonee with the world to Iceep her view of it from
being esacnlially <lefective.

Most that she knows at first hand comes from her sense of
touch. This sense is not^ however, so finely developed aa in
some other blind people, Laura Bridgman could tell minute
shades of dilTercnce in thesise of thread, and made beautiful lace.
Miss Keller n^d to knit and crochet, hut she ha«i had better
things to do. With her varied powers and aeoomplishmcnts,
her sense of touch haa not been used enough to develop tt very,
far beyond normal acutefiesa. A frienfi tried Miss Keller on©^
day with several coins. She was slower than he expected her lo
be in identifying them by iheir relative weight and size. But it
should be said she abnoat ne^'er handles money — one of the many^
sordid at^d petty details of life, by the way, which she has been
spared.

She recognizes the subjeet and general intention of a statuette
MX. inched high. Anything shallower than a half-inch bas- relief
is a blank in hfr. so far as it es: presses an itlen of beauty. Laigc
(tatues, of which she can feci the sweep of hne wi(h her wlrnl*!
hand, ahtr knows in their higher esthetic value. She snEEt^^ta
herself that she can know them better than we do, betauie she
can g?t the true dimensions and appreciate more immediately
the aolid nature of a sculptured figure. When she was at the
Museum of Pine Arts in Boston she atnod on a step-laddcT and
let both hands play over the statues. When she felt a bas-reliel
of dancing girb she asked, "Where are the singers? ' When
she found them she said- "One is silent," The lips of the
singer were closed.

PERSONALITY

Tt 13, however, In her daily life thai one can best mpa*;ur<* the
delicac/ of her senses and her manual skill. She Ecems to have
very little Bense ol dircttion, She propcs her way without much
tertainty in rooms where she is quite Eamiliflr. Most, bhnd people
feje aided by the ficnsc of sound, so that a fair companson is hard
in make, except with other dcaf-bUnd pcraoris. Her dexterity
IS not notable Hther in comparison with the normal perwin,
ivhoso movcmentB arc guided by the eye, or, 1 oto told, mth
other blind people. She taa practised no ftingle constructive
craft which would call for the use of hrr hands. When fihe was
twelve, her friend Mr. Albert 11, Munsell, the ortiEt, let her
experiment with a wax tablet and a stylus. He says that she
did pretty well and managed to make, after models, some con-
ventional dcBigns of the outlines of leaves and rosettes. The
Cmty thing she does which rct^uires &hill with the hond^ is her
vork on the typewriter. Although sht? has used the typewriter
since she was eleven years old. ehc is r&thcr careful than rapid.
She writes with fair speed and absolute surenpsfi. llcr manu-
scripts seldom contain tj'pographical errors when she hands
them to Miss Sullivan to read. Her typewriter has no Hpccial
attachments. She keeps the relative position of the keys by
an occasional touch of the little fingers on the outer edge of the
board.

Miss K^er's reading of the maniuil alphabet by her sense of
touch (eeniB to cause some perplexity. Even people who Imow
her fairly well have written in the maK^Ltioes about Miss
Sullivan's "mysterious telegraphic communications" with her
pupil- The manual alphabet is that in use among all educated
deaf people- Moat dktionaricB contain an cnpravmg of the
ma^ntinl letters. The deaf person with si^ht looks at the fingers
of his companion, but it is alsopossible tofecl them. Miss Keller
puts her fingers lightly over the hand ol one who Is talking to
her and gets the words as rapidly as th^rycan he spelled As she
explainfi, she is nob conscious of the single letters or of sepa-
rate wurds- Misfi Sullivaa and others who live constantly with
the deaf can spch very rapidly — fast enough to get a stow
lecture, not fast enough ttj get every word of a rapid speaker.

Anybody can Icam the manual letters in a few minutes, use
them slowly in a day, and in thirty days of constant use talk to
Miss Keller or any other deaf peraon without realiaslng what his
Gngersaredoing. Tf more peoplckTicw this, and the friends aad

aga A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

relativffi of deaf chiMr^fi teamed the manual alphabet at occe,
the deaf all over the world would be happier and better educated^

Miss Keller rcada by means of embossed print or the vaiious
Idnds cf braille. The ordinary embossed book is made viih
romon It^ttcrs, both smQll letters and capitals. These letters
are of sUcple, square, an^ar design. The small letlcis are
about three-siiteenlhs of an Jncb high, ard ere raided from the
paf^e the thickness of the thumbnail. The books are large, about
the size of a volume ol an encyclopedia. Green's "Short History
of the English People" is in six large vohiuies, llie bookfi are
not heavy, because the leaves with the raised type do not lie close.
The time that one of Miss KeLler'a CriendB realizes nust strongly
that &he is blind, ie when he comes on her suddenly in the dark
and hears the rustle of her fingers across the page.

The most convenient print for the blind is bradle, which has
several variations, loo many, indeed — Enghsh, American, New
York Point, Miss Kcdcr reads them alL Most educated blind
people know several, but it would save trouble if, as Miss Keller
euggcEts, EngliEh braille were uni^'ersally adopted- The fac-
cimile on page xt ^ves an Idea of how the raised dots look.
Each character (either a U'-ttcr or a special braille contrac-
tion) IB a combination made by varying in place and num-
ber points in dx possible pos[tions. Miss Keller has a brailte
writer on whtch she lpep*i notes nnd wriips letters to her blind
friends. There arc six keys, and by pressing different combma-
tions at a stroke {a& one pUys a chord on the piano) the
operator makes a charat^ter at a time in a sheet of thick paper,
and can write about half as rapidly ee on a typewriter. Braille
is especially useful in making single manuscript copies of books.

Books for the blind are very limited in number. They cost a
great deal to publish and they have not a larp* enough sale to
make them profitable to the publisher; but there are several
institutions with special fund9 to pay for embossed books.
Miss Keller is more fortunate than most blind pcoplcin the kind-
ness of her friends who have books made especially for her, and
in the wiUingncEfi of gentlemen, like Mr. E. E, Allen of tha
Pennsylvania Institute for the Instruction of the Blind, to piint.
aa he has on several occasions, editions of books that she has
Deeded.

Miss Keller does not as a rule read very fast* but she reads
deliberately, not so much becaUEc she feels the words less quickly

PERSONALITY

Ihan we see them H asbtcaaBP it is one of her habits of mifid to do
thingB thoroughly ond well. When a. postage irtereats her, or
ahe needs to reoicmbeT it for aome fixture u^e, she flutters it oS
Hwiftly on the fingera of her right hnnd SoTnclimra this finger-
pUy tE unconscious, ISiss KeUer talb^ to berseU absent-
mindedly in the iitonuol alphabet. When she ia waUiing ap or
down the hall or along the veranda^ her hands go flying along
beside her like a confu^on of birds' wings.

There la. I am told, tactile memory as well a^ visual and aural
Tnemory. Miss SuLlivan says that both she and Miss Keller
remember "in their fingers" nhat they have said. For Mi^
Keller to spell a sentence in the manual alphabet iinpies&es it
on her mind Jufit as we learn a thing from having heard it many
times and con call back the men^ory ol its sound-
Like eveiy deaf or blind person, Miss Keller d^p^nds on her
sense of smell lo an unuEtual degree. When she was a little
girl fhc fimellcd everytbing and knew where she was, what
neighbour's bouse she was passing, by the distinctive odours, As
ber intellect grew she became less dependent on this sense.
To what extent she now Identifies objects by their odour is hard
to determine, The Btnse of smell has fallen intoOisrepute, and a
deaf person is reluctant to speak of it. Miss KeUer s acute sense
of smell may account. however, in some part forthaticecignition
of persons and things which it has been customaiy to attribute
to a special sense, or to an unusual development of the power
that wc all aecm to have of telling when some one »b near.

The question of a special "sijith senae^" such as people have
ascnbed lo Miss Keller, is a delicate one. This mticb is certain,
she cannot have any sense that other people may not have, and
the existence of a special Fientie is not evident to her or to any one
Who knows her. Miss Keller lE distinctly not a singular proof of
occult and mysterious theories, and any attempt to explain her
in that way fails la reckon with her normaliLy, She is no more
mysteriDus and complex than any other person. All that she is.
all that she has done, can be explained directly, except such
thing* m every human being as never can be explained. She
doefi not. it would seem, prove the eKiEtence of spirit without
matter, or of innate ideas, or of immortality, or anything else
that any other human being does not prove. Philosophers have
tried to find out what was her conception of abstract ideas before
she Uamed language. If she bad any conception, there h no

294 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

way of discovciicie it now; for she cannot remember, and
obviously there was rn> record at the time She hnd no concep-
tion of God bcfdfc she hecird the word "God/ as her comments
very clearly sbow.*

Her S'^se oi tirae is excellent, but whether it would have
developed m B. special faculty cannot be knawa^ for she has
hnd & watch since she waa atvcn years o\d.

Miss Keller has two watches, which have been given her. They
are, I think, the only ones o£ their kind in Amenca, The watch
lias OD the back cover a flat ^Id indicator which can ht pushed
freely around from left lo right until, by means of a pin inside
the CQSS. it locks ^-ith the hour hand and takes a corresponding
position. The point of this gold indicator bends o^er the edge
of the case, round which are set eleven raised points — the stem
forms the twelfth. Thus the watch, on ordinary walch with a
white dial for the person who sees, becomes for a blind person
by this special attachment in effect one with a single raised hour
hand and raised Bgures, Though there is less than half an inch
between the points — a space which represents sixty minutes —
Mias Keller tells the time almost e:(act1y. It shnuM be said that
any double-caoe watch with the crystal rsmoved serves well
enough for a blind person whose touch Is sufficiently dehcalc
to feel the position of the hands and not disturb or injure them.

The finer traits of Mies Keller's character are so well known
thai one need not say much about them. Good sense, good
humour, and imagination keep her scheme of things sane and
beautiful, No attempt is made by those around her either to
preserve or to break her illi:sions. When she was a little girl,
a good many unwise ami tactless things that were said for her
benefit were not repeated to her, thanks to the wise watchfulness
of Miss Sullivan. Now that she has ^own up. nobody thinks of
bHng less frank with her than with any other intelligent young
woman. What her good triend, Charles Dudley Warner,
wrtjtc about her in Harper's Magasine in 1896 was true then*
and it remains true now^

"I beheve she is the purest-minded human being ever in
existence. . . . The world to her is what her own mind is.
She has riot even learned that Prohibition on which bo many pride
themeelves. of righteous indigaaticm,'

*6h paflH i6f %al j)i,

PERSONALITY

■*Some time ago, when a policeman flbdt dead her dog, a
dcarlj' loved daily cornpanion, ahc found in ber forgiving heart
no cumJttiiiiatioii for the man; she only said. "H he had uuly
kaown wKata good dog fihe waJS^ he wouldn't have ahotheT.' H
Tffls said of old lime, 'Lord forgive ihcm, Uicy know not what
they do!"

'"Of course the queElion will arise whether, i! Helen Keller
hul not been guarded from the knowledgeof evil, she would have
been what she is to-day, . . . Her mind has naihvt been
made effeminate by the weak and silly literature, nor has it been
vitiated by that which is suggestive of baseness In consequence
her imnd Js not only vigorous, bui it is pure. She is in love with
noble things, with noble thoughts, and with the characters of
noble men and women,"

Sheijtill has a childhke aversion to tragedies. Her imagination
is so vital that she falls complelely under the illusion of a story,
and lives in ite world. Misg SulUvau wriits in a letter of 18*^1:

" Yesterday I read to her the story of ' Macbeth/ as lold by
Charles and Mary Lamb. She was very greatly excited by it,
and said: 'It is terrible 1 It makes mc tremble V After thinking
a little while, she added, '1 think Shakespeare made it %'ery
terrible so that people would ^c how fearful it is to do wrong."'

Of the real world ahc knows more ofthegood and leas of the evil
than most people seem lo know. Her teaebcr does nnt harass her
■with ihe httle unhappy thmss ; but of the important difficulties
they have been throufih. Miss Keller wo-i fully ioformtd, took
her share of the Buffering, and put her mind to the problems.
She ifi logical and toierant, most truEtful of a world th^it has
treated her kindly.

Once when some one asked her to define "love." she rrplied,
"Why, blesfi you. that is eaey; it is what everybody fcela lor
everybody else,"

'Toleration." she said once, when she waa visiting her friend
Mrs. Laurence Hutton, "is the greatest gift of the mind; it
rc<iuirca the same cfTort of the brain that it takca to balance
oneself on a bicycle."

She has a large, generous sympathy and absolute faimees of
temper- So far as she 15 noticeably dilTcrent from other people
she is less bound by convention. She has the courage of her
metnphofs and lets them take her skyward when we pnor telE-
conscious folk would think them rather too bookiah for ordinary

29G A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

converaatiOQ. She always says cxactiy what sihc thinks, withoul
fear of the plain tnitb; yet no one is more cactfu] and adroit than
she in turning an unpleasant truth go that it wiU do ihe Itast
poasi tile hurt totheteeliogsof others- Not all the attention that
has been paid her since she was a child has made her take herself
too £enoudy- Sometimes she gets slatted on a ve-ry &olcnui
preachment. Then her teacher calls her sn incorrigible little
sermomier. and she laugh'* at herself. Often, however, her
fiobcf ideas nre not to be laughed at, for her earnestness carries
her listeners with her. There is never the least false scntcntious-
ness in what she eaye. She means evrrjihing sa thurouEhly
that her very quotations, her echoes from what she has read,
aie in truth original.

Her logic and her sympathy are in excellent balance. Her
Eympathy is oE ihe swid and ministering sort which, fortu-
nately, she has found so often in other people. And her sympa-
thies go further and shape hpr opinions on political and national
movements. She vra& intensdy pro-Boer and \>TDte a strong
argument in favour of Boer indepcndtncc. When she was told
of the surrender of the brave little people, her face clouded and
she was silt-'nt n few minutes. Then she asked clear, penetrat-
ing questions abouL Lhe t^rms of the surrender, and began
lu cliseuiiS thera.

Both Mr, Gilman and Mr. Keith, the teachcM who prcpfired
her for college, were struck by her power of construttive reason-
ing; and she was excellent in pure mathematics, though she
seems never to have enjoyed it much. Some of the beat of her
writing, apart from her fanciful and imaginative work, is her
exposition in examinations and teehnieal themes, and in some
letters which she found it ncce&fiary to write to clear up mie-
uiiderstan dings, and which are models of close thinking enforced
with sweet vehemence.

She is on optimist and an idealist.

"I hope/* sJie wrfleain a letter, "that L^^^i&n*t too practical,
for if she is. I'm afraid she'll miss a great deal of pleasure."

In the diary that she kept at the Wright- Humoson school
in New York she wrote on October i3, iSp4. "I find that I
have four things to learn in my school life here, and indeed, in
life — to think clearly without hurry or conftision, to love every-
body sincerely, to act in everything with the highest motivesi
BJid to truEt in dear God unhesitatingly."

CHAPTER III

EDUCATION

It \s now Pixty-five years sint^e Dr, Samnel Gdrtley Howe
knew that he had made his way through Laura Bridgraan'E
fingers to her intcUigcnce. The names of Laura Dridgman and
Heleti Keller will always be linked LogeLher, and It i& neeensBiy
10 understand what Dr, Howe did for his pupil before one
comca to en account of Mira Sullivan's work. For Dr.
Howe is the great pioneer on whose work ihat of Miss Sullivan
and other teachers of tbe deaf-blind immediately depends.

Dr. Samuel Gridky Howe was bom in Boston, Novpinber
lo, I So I » and died in Boston. January 5. r S76 He was a gre^t
philanthropist. intoreGttd especieUv in the ediieation of all
defectives, the fccblc-mindcd , the blind, and the deaf. Far in
a^dvaniai of his time he. advocated many public measures for the
relief of the poor srid the diseased, lor which he mas laughed
at then, but which have aince been put into practice. Aahead
of the Perkins Irstiluiion for the Blind in Boston, he heard
of Lauia Bridgman and had hat brought to the Institution on
October 4, j8j7.

Laura Bridgman was bom at Hanover, New Hampshire.
December jIh ^8^9; EO she was almost eight years old when
Dr, Howe bfK*^n his e^tperinicnts with her. At the age of twcnty-
Eix months scarlet fever left her without sight or hearing. She also
lost her sense of smell and taste. Dr. Howe was an expert-
mental scientist d.nd bad m him the Gpidl oE New England
transcendentalism vfiih. its large faith and large charities.
Science and faith together led hjm to try to make his way into
the soul which he believed was bom in Laura Bridgman as
In every other human being. His plan was lo teach Laura by
means oE raised types. He pasted raised labels on objects and
made her fit the labels to the objects and the objects to the
labels. "When she had learned in this vra.y to associate raised
vords with things, in much the same manner, he saysi as a dog

"97

sgS A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

le&ms tricks, he began t3 resolve the words into thcjr letter
elemenlsand lo teach her to put together "k-e-y," "c-a-p." Hia
success convinctd hjm that language can be conveved through
type to the miad of the blind-de^ chiJd.whc, before educatioii,
is in the state of the baby who has notleamed to prat tie; indeed,
is in a much worse state, tor the brain has ^own in yeoTE without
natural nourishaiCDt.

Aft^r Laura's t^ducation had pTogressed for two months with
the use only of raised letters. Dr. Howe Bent one of hifl teachers
to Lcam the manual alphabet from a deaf-iuute. She taught it
to Laura, s-nd from that time on the Tn^ " ^ jfl l alphabet was the
means of commxinicating with her.

After the first year or Vwo Dr. Howe did not teach Laura
Bririgman himself, tnit gave her over to other teachers, who
under his direction carried on the work of teaching her language.*

Too much cannot be said in praise of Dr. Howe's work.
As an invt^^tjgaior he kept always the scientist's attitude. He
never forgot lo lieephiarecordEof Laura Bridgman in the fashion
of one who works in a laboratory. The result is» his records
of her are systematic and careful, FrEjm a scientific stand-
point, it is unfortunate that it was Impossible to keep such a
coniplclc record of Helen Keller's devclopmenl- This in itself
is a great comment on the difference between Laura Bridgman
^nd Helen Keller. LAura always remained an object of curioua
ptudy, Helen KellerbecamcsorELpidly a distinctive personality
that she kepi her teacherin abreathless race to meet the needs
of her pupil, with no time or strength to make aecientilic study.

In some ways this is unfortunate- Miss SulHvan knew at the
beginning that Heler Keller would be more interesting and suc-
cessful than Laura Bridgman, and she expresses in one of her
letters the need of keeping notes. But neither temperament nor
training allowed her to make her pupii the nbject of any experi-
ment or observation which did not help in the child's development-
As soon as a thing was done, a definite goal po^sedp the teacher
did not always look bat'k and describe the way she had come.
The explanation of the fact was xmimportant compared to the
fact itself and the need of hurrying on, Theit arc two other
reasons why Miss Sullivan's records ar& incomplete. It has
always been a eevere tax on her eyes to write, and she was early

*S«"Tli« LiF* and Bdacatioo of Lauta Dewty Bridffmui,"1ir ttim. Uarr
Swift LfcCEUoa.

EDUCATION

discouraged froni publishing data by the inaccurate tisemade
of vhat she at first supplied.

"When she first wrote from Tuscumbia to Mr. Michael Anagnos,
Dr. Howe's son-in-law and his successor as I^rcctor of the
pErldns institution, about her work with h«;T pupils the Boston
papers began at once to publish exaggerated accounts of Helen
Keller. Miss Sullivan protected. In a letter dated April lo,
iS37. only Qvc weeks after she went to Helen Keller, she wmto
to a frimd:

" sent me a Boston Heraid containing a stupid article

about Helen. How perfectly absurd to «ay that Helen ia
"already talking fluently V Why, one might just as well sray ihaB
a two-year-old child conferees fluently when he says 'apple
give/ or 'baby walk go/ I suppose if you included hia scream-
ing, crowing, whimpering, grunting, squalling, with occasional
IdclcE, in his oonvenation. it might be regarded as fluent — even
eloquent. Then it is amusing to read of the elaborate prepara-
tion 1 underwent to fit me for the great task my friends entrusted
to me- 1 am sorry that preparation didn't include spelling, it
would have saved nic such a lot of trouble,"

On March 4. iSSft, she writes in a letter:

"Indeed, I am heartily glad that 1 don't know all that ifl
being said and written about Heleu and myself- I assure you
T know quite enough. Nearly every mail brings some absurd
statementH printed or written. The truth is not wonderful
enough to suit the newspapers; ao they enlarge upon it and
invent ridiculous embellishments. One paper has Helen demon-
fitratine problems in geometry by rneans of her playing blocks,
1 expect to hear ncx^t that she haa vritten a treatiao on the
origin and future cf the planets !*"

In December, 1887, appeared the first report of the Director
of the Perkins Institution, which deals with Helen Keller. For
this report Miss Sullivan prepared, in reluctant compliance -with
the reqtte^t of Mr. Anagnc^n an account of her work. This with the
extracts from her letters, scattered through the report, is the
first valid source of information about Helen Keller, Of this
report Miss Sulhvan wrote in a letter dated October 30, 1887:

"Have you seen the paper I wrote for the 'report*? Mr
Anagno^ ^vas deHghtecT with it. He says Helen's progress has
been 'a triumphal march from the beginning/ and he ha^ many
dattering things to say about her teacher, 1 think he i:i uiclined

30O A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

to cj[agf:*?ratc ; at oU events, his 1an£uaf:c b too Klowingi and
simple faf^ts arc set fonh in such a matin*!! that thejr bewilder
ooe. Doubtless the work of the past few months docs seem
like a triumphal niaich Id him; but then people seldom see the
halting and painful steps by whic^h the Tnost insignificant succefi*
is achieved,"

As Mr. Anagnos was the head of a gr^at institution, what he
sajd bad much more eff^t than the facts in Mies Sullivan's
account on which he based his statements. The newspapers
caught Mr. Anagnos's spirit and exaggerated a hundred^fold.
In a year after she ftrsi went lo Helen Keller, Miss Snlb van found
herself and her pupU the centre of a stupendous fiction. Then
the educators ^1 over the vrorld said thar say tind for the most
part did not help matters. There grew up a masa of contro-
versial matter ^'hich it is amusing to read now. Teachers of
tlie deaf proved a priori that what Miss Sullivan had done
could not be. and some discredit was reflected on her statements,
because they were surrounded by the vague eloquence of Mr.
Anagnos. Tbua the story of Helen Keller, incredible when
told with modefalion, had the misfortune to be heralded by
exoEgcratcd announcements ^ and naturally met cither an
Lgnoraut creduhty or an incredulinjs hostility.

In November, iSftS^ another report of the Perkins Institution
appeared with a second paper by Miss SuUivan, and then
noihiny ofHicial was published until November, jfl9THWhenMr.
Anagn OS issued the last Perkins Institution report eont^unmg
anything about Helen Keller. Por this report Miss Sullivan
wrote the fullest and largest account she has ever written; and
In this report appeared the " Fro*t King," which is diseussed
fully in a later chapter. Then the controversy waaccd fiercer
than ever.

Finding that other people seemed to know so much matt
about Helen Keller than she did, Misa Sullivan kept silent and
has been silent for ten years.eicept for herpappr In the first Volta
Bureau Souvenir of Helen Keller* and the paper which, at I3r.
BelVs requesE, she prepared In i5g4 for the meeting at Chau-
tauqua of the American Aiwociation to Promote the Teaching
Speech to the Deaf. When Dr. Bell and others tell her, wbat^
ia certainly true from an impersonal point of view, that she
owes it trj the eaiise of education to wnte what sho knows, she

*ScC pk£V JV^.

EDUCATION

anawcnt Tcry properly that she owes all her time and all bcr
energieB to her pupil.

Although Mi^ SuUivan is stiU nitlicr nmvecd than distressed
when 6ome one, even coe of her friends, raakea mistakes in pub-
lished articles aboat her and Miks Keller, still she sees that
Miss Keller's boot nhould include ttQ the information that the
teat:hcr could at preaeot fumtsh. So she consented to the pubti*
cation of oTctractH from lElters which she wrote during the firat
year of her work with her pupil. ThMe letters were written to
Mrs, Sophia C. Hopkins, the only person to whom Miss Sullivan
ever wrote freely. Mrs. Hopkins has been a matron at the
FcrkuiE Institution for twenty ycajs. and during the time that
Miss Sullivan was a pupil tht^rc she was like a mother to liei. In
these letters we have an almost weekly record of Miss Sulli\'an"B
work. Some of the details she had forgotten, as she grew more
and more to generalize. Many people ha've thought that any
attempt to find the principles in her method would be nothing
but a later theory eupcrimposed on Miss Sullivan's work. But
it IS evident that in those letters she was making a clear
ana.ly^s of what she was doing. She was hor own critic, and in
spite of her later declaration, made with her modest carelessness,
that she followed no particular method, she was very clearly
leamitig from hcf task and phrasing nt the tine principles of
edtication of unique value not only in the teaching of the dea£
but in the leaching of all ehildrcn. The extracts from her letters
and repnrts form an important CJTmtrihution to pedagogy, and
raorcthan justify the opinion of Dr, Daniel C. Gilman, who wrote
in 1B93, when he was President of Johns Hopkins University;

"1 have jnst read _ your most interesting account

Df the various steps you have taken in the education of your
wonderful pupiL and T hope you will allow me to express my
admiration for thp wisdom that has guided ycmr methods and
the afiection which has inspired your labours."

Miss Anne Mansfield Sullivan was bom at Springfield^ Massa-
chusetts- Very caily in her life she became almost totally
blind, and she entered tV« Perldne Institution October 7, iSSo,
when she was fourteen years old. Later her sight was par-
tially restored,

Mr. Anagnos says in his report of 1SS7: "She was obliged

2,01

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

to begin hcT education at the lowest and rao»t elementary pnint;
but she slinwed from tTie very atart tbat slie had in herself tbo
force and capafrity which intjure success, . She faaA

finally reached the gc^l for vrhich sho strove »? bravely. The
golden words that Dr, Howe uttered and the example that be
left pasi^ed into her ilioughis and heart and helped her on the
road to usefulness ; and now she stands by his sid? as his worthy
GLiccEiiSor in one of the most cherished branches of Ills work.
. . - MiM Sullivan's talents are of the highest order."

In 1866 she graduated from the Perkins Institution, When
Captain Keller applied to the director for a teacher, Mr, AnaEnoa
reeommendedher. The only time she had to prepare herself for
the work with her pupil was from AugUEt, tS86, when Captain
Keller wrotSn to Fcltmar/, i38;. During this time she read
Dr. Howe's r^orts She was further aided by the fact than
during the six yeore of her school hJe she had lived in the houso
with l^aura Dridgiuan, It was Dr^ Howe who. by his work
with Laura Bridgman, made Miss Sullivan's work possible;
but it wes Miss Sullivan who discovered the way to teach
language to the dcaf-bUnd.

It must bp rirnembCTPd that Miss Sullivan had to solve her
probleniE unaided by previous exporienccor thcDBsiBtanccof any
other teacher- DurinK the lirst >t;ar of her work with Helen
Keller, in which she taught her pupil language, Ihey were in
Tuscumhin; and when they came North and vifiitcd the Perkina
Instilulion. He:len Keller was never a regular student there or
subject to the discipline of the Institution The impression that
Miss Sullivan educated Helen Keller "under the direction of
Mr, Anagnus" iE erroneous. In the three years during which at
various times Miss Keller and Miss Sullivan were guests of the
Perkins Institution, the teachers there did not help Miss Sullivan,
and Mr. Anagnos did not even use the manual alphabet with
facihty as a means of communication , Mr. Anagtios wrote
in the report of the Pcrkina Institution, dated November 37,
i68fl; *'At my urgent request. Helen, accompanied by her
mother and her teacher^ came to the North in the last week of
Mav. and spent aeveral months with us as our f^estfl. , «

We gladly allowed her to use freely our library of ermbossed books,
our collection of stuffed animals, fiea-ehelbn models of flower*
and plants* and the rcat of our apparatus for inatructing the
bliiidtbrQiighthi:scii5e of touch- Idonoldoubtthalshederived

EDUCATION

from them muoh pleasure and not a little prinfil. But wh<>Ther
Helen stays at home ormakeE viEitsin otlier parts of lie country,
her education is always under the imnicdiate diT^ctJon ard
ejtdusive control of her teacher. No one interterea with
Miss Sullivan's plane, or shares ia her tasks. She has been
allowed eotire freedom in the choice of means and methods for
carrying on her great work: and, as we can judge by the results,
she ha& made a most judicioua end discreet ubc of this privilege.
What the liltle pupil has thus far accomplished 15 widely known,
and her wonderful sttainments command general admiration;
but only tboEs who are fajuiLiarwith the particulars of the grand
achievement know that the credit is largely due to the intel-
ligence, wisdom, Bagacity, unremitting perseverance and
unbending will of the instructress, who rescued the child frrrm
the depths of everlasting night and stiUncaa, and watched over
the difTerent phases of her mental and moral development with
maternal aoLicitudc and enthusiastic dsvotion."

Here follow in order Miss Sullivan's Icttcra and the most
important passages from the reports 1 have omitted from each
succeeding rcpcrt what hae already been explained and does not
need to be repealed- For the ease of the reader I hive. with
MifiS Sullivan's consent, made the eitractg run tngethpr eon-
tinuouely and Bupphed words of connection and the resulting
necessary changes in syntax, and Miss Sullivan has made sliEht
changrs rn the phrasing of her reports and alsn of her letters,
which were carelessly written, I have also italicized a few
important passages. Some of her opinions Miss Sullivan would
like to enlarge and revise. That remains for her to do at
another time. At present wo have here the fullest record that
has been published. The first letter is dated March t, iBB?!
three days after her arrlvnl in Tuscumhia.

, It was 6.30 when I reached Tiiscumbia. I found
Mrs. Keller and Mr. James Keller waiting for me. They said
somebody had met every train for two days. The drive from
the station to the house, a diatance of one mile, was very lovely
and restful, I was surprised to Gnd Mrs. Keller a very young-
looking woman, nrtit mueh older than myself, 1 should think.
Captain Keller met ua in the yard and gave me a cheery welcome
and a hearty handshake. My fii^t question was, "Whcreis
Helen?" I tried with all my might to control the eagerness
that made me tremble so that t could hardly walk, Aa we

304 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

approached the house 1 saw a ctiUd slandirg in the doorway,
and Captain Keller Eaid, "There she is. She has ktiow^n sll
day that 5omc one was c^tpcctcd* and she has beeo wild ever
since her mother went to the aiation for you." 1 had seareely
put my foot on the 5lcps, when she rushed toward raa with such
force that she would have thrown ine backv^ard if Captain
Kelkr had nnt been hohind me. She felt my face and dress and
my bag, which she took out of my hand snd tried to open. It
did not open easily, and fihc felt carefully to see if there was a key-
hole. Finding that there was, she turned to me, making the sign
of turning a key and poinlmg to the bag, Her mother inter-
fered at thia point and showed Helen by signs that she must not
touch the bag. Her face (Pushed, and when her mofher/ittemxited
to take the bag from her, she grew very angryn 1 attracted her
attcnticfn by showing her my watch and kttiag her hold it ia her
hand. Instantly the tempest subsided, and we went upstairs
together. Here 1 opened the bag, and she went through it
eagerly, probably expettiug to find something to eat. Friends
had probably brought her eandy in their hags, and she eipeeted
to £nd Bome in mine,. 1 made hcT understand, by pointing to a
trunk in the hall and to myself and nodding my head, that I
had a trunk, and then made tho sign that she had used for *a^
ing, and nodded again. She understood in aflashnnd ran donn-
stairE to tell her mother, by means ot em.phatic signs, that there
was some candy in a trunk for her. She returned in a few
minutes and helped mc put away my things. It was too comical
to see her put on my bonnet and cock her head Gist on one sidCt
then on theolher, and look in the mirror, just as if she could see.
Somehow 1 had expected to see a pale, delicate child — I suppose
I got the idea from Dr. Howe's description of Laura BridEman
when she came to the Institution. But there's nothing pale or
delicate about Helen. She is 3Eirge, strong, and ruddy, and aa
unrestraiEii^d in her movements ss a young colt- She has nonv-j
of those nervous habits that are so nntieeable and so distreKing'
in blind children- Her body is well formed and vigorous, and
Mrs. Keller says she has not been ill a day since the illness that
deprived her of her sight and hearing. She has a fine head,
and it ia set on her shoulders j^st right- Her fscc is hard to
describe- It is intelligent, but lacks mobility, or soul, or some-
thing. Her mouth is large and finely shaped. You see at a
glance that she Is bhad> One eye is larger than the other, and

EDUCATION

30s

protrudes noticeably. Shi? rarely smiles; indeed, T have seen
her smile only once or twice Eince 1 came. She is unresponsive
&nd ci'cQ impatient of caressca Ifom any one except her mother.
She is very qnicIt-tEmpered and wilJulH and nobody, except her
brother James, has atlempted to coatrol her. The greatert
problem I shall huve to hoIvc ia how to diQcipline end control
her without breaking her spirit. I shall go rather slowly at first
and try to win her love, I shall not attempt to conquer her by
foreo Alone- but I ahall inalat on reasonable obedience from the
start. One thing that impressts everybody is Helen's tireless
activity. She is never still a. moment. She ie here, there, and
everywhere. Her hands arc in cverythinK; but nothin£ lioldfl
her attention for long. Dear child, her restless spirit gropes in
the dart. Her untaught, unsatisfied hands destroy whatever
ihcy toueh because they do not know what else to do with
things.

She helped me unpaek my trunk when it came, and waa
delighted whi^n she found the doll the little girls sent her- I
thought it a good opportunity to teach her her first word. I
spelled "d-i>I-l" slowly in her hand and pointed to the doll
and nodded my ho&d. which seoma to be her sign for posstssion.
Whenever anybody gives her anything, she poiats to it, then to
herself, and nods her bead. She looked puzzled and felt my
band, and I repeated the letters. She imitated them very well
and pointed to the doll. Then [ took the doll, meaning to Eivc
St baek to her when she had made the letters; but she thought
1 meant to take it from her, and in an instant she waa in a
tempert and tried to geize the dolL I shook my head and tried
to form the letters with her fingers; but she got tnf:>re and more
angry, I forced her into a chair and held her there until I was
nearly exhausted. Then it occurred to me that it was useless to
continue the struggle — I must do something to turn the current
of her thoughts. 1 let her go, but ri^fuscd to give up the dolL
1 went down^taiis and got some cake (she is very fond of sweets] .
1 showed Helen the cake and apeUed "c-a-k-e** in her hand,
holding the cake toward her. Of course she wanted it and tried
to take it; but 1 spelled the word again and patted her hand.
She made the letters rapidly, and 1 gave her the cake, which sht
»te in a great hurry, thinking, I suppose, that I might take it
Jrom her. Then I showed her the doll and spelled the word
again . liolding the doll toward her as 1 held the coke, Shemadv

3o6 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

the letter* "d-o-l" and I made the other"!" and gave her thft
doll- She iBJi dot^nstaiTS with it and could not be induced to
returo lo my room all day.

Yesterdfly i gave her a. *ewinE-eajd to do. I made the firsU
row ot vertical lines and let her feel it and notice that there were
several row^ of litllt: holi:s. She hegriii tu work delightedly and
finished the card in a few minutes, and did it very neatly indapd.
1 thought I would try another word; ao I spelled "c-a-r-d"
She raade the "c-a/" then stopped and thought, and making
the sign lor eating and pointing downward ghe pu&hed me
toward the door, meaning that I mu^t go downstairs for dome
cako- The two liztteis "c-h," you see. had reminded her of
Friday's "lesson" — not that she had any idea that rot j was the
.carnc oE the thing, but it was simply a mattt^r of association, I
suppose. I finished the word "c-a-k-e"* and obeyed ber
command. She was delighted. Then 1 spelled "ri-ol-l'*
and bcfian to hunt for it, She Eollowt with her hands every
motion you make, and she knew that I waa looking for the dolL
She pointed down, meaning that the doll was downstairs. I
made the signs that she had used when she wiehed me lo go
for the cake, and pushed her toward the door. She started
forward, then hesitated a moment, evidently debating wilhin
herself whether she would go or not. Gfae decided to send
tne instead. I shuok my htad and s^ielled "d-o-l-l" more
emphatically, and opened the door for her; but the obstinately
refused to obey. She had not finished the cake she waa eating,
and T took Jt away, indicating that if she brought the dnll 1
would give her back the cake. She stood perfectly still for one
long raomenC, her face crimscm; then her desire (or the cake
Irimnphedt and she ran downstairs and brought the doLl. and of
course I gave her the cake, btit could not persuade her to enter
the room again.

She was very truubltsomewhen I began lo write this muming.
She kept coming up behind me and putting her hand on the paper
and into the ink-bottle. These blots arc her handiwork. Finally
1 remembered the kindergarten beads, and set her to work
stringing them. First I put en two wooden beads and one glass
bead, thennaede her feci of the string and the two boxcsof beads.
She nodded and began at once to Oil the string with wooden
beads. 1 shook my head and took them all oS and made her feeJ
of the two wooden beads and the one gla^s bead. She c:tamined

EDUCATION

307

them Iho'ughtfully and began agEiin. This tirae she put or tllfl
glass bead fir^t and ihe two v^oodcn onea nc>Lt' I took ihcm off
and showed htr that the two wooden oni?s must g** on first, IhL-n
the glass beikd. She had no further trouble and aUod the Etring
quickly, too quickly, In fact. SIic tied the ends together when
she had flniBhcd the string, and put thi; beads round her neck.
I did not make the knot large enough in the next string, and the
beads came off as fast ai she put them on; but she Ectved the
difficulty herself by putting the string through a bead and tymg
it- I thought this very clever. She amused herself with the
beads until dinner-time, bnuRing the strings to rac now and thca
for my approval.

My eyes are very much inflamed. 1 know this letter ia
"very carelessly written. I had a lot to aay, and couldn't stop
to think how to express things neatly. Please do not show my
letter to any oaa. If 3'ou want to, you may read it to my
friends,

MOVTIAY P. M.

I had a bnttlo royal with Helen this morning. Although I
try very hard not to force issues, [ find it very diflicult to avoid
them.

Helen's table manners are appalling. She puta her hands (n
our plates and helps herselfn and when the dishes are passed,
she grabs them and takes out whatever she wants. This morning
I would not let her put her hand in mv plate. She persisted,
and a ccjnteatof wills followed. Naturally the family was much
disturbedn and left the room. I locked the dining-room door,
and proceeded to cat my breakfast, though the food almost
choked me. Helton was lying on the f\oor. kicking and scream-
ing and trying to pull my chair from under me. She kept tliia
up for half an hour, ihcn she got up to see what 1 was doing, I
let her sec that T nas eating, hut did not let her put her band
in the plate. She pinched me, and I slapped her every time
the did it. Then she went all round the table to ace who was
there, and finding no one but me, she seemed bewildered. Alter
a few minuica she came back to her place and began to eat her
breakfast with her fingers, 1 gave her a spoon, which she threw
on the flnrr. I fomed her out of the chair and made ber pick
it up. Finally 1 succeeded in getting her back in her chair again,
frnd held the spoon in her hand, compelling her to take up the
fjod with it and put it in her mouth. In a few minutes she

3o8 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

yiddtd and Qnialicd her breakfast peaceably. Then wc had
another tussk over folding her napkin. When sbe bad finii^bed.
»he threw it on the floor and ran towiird the dtmr. Finding it
locked, sbc bc^An Lo kick and scream all over asain. It was
another hour before 1 uutceeded in getting hor napkin folded-
Then I lei her out into the warm sunabiiic and went up lo my
room and thrcsv nnys^U on th<? bed exhausted, 1 had a f-ood
cry and felt better. I suppose T shall have many sji^h battlM
with the httle woman before ih*f learuG the only two essential
things I can teach her. obedience and lovc-

Good-by, Jear. Don't worry; I'll Jo my best and leave the
rest to whatever power managea that whioh we cannot. J like
Mn», Keller very much.

TuBcuuBi A. Alabama, March ti, 18S7.

Sin<^e I wrote ynu, Hden and I have goTie to live all by our-
selves in a httle gardcnhouae about a tjuarter of a mile from
her home, only a aboTt distance from Ivy Green, the Keller
homestead. I very soon made up my mmd that I could do
nothing with Helen in the midst ol the family, who have always
allowed her to do exactly a^ she pleased. She has tyranniEed
over everybody, her mother^ her father, the servants^ the little
dorkieE who play with her, and nobody had ever seriously
disputed her will, except occasionally her brother James, until I
eame; and like all tyrants she holds tenaciously to her dix-ine
right to do as she pleases. If she ever foiled to get what she
wanted, it vias btxauae of her iu&Liilily to make the vassals of
her household understand what it was. Every thwarted desire
was the signal for a passionate outburst, and as she grew older
and stronger, these tempests became more violent. As 1 began
to teach her, I was beRet by many difTiculties. She wouldn't
yield a point without contesting it to the bitter end. I couldn't
coix her or compromise with her. To get her to do the simplest
thing, such as combing her hair or washing her hands or button-
ing her boots, it waa ncceasary to tj^e force, and, oE course, a di^
tressing scene followed. The family naturally felt inclineO to
interfere, especially her father, who cannot bear to see her cry.
So they were oil willing to give in for the soke of peace. Beside*,
her past experiences and a^^sociations were all aEainsD me, I
taw clearly that it was useless to try to teacli her language

EDUCATION

309

or anything dse until she learned to obey me, T have thouglit
about it a gr^iat deal, and the more 1 think, thn morp cenara
I am that obedieiice ii the galena/ through which knowledge,
yes, and \ovt. Xum. ciUcr the mend of the child. A:i I wrote
you. I intrant to go s]owly at first. 1 had an idea that T cculd
win the love and confidence of my little pupil by the same
tn«ar;s that I Ehouldusc if ahe could see and bear. But I aoon
found that 1 was tut off from all the usual approai^hes to the
child's heart. She accepted everything 1 did for her as a matter
of ctfurse. and refused to he caressed^ aad there was no way of
appealing to her affection or sympathy or childish love of appro-
bation. She would cr she wouldn't, and there was an end of it.
Thua it is. we Mudy, plan and prepare ourselvea far a ta&k, and
when the hour for action arrives, we find thai the system we have
followed with such labour and pride doee not fit the occasion;
and then there's Dolhing for us to do but rely ua something
within us, some innate capaciiy for knowing and doing, which
wc did not know we pOESe^ed until the hour of our great need
brougbtib tuhght,

I had a good, frank talk with His. Keller, and explained
to hor how diilicLilt it was going to be to do anything with
Helen under the existing circumstances. 1 told her that in
my opinion the child ought to be separated from the family for a
few weeks at least — that she must learn to depend on and obey
me before i could make any headway. After a long time Mra.
Keller said Iha! she would think the matter over and see what
Captain Keller thought of sending Helen away^th me. Captain
Keller fell In with the scheme most readily and suEge&ted
that the little garden-house at the "old place" be got ready
for ua. He said that Helen might recogniac the place, as
she had often been there; but Ehe would have no idea of her
flurroundings, and they could come everj' day to aee that all
was goinp well, with the undcratanding, of course, that ahe
was tu knc]w nothing of their visits. I hurried the preparations
for cur departure as much as possible, and here we are-

The little house is a genuine bit of paradise. It consists of
one large square room with a great fireplace, a spacious bay-
window, and a small room where our servant, a little negro
boy> sleeps. There is a pia^^ta in front, covered with vines
that grow GO luxtiriantly that vgu have to part them to see tli^
garden beyond. Our meals are brought from th« houfie^ and

3IO A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

we usually eat on the piazsa. The little negro boy takes care
of the lire when we need one; eo I cah give my whole atlcnlitm
to Helen^

She was greatly excited at first, and kicked and streaToed
hereelf into a Eort of Btupor; but when supper voka brought
she ate heartily and at^emud brightor. although she refused to
let me touch her. She devoted hprself to her dolls the firat
evening, and when it was bedtime she undressed very quietly;
but when she fdt me gi^t into bed with her, she jumped out cm
the other side, and nothing that I could do would induce her
to get in again. But I was afraid she would take eold, and I
iDsiated that she must go to bed- We had a terrific tussle, I
can tell you. The struggle lasted lor nearly two hours, T never
BQW fiuch strength and endurance in & child. But £oHunatcly
for us both. 1 am a little stronger, and quite as obEtinate wbea
1 £et out. I linally succeeded in getting her on the bed and
covered her up, and she Lay curled up as near the edge o£ the
bed as possible.

The next morning she was very docile, but evidently homesick.
She kept going to the door, as if she expected aome one, and
every now and then she would touch her chei^k, whicb is her
sign for her mother, and shak? her head sadly. She played
with her doUs more than usual, and would have nothing to do
with me. It is aimisiLig and pathetic to see Helen vrith her
dolls. I don't think she has any special tenderness for them —
I have never acen her caress Ibem; but she dresses aad undresses
them many times during the day and handles them exactly
a£ she has geen her mother and the nurse handle her baby
sister.

This morning Nancy, her favourite doll, seemed to have
■ome difficulty about flwal lowing the milk that was being admin-
istered to her in lar^c spoonfula; for Helen suddenly put down
the cup and began to slap her on the back atid turn her over
on her knees, trolling her gently and patting her softly all the
time. This lasted for several minutes; then this mood passed,
find Nancy was thrown ruthlessly on the flour and pushed to
one Etde, while s large, pink-cheekod, fuzsy-haired member of
the family received the little mothcr*a undivided attention.

Helen knows several words now. but has no idea how lo use
them, or that everything has a name. I thmk, however, she
will Icam quickly enough by and by, As 1 have said before,

EDUCATION

311

she 13 worderfully bright and acttvc and ai qntck as ligbtTiing
in her movements.

March 13* 1887.

You will be i^ad ttj hear tfaat my experiment is TPorking out
finely. 1 have not had any trouble at all with Helen, either
ycBlcrdey of to-day. She haa learned three oevf wordSj and
when I give bur the objccls, Ihe names of which she has learned,
Khe spells tbem unhesiiatingly; but she seems glad when the
lesson is over.

We had a good frolic this morning out In the garden. Helen
evidently knew where ?ihe was as soon as she touched the bo3C-
wcod bcdgcG, end nmde many signs whi[?h I did not understand.
No doubt tbey were signs tor tbe diSerent members ol the
family at Ivy Green.

I have just heard something that surprised me very much.
It seems that Mr. Anagnos had beard of Helen before he received
tain Keller's letter last summer. Mr. Wilson, n tpacher
orence, and a friend of the Kellers*, studied at Harvard
Slimmer before and went to tbe Perkins Institution to
Icam if anything could be done for his friend's child. He saw
a. Rcatlcmafi whom he presumed to be the director, end told
him about He1t:ii. He says the gentleman was not particularly
interested, but said he would see if anything coidd be done.
Doesn't it seem strange that Mr. Anagnos never referred to
this interview ?

March »o. ifia?.

My heart U einging for joy this rooming. A miracle bat
happened 1 Tbe lightof understanding has shone upon my httle
pupil's mindj and behold, ell things are changed 1

The wild Little creature of two v^celis ago has been transformed
into a gentle child. She is sitting by mc as I write, her face
serene and happy, crocheting a long red chain of Scotch wool.
ShelKimedthe stitch this wetk^ and is verv proud cf the achieve-
ment. When she succeeded in making a chain that would
reach across the room, she patted hersdf on the arm and put
the first work ol her hands lovingly against her cheek, Shalets
me ki»s bcr now, and when she i^ in a parllcularly gentle mood*

312 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

she wLU elL in my lap for & inmute or two; but she docs not
return my caresses. The great step — the step thai coimtS'—
has been token. The littJe sax-age has leamed her iirst lesson
ID oDtdience. and fiiiJs the yoke easy. It now remaJofl my
pleasant task to dir&ct and mould the beautiful mlelligence
that is beginning to ttir m ths child-coul, Alre^y people
remark the change in Helen. Her father looks io at us inoTTung
and evening as he goes to and Irom his ofTice. and sees her
contentedly stringing her beads or making horizontal lines on
her aewmg-cordt and e^tdaima, "How quiet ahc is t" When I
came, her movements were ro insistent that one always felt
there -va£ something unnatural and almost weird about her.
1 have noticed alao that she eats muc:h less, a lact which troubles
her father so much thit he is aimlous to get her home. He
cays she is homesick. I don't agree with bira; but I BuppoM
we shall have to leave our little bower very sooq.

Helen has learned several nouns this week. "M-u-g" and
"m-i-l-k," have given her more trouble than other words.
When she spells "milk," she points Ic the mug, and when sbc
spells "mug," she makes the Kgn for pouring or drinking, whicJi
thows that she has confused the words. She has no idea yet
thai every thing has a name.

Yesterday I had the little negro boy coraa in when Helen
w^hamg her lesson, and learn the letters, too- This pleased her
very much and stimulated her ambition lo excel Percy. Slie
was delighted if he made a mistake, and mjide him form the
letter over several times. When he succeeded in forming it to
suit her. she patted him on his woolly head so vigorously
that I thought some of his slips were intentional.

One day this week Captain Keller brought Belle, a setter of
which he Is very proud, to see us. ILe wondered If Helen would
recognize her old plajTnate, Helen was giving Naney a bath,
and didn't notiee the dog at Srst- She usually feels the softest
step aiid throws out her arms to asccituio if any one is near
her. Belle didn't seem very anxious to attract her attention.
I ima^ne she has been rather roughly handled sometimes by
her little mistress. The dog hadn't been m the room more
than half a minute, however, before Helen began to sniff, and
dumped the doU into the wash-bowl and felt about the room,
She stumbled upon Belle, who was crou[:hing near the window
where Captain Keller was standing. It waa evident that (die

EDUCATION

recognized the dog: for &h.c put her arms round her neck and
squeezed, her. Then Helea sat down by her and began tomaJiip-
talatc bcr claws, Wc couldn't think for a second what she Traa
doing; huti wht3i wc saw her make the letters "d-oM " pp her
own EngerB, wq knew thab she was trying to teach Belle to
apca

March ad, 1S87,
Helen and I came home yesterday, 1 am sorry they wouldn't
|«t us stay another w«ck; but 1 think I have made the m^^st
I could of the opportnnitic= that were mine the past two weeks,
and T don't expect that 1 shall have any serious trouble with
Helen in the luture. The back of the grenlest obstacle in the
path of progress is broken. L think "no" and "yes/' conveyed
by a shake or a nod of my head, have become facts as apparent
to hsr ^ hot and cold or as the difference between pain and
pleasure. And I don^t intend that the lesson she has learned
at the cost of so much pain and trouble shall he unlearned.
I EhalL stand between her and the over-indulgence of her paronte.
I ha^e told Captain and Mrs, Keller that they must not intcr-
f*TG with me in any way. I have done my best to make them
see the terrible injustice to Helen of allowing her to have her
way in evcrythinE. and I have pointed out that the processes of
teaching the child thai everything cannot be as he wills it, are
apt to bo painful both to him and to hie teacher. They have
promised to let me have a free hand and help me as much as
possible. The improvement they cannot help seeing in their
child haa given them more confidence in me. Of course, it
is hard for Ihem. I realize that it btu^ to see their a/llicted
tittle ehitd punished and n^de to do things against her will.
Only a few hours after my talk with Captain and Mrs, Keller
(and they had agreed to everything). Helen took a notion that
she wouldn^t xiee her napkin at table- 1 think she wanted
to flcc what would happen, 1 attempted several times to put
the napldn round her neck: but each time she tore it of! and
threw it on Che floor and finally began to kick the table. 1 took
her plate away and started to take her out of the room. Her
father objected and said that no child of his should be deprived
of bi5 food on any account,

Helen didn't come up to my room after supper, and 1 didn't

3tA A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Eee her again until brajikfaat-tiTfle, She ^as at her plaoe when
I came dcwn. She had put the ns-pkin under her chiH) mstcad
of pinning it at the back, as was her custom. She called my
aitenUon to the nr^vr arrangemont, and when 1 did not objecB
aha seemed pleased and patted herself. When she left the
dmmg-tuom. ^be took my lifind and patted it. t wondered if
she was trying to "make up," 1 thought I would try the effect
of a little belated diacipUnc, T vent back to tho dining-room
and got a. napkui. When. Helen carae upalairs for her lesson,
I arranged the objecta on the table aa usual, ejcccpt thai th«
cake, which I alnaya give her in bits aa a reward when she
spells a word [:|uicldy and correctly, was nut there. She noticed
this at once and made the Eign for it, I showed her the napkin
and pinned it round her neck, then tore it off and threw it on
the floor and shook my head- I repeated this pcrformanco
several times, I thiolc *he urid*>rat™>d perfectly well; for she
slapped her hand two or three times and shook her head. Wc
began the lesson as UKual. 1 gave her an object, and she spelled
the name (she knows twelve now). After spelhnj half the words,
she stopped suddenly, as if a thought had flashed into hcc
mind, and felt fnr the napkin. She pinned it rciund her neek
and made the sign for cake fit didn't occur ta ber to spell the
word, you see). I look this for a promise that if I gave her
some rake she would be a good girl. 1 gave her a larger piece
than lisual, and Eh« chuckled and patted herEelf,

April 3, iSa;,
We almost live in the Earden, where everylhiuE is growing and
blooming and glowing After breakfast we go out and waleh
the men at work, Helen loves to dig and piny in the dirt like
any ether child. This morning she planted her doll and showed
me that she eipeeled her to grow ns tall as I, You must see
that she is very bright, but you have no idea how cunning she ia.
At ten wc come in and string beads for a lew mijiutes. She
can make a great mnny combinations now, and often invents
new ones herself. Then I let her decide whether she will sew
or knit or ciochct. She learned to kntt very quickly, and iB
making a wash-cloth for her mother. Last week «he made her
doll an npron, and it waa dons as well as any child of her aga
could do it. But 1 am always glad when this work U over for

EDtrCATlON

the day, Sewrng and oroch^ting are inventionE of the devil, I
think, rd rather hTCflk siunes en Ihc king's highway than hem
B hartdkerchicf. Al eleven we have gyrana^lKS- She knowa
all the ffce-hand movctncnts ctnd the "Anvil ChoruB"* with the
dumb-bells. Her father says he is going to Gt up a E>nuiasiunx
for her in the pump-house; but we holh like a good romp better
than eet excrciBes. The hour from twelve to one is devoted to
the learning o£ new words. But yea musiTi'S think this is thf only
iimv I spell to Hflen; jcr I spdi in her haixd evcryihxng ^ve do oil
iiay l&ng. atlhoiigh sUe Ju2s nt? idea as yet what the speiUng wtans.
After dinoET I rest for an hour, and Helen plays with her dolla
or frolics iu the yard ^th the litlle darkies, who were her
conat&nt companiona before 1 camo. Later 1 join them, and
we make the rounds of the outhouses. We visit the horses anl
mtilei in their stalls and hunt for eggs and feed the turkeys.
Often, when the weather is fine, we drive from four to six, or go
to see her aunt at Ivy Green iTr her cou^^ins in the town. Helen's
inatincts are decidedly social ; she likes to ha^-e people about her
andto viMt herfricnda, partly, I thinkj because they al way h hava
things she likes to cat. After supper we go to my room and do
ail sorts oi things until eight, tvhen I undress the htlle woman
and put her to bed. She skcps with mc now. Mrs. Keller
wanted to got a nurse for her; hut 1 concluded I'd rather be her
nurse than look after a stupid, lazy negress. Besides, 1 like
to have Helen depend on me for everything, and I ^nd ii much
tasier to touch Jier things at odd motnents than at at times.

On March 31st I found that Helen knew eighteen nouna
snd three verba. Here ia a hat ot the words. Those with a
croaa after them ate word^ she ii^k&d for hetself: Doll, n^ug,
pin, key. di?g, hat, titp, box, tvatcr, milk, taiuly. eye{\).fittgrr (x),
toe (s), head (^), cake, baby, ttather. sit. stand, waik. On April
ist she learned the nouns knije, jork, spoon, saucer, Wa, ^apa,
bfd^ and the verb rutt.

April g, 1SS7.
I mustwrite you a line this morning because somethingv«y
Important has happened. Helen has taken thp second greaB
fltep in her education. She ha3 learned that e^'erything has a
name, and thai th« miittuai aiphabet is the key io tvttryihing ah4
wants to knowt

5i6 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

In aprcvloua letter I think T wrote you that "mug" and "miUc'*
had given Helen innre trouble thai3 all the icst. She confuspd
the nomifi with the verb "drink," She didn't Vni-jw the word
for "drink/' but went ihroufih the pantcmiiinc of drinking when-
ever she sppUtNl "muE" or "milk/* This momingH while sho
was washing, che wanted to know the name for "water."
When she wants to know the name of anything, &hc points to
ft and pats my hand. T spelled " w-a-t-C'r" and thought no more
abdul it untkl after breakfast. Then it occurred to me tbat with
the help of this nc*Y word 1 inlght succeed in straightening oub
the "niiiE-™''k" difficully. We went out to the pump-house:,
acd I made Helen hold her mug under the spoul while 1 pumped.
Aa the cold water gushed forth. filUng the mug, I spelled
"w-a-t-c-r" in Helen's free hand. The word coming so close
upon the Eensation of cold, water rushing over her hand
seemed to startle her. She dropped the mug and stood ai odc
transfixed. A new liyhc came into her face. She Hpelled
"water" several limes. Then Eho dropped on the ground and
asked for it9 name and pointed to the pump and the trelUs,
and suddenly turning round she asked for my name. 1 spelled
"Teacher," Just then the nurse brought Helen's httle sister
into the pump-house, and Helen spelled "baby" and ptjinted
to the nurse. All the way back to the house she wa.5 highly
excitedj and lenmed the name of every object she touched, so
that in a few hours she had added thirty new words to her
vocabulary. Here are some nf them' Door, open, i&uj, gitre,
go, ctrtttff, and a great many more.

P. S. — 1 didn't finish my letter in time to ptt it posted last
night; so T shall add a line. Helen got up this morning like a
radiant fairy. She has Hittcd from object to objeoti asking tho
name of everything andkisaine me for very gladness. Last nighl
when I got in bei, she stole into my nrmsof her own accord and
kiEscd me for the Brst timst and I thought my heart would hurst,
Ao full was it of joy.

April lo. iSS?.

I see an improvement in Helen from day to day, almost from

hour to hour. Everything must have a name now. Wherever

we go. she asks eagerly for the names of things she hss not

Jearoed at horae. She is anxious for her friends to spell, and

EDUCATION

317

eager totrach lliclctlcre lo every one shcmccts, SHc drop* tho
li^s and p^ttomioie she used bcfure. as soon us she has woid?4
to Bupplj' their place, and the flcquirement of a new word
affords her the liveliest pleasure And wc notice that her lacc
grows niDTe e.tpreasivt each day.

/ kav« decided ho/ to try to have regular Ussons for the fnstnK
I am gc)iK£ to treat Helen exactly like a turtJ- year-old child. It
ocmrrfd to me the other day that it is absurd to require a fhild to
ectnt to a certain placff at a tprJam Untp and recita certain lessons,
v/'i^p( h( Jms not ytt acquired a working vocahuiary^ I scut Helen
away and sat down Ici think. 1 aj^ked niysdf. " Htnu does a
nortifot ckitd learn languagcf" The answer was simple, "By
Smitation." The child cornea into the world with the ability to
Team, and lie Ipams of hirasplf, provided he is supplied with
pulhdent outward stimulus. He sees people do things, and he
tries to do Ihcoi. He hears others speak, end he tries to apeak.
But long bcjore he \tttprs his first word, ha ii-i\<ler',tttmls •u.-hat is said
to hif»- I have been observing Helen's httle couEin httely-
She U about fifteen months old, and already undei^tands ^
great deal. In refiponse to qiiesiifins she points out prettily her
nose, raouthn eye, chin, cheek, ear. IF L ^ay, "Where is baby's
other rarf '* she points it out correctly. If I baud her a flower,
and SR-y. "Gi\'e it to mamma," she takes it to her mother. If I
say, "Where is the little rogue? " she hides behind her mother's
chair, or covers her face with her hands and peeps out at mc with
an expressicm of genuine roguishness. She obeys many com-
mands like these: "Come/' ' Kiss," "Go to papa," " Shut the
door." "Give me the biscuit." But I have not heard her try to
say any of these words, although they have been repeated hun-
dreds of limes in her hearing, and it is perfectly evident that she
uuderstand^ them. These ob5er\'ation5 have given me a clue
lo the method to be followed in teaching Helen language. /
ihaii talk inti> her hand as wc talk it%t<> the baby's ears^ I shall
assume that she has the ncnual child's capacity oi assimilation
and iraitatior, / shall use (omplele sentences in talking to her.
and 511 out the meaning with gestures and her descriptive signs
when necessity requires it, but I shall not try to keep her mind
fix^d on any one thing. T shall da all T can to interest and
atiniiulate it, and wait for rcsulta.

3i8 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

April J4i 1R87,
Thp new scheme works splendidly. Helen knc>ms the meaning
of more than a hundred words now, and Uarns new ones daily
without the slightest suspicion thai she is perfonning a icu^it
difficult feat. She learns because Rhc can't help it, just a the
bird learns to fiy. But don't imagine that she "talks f]ueDtIy,"
Like her baby cousin, she expresaea whole seateTiced by aingle
wnrds. " Milk," with a gesture mGans, " Give me mare milk";
''Mother/* accompanied by an inqninng lookj means. "Where is
mother?" "Go" means* "I want to go out/' But when I spell
into her hand, "Give me some bread." shehanda mc the bread;
or if I say, "Get your hat and we wilt go to walk." she obeys
mslanLly, The two words, "hat" and " ^alk'" would have the
same eJFeci.: but Ike whole scnseticff, reppaif^d ittnny times during
tkff day. trust i'-H tim^ imprffss ilsffij ufffH thv brain, and by and by
she ii/iU um it heridf.

We play a little game which T find moRt useful in developing
the intellect, and which inddcntally answers the purpose of a
language lesion- It lb an adaptation oi hide-the-thimhlc. I
hide something, a ball or a spool , and we hunt for it. When we
first played this fiairte two or three days ago, she showed no
ingenuity at all in finding the objecfc. She looked io places
where it would have heen impos>;ible to put the ball or the spool.
For instance, when 1 hid the hnll, she looked under her wntiog-
board- Again, when I hid tlie apool. she looked £or it in a little
boK not more than an ineh lonp; and she very soon gave up the
Bcorch. New 1 can keep up her intere.3t in the game for an hour
or longer, and she shows much more intelligence, and often great
ingenuity in the search. This morning I hid a cracker. She
looked everywhere she could think of without euccc33H and was
evidently in despair, when suddenly a IhouEht struck her. and
she came running to me and made me open my mouth very wide,
while ahe gave it a thorough inveatigaiion. Finding no trace of
the erackei there, she pointed lo my stomach and spelled " eat. "
meaning "Did you eat it'"

Friday we went down town and met a gentleman who gave
Helen some candy, which she ate, except one small piece which
she put in her apron pocket. When we reached home, she found
her mother, and of her own accord said. "Give baby candy."
Mrs, Keller Hfjelled. "No — 'baby eat — no/' Helen went to the
cradle and felt of Mildred'* mouth and pointed lo her own teeth.

EDUCATION

319

Mrs. Keller spelled *' teeth." Heten shook her head and speUwl
"B&by teeth — no, baby cat — no," meaning of course, "Baby
cannob eat because she has no tecLh,"

May &. tfiS?.

No, I don't want any more kindergarten materials. I used
my little Gtcclf cjf beads, cards and straws al l^rst because I didn't
know what elselo do: but the need forihem is past, for theprcBenti
ft t any rate.

I am beginning to suspect all elaborate and special systccns
of pducaUon, They seem to me tn be buUt up on thesuppoiiU
tioQ that every child ie a kind of idiot who must be taught to
think. Whereas, if the child is left to himself, he will think
more and better, if less showily. Let him go and come freely,
let him touch real things and combine his impressions for Him-
self. Inatead of sitting Indoors at a little round table, wbiLo a
sweet-voiced teacher suggests that he build a stone wall with hts
wooden blocks, or make a rainbow out cf strips of coloured
paper^ or plant strav/ trcea in bead Qower-pot&^ Such teacbLng
fills the mind with artijicial associations thaC must be got
rid of J before the child can develop indcpeniJcot ideas out of
actual experiences,

Helen l5 learning adjectives and adverbs as easily as she
learned nouns. The idea always precedes the word. She bad
Bisna for stnall and largt long before I cimc to her, l£ sha
wanted a small objeet and was given a large one, she would
Ehako her head and take up a liny bit of the skm of one
tand between the thumb and linger of the other. If she wanted
to indicati? ftcmething large, she spread the lingers of both hands
as wide as she could, and brought them together, as if to clasp a
big ball. The other day I substituted the words soiali and
tiirgf for these signs, and she at onee adopted the words and
discarded the signs, I can now tell her to bring mo a large
book or a small plate, to go upstairs slowly, to run fast and Lo
walk quickly. This morning she used the conjunction and
for the f^rst time- I told her to shut the door, and she added,
*'and lock."

She came tearing upstairs a few minutes ago in a state of great
excitement. 1 couldn't make out at tirst what it was all about.
She kept spelling " dog — baby" and pointmg to her five Gngers

320 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

CDC e.ticr ajiothcr^ at^d aucldnjE them. My f^rst thought n&s,
cue of the dngs has hurt Mildred . but Heluo'a beaming (ace set
ray fears at rcEtr Nothing B'ould do but ! must go aomi-^whtre
with her to see Homelljing. She led the way to the punip-housc.
and there in ihe corner was one of the setters with five dear Utile
pupfi ! I taught her the word'*puppy" and drew her hand over
them all, while they sucked, and spelled "puppica," She was
much iuteresLed in the feeding process, and spelled "mother-
dog" and "haby" ficvera.1 times. Helen notieed that ibc puppies'
eyes were closed, and she aaid, "Eyes^shut, Skep — ncf,"
meaning, "The eyes are shut, but the puppies are not
asleep/' She ecreamed with glee when the littlt thmgs squealed
and squirmed in their cRorla to Ret back to their moiher, and
spelled. " Rflby — -eai large." ! suppose her idea was" Baby eats
much." She pointed to each puppy, one after another, and to
her five fingcrSj and 1 taui^ht her the word ftu<. Then she
held up one fingrr and said"baLy." I knew the was thinking of
Mildred, and I spelled, "One baby and 5ve puppies." Aitcr
ehe had played with them a little nhile, the thought occurred to
her that thepuppiesmu&chavespceialnames.like people, and she
asked for the name of each pup, 1 toM hsr to ask her father,
«nd she said, "No— mother." She e\'idenLly thought motheis
were more likely to know about babies of all sorts. She noticed
that one of the puppiefl was much smaller than the others, and
she spelled "small, " making the sign at the same time, and 1 said
"very small " She evident!/ understood that very was the
name of the new thing that had come into her head; for all the
way hack to the house she used the word very correctly.
One stone was "small," another was "very small " When sht
touched her Utile K5tcr, she said: "Baby — staaU. Puppy —
vtry small." Soon after, she began to vary her steps from lar^
to small, and little mincing steps were "very small. " She is
going through the house now, applying the new words to all
kinds of objects.

Since 1 have abaodooE>d the idea of regular lessons, 1 find that
Helen learns much faster, I am convinced that the lime Hpent
by the teacher in digging out of the child what sbe has put into
him, for the sake of satisfying herself that it has taken root, is
ao much time thrown away. It's mttelt batter^ I think, to amtm*
ifvii ifts ihild is doing his pari, and that ike seed you h(rw sown

EDUCATION

wfl/ hvar fruit in due tim<^ Tt'fl only fair to the child, viyhow,
and ib saves you much uoDecessary trouble.

May i6. tASj.

We hflve begun to tcJce long vallcs every momiog, immediately
flfter breakfast- The weather is fine, and the air is full of the
Kcnt of sltawberries. Our objective point la Keller's Landing",
on the Tennefisce, about two miles distant- Wc nev^er know how
we get there, or where wc are at a given moment, bul that only
ands to our enjoyment, especially when everything is new and
strange. Indeed, I fed as if I had never seen anything until
novf, Helen finds so much to aslt about along the way. We
chase butterflies, and sometimes catch one. Then we sit down
under A tfeSp or in the shade of aboEh, and talk about it. After-
wards, if it haa survived the lesson, yrc let it go; but usually its
life and beauty are sacrificed on the altar of learning, though in
another sense it lives forever; for has it not been transformed
into living thoughts? Uis wonderful how words generate ideae \
Every new word Helen leams seems to carry with lithe necessity
for many more. Her tnindgrows through its ccaselcEs activity,

Keller's Landing was need during the war to land Iroapa. but
has long since gone to pieces, and is overgrown with moss and
weeds. The solitude of the place Bots one dreaming. Near the
lauding there is a bi^autiful Itttlc spring, which Helen calls
"flquirrel-eTip," b[?Cflusc I told her the squirrels eame there to
drink- She has felt dead squirrclfi and rabbits and other
wild animals, and is aniious to see a "walt'squJrrel," which
interpreted, means. 1 think, s "live squirrel." We go horn*
about dinner-time usually, and Helen is eager to tell her mother
cverythins she has aecn. T/ijj desire to r^ptat-wlmt Itas been told
her shows a marked ad^ratu-e trt the developnu^nt oj her inttlUii. ai\d
is an invaiuabla stimulus to tin: acquisition of language. I ask all
hffT friends in ettcottrasf tier lit leit tJient vf hfr duings. and lo moHt'
ft^ as Hsuf fa curiosity aud pleasun in her little advemufcs as tkty
possibly can, Thia grati&ea the child's love of approbation
and keeps up her interest [□ things- This is the basis of real
intercourse. She makes many mistakes, of course, twisti wordi
and phraseS) puts the cart before the tofBO. and gets herself into
hopeless tangles of nouns and verbs; but so does the bearing
child, I am sure these dif^eulties will take care of themselvev-

3aa A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

The impulse to tell la the iniporlanl thing. I supply a word
here and there, someriraes a senience, and augE^t somelhing
which fihe has omilted or forgotten. Thus her vocabulary
grows apace^ and the new words penninatc and bring forth new
ideas; and chey ore the &luS out of which heavea and earth are
made.

May 93, tSS;.

My work rtowb more ahsorbing and intereatinE every dayn
Hplen IE a wonderful child, so spontaneous and eager to learn.
She knowfi about 30a words now and a great many common
idiorm. and it is nut three months yet since she learned her first
wofd_ It is a rare privilege to watch the birth, growth, and first
feeble struggles of a living mind ; this privilege is mine; and morc-
ovCTt it is given me to rouae and guide this bright iutdUgeacc.

If only I were better fitted for the great taslc I I feel every
day more and more inEhdcquatc. My inind 15 full of ideas; but
I cannot get them Into working shape. You aec. my mind ls
undisciplined, full of skips and jumps, and here and there a lot
of things htiddled together in dark comers. How 1 long to put
it in ordrr ! Oh, if only there were sooie one to help me 1 1
need a teacher quite aa much as Helen, I know that the
education of this child will be the distinguishing event of my
life, if L have the brains and perseverance to accomplish it, 1
have made up my mind, about one thing: Helen muat leam to
use booka — indeed, we muat both learn to use them, and that
reminds me — will you please ask Mr. Anagiios to gel me Perez's
and Suliy'fi Psychologies* I thinlc i shall find them helpfuL

We have reading lessons every day. Usually wc take one of
the Utile "Readers'" up in a big tree near the house and spend
an hour or two finding the words Helen already knows. Wf
makr a rorl oj game of it and try to ace who can End the words
most quickly, Helen with her fingerSn or I with ray eyes, and
she learns as many new words as 1 can explain with the help
of those she knows. When her fingers light upon words she
knows, she fairly screams with pleasure and hugs and kisses me
for joy, especially if 'ihe thinks she has me beaten. It would
astonish you to eee how many words she Icams in an hour in thifl
pleasant manner. Afterward I put the new weirds into little
eentenees in the frame, and sometimes it is possible to tell a

EDUCATION

lillle story about ^ bee or a cat or a little boy in this way- I
can now teU her to go upstairs or down, out of doors or into
thf^ house. luck or unlock :l door, tal^e orbriiig objects, sit, etand,
waikp run, Lie, creep, roll, or dimb, Sbe in delighted nith action-
worda; so it is no trouble at all totcacb her verbs. &hc is always
ready (nr a lesson, and the eagerness wiLli which she absorbs
ideas is very dL'Ughtful- She is as triumphant over the con-
quest of a sentence oa & general who hoe captured the enemy's
stronghcld.

One of Belen'E old habile, that is strongest and hardeet to
correct, is a tendency to break things. H ahe finds anything in
her way, she f ings it an the floor, no matter what it is: a glass, a
pitcher, or even a lump- She has a great many dolls, and every
one of them has bircn broken in a fit of temper or ennui, The
other day a fijend brought her a new doll from Memphis, and 1
thought J would see if I eould make Helen understand that Gh«
must not break it, I made her go through the motion of knock-
ing the doh'a hE^ad on the table and spelled to her: "No, no,
Helen is naughty- Teacher is Bad," and let her feel the grieved
expression on ray face- Then I made her caress the doll and
kiss the hurt spot and hold it gently in her arms, and I spelled
to her, "Good Helen, teacher is happy," and let her feel thcsmilo
on iny face. She went through these motions several timerit
mimicking every movement, then she stood very still for a
mcmcnt with a troubled look on her face, which suddenly
clearcdj and she spelledf "Good Helen,*' and wreathed her face
in a very large, artificial Emi!e_ Then she carried the doll
upstairs and put it en the top shelf of tho wardrobe, and Gh«
ha^ net touched it since.

Please give my kind r^ards to Mr Anagnos and let him see
my letter, if you think best. I hear there is a deaf and blind
child being educated ab the Baltimore Institution.

June I, 1887,
The weather is scorching. We need fain badly. We are all
troubled about Helen. She b very nervous and e?icitable.
She; is restless at nijht and has no appetite. It is hard to know
what to do with her. The doctor says her mind is too active;
but how are we to keep her from thinking? She be^ns to
spell the minute she wakes up in the morning, and r.onLinuea

324 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

&11 day long, It I refuse to taUc to her, she spella into her own
hand, and apparently carries ua the liveliest convCTSataou
with herself.

1 gav^e her my braille slate to play nith, thinking that the
mechnnicai pricking of hciles in the paper would amuse hor
and rcGt her fxund. But what was my astociBhinent when 1
found that the little witch was wnting letteral 1 had no idej\
she knew what a letter was. She has often gone with me to
the post-office to mail letters, and I suppose 1 have repeated
to her things I wrote to you. She knew, loo, that 1 aomttimcs
write "letwTS to blind ^tW on the slate; but I didn't suppose
that she had any dear idea what a letter was. One day she
brought jne a aheet that she had punched full of holes, aod
wanted to put it in an envelope and take it to the post-office.
Sho fiaid, "Frank — letter," 1 asked her what she had written
to Prank- She replied, "Much words. Puppy njolherdofi
— five. Baby — cry. Hot. Helen walk— no Sunfire^bad.
Frank — come. Helen — kiss Frank. Strawberries — very good."

Helen ih almost as eager to read as she is to talk. I ^d
she grasps the import of whole sentences, catching from the
contcict the meaning of words she doesn't know: and her eager
questions indicate the outward reaching o£ her mind and its
unusual powers.

The other night when I went to bed, I found Helen sound
asleep with a big book clasped tightly In her arms. She had
evidently been reading, and fallen asleep- When 1 asked her
about it in the morning, she aaid, "Book^-cry," and completed
her meamng by shaking and other signs of fear. I taughL her
the word ajraid, and she said: "Helen is not afraid. Book is
afraid. Book will sleep with girl." I told her that thg book
wasn't afraid, and must sleep in its ease, and that "Eirl" mustn't
read in bed. She looked very roguish, and apparently under-
stood that I saw through her ruac.

1 am glad Mr. Anagnos thinks su highly of me as a teacher.
But "geniufi" and '"originahty" are word? we should not use
lightly. If, indeed, they apply '^ ™et even remotely, I do not
see that 1 deserve any laudation on that account-

And right here I want to say something which is for your
ears alone. Something within mc tells me that I shall succeed
beyond my dreams. Were it not for some circumstances that
make such an idea highly improbable, even absurd, I should

EDUCATION

thiclc Helen's cducatiMi would surpass In int^reat etid Tondcr
Dr. Howe'a achievement. I know that she has remarkable
pocvcTS, 3,nd 1 believe that 1 shall bo able to develop s.nd mculd
them. I cannot tcU how 1 knov these thin^, I had ao idea
a fihort diae ago how to go !□ work; 1 w&£ feehag about in the
dark; but somehow I know now, and I know that X kriow,
I cannot explain it; but when diflicuhiea afiae. I am not pcr-
plexedordoubtfuJ- Tknowhnwtomeet them: I seem to divine
Helen's pecuhai needs. It ifi wonderlul-

Ab-eady people arc taking a deep interest in Helen- No
oiie can see hi-r without bting impressed. She is no ordinary
ehJd, and peoplc'fi interest in her education will be no ordinary
interest. Therefore let us be exceedingly careful what we aay
and write about her. T T^hall write freely to you and tell you
everything, on one condition. It is this: you must promise
never to show niy letters to any one. My beautiful Helen
shall not be transformed into a prodigy if I can help it,

Juno s, 1SS7-
The heab rookes Helen languid and quiet. Indeed, the
Tophctic weather has reduced us all to a scnii-U^uid state.
Yesterday Helen took off her clothes and sat in her akin all the
afternoon. When the sun got round to the window where
she was sitting with her book, she got up impatiently and shut
the window. But whpn the sun came in jnsl th& same, she came
over to mc with a grieved look and spelled emphatically: "Sun
is bad boy. Sun must go to bed."

She is the dearest, cutest little thing now, and so loving J
One day, when 1 wanted her to bring me soroe watcr^ she said:
*'Legs very tired- Legs cry much,'*

She is mueh interested in some little chickens that are pecking
their way into the world this morning. I let her hold a ahcU in
her hand, and feel the chicken ^'chlp, chip/* Her asLoniab"
tnent, when she felt the tiny creature inflidpn cannot be put in a
letter. The hen was very gentle, and made no objection lo
our invesiidations. Beaides Ihe chickens, we have several
other addition* to the family — two calves, a colt, and a penful
of funny little piga. Vou would be amused to sec me hold
s Efiuealing pig in my arms, while Helen Eeels it all over, and
aak^ countless questions — questions not easy to answer either

336 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

After seeing the chicken come out oF the egg. she asked: "I^d
baby pig grow in egg P Where are many EbellE }"

Helen's head measures twenty and one-half inchca, and mine
measures twenty-one and one-half inches. You Bee, I'm only
one inch ahead 1

Jime la, 1887,
The weather continues hot. Helen is about the Bame — pale
and thin; but you mustn't think she is really ill. I am sure
the heat, and not the natural, beautiful acttVLty ot her mind,
IS responsible for her condition. Of course, 1 shall net overtax
her brain- We are bothered a good deal by people who assume
the refiponsibility of the world when God is neglectful. They
tell us that Helen is "overdoing," that her mind is too active
(these very peofiJf? thought she had no mind at all a few months
ago !) and suggest many absurd and impossible remedies. But
so far nobody seenia to have thought of chloroformiag her,
which is, I think, the only effective way of stopping the natural
Exercise of her faculties. It's queer how ready people alwa3'3
are with advice In any real or imaginary emergency, and no
matter how rrany times experience has shown them to be
wrong) they continue to set forth their opinioos, as if they had
received them from the Almighty T

I am teaching Hfl^n the square-hand lettera as a sort of
diversion. It gives bcr Eijmcthing to do, and Ifcepa her quiet,
nhich I tnink is desirable while this euecvating weather la3ts-
She has n peH«!t mania for counting. She has counted every-
thing in the house, and is now buEy counting the words in her
primer- I hope it will not occur to her to count the haira of
her head. TE she could see and hear, I suppose she would get
rid of her superfluous energy in ways which would not, perhaps,
t&x her brain so much, although 1 suspect that the ordinary
child takes his play prelty seriously- The littlt fellow who
whirls hia "New York Flyer" round the nursery, making
"horseshoe curves" undreamed of by less ima^native engi-
neers, is concentratirg his whole soul en his toy locomotive.

She just came to say, with a worried expression, "Girl — not
count ivrj* large (many) words," X said, "No, go and play
with Nancy/' Thic suggestion didn't please her, however;
for ahe repUed, "No, Nancy is very Bick." I aaked what wai

EDUCATION

the nutter, and elie said. *"Miieh (many) tMth do rrtake
Noncy aick/' (Mildred is tcethmg.)

1 happened ta tell ber the other day that the vine on the
ieoce was a. "croeper." She wa£ greatly amiiMd, ard bcgajv at
once to find analogies between h?r movements and those o£
the plants. They run, crecpn hop, and skip, bend, fall, climb,
And swing-, but she telU me rogutBhly that she is "wiilk-plant/ '

Helen held aome worsted (or me last night while 1 wound it.
Afitrward she begiui to swing round and round. £pellin)> to
herspLf all the time^ "Wind last, wind slow,'* and Apparently
enjoying her conceit very much,

June 15, i£fi7.
We had. a glarions thunder-tpmpeat last night, and it's much
cooler to-day. We all feL»L refreehed. as if we'd had a Ehower-
bath. Helen's as lively as a cricket. She wanted to know if
men were shootmg in the sky when she felt the thunder, and
i£ the trees sjid flowers drank all the rain.

Jure 19, tSSj^*
My little pupU continues to manifest the same eagemejiS Uj
leam as at first. Her every waking moment is spent in the
endeavour to Satisfy her innate desire (or knowledge, and her
mind works so incessantly that we have feared for her health.
But her appetite, which left her a fewurepka ago, has returned,
and her sleep Esonufi more quiet and natural. She will be seven
years old the twenty-seventh of this raonth. Her height in
four feet one inch, and her head measures twenty and on^
half inchcB in circumference , the line being drawn round the
head so as to pass over the prominences of the parietal and
frontal bones. Above thi*i lin< the head rises one and one-
fourth inches.

During our walks she kteps up a continual spelhng, and
delights to accompany it with actions such as skipping, hopping,
jumping, running, walking fast, walking slaw, and the like.
When she diopa stitches she says. "Helen wrong, teacher will
cry." If she wants water she says^ "Give Helen drink wat^r."
Bhc knows four hundred words besides numerous proper nouns.
^nuBeitrut vupnbliihediaTfaePcrlElnm lnstttixticin Steport of i8Br-

328 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

In one IcMon I taught her these words: bedstead, maltrtss, jAtfffl.
biankei. comforter, spread, pillow. The next day 1 found that
she remembered all but spread. The ^amc day she bad learned,
&t different limes, the words: liouse. Jireed. ditsl, sivtn^. moiaises,
fast, sltnu, maplf-sugar atid counter, and she had not forgotten
one of these IsEt, This will give you an idea of the retentive
raemor/ she possesses, She can count to thirty very quickly,
and can write seven of the aquare-hnnd letters and the words
which can be made with them. She aecroa to understand
fibout writing letters, and is impatitnt to '^wnte Frank letter."
She enjoys punching holes in paper with the stiletto, and I
supposed it was boeause ehe could examine the result of her
work; but wc watched her one day, and I was much surprised
to find thnt she imagined she was writing a letter. She would
spell "Eva" (a coueid of whom she ie very fond) with one hand.
then makebeUeve to write it; then spell, "sick In bed," and write
that. She kept this tip for nearly an hour. She was Cor imag-
ined she was) putting on paper the things which had interested
her. When she had finished the Ictlcr ebe carried it to her
mother and spelled, "Frank letter." and gave it to her brother
to take to thepost-oSco. She bad been withmc to take letters
to the pust-ofGcc,

She recognizes instantly n pprsnn whom she has once met, and
fipetU the name. Unlike Laura Bridgman, she is fond of gentle-
men, and we notice that she makes friends with a gentleman
Booner than with a lady.

She IB always ready to share whatever ahc has with those
about her, often keeping buL very little for hi^rself. She is
very fond of dre.ss and of all Ifinds o£ finery, and is very
unhappy when she Bnds a hole Ln anything she is wearing. She
will insist on having her hair put in curl papers when she i^
£o sleepy she can scarcely stfl.nd. She discovered a hole in
her boot the other morning, and, after breakfast, she went to
her father and spelled, "Helen new boot Simp&on fher brother)
buggy store man." One can easly see her meaning.

July J, iaa7,
ThCTG waa a great mmpos downetairs this mormng. J heard
Helen screaming, and ran down to see what wa^ tlie matLer.
t found her in a Ifrrible passion. T had hoped this would

EDUCATION

339

never happen agom. She hat been Sf> gentle and obedient
ths past two TncntliE, I t^iouglit love had Bubducd the lion;
but it Eccmfihe vasonly sleeping- At all events, there she was,
tearing and scratching and biciiig Vine/ Hke some wild thing-
It seems Viney had attempted to take a glass^ which Helen
was filling with stones, fearing that she would break it. Helen
resisted, and VJney tried to force it out of her hand, and I
suspect that ahe slapped the child, or did something ^c-liich
caused this unusual txitburst uf temper. When I look her
hand she was trembling violently^ and began to cry, I asked
what was the mottern and she spelled : "Viney — bad," and began
to slap and kick her with renewed violeiice. 1 held her tands
firmJy until she becaine more ealm.

Later Helen came to my room, looking very aad, and wanted
to kiss me. I said, "I cannot kiss naughty girl." She spelled.
"Helen is goodn Viney is bad " 1 said; "You struck Viney and
kicked her and hurt her. You were very neughty, and 1 cannot
ki^ naughty girl." She stood very still ior a momeni:, and iu
was e\ident from her face, which was flushed and troubled,
that a struggle was going on in her mind- Then she
said: "Helen did (does) not love teacher. Helen do love
mother. Mother will whip Viney." 1 told her that she hoA
better not talk about it any more, but think. She knew thab
I WHS much troubled, and would have hked to filay near me;
but I thought it best for her to sit by herself. At the dinner-
table she was greatly disturbed because 1 didn't eat, and
suggested that "Cook make tea for teacher.'* But I told her
that my hea.rt was sad, and 1 didn't feel like eating. She
began to cry and sob and clung to mc.

Sbe was very much excited when we went npstairs; so T
tried to interest her in a curious insect called a stick-bug. It's
the qucercat thing I ever saw — a Utile bundle of fagots fastened
together in the middle. I wouldn't believe it was alive until T
ftawitmove. Even then it looked more hkeci mechanical toy than
a living creature. But the poor Utile giil couldn't Jix her atten-^
tion. Her heart was full of trouble, and she wanted to talk
about it. She said: "Can bug know about naughty girl i* la
bug very happy?" Then, putting her arms round my neck,
she said: " I am (will be) good Wvmorrow Helen is (will be)
good all days," I said, "Will you toll Viney ycu arc very sorry
you scratched and Ideked her?" She smiled and answered.

330 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

*'Viaey jT^aji) not spell words." "1 will tell Viaey you are
Tcry sorry," 1 said. "Will you go with me and find Viney?"
She WAS very willing to go, and kt Vinty Lisa her, though she
didn't return the caiesg. She has been unusually affeuiioiiate
aince, and it seeras lo me there is v. sweetness — b. soul-beauty
in hd £aco vhidh 1 hav« not seen hef^ir'^.

July 31, iSSj.

Helen's pencil- writing ia excellent, as you will cee £roiu the
enclosed Utter, which she wrote for her own amu^ment. 1 am
teaching her the braille alphabci, and she is delighted to be
able to ni^ka words herself that she can feel.

She has now reached the question stage of htr development-
It is "whflt!" "why?" "'when ?" especially "why V all day long,
ajidaE her intelligence grows herinquinesbccoEiLemore insistent,
I remembtr huvi uiibctirable I used to find the inquisitivencss ol
my friends' children; but I know now that these questions
indicate the child's growing interest in the cause oE thingB.
The "why?" 13 the duor through xihich he cnten the ivortd of
teasoH and reflection. "How does carpenter know to build
houBO }" "Who put chiclicns in egge?" "Why is Viney black }'*
"Fiica bite— why V "Can flies know not to bite?" "Why did
father kill sheep?" Of course she asks many questions that
are not as intelligent as these. Her naind isn't more logical
than the minds of ordinary children. On the whole, her ques-
tions are analogous to those that a bright three.yeaT-old child
asks; but her desire for knowledge is so eamcst. the questions
are never tedious, though they draw heavily upon my meager
Ptore of informaiion, and tax my ingenuity to the utmost.

I had a letter from Lfiura [Bridgman] lost Sunday. Please
give her my love, and tell her Helen sends hei a kiss. I rejtd
the letter at the supper-Uble, and Mrs. Keller exclaimed;
"Why, Mies Annie, Helen writes almost a£ well as that now J"
It is true.

August 91, TSS7.
We had a beautiful time in Huntsville. Everybody there
was delighted with Helen, and showered her with gifts and
kisses. The first evening ahe learned the namee of all the peopla

EDUCATION

In the hotet, about twenty, I think. The ncTl morning wo
were oAtcrnL^ed to find that she remembered all of tliera, add
recognized every one 5he had met the night before. She taiighc
the young people the alphabet, and several of them learned to
talk with her. One of the eiHs taught her to dance the polka,
and a little boy ahowed her his rabbits and "ipelled their names
for her She was delighted, and showed her pleasure by hugging
and kissing the little fellow, which ernbELrras^td him very miieh.

We had Helen's picture taken with a fuzzy, red-eyed little
poodle, who got himaclf into my lady's good graces by Iricka
and cunning devices known only to dogs with an instinct for
getting what they want.

She hfls tallccd incessantly since her return about what she
did in Hunisville, and we notice a very decided improvement
in her ability to use language. Curiously enough, a drive we
took to the top of Monte Sano, a beaulifnl mcitintatn not far
from HunlsviUi?, seems to have impressed her more than any-
thing dee, except the wonderful poodle. She remembers all
that 1 told her alxjut it, and in telling her mother repeated the
ixry uNfrdi aad phra^^s I hod a^ed in lir'-'ifTibing it to htr. In
conclusion she asked her moihor if she should liL-c to sec "vrry
high mountain and beautiful cloud-caps." I hadn't used this
expression. T said, "The clouds touoh the mountain softly,
like beautiful flowers." You see, I had to use words and iraaE**
with which she was familiar through the aen^e of touch. Bux
it hardly seems possible that any mere words should convey to
one vho has never seen a mountain the faintest idea oF its
grandeur; and 1 don't see how any one is ever to know what
impression she did reeeive, or the cause of her pleasure in what
was told her about it. All that we do know certainly is that
eIic has a good memory and imagination and the faculty of
assodation.

^^^ August sS, ififi;

■ 1 do wish things would stop being bom [ "New puppies,"

I "new calves^* and "nevi- babies" keep Helen's Interest In the

I why and wherefore of things at white beau. The arrival of a

I new baby at Ivy Green the other day was tho occasion of ft

I fresh ciutburst of questions about the ongin of babies and

I Hve things in generah "Where did Leila get new baby ? . How

33^

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

did doctor know wtere to find baby? Did Leila tpll doctor to
gpl very amall new baby? Where did doctor find Guy and
Prince?'* (puppies) "Why is EUitahetb Evelyn's sister?'* tic.
«lc. These questions werj> sometimes asktd ucder circum-
itancca which rendered them cmbarrassinK. and I made up my
mind that someLhina raiist be done. If it was natural for
HcleTi to ask such quefilions, it was my dtity to answer Ihem,
It'a a great mistake, I think, to put childreo off with false-
hoods and nonsense, when their growing powers of observation
and dischmiaation excite in them a detire to know about thinga.
From the beginning, / havff maiUil a practice to answer ali Helen's
gtusfions ta ihe bert of my abiliiy in a way iniclligibie to her. and
at the aatne time truthfully. "Why should I treat these ques-
titms differently f" I asked myaelC, I decided that there was
no reason, except my deplorable ignorance of the great facia
that underlie our phycical existence, It was no doubt because
ot this ignorance that I rushed in where more cxpeHcnccd
angels fear lo tread. There isn't a living scul in this part of
the world to whom I can go for advice in this, or indeed, in any
other educational difficulty. The only thing for mc to do In a
peqilexity is to go ahead, and leam by making mistakes. But
in this cofla I don't think I made a miBtakc. I took Helen
and my Botany, "How Plants Grow," up io the IrcK, wheie wc
often go to read and study, and 1 told h^r in ^irmple words
the story of plant-life. 1 reminded her of the eom, heons and
watermelon-seed she had planted in tlie spring, and told her
that the tall com in the garden, and the beans and water-
melon vines had grown frcm tho&e soeJs. 1 explained how
the earth keeps the aeeJs warm and moist, until tlit little leaves
are strong enough to push themsplves out into the light and air
where they con breathe and grow and bloom and make more
Keeds, from which other baby-plants shall grow. I drew an
analogy between plant and ammaUlife, and told her that
seeds arc eggs ad truly a& hens" cgga and birds' eggs — that the
mother hen keeps her eggs warm and dry luitii the little chicks
come out. I made her understand that all life comes from an
egg. The mother bird lays her eggs in a neat and kcep^ them
warm until the birdbngs are hatched. The mother fish lavs
her eggs where she knows they wiU be raoist and safe, until il
is time for the little fish to come out, 1 told her that she could
call the egg the ciadle of life. Then I told her that other EmimalH

EDUCATION

333

like the dog aod co^, and human beings, di:> not lay their eggB.
but nourish their ycninc in their own b{>dlcs. I had no difli-
eiilty in making it clear to her that if plants and animals didn'n
produce offspring after their kind, they would cease to e^ist,
and everything ia the world would sooa die. But the function
of Ecx. I passed over as lightly as possible. I did. however,
try to gi^'e her the idea that love is the great continuer o£
Ufc. The subject was difficult, and my knowledge inadequate;
but I am glad 1 didn't shirk my responsibility; for. stumbling,
heaitating, and incorapleta as my explanation was. it lovcbed
deep responsive chords in the soul of my little pupil, and the
readiness with which she comprchsaded the Eveat facts of phys-
ical life confirmed rae in the opinion that the child has dormant
within him, when he comes Into the world, all the experiences
of the race. These eJipEricnces are like photOEraphic nega-
tives, untU language develops them and biings out the memory-
images.

September 4, iSS/.

Helm had aleCter this morning from her uncle. Doctor Keller.
He invited her to come to see him at Hot Springs, The name
Hot Spriags inlereated her, and she asked many questions
about it- She knciws abtiut cold springs. There are several
near Tuscumbia; one very large one from which the town got its
name, "Tuscumbia" is the Indian for "Great Spring." But
she was surprised that hot water should come out of the ground-
She wanted to know who made Htd under the ground, and if
it was like the Jlrc in atoveSj and if it burned the roots of plants
and trees.

She was much pleased with the totter, and after she bad
asked 11II the questions she could think of, she took it to her
mothpr, who was sewing in the haM. and read it to her. It was
amusing to see her hold it before her eyes and spell the sen-
tences out on her iing^rs. just as 1 had done, Afcerward she
tried to read it to Belle (the dog) and Mildred. Mrs. Keller
and 1 watched the nursery comedy from the door. Belle was
sleepy, and Mildred inattentive, Helen looked very serious,
andn once or twice, when MiJdred tried to Ink* Iho tetter, she
put her hand away impaticntiy. Finally Belle got up, shook
herself, and was about to waUc away, whtn Helen caught Fier

334 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

by the Qcck and forced her to lie down again. In the mcan<
time Mildred liad got the letler and crept away witli it. Helen
felt ocl the iloQT for it, but not Ending it there, ahc c^vidently
suspected Mildred; for she made the little sound which is her
"baby eall." Then she got up end stontt very slillj as if Eistt^-
ing with her feet for Mildred'G "Hhump, thump.'* When ihe
had located the soundj she went quickly toward the little
culprit and found her chowing the precious letter I This was
too much for Hi'icn. She snatched the klter and slapped the
little haadfl soundly. Mrs^ KcUer took the baby in her arms,
and when we had succeeded in pacifying her, 1 asked Helen^
"What did you do to babyP " She looked troiiblcdj and hesi-
tated a moment befoEe answciing. Tht-n shi^said; "Wrong giil
did eat letter Helen did slap very wrong girl." I told her
that MLlUitd was very small, and didn't know that it was wrong
to put the letter in her mouth.

"I did tell baby, no, nn, much (many) times." was Helen'*
reply.

I said, "Mildred doesn't understand your fingers, and wo
mu5t lie veTy gentle with her."

She shook her head.

"Baby — not think, Helen will give baby pretty letter," and
with that fihe ran upstairs and brought dt'wn a neatly folded
sheet of braille, on which she had written some words, and
gave it to Mildred, &aying> "Baby can eat all worda."

September 18, iftSy.

I do not wonder yon were surprised to bear that 1 was going
to write something for the report, 1 do not know myself how
it happened, except that I got tired of ^^aying "no," and Captain
Kelkr urged me to do it. He agreed with Mr. Anagnos ihatt
it was mv duty to give oLhcra the benefit of my experience
BLsides, they suJd Helen's woaderful dehverance might be a
boon to other afflicted children.

When 1 sit dnwn to write, my thoughts freeze, and when
I get them en paper they look like wooden soldiers all in a
row, and if a live one happens along, I put him in a straight
jacket. It's easy enough, however, to say Helen is wonderful,
becansp she really is, I kept a record of everything she said
la£t week, and I found that she knows six bundled words.

EDUCATION

335

This does tiot mean, however, that she alvays uses Ihcm cor-
icctly- Sometimes her scntcncca arc like CJiineHc putrics; but
tbty are the kind of pu^Klea children make when they try to
cxprcES their half-fonucd tdt'afl by i^eans of arbitrary lungu^ge,
&he has the true Unguage-jmpiJsc, and shows great fertility
of resource in making the words at her trommand convey her
mcacing^

Lately she has been much interested in cjulour. She found
the word "brown'' in her prirnor and wanteil to know its mean-
ing. 1 told her that her hair was brown, and she asked, "la
"brown very pretty T' After wc had been all over the houae^
&nd I hftd told her the colour of everything she touched* she
CuggcElcd that wc go to the hen-houses and bams; but 1 told
her ahe must wait until anolher day becitusc I waa very tired,
"We sat in the hammock; but there was no rest for the weary
there. Helen waa eager to know "more colour," I wonder
if she has aay vague idea of colour — any remioisceiit impressioo
of lighr and sound. It seeraa a^ if a child who could see and
bear until her ninetLJonth month muEt retain tome of her &^t
impressicins. thouEh ever so faintly, Helen talks a great deal
about things that she cannot know cf through the sense of
touch. She aAks many questions about the fiky^ day and
night, the ocean and mountains. She likes to have me tell her
what 1 see in pictuTefi.

But 1 seem to have lost the thread of my diacourac,
"What colour is think?" was one of the restful questions she
ftsked, as we swung to and fro in tbe hamm<>ck. I told her
that when wc arc happy our thoughts are bright, and vrhco
we are naughty they are i^d. Quick as a flabh she said. "My
think is white, Viney's think is blaok." You see, she bad
an idea that the colour of our thoughts matched that of our
Bkiri, I couldn't help laughing, for at ihat v^y moment Viaey
vas shouting at the top of her voice:

Aad ue drn BimiBn ttumblfl jmdfi^ I"

October 3h 1887.
My acoount for the report is hnished and sent off. I have
two copies, and will send you onci but you mustn't show it to
Anybody. It's Mr. Anagnos's property until it is published-

336 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

I suppose Ihc little girlfl enjoyed Helen's letter.* She wrote
ib out of her own head, as the children say.

She talks a great deal about what she will do when she goes
to Boston. She asked the other day, *'Who made all Ihingfl
and Boston?" She says Mildred will not go there because
"Baby does cry all days."

October aj. t8fi7»

Helen wrote another Jettei^ to thelittle girls yesterday, and her
father gent it to Mr. Anagnos, Aslc bira to let you see it. She
hasi begun to use the pronuuits of her own accocd- This monung
I happened to say, "Helen will go upstairs," She laughed
and said, "Teacher is irrotig. You will go upstairs/' This is
another great forward step- Thus it always ia. Ye&tcrday's
perpleicittes are strangely Kimple to-day, SJid lo-day'fl diffi-
culties become to-morrow's pELstimc.

The rapid development of Helen's mind is beautiful to watcli,
I doubt if an/ teacher ever had aworlcof such absorbing inlerest.
There muat have been one lucky star in the heavens at my
birth, and T am just beginain;; lo feel its hcnelicent influence,

1 had two letters from Mr. Anagnos last week. He is more
grateful for my report than the English idiom will expreaSn
Now he wants a pictun? "of darling Helen and her illustrious
teacher, to grace the pages of the forthcoming annual report."

OCTOBEB, iSfi7.t
You have probably read, ere thla, Helen'fl second letter to the
little girls, I am aware that the pTogress which she has made
between the writing of tha two Icttcre must accm incredible.
Only thoae who are with her daily can realize the rapid advaacc-
ment which she is making in the acquisition of language, You
will see from her letter that she uses many pronouns correctly.
She rarely misuses or omits one in conversation. Her passion
inr writing letters and putting her thoughts upon paper grows
mciro intcTise, She now tells stories in which the ima^nalion

•Sm p&se T46. tSoe pigt ni.

iTliii eitract fnm ■ ietttr to Iff. Aakrnos wu pDbliihfd in tho Pftrkiiii

EDUCATION

337

p1ay3 nn impoTtant pBrt. She is also beginnuiE to realise that
•he is nat like other children. The ether day she asked, "What
do my eyes do ? " I tnid her that 1 could sec thmga wilh my
eyi^, find that she could see them with tet fingers. After thinlt-
!ng a moment she Eoid, " My eyes are bad J " then she changed it
Into "My eyes ore sick I"

Misa Sullivan's first report, which was published in the ofiiciiil
report of the Perkins InaUlution lor the year 18S7, la a short
wummary of what is fully recorded in the letters. Here follows
the last part, beginning with the great day, April sth. when
Helen leamtd water.

In her reports Miss Sullivan spcalta of "lessons*' aa if they
came in regular order, This is the effect of putting it all in &
Eummary. " Lesson " U too formal for the eoQtinuou£ daily
work.

One day I loot her to the cistem. As the water gushed from
the pump [ spelled "w-a-t-e-r." Instantly £he tapped my hand
for a repetition, and then made the word herself with a radiant
f3<?e- Just then the nurse came into the cistern-house bringing
hflT little Eister. 1 put Helen's hand on the hahy and formed
the letters '^b-a-b-y/' which she repeated without help and with
the light of a new intelligence in her face.

On our woy back to the hoU£c everything she touched had to
be named for ber, and repetition was seldom necessary. Neither
the length of the word nor the combination of letters seems 10

[make any diffi^renco to the child. Indeed, she remomhers
ktlioiropf and t^hrysantfi^nam more readily than she does
shorter names. At the end of August she knew 613 words.
This lesEon was fallowed by one on words indicative of
place-relations. Her dress was put in a trunk, and then an it>
and these prepositions were spelled for her Very Soon she
learned the difference between on and in, though it was some
time before she could use these words in sentences of her owa.
Whenever it was possible she was made the actor in the lesson,
and WAS delighted to stand on the chair, and to be put into the
wardrobe, la connection with this lesson she learned the names
of the members of the family and the word is. "Halexi itt in

338 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

wardrobe," "Mildred \s in crib." "Bos U on table," ^'Papa is
on bed," arc GpccimcuB of Gentcnccs coDGtructed by her during
llie latter part of April.

Nejft f^ame a lesson on wordfi expressive of positive quality.
For the first Icaaon 1 had two balls, one made of ^'oratcd* largo
and soft, the other a bullet- She perceived the difference in az*
at once. Taking the bidlet she made her habitual sign fcr small — -
that ia, by pmching a liltlt bit of the skin of one hand. Then
she tcKjk the other ball and made her sign for large by spreading
both hands over it. I EubEtitutcd the adjectives targe and
srn^l for those slgna. Then her attention was called to the
hardness of the one ball and Ibe softness of the ether, and she
learned ro// and hard. A few minutes afterward she felt of her
little sister's head and ^d to bcr mother^ ^'Mildred's head ia
Email and hard." Next 1 tritd to teach her the meaning ot fml
and slr^nr. She helped me wind some worsted one day, ftrst
rapidly and afterward slowly, 1 then said to her with the finger
alphabet, "wind fast," or "wind slow/' holding her hands and
Ehowing her how to do as "I wished. The next day, while exer-
cising, she spelled to mc, " Helen wind fast/' and began to walk
lapidly. Tlien she said, "Helen wiiid slow/' again suiting the
action to the words.

1 now thought it time to teach her to reatj printed worda. A
Blip on which was printed, in i-aised Ipttprs. the word box wati
placed on the object; and the same experiment was tried with
a great many articlLS, but she did not immediately compreheind
that the labei^name represented the thing. Then I tcxik an..
alphabet sheet and put bcr dnger on the letter A, nt the same^
lime making A with my fingers. She movecl her finger from
one printed character to another as I formed each letter on my
fingers. She learned all the letters, both capital and Email, in
one day. Next 1 turned to the first pag€ of the primer and made
her touch Ihe word cat. spelling it on my finEers at the same
time, Instantly she caught the idea, and asked me to tind
dog and many other words, IndL'td, she was much displeased
because I could not find her name in the booV. Just then I had
no sentences in raised letters whieh she could understand: but
she wouM sit for hours feeling each word in her book. When she
touched one with whi*:h she was familiar, a peculiarly sweet
expression hghted her face, and we saw her countenance growing
aweeter and more eameai every day. About this time 1 sent s

EDUCATION

339

It5t of the words she taiewr to Mr. Afiagn^«, and he very kindly had
thcin printed for hi-r. Her mother and 1 cut up several sheets
of printt-'d words so that she could arrange them into senteaccs.
ThU delighted her more than anythiTJg she had yet done; and
the practice thus obtained prepared the way for the writing
lessons. There was no diflicully in making htr understand bow
lo write the same wnlences with pencil and paper which sh©
made every day with (he slips, and she vcrv aoon perceived that
she need not confine ]ier!;e]£ to phrases already kamed, but could
communicate any thought that was paasifig thnsngh her mind.
I put one of the writing boards uaed by the blind between the
folds o( the paper on the table, and allowed her Lo examine an
alphabet of the square Ictierb, Gurh bs she was to make, I then
guided her hand to form ihc sentence, *'Cfll does drink milk,"
When she fioishtd it she was overjoyed. She carried it to her
mother, who spelled it to her.

Day after day ehe moved her pencil in the aiune traeka along
the grooved paper, never for a moment expressing the least
impatience or sense of fatigue.

As she had now learned to c^prcsa her ideas on papcTr I ocjct
taught her the braiUe system. She learned il gladly when she
discovered that she could herself read what she had written;
and this still afEords her constant pleasure. For a >vhole evening
Hhe will sit at the table wriiing whai:ever comes into her busy
braic; and X seldoru find any diihculty in reading what she has
■written.

Her progress in arithmetic has been equally remarkable.
She can add and subtract with great rapidity up to the sum of
one hundred; and ahe knows tbe multiplii^ation tables as far as
the fives. She was working recently with the number forty,
when 1 said to her* *'Make twos," She replied immediately^
"Twenty twos make forty." Later I said, *'Make fifteen threes
and count," I wished her to make the groups of threes and
supposed she would then have to count them in order to know
what number fifteen threes would make. But Instantly she
spelled the answer: "Fifteen threes make forty-five,"

On being told that she was white and that one of the ecrvanta
was black, she concluded that all who occupied a similar menial
position were of the same hue; and whenever I asked her th©
ooJouf of a flervimt she would &ay "black." When asked the

340 A SUPPLEMEXTARY ACCOUNT

colour of some one wtiose occupstioti ehc did not tnow abc
seemed bewildered, and finally said "blue,"

She hoG never been told anything nboat deo-th or the burial of
the bod>', and yet du entering llie cuoiclery for the first time
in her life, willi her mother and me, to Inok at some flawen,
she laid heF hond on our eyes and repeatedly speUed "cry — ■
cry-'* Her eyes actually Slled with tears. The flowers did not
seem fo give ber pleasure, and she was very qmet while we
Etaycd there.

On another occasion while walking Hfith me ehe Bcemed
conaciona of the presence of her brother, nllhougb we were
distant from him. She spelled his name repeatedly and Btarted
in the direction in which be waa cominE-

When walking nr riding 5he often gives the natnes of the
people wc meet almost as booq as vo recognise them.

The lctt<rrs take up the account again.

November 13, tSSj,
Wc took Helen to the circus, and had "the time of our lives" I
The circus people were much in t trusted in Ffeleii, and did every-
thing they could to make her first circus a memorable event.
They let her fed the animab vrhcncvcr it was saft:, She fed the
elephants, and was alltrwed lo chmb up on the back of the
largest, and sil in the lap of the "'Oriental Princess." while the
elephant marched majestically aroimd the ring. She felt some
young lions. They were as gentle as kittens; but 1 told her fhey
would get wild and fierce as they grew older. She said to the
keeper, " L will take the baby lions home and teach them to be
mild." The keeper of the bears made one big black fellow stand
on his hind l^gs and hold out his great paw to us, which Helen
shook politely- She was greatly dchfihlcd with the nionkeys and
kept her hand on the star performer while he went through
his tricks, and laughed heartily when he took ofT his hal to
the audience. One cute little fellow stole bcr hair-ribbon, and
another tried to snatch the flowers out of her hat. 1 don't know
who had tha best time, the monkeys, HcLvn, or the spectators

EDUCATION

34*

One of ttc leopards licked her handsj ond the mim tn eharge o(
the eir^Elcs lifttd htr up !n his arms ao that she couLd fKrl their
ears and see how tall the/ were. Shu also felt a Greek thariot,
and the chariijtcer would have liked to take her round the ring:
but she was afraid of "many awift horses." The ridere and
tlowni and rope- walkers were all glad lo lei the little blmd girl
fed their costamcs and follow their motions whenever it was
possihle. and ahe ki^«d them ^11, to bhow Ueit gr^itiiude. Some
of lh«n cried, snd the wild man of Borneo shrank from her
Awoct little faef? in terror. She hjuj tcdked about nothing but the
ciECUs ever since. In order to answer her questions, I have been
obliged to read a great d^nl about animals. At present 1 feel
liJfe a juaglc oa wheels 1

December ib, iBZj.

T find It hard tn realize that Christmas is almost here, in spite
of the faot that Helen talks about nothing else. Do you
remember what a happy time we had last Christmas?

Helen has learned tn tell the time at last, and her father U
going to give her a watch for Chnstmas.

Helen is as eas^r to have stories told her as any hearing child
1 ever knt'w. She has made me repeat the story of little Red
Riding Hood so often that 1 bchevc I could say it backw^ard.
She likea stories that make her cry — I think we all do, it's so
nice to feel and when vnuVe nothing particular to he sad about.
I am teaching her little rhymes and verses, too. Thoy fix
beautiful thoughts in her lEicmciry. I think, luv. that they
qoieken all the child's facilities, because they stimulate the
imagination. Of course I don't try to eipl&in eveiythJng. If
1 did. there would be no opportunity for the play of fancy^
Too tnJtclt erplannHori directs the child's atlgntion to ^ords and
senlcnces, so thai he Jails to ^ei tka thought as a whole, i do not
think any one can read, or talk for that matter, until he forgets
vords and sentences in the technical sense.

January t. iSaS.
It IS a greot thing to feel that yon are of some use in the world,
that you are necessary lo somebody. Helen's depdodence on
me for almost everything makes me strong and glad.

343 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Chriatmaa wccfc waa a vcty bufiy one here, too, Helen if
invited to all tlie children's ciiLert^iniTients, and I take her to
fts many as I can. I want her to know children and to be with
them 03 much as possible. Several little girls have learned to
Bpell on their fingcra and are very proud of the acqoraplishment-
One little chap, about seven, -w^s pc^rsuad^d to leam the letters.
and ho epcUcd hiB name for Helen. Sho vas delighted, and
shoived her joy by hugging and Idssing him, much to hia
embarrassmen t,

Saturday the school-children had their tree, and 1 took Helen.
It was the irrst Christinas tree &lie had ever seen^ and ahe w«a
puzzled, and asked many questions. ''Who made tree grov^
in house? "Why? Who put many things on tree?" 6he
objected to its miscellaneous fruits and began to remove them.
evidently thinking thpy were all meant for hw. It was not
difficultn however, to make her understand that there viras a
present for each child, and to her great delight she was per-
mitted to hand the giita to the children. There were several
presents for herself. She placed them in a chair, rcsittting all
temptation to lock at th^m until every child bad received hi'
gifts. One liltle girl had fewer presents than the rest, and
Helen insisted on sharing her ^its with her. It was very sweet
to BPe the children's eager interest in Helen, and their readiness
to ^ve her pleasure, Tbe exereiEea began at nine, and it was
one o'clock before we could leave. My fingers and head ached;
but Helen was as fresh and full of spirit as whon we left home

After dinner it began to enow, and we had a good frolic and
on interesting lesson about the anew. Sunday morning the
ground was covered, and Helen and the cook's children and I
played snowball. By noon the Enow wad all gone. It was the
ilrst SHOW I had seen here, and it made nie a little homesick.
The Christmas season has furnished many lessons, and added
scores of new words to Helen's vocabtalory.

For wceka we did nothing but talk and read and tell each
other stoHeaaboDt Christmas. Of course I do not try to explain
all the new words^ nor does Helen fully understand the litUo
stories 1 tell her; but constant repetition Qxes the words aud
phrases in the mind, and little by iittJc tbe meaning will eome
to her. I sM tta jenss in "joking" cGnvtrsation ftrr ihc sake of
teachiitg lansuage. li'i stupid and dt^adetiing to pupil and leacfier.
Talk iitould bf natuial and have for it% ohfect o^t crchotige of

EDUCATION

343

idcai. If there is nothing in the child's tnind to communlcnte,
ii hardly sectns worth while to require him to write on Ihc
blackboflTd, or spell on his fingers, cut and dried wntenoes about
"iho cat," '"the birdf" "a dog.*' J iiauc tried front the beginning
io talk ttitturaiiy to Helen arid (q icack Iter td till in« only things
tiua in'.fr^5l her and ask qnt'siion^ only for the sake of fitidiiig out
urhat she wauls to know. When I Bee that she is eager to tell
me aoraetbingH btit is hampered because sh.^ does not kjiow the
words, I supply thern and the necessary idToms, and we gefc
along finely. The child's cagcmcBs and interest carry her over
ntaiiy obstacles that would be our unJoLng U we stopped Uj
define and explain everything. What would happCTi^ do you
thinle, if some one should try to measure oui intelligence by
our ability to define the commonest words we use ? 1 fear
me, if 1 were put to 5ueh a test, T should be consigned to the
primary clasa in a school tor the feeble-minded.

It viss touching and beautiful to see Helen enjoy her fii^ti
Christmas, OC course, she hung her stocking — two of them,
Icat Santa Claus Ehou3d forget one, and ahc lay awake for a long
time and z°t up two or three times to see if anything had hap-
pened. When I told her that Santa Claus wotild not come
until she was asleep » she shut her cyca and said, "He will think
girl is asleep." She was awake the first thing in the TQominE,
and ran to the fireplace for her stocking; and when she found
tbat Santa Claus had ^led both Gtockings^ she danced about
for a minute, then grew very quiet, end came to ask me if I
thought Santa Claus had made a mistake, and thDUght theiB
were two little girls, and w^ould conic back for the ^its whci> be
discovered bis mistake. The ring you Beat her was in the toe
of the stocking, and when I told her you gave it lo Santa Claua
for her, she said, "I do love Mre. Hopkins," She had a trunk
and cluthes for Nancy, and her comment was, "Now Nancy
will go to party." When she saw the br^lle date and paper,
she saidj "I will write many letters, and I will thank Santa
Claus very much." It was evident that every one, especially
Captain and Mrs. Keller, was deeply moved at the thought
of the difference between this bright Chriatmaa and the last,
when their little girt had no consrious part in the Christmas
festivities. As we came downstairs, Mrs, Keller Gaid to me
with tears in her eyes, "Misa Aoiue, 1 thank God every day
of my hte for sending you to na; but I never realiEed until tfaia

344 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

morauie wliab a blessing you. have \>cca to us.** Captmn KcUcr
toolc my hand, htj» could not speak. Buti his silence waa mora
eloquent than words. My heart, too, was full o£ gratitude
and soleam joy.

The other da/ Helen came across the word grandfather in a
little Btory and a^ked her mother, "Where is grandfather?"
mfaniQg her grandf^Lhcf. Mish Keller replied. "He is dead."
■*Did father fihi>ot him?" H(>len fi£ked, and added, "I will eaS
grandfather for dinner." So far, her only knowledge of death
is in oonuet^tiQCi with thinga to eat. She knows thjLtt her father
shoots partridges and depr and other game.

This morning she asked mo the meaning o£ "carpenter/' and
the question fumiBhed the te^t for the day's lesson- Alter
talking about the various things that carpenters make, she
asked me, "Did carpenter m&kc mo?" and before 1 could answer,
she spelled quickly, "Mo,Do,ph[}lograpbermademeiii Sheffield."

One of the great iron furnaces has been started in Sheftieldt
and we went over the other evening to see them make a "run,*'
Hdcn felt the heat ^d ft^ked, "Dtd th? &ua ieHi"

January 9, iSfiS.
The report came last night. I appreciate the kind things
Mr. Anagnoa has said about Helen and me; but bia cHtravegant
way of saying them rubs me the wrong way. The simple
facts would be go much roore convincing! Why, for iostance,
does he lake the trouble to ascribe motives to me that 1 never
dreamed of? You know, and he knows, and I know, that my
motive in coming here was not in any sense philanthropic.
How ridiculoua it is to say 1 had drunk so copiously of the
noble spirit oi Dr, Howe that I was fired with the desire to
rescue from darlcness and obscurity the bltle Alabomion I 1
came here simply because circumatanecs made it iLece55ary for
me to earn my livmg, and I KLlcd upon the first opportunity
that ofTered itself, although T did not suapect, nor did he. that
1 had any special fitnees for the work.

January >5, ifiSS.
1 fluppOGe you got Helen'E letter. The little rascal has taken
it into her head not to write with a pencil. I wanted her to write

EDUCATION

to ter Uncle Frank this morning, but she objected. Sbe said:
'"Pencil is very tired in bead. I will write Uncle Frank braille
letter." 1 said, -But Uncle Franlc cannot read braille." "1
will teach him/' she aatd. 1 c^splained that Uncle Frank was
old, and couldn't* learn braille easily. In a fia^h she answered,
'*I think Uncle Frank is much (too) old to read very small
letters," Finally I persuaded her to write a few lines; but she
broke her pencil six times before she finished it, I said to her,
"You are a naughty girl." "No/' she replied, "pencil is vcty
weak,'* L think her objection, to pencil- writing la readily
accounted fur by the fact that she has been a^ked lo write so
many specimens for friends and (trangeTS. You knonr how
the children at the Instituticrti detest it. It is irksome because
the process i^ so eIow, and they cannot read what they have
written or correct their mistakes.

Helen is more and more interested in colour. When I told
her that Mildred's eyes were blue, she asked, " Aie they like wee
«kiesr' A Httls while after I had told her that a carnation
that had been giv-en her was red, she puckered up her mouth
and said. "Lips are like one pink/' I told her they were tulips;
but of course she didn't understand the word-play. I can't
believe that the colour-imprefisioiis she received during the year
and a half she could see and hear are entirely lost. Everything
we have seen and heard is in the mind somewhere. It may bo
too vague and confused to be recognizable, but it is there all the
ftamej like the landscape we lose in the deepeniiig' twilight.

February io. iS88.
We got home last night. We tad a splendid time in Memphis,
but T didn't rest much. It was nothing but excitement from
first to last— drives^ luncheons, receptions, and all that they
involve when you have an eager, tireless child Kkc Helen on
your hands. She talked incessantly. I don't know what I
should have done, had some of the young people not learned to
talkwithhcr. Theyrclievedme as much as possible. Buleven
then T i:ian never hnve a quiet half hour to myself, ll Is always:
*'Oh. MisE Sullivan, please come and tell ns what Helen means/*
or " Miss Sullivan, won't you please explain thiH to Helen ? We
can't make her underflCand." T helieve half the white popula-
tion of Memphis called on us. Helen wa^ petted and caressed

346 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

enough to epoil an anf^I ; but T do aat think it is pcssiblc to spoil
her, she is loo unconscious of herself, and tuo loving.

The stores jti Memphis are very good, and 1 managed to spend
bU the moncj' that 1 had with mc. One day Helen said, "1
must buy Nancy a very pretty hat.'* I said, "Very mdl, we
will go shopping this afternoon." She had a, silver dolTar and
a dime, When we reached the shop. 1 asked her how muck she
would pay for Nancy's hat. She ansflrercd promptly, "1 will
pay ten cents," '"What will you do with the dollar?" I asked.
"1 will buy Eome good candy to take to Tuscuiabia»** wa^ her
reply.

We visited the Stock Exchange an d a fiteamboal. Helen whs
greatly interested in the hoat, and insisted on being shown
every inch of it from the engine to the flag on the flagstaff. I
was gratified to read what the Xaittm had to say ubout Helen
last week.

Captain Keller has had two interesting letters since the publi-
catioQ of the "Report,'* one from Dr, Alexander Graham
Bell, and the other from Dr. Edward Everett Hale- Drn Hale
claims kinship with Helen, and seems very proud of his
Hllle cousin. Dr, Bell writes that Helen's progrecs is without
A parallel in the edueation of the deaf» or something like that,
and he ^ys many mce things about ht^r teacher.

March 5, iSGS.

I did not have a chance to finish my letter yesterday. Miss
Ev. came up to help me make a list of words Hefen has learned.
Wa have got ob far as P, and thero are 900 words to her credit.
I hod Helen begin a journal* March 1st. I don't know how long
she will keep it up. It's rather Etupid buEioess, I think, Ju.^t
now she finda it great fun. She seema to like to tell all she
knows. This is what Helen wrote Sunday;

"I got op, washed my faee and hands, combed myhair, piekefT
three dew violets for Teacher ood ate my breakfast. After
breakfast T played with doUs short. Nancy was cross. Cioss
1*1 cry and kick. I read in my book about large, fierce animals.
Fieree is much crusa and atrong and very hungry. I do not

* VoAt of ihjd jQumft] wu lp«, PoJtunaWlx* howcvei, llclcrj Keller rmtc
n nuar Uttflr4 »bd enarciK* thH Xhtrt U no Wk of fbCBrdsof tb*E voft-

EDUCATION

347

love fierce animals. ! wrote letter to Uncle James. He lives
in Hotaprin^, He Is doctor. Doctor makes sick girl well ^ I
do not like aick. Then 1 ate my dinner. 1 like much kecream
very mach. After dinner father vsnt to Birmingham on train
far away. I had letter from Robert. He luvcs tm. He saJd.
Dear Helen, Robert was ^la-d to get a letter from dear, aweet
little Helen, 1 will come to see you when the Eun ahiiieE. Mre.
Ncwsum la Robert's wife. Robert is her husband, Robert
and I will rvn and jump and hop and dance and swing and
talk about birds and fiowere and trees and grass and Jumbo and
Pearl will go with us. Teacher will say, We are silly. She is
funny. FuDuy m^kes us laugh. Natalie is a good girl and does
not cry, Mildred do«B cry. She wiil be a nice girl in many days
and rvjn and play with mc- Mra, Gravca is mating short dresses
for Natalie. Mr. Mayo went to Duckbill and brought home
many sweet flowers. Mr. Mayo and Mr. Farris and Mr. Graves
love me and Teacher 1 am going to Memphis to sec them soon,
and ihey will hug and kiss me. Thornton goes to school nnd
gets bis face dirty. Boy must be very careful. After supper 1
played romp with Teacher in bed. She buried me under the
pillows and then I grew very slow Lke liee out of ground.
Now 1 will go to bed, Helej^ KEtLaa,'*

April i6, tBBB,
Wc are Just back from church. Captain Keller said at break-
fast this morning that he wished I would take Helen lo church.
Tha Presbytery would be there in a body, and he wanted
the ministers to see Helen, The Sunday-school was in acsnon
when we arrived, and I wish you could have seen the sensation
Helen's entrance caused. The children were go pleased to see
her ab Sunday-school, they paid no attention to their teachcra,
but rushed out of their seats and surrounded ur. She kissed
them all. boys and girls, willing or imwilling. She seemed ta
think at £rst that the children all belonged to the visiting
ministerG; hut soon she reeogoired some little friends among
thenif ond 1 told her the ministers didn't bring their children
with them- She looked disappointed and said, 'Til send them
many kisses/" One of the miniEtors wished me to ask Helen,
■"What do ministers do?" She said, "They read and talk loud
for people lo be good/" He put her answer down in his note-

348 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

boot. When jt was time for the cHurcH &ervice to beEin. b)io
WIS in such B. state of eiccii^tnent that T thought it best to take
her away; but Captam Keller said. "No, she will be oil right."
So ibEre was nothing to do but stay. It waa impossible to keep
Helen quiet. She hugged and kisEed ne, and the qi.iii?t-1ooking
divine whc sa.t on the oLhor side of her. He gave her his watch
to play with; but that didn't keep her still. She wanted loshoyr
it to the little boy in the seat behind lis. When the communion
service began, ahe smelt the wine, and sniffed so loud that every
one in the church could beitr. When the wine was pussctl to our
neighbour, he was obliged to fitand up to prevent her taking it
away from him. 1 never was ao glad to get out of a place as I
was to leave that church ! I trieil ta hurry Helfuout-of'doara,
but she kept her arm eictended. and every coat-tail she touched
must needs turn round and giv^; an account of the children
he left at home, and receive kisses accordiog to Lhcir number.
Everybody laughed at her antics, and you would have thought
they were leaving a place of amuEcment rather than a church.
Captain Keller invited some of the ministeia to dinner, Helen
w^i irrepressible. She described in the most animated panto
mime, suppLemontcd by spelling, what she was going to do id
Brewster. Fhially she gut up from the table and went through
the motion of picking seaweed and shells, and splashing in the
water, holding up her skirts higher thoa vras proper under the
circumslancesn Then she threw herself on the floor and began
to Ewim Eo energetically that some of us thought we should he
kicked out of our chairs I Her motions arc often more expressive
than any words, and she is aa graceful as a nymph.

I wonder if the days seem, as interminable to you as they do
to me. Wc talk and plan and dream about nothing but Boston,
Bo:^ton» Boston. 1 think Mrsi. Keller has de^nitely decided to
go with us, but 6h& will not stay all Eummer.

May 15. tBGS.

Do you realize that this ia the last letter I shall write to you
for a long, long time P The nest word that you receive from
me will be in a yellow envelope, and it will tell you when wa
ehall reach Boston. I am too happy to write letters; but £
must tell you about our visit to Cincinnati-

Wa spent a delightful week with the "doctors/* Dr. Kellef

EDUCATION

met ua In Memphis. Almost every one on th^ trma was a
physician, and Dr. Ktlltr Beemtcl lo know them all- When
we reached Cincionflli. vc iound the place fuU o£ doctors.
There were aeveral prominciit Bofiton physicians among them.
We stayed s.t ihe Burnet House. Everybody was delighted
with Helen. AIL the learned men marveled at her intelligence
and gaiety. There is something abcput her that attracts people.
I think it is her joyous intere<it in everything and everybody.

Wherever she went she woe ths centre of interest. !>he wofl
delighted with the orchestra at the hotel, and whenever the
music began she danced round Ihc room* hugging and kissing
every ore she happened to toneh, Her happinces impreseed
all; nobody seemed to pity her. One Hcntlciiian said to Dr.
Xeller. " I have lived long and seen many happy faces; hut I
have never eeen fiuch a radiant face as this child's before
to-night,*' Another said, " Damn me I but I'd give everything
1 own in the world to have that little girl always rear me/*
But 1 haven't time to write all the pleasant things people said —
they would make a very large binjU, and the kind thinaa they
did for lis would fill another volume. I>r. Keller distribirted
the extracts from the report that Mr, Anagnos sent mc, ond he
could have disposed of a thousand if he had had them. Do you
remember Dr, Garcelon, who was Governor of Maine several
years ago? Hb took u^ to drive ona afternoon, aad wanted lo
give Hi:len a doll; but she said: "I do not like too manychildrcD.
Nancy is sick, and Adeline is ctosSh and Tda is very bad," We
laughed until we cried, she was so serious about it. "What
would you like, thcnf" asked the Doctor, "Some beautiful
gloves to tallf with," she answered. The DrfccCor was puzzled.
He had never heard cf "talkir£-glovcB"; but I eiEplnmcd that
she had ficen a glove on which the alphabet was printed, and
evidently thought they could be bought. I told him he could
buysomeglovca if he wished, and that I would have the alphabet
stamped on them.

We lunched with Mr, Thayer {your former pastor) and hi<
wife He asked mc How I had taught Helen adjectives and Ae
names of ahstracti ideas like gotidnesa and happiness. These
same questions had boen asked me a hundred times by the
learned doctors, lb acems strange that people should marvel at
what is really so simple. Why, it is as easy tn teach the name of
an idea, if it ifi i;:leaTly formulated in the child's mind, as to teach

350 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

the name of an object. It would indeed be & herculean task to
teaoh the words if Llie ideHS did not already exist in the chxld'fi
mind, Ll hiE experiences and obEervatioiiE hadn't ied hmi to.
the concepts, stitali^ i'^^S^, g<>odt bad^ sivett, sour, he would hava'
nothing to aiiach the word-tags to.

I) little ignorant L. found raj'self explaining to the wise men of
the East and the West such simple things as these; If you give
A (^hild something swtrt, and he wags his tongue and smacks hJs
lips and looks pleoaed* he has a very de&aJte Gcneation; and if,
every tirac he has this experience^ he hears the word swwt,
or has it spelled into his hand< he will quickly adopt this arbi-
trary sign forhU Gcnsation. Likewise, if you put a bit of lemon
on his tongue, he puckers up hislip^i and tries to spit it out^ and
after he has had this e:cpcriGnce a few times, if you offer him a
lero-OQ. he tihuts hifi mouth and makes faces, clearly indicating
that he remembers the unpleasant sensation. You label it
sour, and he adopts your symbol. IE you had called these
Benaations respectively Wac^ and uJH/<r, he would have adopted
them a& readilyi but he would mean by bUitk cuid tukite the
same things that he means by s'iveei and iour. In the same way
the child Itama from many e,^pcrieneca to differentiate hia
feelings, and we name them for him — gi?ud. bad, gentk. rim^k^
happy, sad. It is not the word, but the capacity to experience
the Bensation that counte in hia education.

This extract from one of Miss Sullivan's letters is added
bccaufic it contains interesting casual opinionn stimulated by
abscrving the mtthudi; of others.

We visited a little school for the deaf. We were very kindly
received, and Helen enjoyed meeting the children^ Two of the
teachers knew the manual alphabet, and talked to her withmjt
an interpreter. They were astonished at her command of
Janguage. Not a child in the Bchool . they said , had anything like
Helenas facility of expression, and some of them had been under
instruction for two or three yesr^. I was incredulous at first;
but after 1 bad watched the children alt work for a couple ot

EDUCATION

hours, I kiK^w that what I ho.d he*m told was tni?, &nd T wasn't
eujpriscd. In oac room some Uttlc tots were stondrng before
the blackboard, painfully conatructmg "Bimple Btntences." A
little girl had written: " 1 have a new dress- It is a pretty dress.
My mamma made my pretty new dress. I love mammaH" A
curly-headed littJe buy was vftitinE: "1 liave a large boll. I lilce
to kick ray large ball." When wh entered the room, the
children's attention was riveted on Helen. One of them pulled
me by the sleeve and said, "Girl is blind." The teacher was
wnting on the blackboard: "The girl's name is Helen. She ts
deaf- She cannot sec. We are very sorrj"." 1 said: '"Why
do you write those sentences on the Ijoard? Wouldn't the
children imder&tand if you talked to them about Helen?"
Tlie teaeher said flomctbing about getting the correct construc-
tion, and eoDtinued to conscruet an exercise out cf Helen.
1 asked her if the little girl who had written about the
new drcsa was particularly pleased withher dreaa. "No," sho
replied. "I think not; but children learn better if they write
about thingiS that eoncem them perGonally/' It fieomed aU so
mechanical and diiBcult, ray heart ached £or the poor little
children. Nobody thinks of mating a hearing child say, "I
have a pretty new dress, " at the beginning. These ehitdren
were older in years, it is true, than the baby who Uaps, *' Papa
kiss baby — pretty." and iiEls out her meaning by pointing to her
new dress; but their ability to undentand and us« language
wad QO greater.

There was the same difficulty throughouQ the Bchnol. !n
every claEsroora i saw sentences on the blackboard, which
evidently had been written to illustrate aorae grammatical rule,
or for the purpose of using wortls that had previously been
taught in the same, or in sumo other councction. This sort of
thing may be necessary in some stages of education ; but it isn'b
the way to acquire language. Nothing, I think, crushes ths
chad's iiiipuUa to talk naturaily marc cfjectually than tJiffss black-
h<ntrd exercises. The schoolroom is not the place to teach any
young child language, least of all the deaf child. He mtist be
kept as unconscious as the hearing child of the fact that he is
learning words, aitd he should b< allimrpd to prattle on his finders,
or with his pencil, in inonosyllables if kf chooses, until such titni
as his growing intaliigeitce demands Ike santt^nce. Language
thould nut be afisuciated in his mind with endless hours in school.

353 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

with pturJing questions m grammar, or witl^ anyttiine that is an
cn^my to joy- But I must not get Into the habit of criciririTig
other people'fi methods too ©everelyn I may be a« far Irom the
strmght road as they.

Mis3 Sul]ivBn*B second reporb brings the account doivn to

OctuLcr ist. 18B8.

DuriuE the past year Helen has enjoyed eKcellenb health.
Her e/cs and ears have heen eiamined by speciaJiiits. and il is
their opinion that she cannot have the «lightofit perception of
either light or sound-
It is impo^ible to tell exactly to what extent the eense? of
smell and tttstcaid hcriii gaimng in lormation respecting phyeical
qualities; but, according to eminent authority, these senses do
exert a great influence on the mental and moral development.
Dugald Stewart saya^ *'Somc of the most eigni&cant words
relating to the human mind are borrowed from the sense of
sroell; and the conspicuous place which its Bensationa occupy
in the poetical language of all nations shows how cosily and
naturally they ally themselves with the refined operations cf the
fancy and the moral emotions of the heart." Helen certainly
derives Rreat pleasure from the exercise of these scnsea. On
entering a greenhouse her countenance becomes radiant, and
she will tell the names of the flowers with whic:h she is familiar^
by the sense oE smell alone. Her recollections cf the sensatioos
of Emell are very viWd. She enjoys in anticipation the scent of
a ToPc or a violet; and if she is promiced a bouquet of these
flowers, a peculiarly happy expression lights her face, mdicating
thai in imaginstJon she perceives their fragrancpH and that it la
pleasant to her. It frequently happens that the perfume of a
llowcr or the flavour of a fruit recalls to her nund some happy
event in home Hfe. or a delightfuJ birthday party.

HoT sense of touch has sensibly increased during the year,
and has gained in acutcness and delicacy. Indeed, her whole
body is so finely ot^aniaed that she seems to use it as a medium
for bringing heraelf into closer relations with her fellow creaturea-

EDUCATION

3S3

She !s able nnt nnly to rlTstiTiguish with great accuracy the
djtiereat nndulatiooG of tbc air and th^ vibrations of the floor
made by varioua Bounds and motiona, and to rcco^ite her
friends and acquaintancps the inuant she touches their hands
or clothing, but ahe also perceives the state of mind of thosa
around her. It is impossible for any one fvith whom Helen la
coaversmg to be particularly happy or cod, snd withhold
the knowledge of this fact from her,

She obser%'ea the slightest emphaaia placed upon a word la
conversation H and she discovers meaning m every change of
position, and in the varied play oE the muscles of the hand.
She responds quickly to the gentle pressure of affection, the
pat of approval, the jert of impatience, the firm motion of
command» and to the many other vaxiations of the almost
[n&oite language of the feelings; and she haa become so expert
in intcrjjrcting this uncnnscious language of the emotions that
she ie often able lo divine our very thoughts.

In my account of Helen last year.* I mentioned several
instances where she seemed to have called into use an
inexplicable mental faculty; but it now seemG to me, after
carefully tonsidering the matter, that this power may be
explained by her perfect farniUarity vith the muscular varia»-
tions of those with ^vhom she comes into contact, caused by
their emotions. She has been forced to depend largely upon
this muEculer spnse as a means of ascertaining the mental
condition of those nbout her. She has teamed to connect
certain movements of the body with anger, olhets with joy,
and others still with sorrow One day. while she waa waiting
out with her mother and Mr. AnflgnoE, a boy threw a torpedo,
which startled Mrs, Keller. Helen felt the chaiiEC in her mother's
movements instantly, and aslced, "What are we afraid off*
On one occasion, while walking on the Common with her, I saw
a police officer taking a man to the station-house- The agita-
tion which 1 felt evidently produced a perceptible physical
change; for Helen asked, excitedly, "What do you see?*'

A striking lUustTation of this sLiajite power was recently
fihown while her ears were being examined by the aurists in
Cincinnati. Several experiments were tried, to delermino
positively whether or not she had any perception of sound.

'Sea PerUtu InfltitutioD Report for iSaT.pa^ log.

354 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

All present were astonished when she appeared not only to
hear a whistle, but also an ordinary tone of voice. She would
turn her head, smile, arid act as thoufih afae had beard nhat
was said. I wa^ then standing beside her. holding her hand.
Tbinking that she was receiving impreesjon^ from mc, I put
her hands upon the table, and withdrew to Uie oppobile side ol
the room. The aurists then tried thetr exp^Hinenis with quite
different rcEulta, Helen remained motionless throuEb them
al]» not onoe showing the leaat aigo that she realized what was
going on. At ttty sugBeation, one of the gentlemen took her
hand» and the teats were repeatt:d. Thia lime her countenance
ch&agL'd whenever she was spoken to, but there was not such
a decided lighting up of the features as when I had held hetj
hand.

In the accQunt of Helton last year it was stated that she knevrj
nothing about death, or the burial of the body; yet on enterinj
a cemetery for the 6rHt time in her lifcn she showed signs
emotion— her eyes actually filling with ti-ara.

A cireuTnstance equally remarLcable oeeurred last cummer;,
btit, 1>cforc relating it^ I will mention nhat ahe now knoi
with regard to death. Even before i knew hi^r. she had handled,
a dead chicken, or birdj or Eome other small animal. Some
time after the visit to the cemetery before rcEcrrcd to, Helen
beeame interested in a horse that had met with an accideni
by which one of his legs had been badly injured, and she weotj
daily with me to visit him. The wounded leg aoon became sq{
much worse that the hoi^e was suspended from a beam. Thai
animal groaned with pain, and Helen, perceiving his gToane,
was filled with pity. At last it became ncccsaary to kill hint,'
and, when Helen next asked to go and see him, [ told her ihati
he was dead. This was the first time that she had heard the
word. I then explained thit he had been shot to relieve him
from suffering, and that he was row 6uriffrf — put inio the ground,
i am inclined to believe that the idea of his having been inten-
tionally shot did not make much impression upon her; but I
think she did realize the fact thai !ife was extinct in the horse
as in the dead birds ^c had touched, and also that he had beeQ'
put into the grounds Since this occurrcnec, I have used thoi
word dead whenever occasion retjuired, but with no further,
cxp^nation of its meaning.

While maJdng a visit at Brcw&tcr, Massachusetts, she one day

EDUCATION

353

accompanied my Iricnd and mc Lhrouc^ the graveyard. She
examlr^d onp stonp after anothi^r. and stemed pleased when the
couid decipher a name- She smtlt at the Eiowers, but showed no
desire to pluck Iheni; and, when I gathered a few for her, she
refused to have them pinned on her dress. When her attention
was drawn to a marble slab inscribed with the name Floeibkcb in
relief* she droppi-d upon the ground as though looking for
something, then turned to me with a face full of trouble, and
aakcdj "Where is poor little Florence?" 1 evaded the question,
but she persisted. Turning to roy friend, she aakcd, "Did you
cry loud for poor little Florence?" Then she added: "1 think
she is very dead. Who put her in big liole ?" As she continued
to ask these distressing quefitionH, we left the cemetery, Florence
was the daughter of my frientl, and was a young lady at the time
of her death; but Helen had been told nothing about her, nor
did &he even know that my friend had had a daughter. Helen
had beea given a bed and carriage for her dolls, which she had
received and used like any other ^ft- On her return to the
house after her visit to the ceinetery. ahe raa io the closet
where these toys were kept, and carried them to my frieTidn
sayings ^'They ore poor little Florence'E-" This was Lnic,
although we were at a loss to miderstand how fihe EUeascd it
A letter written to her mother in the course of the loHowing
week gave an account of her impression in her own words:

"I put my littlt babita lo sleep in Florence's little bed, and I
take them to ride in her carriage. Poor little Florence is dead.
She was very sick and died. Mrs. IL did cry loud for her dear
lit tir child- She got in the ground, and she is very dirty, and^he
is cold, Florence was very lovely hke Sadie, and Mrs. H, kissed
her and hii>yjcd her much. Florence ifi very sad in big hole.
Doctor gave her medicine to make her well, but poor Florence did
not get welt. When she wa.E very sick she tossed and rnoEined
in bed. Mrs. II. will go to see her soon/'

Not withstanding the activity of Helen's mind, she is avery
natural child. She is fond of fun and frolic, and loves dearly
to be with other children. She 3a never fretful or irritable,
and i have never seen her impatient with her playmates because
they failed to understand her. She will play for hours together
With children who cannob understand a siofile word she spells,
and it is pathetic to watch the eager gestures and excited panto-
mime through which her ideas and emotions find expression.

356 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Occasionall/ some little boy or girl will try to learn ihe manual
alphabet. Then it is beautiful to observe with what patience,
EWeetneftS. and peiscveraiice ITt^len End^'avours tu bring tba
linnily fingers of her little friend into proper position.

One day, while Helen was wearing a little jacket of which
she was very proud, htr mother said; "Therein a poor little
girl who has no cloalc to keep her warm. Will you give her
yours?" Helen began to pull o5 the jacket, saying, *'I must
give it to a poor little strange gitl/'

She U very fond of chjMren younger thsn herself, and a
baby invariably calU forth all the motherly instincla of her
nature. She will handle the bah/ es tenderly as the most
careful nurse could desire. It is pleasant, too. to note her
though tfulness for little childrca, and her readiness to yield
to their whims.

She has a very sociable disposition, and delights in the com-
panionship of those who can follow the rapid motions of her
fingers: but if left alone shi^ will amuse herself for hours at a
time with her knitting or sewing.

She reads a great deal. She bciids over her book with a look
of intense interest, and as the forefinger of her left hand runs
along the Une, she spells out the words with the other hand;
but often her motions are so rapid as to be uninteUigible even
to those accustomed to reading the swift and varied movemEcts
of her fingers-

Evcry shade of feeling fladfl exptession Lhrongb her mobile
features. Her behaviour is easy and natural, and it is charming
bccBUGC of its frankness and evident sincerity. Her heart is toip
fioll of unselfishness and aFTection (o allow a dream of fear or
Tinkindness. She does not realise that one can be anything
but Idnd'heartcd and tender. She is not eonccious of any
reason why she should be awtwardi consequently, Lei mov^
ments are free and grareftiL

She is very fond of ali the living thinga ot home, und she
will noL have them unkindly treated. When she is ridifig In
the carriage she wilt not allow the driver to use the whip,
bccauBC, flhc says, "poor horses will cry." One morning she
was greatly distressed by finding that one of the dogs had a
block fastened to her collar. We esfplained that it was done
to keep Pearl from running ayvxy. Helen expressed a great
deal of sympathy, and at every op|jortunity during the day

EDUCATION

3S7

sTif vmild find Pearl and c&rry the burdcfi from place to
place.

Her father wrote to her last Bummer that the birds and bee*
were eating all his grapes. At fcc she was very indignant,
and said the little creatures were "very wrong": hut she seemed
pleaded when 1 explained to her thab th& birds and bees were
hungry, and did not know that It ^as selGali to eat all the fruit-
In a letter written soon afterward she says:

'*f am very eorry that bumblebees and hornets and birda and
large Bies and worms arc eating all of my father's dirlicious
grapes. They like Juicy fmit to eat as welt as people, and
they are hungiy- They arc not very wrong to cat too many
grapes because they do not know much."

She continues to mate rapid progress in the acquisition of
language as her experiences increaEe, While these were few
and elementary, her vocabulary was necessarily limited; but,
as she learns more of the world about her, her judgment grows
more accuratej her tcaeoning powcra grow Etrongcfj more active
and subtle, and the language by whicli she expresses this intcl-
leotual activity gains in fluency and logic.

When traveling she drinks in thought and language- Sitting
beside her in the car, I describe what 1 sec frora the window—
hilln and valWa and the riyers; cotton -fields and gardens in
which GtrawbcrritiH, pcachcSn pcaru, melons, and vegetables are
growing; herds uf cows and horses feeding in broad meadows,
and dcicki! of sheep on the hillside; the cities with their churches
and schools, hotels and warchonsoa, and the occupations of the
busy people. While t am commimicating these things, Helen
manifests intense interest; and, in defanlt of words, she indicates
by gestures and panton^ime her desire to Icam more of her
surronadings and of the great forces which are operating every-
where. In this way, she leams countless new espressiona
without any apparent effort.

From the day when Helen first era-tped the idea that all
objeots have name^, and that these can he communicated by
certain movements of the fingers, [ have talked to her emctly
as I Hhoutd liave done had she been able to hear, with only this
ezception , that t have addressed the words to her fingers instead
of to her ears. Naturally, there was at first a strong tendency
onherparb to use only the important wcrds in a sentence. She
would say, "Helen milt/' I got the milk, to show her that sho

358 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

had uaed the correct word; but I did not let her drink it untU
sbfl hadi with my assiBtaccc, made a complete Bcnlcnce, as,
"Give Helen some miik to drink/^ In these early lessonp I
f^ocouragcd ber in the use of diEFercnt forma oE exprcsfiinn for
conveying the same idea. If she was eating surne caudy. I
Baid: "Will Helen please give teachersome candy P" or, "Teacher
would like to ea.t sotac of Helenas candy/^ omphoaiztng the 's.
She very soon perceived that the ^me ;dea could be expressed
in a great many ways. In two or three months after I began
to teach her she would oay; "Helen wants to go to bed," or,
"Helen is sleepy^ and Helen will ga to bed.'*

I am constantly asked the question, "How did you teach her
the meaning of words expressive of intellectual and moral
qualities ?" I believe it was mnre through associatioTi and
repetition than through any explanation of mine. This is
especially inic of her eailicr lesaons, when her knowledge of
langua^ was 50 slight as to make eicplanation impossible.

1 have always made it a practice to use the words descrip-
tive of emoliona, of intellectual or moral qualities and actions.
iTi connection with the circumsuince which Tequired these words.
Soon after [ became her teacher Helen broke her new doll^
of which she was very fond. Ghc began to cry. I said to her,
"Teacher is sifrry." After a few repeiilioas she came to associate
the word with the feeling.

The word happy she Learned fo the same way; also, right,
vmmg, good, bad, and other adjectives. The word love she
learned as other children do — by its association with carcsccs.

One day I asked her a simple question in a combination of
numbers, which I was sure she knew. She an^iwcred at random,
I checked her, and she Etood atill, the expression of her face
plainly showing that she was trying to think, I touched her
forehead, and spelled "l-h-i-n-k/* The word, thijs connected
with the act, seemed to impress ttself on her mind much aa if
I had placed htTT hand upon aa object and then spelled its name.
Snce that time she has always used the word think.

At a later period L began to use such words as pcrl%aps,
SHpposv. expat, fariiit, rvmentber. If Helen asked, "Where is
mother now?'* I replied! "I do not know. Perhaps she ia
with Leila."

She is always anxious to lentn the names of people we meet
in the horse-cara or elsewhere, and to know where they are Boing,

EDUCATION

ant( what they will do. Convpreations of this Vind are frequent:

Hble^. What 13 little hoy's Dame ?

Teacher. 1 di> not know, ior lie ia a little straugi-r; hul
perhaps bis name is Jack.

Hblbw. Where is he going?

Teachbh. He may he Eoing to the Cohhqod to have fua
with other boys.

Hblew. What will he play?

TBAc:HEk. I suppose he will play batl.

Helen. What are boys doing now?

TiACiJEK. P^rtia^s they are expecting Jack, and *ro
waiting for him.

After the words huve beoome Eamiliar to her, Bhe uses them
ia composition.

" September flfi, [[«8S.]

" This morning teacher and 1 fiat by the window and we saw
a little boy walking oi; the sidewalk- It was rftining very hard
and he had a very liirge umbrella to keep off the rain-drops.

"t do not know bow old he was but thi»k hefnojr havt botftstK
ycai^ old. perhaps his name was Joe. 1 do not know wheie be
was going because he was a little strange boy. 0Mt perhaps hia
lucither Eent him to a store to buy something for dinner. He had
a bag in one hand. I suppost he was going to take it to his
mother."

In teaching her the use of language, I have not confined
myself to any particular thtory or system- I have observed
the spontaneous movemencs nf mv pupil's mind, and have
tried to follow the suggestions thus given to me.

Owing to the nervousness oE FIclen's temperaments every
precaution has been taken to avoid unduly exciting htr already
very active brain. The greater part of the year has been spent
in tta\'cl and in visits to difleren* places, and her lessons have
been those suggested by the various w^enps and experiences
through which she has passed. She continues to manifest thp
Biuae eagerness to learn as at lir&t. It is never necessary to
urge her to study. Indeed, I am often obliged to coax her to
leave an example or a composition.

While not con lining ray self Loany special system of instruciion,
T have tried to add to her general information and intelligence,
to enlarge her acquaintance with things around her, aad tfJ
bring her into easy and natural relations with people. T have

36o A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

encQur^ed her to Iceep a diary, Erom ViTiich the fbtlowTn^ setec^
tiofl has been made:

"March ajnd» [333.
"Mr, AnagTios came to see me Thur^iiJny. T wbh glad to hug
and kisf] bim. He takes care of sixty little blind girls and seventy
little blind boys. I do love them. Liulc blind RJrla scot mc a
pretty wcirkbasltct. I iuund adsaors and thread, and needle-
book with many needles in it, and crocliot hook and emery, and
thimble, and bo:i, and yard meaaurc and buttons, and pin-
eushicn. I will write little blind yirls a Ictlcr to th<iiik them,
I will make pretty clothes for Nancy and Addine and Ailie.
I will go to Cincinnati io May and buy another child. Then I
will have four children- Npw baby's nanw is Harry- Mr.
Wilson and Mr. Mitchell t^:tme to see -us Sunday, Mr. Anagnos
went to Louijivillc Monday to sec lltUc blind children. Mother
went to Hnntsville- I tilept wilh father, and Mildred slept
with teacher- I did leam about calm. It does mean quiet and
happy- Unelc Morric aent me pretty storiea, I read about birds.
The quail lays fifteen or twenty eggs and they are white. She
mates her nest on the ground. The Llue-bifd malces her nest
in a hallow tree and her eggs arc blue. The robin's eggs arc
green. I learned a song about spring- Maixh, April, May afb
sprine.

Now ni*lw the mmr.
The warm winds hloir
The wn^cr" Hl-w
Arid i-obin dear,
Ii VDina to iLow
TbBt f-prins i< hvre.

"James killed snipes fur breakfast. Little chlcVens did get
very cold and die. 1 am sorry. Teacher and T went to ride on
Tennessee River, in a boat- 1 saw Mr, Wil&on and James row
with oart. Boat did glide awiftly and I put Hand in water and
felt it flowing.

"I caught fish with hook and line and pole. We olimbcdhigh
hiU and teacher fell oisd hurt her head. I ate very j-mall fish
for supper, l did read about cow snd calf. The cow love*: lo
eat grass as well as girl doeE bread and butter end milk- Little
calf does run and leap in field. She bkes to skip and play, for
Bhe is happy when (he sun is bright and warm. Little boy did
love his calf- And he did aay. I will ki-ts you, little calT^ and ho

EDUCATION

36'

put his arma around calf's Qcck and kissed her. The calf lictcd
gnod boy's fane with Inng rDugh InnEUE, CalC must not op<^
mouth much to kies. I am tired, aixd teacbet do«a cot want
cac to write more."

In the autufim she went to a circus. While we were stfljiding
before his cage the lion roared, and Helen feEt the vibration
of the ait ao distinctly that she was able to rcprcducc thi
noiae quite accurately.

1 tried to describe to her the appearance of a camel; btit, as
yrc were not allowed to touch Iht ammal, I fcarc<] that she did
rot get a correct idea of its shape, A few days afterward.
however, hearing a commotion in the Echoolroom, I went m and
found Helen oii all fouis with a p[lLow so strapped upon her back
as to leave a hollow in the middle, thus making a hump on
either side. Between these bumps she had placed her doU,
Tfhich she was giving a ride aroiuid the room. I watched her for
Gome time as she moveri ahout, trving to take long strides in
order to carry out the idea I had given her of the camel's gait.
When 1 asked her what she was doing, she replied. "I am a very
funny cameh"

During the next two years neither Mr, Anagnos, who waa in
Europe for a year, nor Miss Sullivan wrote anything iibout
Helen Keller for publication. In iSgs nppe^ared the Perkins
Institution report for 1S9', containing a full account of Helen
Keller, including many of her letters, exercises, and composi-
tions. As some of tbe leiterR and the story of the "Frost King'*
BW published here, there ie no need of printing any more
Baraplea of Htleu Kdkr's writing during the third, fourth and
fifth ycar^ of her education. It was the first two years that
counted. From Miss Sullivan's part of this report I give her
most iinportant eomracnts and auch biographical matter ajt
does not appear elsewhere in the present volume.

These ei^tracis Mr. AnagnoB took from Miss Sullivan's notes
and memoranda.

362 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

One day, whilcher pony and her donkey w«re fitan ding ^de by
side, Helen went from ore to tbc other, examining them closely.
At \ast she paused with her hfind upon M^^ddy'fi head. &nd
addrefiEcd him Ihus; "Yes. dear Neddyj it is true that you are
not aa beautiful as Black Beauty. Your body la not so hand-
somely formed, and there is no proi/d loot in your face, and
your neck does not arch, BesideE, your long ears make you
look a little fiiTiiiy. Of couibe, you cannot help it, and 1 love
you just 35 well &d if you w^re the moat beautiful cre&ture in
the world."

Helen has been greatly interested in the alory of "Black
Beauty." To show how quickly she perceives and BKsociaies
idcafi, I will give on instance which all who have read tho
boot will be able to appreciate. 1 was reading the following
paragraph to her^

"I'he hcfBe was an old, worn-out ehcstnut* with an ill-kept
coat, and bon^ that showed plainly through it; the knees
knuckled over, and the forelegs were v^ry unsteady, I hnd
been eating aome hay, and the wind rolled a little lock of it
that way* and the poor creature put out her long, thin neck
BJtd picked it up, and then turned round and looked about
ioT more. There was a hopeless look in the dull eye that I
could not help noticioE. and then, as I was thinking wbeic
1 had seen that horse before, she looked full at me and said,
'Block Beauty, is that you?' "

At thiH point Helen pressed my band to stop me. She was
sobbing con\'ulsivply, *'lt was poor Ginger," was all she could
eay at iir^t. Later, when she was able to talk about it. she said:
"Poor Ginger I The words made a distinct picture in my mind.
1 could see the way Ginger looked; all her beauty gone, her
beautiful arched neck droopingn all the spirit gone out of her
flashing eyes, all the playfulness gone out of her manner. Oh.
how terrible it was [ I never knew before that there could
l>e such a change in anything. There were very few spots
of sunshine in poor Ginger's life, and the sadnesses were so
manyC" After a moment she added, mournfully, "I fear some
people's livca arc just like Ginger's."

This morning Helen was reading for the first time Bryant's
poem, "Oh, mother of a mighty race I" 1 said to her, "Tell
iuc> when you have read the poem through, who you think the
mother is." When she came to the Hnc;. "There's freedom at

EDUCATION

thy gates, and rest/* £h« excla.iined: "II. moans America ! The
gate, 1 suppose, is New York City, and Freedom is the great
status of Liberty/* After she had read "The Batttefleld,''
by the some author, I asked her n^hich verae she thought wafl
the most bcaulifu]. She replied, "t like this verse best;

^ She

'Truth crutbed to eortli ihAll riir A^n;
Tlie eternal yeftnoT Ocd are hm^
But Erior, wounded, vrithej Kiiit pfliu,
Apd dJBiajnonff hii vroribipciB,'*'

She 1« at once transported into the midst of the evcnU of
a story. She rejoices when justice wins, she is sad when virtue
^lics loW) and her face glo^va ^rith admiration and reverence
ihea heroic deeds are described- She even enters mto the Bfjirit
of battle: she says. "I think it is right for men to fight againEC
wrongs and tyrants."

Here bcp]

[ere liegins Miss SuUlyan^a connected account Ea the report
of i&gii

During the past three ycarE Helen has continued to make
tpid progress in the acqui^tion of language. She has one
[vantage over ordinary children, that nothing from without
lutractE her attention from her studies.
But this advantage involves a corresponding disadvaiitage;
le danger of unduly seveTe mental applieslion. Her mind
BO constituted that she la in a state of feverish unrest while
i&cious that there is something that she does not compre-
lend. 1 have never known her to he willing to leave a lesson
len she felt that thore was anything in it which fihc did not
idersland. If f suggest her leaving a problem in arithmetic
tti] the next day, she answers, "I think it will make my mind
Stronger to do it new,"

A few ereninKa ago we were discussing the tariff, Helen
wanted me to tell her about it. I said: "No, You cannot
understand it yet." She wad quiet for a moment, and then
ted, with spirit: "How do you know that 1 cannot understand f

36+

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

1 have a good mindf Vou must rcmcmbcT, dear leachcr, that
Greek parents were very pBrticuW wilh llieir L'hildreii, and
they ii6cd to let them listen to wise words, and I think they
UndErstood some o( them.'* I have found it beat not to tell
fa«r that she cannot understand, because she is almost cert^n
to become c:^citcd.

Not long ago 1 tried to show her how to build a tower with
her blocks. As the design was somewhat complicated, the
Bligbteat jar made the structure fall. After a time I became
discouraged, and told her I was afraid she could not make it
stand, but that I would build it far her; but she did not approve
of this plan. She was determined to build the tower hcrsolf;
and for nearly three hours she worked away, patiently gathering
up the blocks whenever they fell, and beginning over again.
tlctil at liLEt her perEeverance wa£ crowned with Succecs^ The
tower stood complete m every part.

Until October. tSScj. I had not deemed it best to confine
Helen to any regular and systematic course of study. For
the firal two years of her intcUeclual Ufe she was like a ehild io a
strange country, where everything wan new and perplexing:
and, until she gained a Icnowledge of language, it wa^ not possible
to give her a definite course of instruction.

Moreover. Helen's inquisitivcness was so great during these
years that it would have interfered with her progress in the
acquisition of language* if a eonsi deration of the questions
which were constantly occurring to her had been deferred until
the completion of a lesson. In oil probability she would have
forgotten the question, and a good opportunity to explain
something of real interest to her would have been lost. There-
fore it has always Eccincd best la me to teach anything when-
ever my pupil needed to know it, whether it had any bearing on
the projected lesson or not; her inquiri^ have often led us far
away from the Eobjecl under immediate coosi derail on.

Since October, iSSg, her work has been more regular and has
included arithmetic, geography, stodiogyn botany and reading.

She bos made considerable progress in the study of arithmetic.
She readily explains the processes of multiplication, addition,
subtraction, and division, and seems to understand the opera-
tions- She has nearly finished Colbum's mental arithmetic,
her last work being in impttiper fractions. She hasi also done
BOme good work in written arithmetic Her mind works so

EDUCATION

3<S5

rapidly, thai it often happens that when I give her ao cs^ample

•h« will give mc the correct answer before I have time to write
out the t\aislictii. She pays little attention to the langUi^ge
oeed in stating a problem, and scMom stops to ask the moaning
od unknown words or phrases untH she is ready to cicpliihi her
work. Once, when a question puzzled her very much, i sug-
gested that we take a ^nlk and th?n perhaps she wculd under-
Btand it. She shnoli her head decidedly, and said: "My enetnica
would think I was Tunning away, I mu^U stay and Concjiier
them now,'^ and fihc didn

The intellectual improvctnent which Helen has made In
the past two years is shown more clearly in her greater com-
mand of language and in facr ability to recognise nicer shades
of meaning in the use of words, than in any other bianch of
her education.

Not a day posECS that she does not Icam many new words,
nor are these merely the names of taitEtble and Gcnsible objects.
For instance, she ono day wished to know the meaning of the
following words: Phen^ni^r^n, cotHfrrisff, energy^ re^roductiffH,
rxtrai^dinary. perpetual and mystery. Some of these wurda
lukvc fiuocessiv« steps of meaning, beginning with what is simple
and leading on to what is abstract. It would have been a
hopeless task to make Helen comprehend the more abtitmse
meanings of the word mystery; but she understood readily
that it si^ified something hidden or concealed, and when she
makes greater progress she will grasp its more abstruse mean-
ing as easily as she now doe^ the fimpJer signification. In
investigating any subject there must occur ah the beginning
words and ^biases which cannot be adeiiuately understuui]
until the pupil has made considerable advancement: ye" I have
thought it best to go on ffivirg my pupil ample definitions,
thinking that, although these may be somewhat vague and

t provisional, they will come to one another's asBiEtance, and that
what \s obscure to-day will he plain to-morrow.
1 regard my pupil as a fr;^ and active being, whose own
Bpoutaneous impulses must be my surest guide. 1 have always
talked to Helen exactly as I would talk to a seeing and hearing
rbild. and 1 have insisted that other people »ihou1d do the Same,
Whenever any one asks me if she will understand this or that
word 1 always reply: "Never mind whether she understands
each separate word of a sentence or not- She will guess ihe

365

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

mefLnings of the new words from thair connection with othcri
which are already intelligible to bcr/'

In selecting hooks for Helen to read, T have ne^er ehosea
them with reference to her deafness and blindness. She
atwayfl rcAda sach bouks as aeein^ and hearing childrec of her
age read and enjoy. Of course^ in the hefiinning it was neecs-
Eory that thi^ things describe should be familiar and interesting,
and the English pure and simple^ I remember distinctly when
she first attempted fo read a little story. She had learned the
printed letters, and for sooac time bad amused herself by making
simple senLences, using slips on wlurh the words were printed
in raised Letters; but these Gentenees had no special relation to
Otie another» One morning we caught a mouse, and It occLirred
to me. with a live mouse and a Hve cat to stimulate her interest,
that 1 might arrange oome sentences in such a way sfl to form
a little story, and thus rivc her a new conception of the use of
language. So I put the following sentences in the frame, and
gave it to Helen: "The cat i& on the box, A mouse is in the
bojC' The cat can see the mouse. The cat would like to cat
the mouse. Do not let the cot get the mouse. The cat can
have some milk, and the mouse can have some cake." The
word the she did not know, and of course she wished it explain^.
At that stage of her advancement it would have been impos-
sible to explain its use, and so I did cot try, but moved bcr
£ngcr on to the next word, which she recognized with a bright
smile. Then, as I pnl her hand upon puss sitting on the box,
she made a little exclamation of aurpriac, and the rest of the
Bcntent^c became perfectly clear to her. When she had read
the words of the second sentence, I showed her that there really
was a mouse in the box. She (hen moved her finger to the
nest line with an expression of eager inleresL *'The cat can
see the mouse." Here 1 made the cat look at the mouse, and
let Helen feel the cat. The expression of the little tpri's coun-
tenance showed that she was perplexed, f called her attention
to the following line, and. although she knew only the three
words, cal. eai and mouse, she caught the idea. She pulled the
cat anay and put her on the Qoor. at the same time coveiing
the box with the frame. When she read, "Do not let the cat
get the mouse!" shi." rccopnized the negation in the eertence,
and seemed to know that the cat must not get the
mouse. Get and Ut were new words. She was familiar with the

EDUCATION

rords erf the \sst sentence, and was delighterl when alloweii
tc act them out. By fiign^ Bhc made ittc undcrfitosd that Eho

I^Bhed aQi>ther storyn aad I gave her a book conLalning very
short stories, written in the most elemectary style. She ran
het Qngei^ along the liuea, finding the vrotd^ she knew and gu&is-
iQg at the mc&niDE of ethers, in a way that would coDvince
the most oonservative of educators thab a. little deaf child^ if
given the opportunity, will leam to read as easily and naturally
as crdioary chiMreD.

I am convinced that Helen'c use of English is due largely to
her familiarity with hooka. She often reads for two or three
hours in succession, and them lays asfde her book rduc:tant9y.
One dny a* we left the library 1 noticed that she appeared more
serious thaa usual, and I asked the cause. "1 am thinking
how much w^ser we always are when we leave here than wc
sire when we eome," was her reply.

When asked why ahe loved books so much, she once replied:
"Because they telJ ne go much that is Interesting about things
I cannot eec. and they are never tired or troubled tike people.
They tell me over and over what I want to kuow."

While reading from Dickens'fi ^'Child's History of England,"
wa came to the sentence^ "Still the spirit of the Britons was net
broken." I asked what ahe thought that meant. She replied,
"I think it means that the brave Britons were not discouraged
hceausc the Romocs had won so many battles, and they wished
»U the more to drive them aivay." It would not hav^ been

I possible for her to define the words in thia sentence ; and yet she
had caught the author's meaning, and was able to give it in her
own words. The ni^xt Lines are still more idiomatic. "When
Suetonius left the country, they fell upon his troops and retook
the ialand of Angltsca." Here in her interpretation of the

i.ventence: "It means that when the Roman geocra! had gone

l&way. the Britons be^an to fight again ; and because the Roman
■oldiers had no general to tell them what to do, they were over*

-come by the Britons and lost the island they had captured."

She prefers intellratual to manual occupations, and is not
so fond of fancy work as many of the blind children are; yet
Bhe is eager to join them in whatever they are doing. Sha
has learned tO use the Caligraph typewriter, and writes very
correctly, bub not rapidly as yet. having had less than a month ^0
practice-

^68 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

More than t^^o years ago a cnuain taught her the telogrsph
atpbabeb by meldng the dots and diuhcs oa the baclc of her
hand with his finger. Whenevor she meeU any one who is
fftmji^pf witb tbis system^ she is ddighled to use it in conversa-
tioa. 1 have found It a cotivcmcnt medium of commumcatiTie
with Hpl(!n when she is at some distance from men for It enables
roe to talk ^v^ith her hy tapping upon the floor with my loot.
She feels Uie vibrations anJ uiideratands what is said lo her.

It was hoped that one so peculiarly endowed by nature 3s
Helen, would, if left entirely to her own rtsources^ Ibron come
light upon such psychological quti&tions as were not exhaust-
ively investigated by Dr. Howe; hut their hopes were not to
he realised. In the cose of Helen, nein that ol Laura Bridgman,
disappcantmcnt was inevitable. It is impossible to isolate a
child in thi? midst of society, bo that he shall not bs icfiuonced
by the beliefs of those with whom he associateH. In Helen's
case such (in end could not have bE^en attained iivithout depriV"
in^ her of that intercourse with others, which is essential to
her nature.

It must havf: been evident to those who watched the rapud
unfolding of Helen's faculties that it would rot be possible to
keep her inquisitive spirit for any length of time from reaching
out toi^vard the unfathomable mysteries of life. But great care
has been taken not to lead her thoughts prematurely to the
consi deration of subjects which perplex and confuse all minds.
Children ask profound questions, but they often receive shallow
answers, or, to speak more correctly, they are quieted by such
flUBwora,

"Where did I coiaefrom!" and "Where shall! go when 1 die?"
were questions Helen a^kod when she was eight years old.
Bub the explanations which ahe was able to understand at that
time did not satisfy, although they forced her to remain silent,
uniil htr mind should begin |o put forth its higher powers, and
general i^ from innumerable impressions and Ideas whlcb
streamed m upon it from books and from her daily experiences.
Her mind sought for the cause oE things.

As her observation of phenomena became more extensive
and her vocabulary richer and more subtle, enabling her to
express her own conceptions and ideas clearly, and also to
comprehend the Ihoushts and experiences of others, she bcLamo
ncqii&iQted with the limit of human creative power, and per-

EDUCATION

cdved that some powcr^ not human, rnust have created the
earth, the sun, and the thousand natural objects with which
fihe was perfectly familiar.

Finally she one day demanded ft name for the po^/er, th«
existence of which she had already conceived in her own mind.

Throuj-h Charles Kingslcy's "Greek Hernes"* she had become
fatniliar with the beautiful stori^ of the Greek gode and god-
desaeA, and she must have met with the words God^ Jicaven,
soui. and a grent: many similar eicprpsHions in books.

She never asked the racaoing of euch words, nor made any
coaiment when they occurred; and until February, iSSg, no one
had ever spoken to h<^r of God. An that time, a dpar relative
who was a\Ga an earnest Christian, tried to tell her about God;
butt as this lady did not use words suited lo the comprehension
of the child» they made litlle impression upon Helen's mind.
When I Hubae^ucntly talked with her ehc etud: "I have a^me-
thipg veiy funny to tell you. A. says God m«kde me and every
one out of sand; but it must be a joke. I am made of Jlfsh
and blood and bone, am 1 not?" Here she CHCTnined her arm
with evident satisfaction, laughing heartily to herself. After
a moment she went on; "A. says God is everywhere, and that
lie is all tovc; but I do not think a person can be made out of
love. Love is only something in our hearts. Then A. said
another very comical thing. She says He (meaning God) is
my dear father. It made me laugh quite hard, for 1 know my
Ifltber ia Arthur Keller/'

I explained to her that she waa nob yet able to undeistanfj
what had been told her. and so easily led her to sec that it
would be better not to talk about suL-h thiny5 until she was wiser.

She had mec with the espresaion Mother Nature in the course
of her reading, and for a long time she was in the habit of ascril^
ing to Mother Nature whatever she felt to be beyond ihe power
of man to accomplish. She would any, when speaking of the
griJ^vth of a plant, ''Mother Nature sends the simahinc and the
rain Co make the trees and the grass and the flowers grow."
The following cjttract irommy notes will show what were hef
ideas ab th^s time:

Helen seemed a little serious after supper, and Mrs. H. asked
her of what she was thinking. "1 am thinking how very busy
dear Mother Nature is in the spriagtlmc,'* she replied. When
asked why, she answered; '"Beeause she has so many children

^70 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

to Cake car« of. She Is the mother of Gveiythlng; the Qowcrs
and trees and winds."

'*How docs Mother Natura tate care of the Sowers?" I asked-
"She sends the suitahinc and roin to make them grow." Helen
replied; and a.fter a moment she added. "I think the stinshine
Is Nature's waroi smile, and the ntindrops are her leara."

Later she said: "I do nob know if Mottcr Nature made mc-
I think my mother gob me from heaven, but I do not know
wfacrc that place is. 1 know that daiQCS and paneics comc from
seedi) which have been puQ m the ground; bub children do not
grow out of the ground^ T am sure. 1 have never seen a planN
child [ But 1 cannot imagine who made Mother t^Tature, can
you? I love the beautiixU spriDg* because the budding Iretfi
and the hlossoming flowers and the tender green leaves fill my
heart with joy. I must go now to See my garden. The daisies
and the pansies will think I have forgotten thcni."

After Uay, iSgOn ic was evident to me that ehe had reached
a point where it was impossible to keep from her the religious
beliefs held by tho&c with whom she was in daily contact. She
almost overwhelmed me with inquiries which were the natural
outgrowth of her quickened intelligence.

Early in May she wrote on her tablet the following list of
questic>n3:

** I wish towHteabout things I do not understand. Who made
the earth and the svas, and everything? What makes the sun
hotf Where was 1 before t came to mother? 1 know that
plants grow froin seeds which are in the groundn but I am sure
people do not grow that way. T never saw a child-plant. Little
birds and chickens come out of eggs. I hr^ve seen them. What
was the egg before it was aa egg? Why does not the earth fall,
it is so very large and heavy P Tell me something that Father
Nature does. May I read the book called the Bible? Plea£«
tell your Uttlc pupil many things when you have much time.**

Can any one doubt after reading these questions that the child
who was capable of asking them was also capable of under-
standing a-t least their elementary answers? She could not, of
courae, have grasped such abstractions as a complete answer to
her qupstiona would involve; but one's whole life la nothing
iHDre than a coniimial advance in the comprehcoBion of the
meaning and scope of sueh ideas.

Throughout Helen's education I have Invariably assumed

EDUCATION

371

that the ran understand wliniever it is desirable for her tn know.
Unlc&s there had been in Helen's mind &otne &uch intellectual
process IS thti questions imJicate, any explaiiatioa of thein
would have been unintelltgible tn her. Without that degree of
mental development and acti\"ity which perceives the neces-
sity <jf j^upL-rhumaii creative pDwer* no cxplanatiun c>f natural
phenomena is possible.

After flhc had succeeded in formulating the ideas which had
been slow!/ gr'^wing in her mind, they seemed suddenly to
absorb aW her thoughts, and she became impatient to have
everything explained. As wc wore passing a large globe c short
lime after fihe hatl wiiLten thv t^uestiona, she stopped before
it and asked, "Who made the rtai world?" J replied, "No one
knowa how the earth, the sun, and all the worlds which wc call
stars came to be: but I wilJ tell you how wise men have tried
to flccotint for thHr origin, and to interpret the great and
mysterious forces of nature."

She knew that the Greeks had many gods to whom they
aflcribed various poWerSf because they beliei^ed that the sun,
the lightning, and a hundred other natural forces, were inde-
pendent and superhuTTian powers. But after a g^eat deal of
thought and study. I told her, men came to believe that all
forces were manifestations o£ one power, and to that power tHcy
gave the name God.

She was \'ery slill for a lew minutefi, ei/idently thinking
earnestly. She then asked, "Who made God?" 1 was com-
pelled txi evade hir question, for I could not explain to her the
rnystcTy of a self-exifitent being. Indeed, many of her eager
questions would have puzilcd a far wiser person than i am,
Hete are some of them; "What did God make the new morida
out of?" "Where did he get the soil, and the water, and the
seeds, and the first animals?" "Where is God?" "Did you
ever see God?" I told her that God was everywhere, and that
*he must not think of Him bb a person, but as the life, the mind,
the soul of everything. She interrupted me; ''Everj-thing docs
not have Ufc. The rocks have not life, end they cannot think/'
It is often necessary to remind her that there are infinitely
m^ny things that the wisest people in tbe worid cannot explain.

No creed or dogma has been taught to Htlen, nor has any
eflort been made to force religious beliefs upon her attention.
Being fully aware of my own Incompetence to give her any

372 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

adequalE eiplanationsofthemysterio which underlie the name*
of God, souJ. and immortality, I have always felt obliged, by a
sense of duly to my ptipil, tcj say as little as possible about
spiritual matters, Th<? Rt, Rrv. Phillips Brooks* has explained
to hei in a. bcaLLliful way the falhcThood of God-
She has not as yet been allowed to read the Bible, bccau&c
I do not see Jiow she can do sd at preserit withoi't getting a
very erroneous conception of tho atlriltutes of God. ! have
already told her m aiinple language of the btiLutiful and helpful
life of Jesus, and of his cruel death. The narrative affected
her greatly when hcst she hEtened to it.

When she referred to our conversation again, it was to ask,
"Why did not Jesus go away, so that his enemies could not iind
Him f She thought the miracles of JesuE very Etrange- When
told that Jesus walked on the sea to mecl His disciples, filie
aaid, decidedly- "I* dues not mean walked, it means sMunt."
When told of the instance in which Jceug raised the dead, she
vrn£ much perplesced, saying, "1 did not knovr life could come
back into the dead body I"

One day she Eaid, sadly: "1 am blind and deaf. Thai is
why 1 cannot see God." I taught her the word invisible, and
told her we could not see God with our eyes, because Hewns a
Bpirit; but that when our hearts were full of goodntSB and
gentleness, then wc saw Hin^ bci:ausc then vrc were moi« li ke
Him.

At another time she asked, **Wbat is a coul?" "No emc
knows what the soul is like," I replied ; "but we know that it is
not the body, and it is that part of us which thinks and loves
and hopes, and which Chriatinn people beheve wJl live on after
the body isdead." I then asked her, "Can you think of your
amil as separate ^rom your body?'" "Oh, yes f" she rephed;
"because last hour I was thinking very hard of Mr, Anagnoa,
and then my mind," — (hen changing the word — "my soul was
in Athens, but my body was here in the study." At this moment
another thought seemed to flaGh through her mind, and ahc
added, "But Mr. AnagEOB did not speak to my soul," I explained
to her that the soul, too, is invisible, or in other words, that it
is without apparent form. "But if I write what my soul thinks,"
she said, "then it will be viBible, and the words will be its body."
A long time ago Helen said to me, "I would hke to live sixteen

EDUCATION

373

liiin^red years." When asked if ah« would not like to live
aliaays in a beautiful n^unlry called heaveii, her first qiustion
was, "Where id heaven V I wrts obliged to confess thai I did
QOt know, but suggested that it miyht be on one cf the staia.
A mMnent after she said, "Will you please go first and lell
me all about h?" and then abc added, "Tuscumbia lE a very
beautiful little town-" It was more than a year before she
alluded to the subject again^ and when she did rettira to it,
her <^uestiortfl ^vere numeroufl and persiatcnt^ She asked:
"Where is heaven, aad what is it like? Why cannot we know
as much about heaven as we do about foreign eountries ?" I
told her in very aimple language that there may be many places
called heaven, but that essentially it was a condition — the ful-
filment of the heart's desire, the satisfaetion of its wants; and
that heaven existed wherever fight wad acknowledged, betieved
In, and loved.

She shrinks from the thought of death with evident dismay.
Recently, on being shown a deer which had been killed by
her brother, she was greaily dislre^ed, nnd asked sorrowfully,
"Why must everything die, even the fleet-footed deer?" At
another time she asked, "Do you not think we would be very
much happier always. if we did not have to die?" I said. "No;
because, if there were ao death, our world would soon be fio
crowded with living cteaturca that it would be ira possible for
any of them to live comfortably." "But," said Helen, quickly,
'*l think God could make some more worlds ns well as he made
this one."

When friends have told her of the great hoppireas which
awaits her in another life, she inatanlly aakcd; "How do you
know, if you have not been dead V

The hteral sense in which she eometimes takes common
words and idioms shows how necessary it is that we should
mflke sure that she receives their correct ireaning. When
told recently that Hungarians were bom musicians, she asked
in surprise, "Do they sing when they are bom?" When her
friend added that some of the pupiU he had seen in Budapest
had more than one hundred tunes in their heads, she said.
laughing^ "I think their heads must be very noiay/* She scea
the ridiculous quickly, and, instead of being seriously tsoubkd
by metaphorical language, she is often amufied at her own too
literal conception of its meatung,

374

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Having been told that the soul waft without form, she was
ttHich pcrpkxed at David's wcrds, "He leadeth my aoul."
"Ila^ it feft? Can it walkp Is it blind?*' she Bsked: for in
her mind the idea of being led was asstx^iated with blindncM,

Of all the aubjccta which perplex and trouble Helen, none
dJstrcEsi^ her so much as the knowledge uf the exi^tente of
eviln and of the suffering which results from it. For a long
time it wai possible to keep Ihis knowledge from her; and it
will always he comparatively easy to prevent her from comirg
in personal contact with vice and wickedness. The faet that
sin cxista, and that great misery results froTn it, dawTicd gradu-
ally upon her mind a-i she understood Tn<»re and more clearly
the Uves and experiences of those around her. The necessity of
laws and penalties had to he explained to her, She found it very
hard to reconcile the presence of evil in the worid with the idea
of God which had been present i^d to her mind.

One day she asked, "Does God Lake care of us atl the timc^'
She was answered in the afHrmative. "Then why did he let
little sister fall this morning, and hurl her head so badly?"
Another time she was asking about the power and goodness of
God. She had been told of a terrible storm at sea, in which
several lives were lost, and she asked, "Why did not God
save the people if he can do all things }"

Surrounded by loving friends and the gentlest influenr^es,
aG Helen had always been, she has, from the earliest stage of
her inLeUectual enlightennient, willingly done right. She
knows with unerring msimct what is right, and does it joyously.
She does not think of ore wrong act as harmless, of another as
o£ no consequence, and of another as not intended. To Lcr
pure soul all evil is equally unlovely.

These passages from the paper Miss Sullivan prepared for the
meeting at ChautHuqua. in July, 1394. of the American Associa-
tion to promote the Teaching of Speech to the Deaf, contain
her latest written account of her methods.

Voq must not imagine that aa soon as Helen grasped the
idea that everything tad a name, she at once became mistresB

EDUCATION

of the Ireastiry of the HngliHh language^ or that "lipr m&ntal
faculties emergedt full armed, from their then li^'ing tomb, as
FqUas Athene from the head of Zeua." as one of her cnthuj^LOsUc
admirers would have us believe. At first, the words, phrases
and sentences -which she uflcd in expressing her thoughts were
all re[»roduction5 of what we had used in converaation with
her, and which hf?r memory had uneonsciously retained. And
indeed, this is true of the language of all children. Their
laneuage ia the memory of the knEuage they hear spoken in
their h-^jmes. Countless repetition of tbo conversation of daily
life hns impressed certain words and phrases upon their memoriea,
and when they come to talk themselves, memory supplies the
words they lisp. Likewise, the language of educated people
ia the memory of the language of boolu.

Language grows out of life, out of its needs and experiences.
At first my little pupil's mind was al! buC vacant. She had
been living in a world fihc could not realise- Lan^Uij^e and
kno^bdge are indiisuliibl/ connected: they are interdependent,
Good work in language precupposes and depi^nds on a, reiU
knowledge of things. As soon as Helen grasped the Idea that
everything had a nsiine. and that by means of the manual
alphabet these names could he transmitted Irom one to another,
I proceeded to awaken her further interest in the objects whose
names she learned to spell with such evident joy- I mrver
taught language for the purpose of leaching it; but invariably
umed language as a inediuna ior the communication of tkoughi;
thus the IcomiriE of language was coincident with the acquisition
o1 knowledgCr Jn order to use language intelligently, one muat
have something to talk abcut, and having something to talk
about is the result of having had experiences; no smonnt of
language training will enable our little children to uas langiia£e
"with ease and Qucncy unless they have something clearly in their
minds which they wish ID cornmumcate. or unless we succeed
in awakening in them a desire to know what is in the minds of
olhers-

At first I did not attempt to confioe my pupil to any system-
I always tried to find out what interested her most^ and mode
that the starting-point for the new lesson, whether h had any
bearing on the lesson 1 had planned to leach or not. During
the firs* two years of her intellectual life, I required Hclon
k> vnte very little. In order to write one must have Bom^

376 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

thing to write about, and havbfi fioTCiGtfcing to write about
requires some meittal preparalion. The mt^mory must ht
stored with ideas and the mind must be enriobed with knowledge,
beJore writing bccomea a natural and pleasurable cfTorl. Too
often, I think* children are required to write beJure tbey have
anything to say. Teach them to thint and read and talk
without cclf-rcproflBiOD I and tbey will write because they cannot
help it.

Helen acquired langtiagc by practice and habit rather than
by study of mica &nd definitione. Grammar with its puszlJEig
s.Ttay of diBfiiticationK, nomenclatureSi and paradigms, was
wholly disoardod in her education. She learned language by
being brought in contact with the lii'in^ language itself; she
was made lo deal with it in everyday converaalion, and in her
b'Kiks. and to Inm it over in a variety of ways until she was
able to use it correctly. No doubt I talked much more with
my lingers, aad more constantly than I should have done with
my mouth; for had t;he possessed the use of sight and hearing,
che would have been less dependent on mc for cntertairuncni
and [n:^tmction,

I believe every ehild has hidden away somewhere in bis being
noble capacities which may be quickened and developed if we
(■oabouL it in the righl way; but we shall never properly develop
the higher ralurea oE our little ones while we continue to fill
their minda with the ao-called rudiment^- Mathematics will
never make them loving, nor will the accurate knowledge of
the sii^e and Ehape of the world help them to appreciate it«
beauties. Let Ufl lead them during the first years to fijid their
greatest pleasure in Nature. Let them run in the Jielda, learn
about animak, and observe real things. Children will educate
themselves under right couditiona. They require guidance
and aympaihy far more than instruction.

1 think much of the fluency with which Helen uaes language
IE due to the fact that nearly every iraprcfision which she receives
comes through the medium of language. But. after due allow-
ance has been ruade for Helen's natural aptitude for acquiring
language, and for the advantage resulting from her peculiar
cnvironmeat, 1 think that we shall still find that the constant
companionship of good bool£3 has been of supreme impor-
tance in her education. It may be true* as some maintain, that
iBngiLage cannot express to us muLh hcyuud what we have

EDUCATION

377

lived and experienced ; but 1 have always observed that cbildren
maniEf^c ibe greitest ddight m Lhe lofty, poetic language
which we are too r^tifly lo thint beyond their coraprehension.
"Thia is nU you will undcraland," said a teacher to a cJosd of
little children, dosmg the book which she had beea reading
to them. "Oh, please read us the rest, even if we won't under-
itaod it," they pleaded, dc^lightcd with the rhytbni, and the
beauty which they felt, even though they could irot have
explained it. It is not n^essary that s. child should ucder-
stand every word la a book before he can read with pleasure
And profit. Indeed, only such explanaticiiis should be given as
are really essential. Helen drank in language which che at
firat could not understand, and it remained in her mind until
needed, when it fitted itself naturally and easily into her cdti-
verBation and coinpositions. Indeed, it is maintained hy some
that she reads too muchi that a great dL^al of originative force
is dissipated In the enjoyment of hooka: that when i^he might
flee and say things for heradf. she sees them only through the
eyes of others, and saya them in their laafiuagc; but 1 am
convinced that original comjiosition without the preparation of
much reading is an impossibiUCy, Helen has had the best
and purest modds in language constantly presented to her,
end her conversation and her writing are unconscious repro-
duetions of what she has read. Reading, 1 think, should be
kept independent of the regular school exercises. Children
should be encouraged to read for the pure delighC of it The
Attitude of the child toward his books should be thao of uncon-
scious receptivity. The great works ol the iuiagioation oughb
to become a part of his life, as they were once of the very
aubstance of the racn who wrote them. It is true, the moro
sensitive aad imaginative the mind is that receives the thcmght-
picti.tre3 and images of literature, the more nicely the finest
lines are reproduced, Helen has the vitality of feeling, the
freshness and eagerness ot interest, and the spiritual insight of
the artistic toropcrament, and natUTally she has a more active
and intense joy in life, simply as life, and in nature, books, and
people than less gifted mortals. Her mind is &o Blled with the
beautiful thoughts and ideals of the great poets thafc nothing
Becms commonplaj!^ to her; for her lEDaginatioa colours all life
with its own rich hues.

378 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

There has bocn much discuflsloa of Eucb of Misi Sullivan's
Btatements and explanations as have been puhli&hed before.
Too nmcli has beea written by people who do not know the
problems of the deaf at firat hand* and t do not care lo add
much to it. Miss Keller's education, however, is ao fnnda-
men tally a queetioc of tangurige teaching that it rather ineludee
the problems of the deaf than limits itaelf to the deaf alone.
Teachers can draw their own conclasion!. For the majority
of readers, who will not approach Miss Keller's life from the
educator's point cf view, I will summarize a few principal things
in Miss Sullivan's methods.

MiEG Sullivan has begun where Dr, Howe Left o3. Ho
invented the instrument, the physical means of working, but
the leaching of language is quite another thirg from the mechan-
ical means by which language may be t:iught. Sy experiment,
by studying other children. MisaSuUivancamc upon the practical
way of tL'aehing language by the natural method. It was for
this ''natural method" that Dr* Howe was groping, but he
never got to this idea, that a deaf child should not be taught
each word separately by definition, but should be given languagft
by endle^ repetition of language which it does rot understand.
And this is Miss Sullivan's great discovery. All day long in
their play-^time and work-time M\&s Sullivan kept spelling into
her pupira hand, and by that Helen Keller absorbed words,
jusB as the child in the cradle absorbs words by hearing thou-
Eands of them before he uesr cne and by aEsocJating the words
with the occasion of their utterance. Thus he Icama that words
name things and actions and feelings. Now, that is the first
pnneiple in Miss Sullivan's method, one that bad practical
results^ and one which, so far as I can discover, had never been
put in practice in the education of a deaf child, not to say a deaf-
blind child, until Miss Sullivan tried it: with Helen Keller.
And the principle had never been formulated clearly until
Miss Sullivan wrote her tetters.

The second principle in her method (the nutnerical order is,
of course, arbitrary) is never to talk to the child about tbings
distasteful or wearisome to him. Tn the first deaf school Miss
Sullivan ever visited, the teacher was busy at the blackboard
tdliiLfT the childri^n by written worda something they did not
want to know, while they w^re crowding round their visitor
ttith wide-awake curio^t^, showing there were a thousand thingjt

EDUCATION

they did want to Icnow. Why nnt. says Mis^i Sullivan, make a
lariETiftge Issson out of what they ^ere inlercsled in P"

Akin to thia idea of talking to the child about what interests
him. is the print" iple never to silence a child who aaks questionB,
but to answer the quefilions as Irul)^ as possible; for, Eayn Miot
SulUvan, the question la the door to the child's mind. Miss
Sullivan never needlessly helittled her ideas or expressions
to suit the Eupposed state of the child's intelligence. She
urged every one to speak to Hdcn naturally, to give her lull
Mntences and intelhgent ideaSn never minding whether Helen
uisderstood or noC^ Thus Miss Sullivan knew what so many
people do not understand, that after the £rst rudimentary
dc&iitions of hat. cup, go, sit, the untt of language, as
the child leama it, is the sentunci-, whieh is also the unit
of language in oxir adult experienct?. We do not take in a
sentence word by word< but as a whole. It ii the proposition,
something predicated about somethiQg, that conveys an idea.
True, single T^ords do suggest and express jJeas; the child may
say simply "mamma" when he means "Where is mamma?" but
he Icams the expression of the ideas that relate to mamma — he
learns language — by hearing complete 5entenees. And though
Miss Sullivan did not force grammatical completeness upon the
fjrat finger-liapinga of her pupiL yet when she herself repealed
Helen's sentence, "mamma milk, "she filled one the construction^
completed the child's ellipsis andsaJd, "Mamma will bring Helen
some milk."

Thus Miss Sullivan was irorking out a natural method, which
is GO simple, so lacking in artiBcial syBtcm, that her method
beems ruther Lo be a destruction of method. It is doubcful if
ire should have hesrd of Helert Keller if Mias Sullivan had not
been where there were other children. By watching them, she
learned to treat her pupil as nearly as possible like an ordinary
child.

The manual alphabet was not the only means of prcBcnUng
words to Helen Keller's linger;^. Books supplemented, perhaps
equaled in importance, the manual alphabet, as a means of
teaching language. Helen sat poring over them before she could
read, not at Jirst for the story, but to find words she knew;
and the definition of new words which ts implied in their con-
text) ia their poaLtiori with reference to worda known, tulded

3Sd a supplementary account

to Helen's vfvftbtilary. Books ar^ th« storehouse ot language,
and auy childj whether deaf or notf if he has his attention
attracted in any way to printed pag". must learn. He Icama
not by reading what he understands, but by reading and remem-
bering wcrdfi ho docB not understand. And though perhaps few
children wLEl have aa much precocLDiis interest In boobs as did
Helen Keller, yet the natural curio&ity cf every healthy child
may he turned to printed pageaj especially if the teacher is
clever and plays a word game as Miss SuUivan did. Helcfi
Keller is supposed tn have a special afjliiude for languages.
It is true rather that she has a special aptitude for thinking,
andhcr leaning toward lan^ua^ei^duc to the fact that language
to her meant life. It was not a special subject, like geography
or arithmetic, but her way to outward thiiifia.

When at the age of fourteen she had had but a few lessons
in German, she read over the words of "Wilhelm TelL" and
managed to get the story. Of grammar she knew nothing and
she cared nothing for it. She gut the language rxom the language
itself, and this \^. next to hearing the language spoken, the way
for any one to get a foreign tongue, more vital and. iu the
end, eah>itr than our schoolroom method of beginning with the
grammar. Jn the same way she played with Latin, learning
not only from the lesaona her Brst Latin teacher gave her, but
from going over and over the words of a tcjit, a game hhe played
by herself.

Mr. John D. Wright* one of her teachers at the Wright-
Humflson school, says in a letter to me;

"Often 1 found htrr, when shs had a little leiBure, sitting in her
favourite; corner, in a chalj whose arma supported the big volume
prepared for the blind, and passing her linger slowly over the
line^ of MoJicre's 'Lo Mcdccia Ma1gr6 Lui,* chuckling to hereolf
at the comical Eibualions and humorous lines. At that tinae
her actual working vocabulary in French was very small, but
by using her judgment, as we laughingly called the mental
proctiSt she could guts* at the meanings of the words and put
the sense together much as a child pu7z1es out a. sliced object.
The result was that in a few weeks she and I spent a most
liilariou& hour one cveninj: while she poured out to me the whole
story, dwelling with great gusto on its humour and sparkling
wit. It waanot a lesson, but only one of her recreations."

So Helen Keller^s aptitude for language is her whuk mental

EDUCATION

381

aptitude, turaod to laoguage becauae at its extrftordinary va1ii«
to her.

There have bocn many discus^ona of the question whether
HpIeu Keller's achievEmentE Jire due to her natural ability or to
the metbud by which shtj was taught-

It U true that a teacher with ten times Miaa SuIUvan^a geniua
ci>u]d not hitvc maJe a pupil so remarkable an Hf^kn Kcltcr
out of a child bom dull &nd mc&tolly dcficicDt, But it ie alsc
true that, W'ilh ten times her native acniuSj Helen KeUcr could
nofl have grnwn to what she ia. if she had not been exceHenily
taught from the very Etart, and espeoiaJly at the Btart, And
the fact remaiuB that she was taught by a method of teaching
language to the deaf, the essential principle of which are clearly
expresecd in Miss Sullivan's lettera, written while she waa di»-
coYciing the method and putting it aticcessfully into practice.
And it esn be applied hy any teacher to any healthy deaf
child, and in the broadest interpretation of the principles, can
be applied to the teaching of language of all kinds to all chitdren.

In the many diEcussions of this question writers teem to
throw us from one horn to another of a dilcoima — either a
bom gpuius in Hden Keller, or a perfect method in the teacher.
Both things may be true at once, and there is another truth
which makes the dilemma imperfect, Misa Sullivan is a person
of eitrnordinary power. Her method might not &ui:ceed so
completely in the hands oi any one else. Miss Sullivan's vigor-
ous, original raind has lent much of its vitality to her pupiL
If Miss Keller is fond of language and not inlereslcd especially
in raathematies, it is not surprising to find Miss Sullivan's
interests very simiJar, And this doca not mean that Miss Keller
lA unduly dependent nn her teacher. It is told of her that, as a
child of eight, when some one tried to interfere with her, she
sat sober a few inomenls and, when aaked what wad the trouble,
answered, "I am preparing to assert my independence.*' Such
an aggressive personality cannot grotv up in mere dependence
even under the guidance of a will like Miss Sullivan's, But
Miss Sullivan by her "natural aptitude" has done for her pupil
much that IB not capable of analysis and reduction to principle;
she has given the inspiration which is in all close friendship, and
which rather develops than limits the powers of either person.
Moreover, if Miss Keller is a '*marvel of siveetness and good-
ness," if she has a love "cf all things good and beautiful,*' thiv

382 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

implies something about tbc teacher who has lived with her tot
sixteen years.

There IS, then, a f*aod dfal that Miss SulUvaa has done for
Miss Keller which no othf r ttfaichir cun do in just the same way
for any one else. To have another Helen Keller there mtul be
an□thc^ Miaa Sullivan, To hiLVC another wtU-educatcd deaf
and blind child, there need only beanoiher teacher, living under
favoufoble conditions, among plenty of extemel interests, unsep-
flTQtcd from her pupib ellowed to have a free hand, and using
as many as hbe needs of the prindplus VL'hich Miss Sullivan has
saved her the trouble of tinding out for herself, modifying and
adding ±ls she finds it necessary; and there must be a pupil in
good hcallh, of good native powers, jouny enough not to have
grown beyond recovery in ignoranf^e. Any deaf child or deaf
and blind child in j^ood health can be taught. And the one
tc do It is the parent or the spocial Leather, iiut the school. I
know that thiB idea will be vigoroudy eoitibatcd by those who
conduct schools for the dt-af- To be sure, the deaf school is
the only thing possible for children educated by the SLate. But
it is evident that precisely what the deaf child needs to be
taufht Is what other children learn before they go to school at
all. When Miss Sullivan went nut in the barnyard and picked
up a little chicken and talked to Helen about it. the was giving
a kiad of instra^tion impossible inside four walls, and impossible
with more than one pupil at a time.

Surely Dr. Howe ia wrong when he Eaya, " A teacher cannot
be a child," That is just what the teacher of the deaf child
must be, a child ready to play and romp, and interested in all
childish things.

The temptation to discuss, solely in the light of Helen Keller,
th^ whole matter of educating the deaf is a dangerous one, and
one which I have not taken particular care to avoid, because
my opinions arc of no authority and I have merely tried to
suggesii problems and reinforce some of the main ideas expressed
by Misa Sullivan, who is an authority. It is a question whether
Helen Keller's success has rot led teachers to ejipect too much
of other children, and I krc-w of deaf-blind chilcfrcn who are
dragged along by their teachers and friends, and become the
Bubjet^ts of glowing reports, which are pathetically untrue,
because one eeea behind the reports how the children are tugged

EDUCATION

383

at to bring them Bomewhera near the exaggerated thinKS that
Are caid about tbem.

Let nc fium up a few of the elemtnta that made Helen Kclkr
vhae she is. In the first place she had nineteen months experi-
ei:ice of sight and sound. This meant some menial development.
She had inherited vigour of body^ and mind. She ejipressed
ideas in signs before she learned language. Mrs. Keller writes
me that before ber illnesE Helen Tnade Eigns for everything,
and ber mother thought this habit the cauae of her alowness ja
learning to speak. Alter the jllnpss, when they were dependent
on BifiUfl, Helen's tendency to gesture developed. How far
fihe could receive communications is hard to determine, but
she krtw much that was going nn around her She recognized
that others used their lips; she "saw" her father reading n paper
aud when he laid it down she sat m bis chair and held the paper
bcfcre her iaci:. Her tarly rages were an unhappy eipresaion
of the natural force of character which instruetion was to turn
into trained and or^aniced po^er.

It wa*i, thenj to a gncd subject that Ml^a Sullivan brought her
devotiori and intelligence, and fearle£s willingness to experiment.
Miss Sulliran^s methods were bo good that even without the
practical result, any one would rpcoEniae the truth of the
teacher's ideas, Idhs Sullivan hae in additii^n a vigorous
petBonaJUy. Aod finally all the conditicna were ^itod for that
first nature school, fa which the teacher and pupil played
together, exploring together and educating themsolvcfi, pupil
find teach tr iuaepftrablc.

Miss Kcller'ii later education is easy to understand and needs
no further explanation than «he has given. Those interested
may get on application to the Volta Bureau, Washington, D. C,
the reports of the teachers who prepared her for college^ Mr.
Arthur Oilman of the Cambridge School for Young Ladies, and
Ur. Mcrton S. Keith.

CHAPTER IV

SPEECH

TttB tTO perEocB who have written authoritatively about
Mjbs KeUeT*5 speech and th« way she learned it arc Miss Sarah
Fuller,^ of the Horace Mann School for the Deaf in BoBton,
M^sachuGettE, whc g^ve her the first lessons, and Miss Sullivan,
whoj by her unremitting disciplme, carried on the flucccoa of
these firsn lessnns.

Before 1 quote from Miss Sulhvan's aeoomit, let me try to
l^ive aomc intpreBsion of what Misa KcUcr's speech and voice
qualities are at present.

Her voice is low and pleasant to listen to. Her speech Laeke
varicLy and modulation; it runs in a sing-song when she i«
reatling aloud; and when she speaks *iih fair degree of loud-
ness, it hovers about t^vo or three middle tones. Her voice
haa an aspirate quality; there seeuiB always to be too much
breath for the amount of tone. f5ome of her notes are musiril
find chu-rming. When she is telling a child's story, or one with
pathos in it, her voice runs into pretty elurs from One tone tQ
another. This U tike the efTect of the slow dwelling on long
word^, not quite well managed, that one noticea in a child xrht>
ia telling a solemn story.

The principal thing that is lacking is sentence accent and
variety in the inileotion of phrases. Miss Keller pronounced
each word as a foreigner does when he is atill labouring with the
elements of a sentence, or as children sometimes read in sciiool
when ihey have to pjck out each word .

She apcaka French and German. Her friend, Mr. John HitSf
whose native tongue is Gerniai), says that her pronunciation m
excellent. Another friend, who is as familiar with French as
with English, hnda her French much more intelligible than
her English. When she speaks English she distributea her

*ULaFullef'sacL:vuDt msy^beDbtaldeil dd AppUcailun u> Ui« Volia Bureau,
Vutiogloii. D- C.

384

SPEECH

385

crapbasta as in Preach and to docs not put sufficient hUfss oq
accented syllables, Shi* »ay», for exarapk, "prt/'Vo'K^a'-tian',"
"in'-di'-vi'-du'-al," with ever ■□ little difierpnce between the
value dt the syllables* and a good deal ot Inconsistency in the
pronuoriaiicjn oC the same word one day and the next. It would,
1 think, be hard to make bei feel juEt bow to pronounce dtt'
ttonary without her erring either toward dulionayry or
dKltfm'ry. and, of course, the word is neither one nor the
Other. For no syateni of marlcH in a Iciicon can tell one how
lo pronQunce a word' The only way is to hear it. especially in
S. language ]i\ce English which ifi so full of UDSpel I able, suppressed
vowels and quaai-vowels.

Miss Keller's vowels are not firm. Her awftti la nearly tnujif.
The wavering i$ caused by the absence of accent on /« J, for
she pronounces f»U correctly.

She sometimes mJsproii ounces as sbe reads atoud and comci
en a word vhteh she happens never to have uttered, though
ahc may have wnitcn it many timcfl. Thia difficulty and some
(jlheTs may be corrected when she and Mi&s Sullivan have more
time. Since 1B54, they have been so much in their books that
they have neglected cvcrytbinE that waa not necessary to the
immediate task'of passing the school yeara successfully. Misa
Keller will never be able, I believe, to speak loud without
dutroying the pleas&at quality and the distinctness oi her
words, but she can do much to make her speech clearer.

When she waa at the Wnght-Humason School in New York,
Dr. Huma^oQ tried to improve her voice, not only her word
pronuncmtirin, but the voice itaelf, and gave her lessons in lone
a^id vocal exefeiseQ,

It is hard to say whether or not Misa Keller's speech is easy
to understand Some understand her readily; others drt not.
Her frJQnds ^ow accustomed to her fipcech and forget that it ti
different from that of any one else. Children seldom have any
difficulty in understanding her; which suggests that her delib-
erate, me*iEured speech is like theirs, before they come to the
aduJt trick of running all the words of a phrase into one move-
mcni Qf the breath. 1 am told that Miss Keller spealca better
than moat other deaf people.

Miss Keller has told how she learned to speak,* Miss Sulll^

■Ft«e5l

38S A

van's account in her address at Ch&utauqua, in JiJy» ^Sg4,
ab the meeting of The American Association lo Promote che
Teaching of Speech toXhe DeaC,is subauatiaJly likeMise K«U«T'a
in points of fact.

KlSa SULLIVAN S ACCOUNT OF VISa KBLLEB S SPBBCH

It was three years from the time when Helen began to com*
municate by means of the manual alphabet that £ho received
her fiisL lesson in the more natural and timversal medium of
human intercourse — oral laogusge. She had become very profi-
cient in the use of the manual alphabet, which wa3 her only
means cf comtnuiucation with the outside world; Ihrougli
it she hat! actiuired a vocabulary which enabled her to converse
freely, read inlclliKently, and write with comparative caso
and currec:Lnes£. Nevertheless, the impulhe to utter audible
30undfi was strong within her, and the constant effortB which
I made to repress this inatinctive tendency, which 1 feared in
time would become unpleasanl. were of ni:> avail- 1 made no
«Sort to teach her to speak, because I regarded her inabihty to
watch the lips of others as an infiurmountablc ohataclt. But
ahe £radLiaL1>' became conscious ihat her way of com irunica Ling
WOE di^er^nt from that used by those around her, and one day
her thoughts found expression. ^'How do the blind giria know
what to say with their mouth?? Why do you not leach me lo
tallc like them? 15o deaf children ever learn lo speaks* 1
explained to her that some deaf children were taught to speak,
but that they could see their teacher:^' mouths, and th^t that
was a very great asstBtance to them. But she interrupted me
to say she was very suic she could feel my mouth very well.
Soon after this conversation, a lady came to see her and loH
her about the deaf and blind Norwegian child. Ragnhild Kaata,
who had been taught to speak and understand what her teacher
said to her by touching his lips with her fingers. She at once
resolved to learn to speak, and from that day to this she has
never wavered in that resolution. She began immediately
to make sounds which she called speaking, and I saw the neces-
tity of correct tnfitnietionj Bince her heart waft fiet upon learning
to talk; and. feeling my own incompetence to teach her, ne^er

387

having eivMi \hs subject of urliculation serious £tudy, I
went with my papil. for advice aud assistance, to Miss Sarah
Puller. MJss FulJer was delighicd with Helen's earnestness and
entbusiasQi, and at onca began to tcoch her. In a few Icssooa
she learned nearly all of the En^Uab sounda, and in Us^ than a
month she wai able to arttculate a greal many words distinctly.
From the fir&t &hc was not content to be drilled in singlo
Bounds. Ltit was imp^iieat to pronounce wurds and sentences.
The length of the word or the diffieulty of the amogeniflat
of the elements never seemed to discourage her. But* irith
all her eagerness and Intelligence^ learning to speak taxed her
powers to the utmoEt- B\it there was satisractioc in seeing
from day to day the evidence of growing mastery and the
possibility of final success. And Helen's success has been more
complete and inspiring than a.ny of her friendE expected, and
the child's delight in being able to utter her thoughts in living
and distinct speech is shared by aU who witness her pleasure
when strangers tell her tha.[; they utiderstand her.

I have been asted a gient many timca whether I think. Helen
will ever speak nat.nraUy; thai U. as other pet*ple speak, I am
hardly prepared to decide that question » or even give an opinion
regarding it, I believe that I have hardly begun yet to know
what is possible. Teachers of the deaf often express surprise
that Helen's speech is ao good when she baa not received any
lar instruction in speech sidcb the tirat few leaaona given
by Miss Fuller I can only say in reply. "'This is due tO
itnal imitation and practice! practice I practice]" Nature
baa determined how the child sliati learn to rppeak* and alive
can do is to aid bitn in the simplest, easiest way possible, by
encoujaging him to observe and imitate the vibrations in this

Some further details appear in an earlier, more detailed
account^ which Miss SuUivan wrote for the Perkins Institution
Report of 169^-

I knew that Laiira Bridgman had shown the Kame intuitive
demre to produce soundSn and bad even learned to pronouneo

388 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

0, icvf aiitiple worda, vrhich she took great delight in using;, and
I did not doubt th^t Hden could accuniEili&h aa niuch a^ tbis-
I thought, however, that the advantage she would derive would
not repay her for the time and labour that such an experiment
nou!d cost.

Moreover, the absence o£ hearing readers the voice monoto-
nous md often very disagreeable, and such speech is gcnvToUy
iinintPlligible except to those familiar wiih the speaker.

The acquiring of epcech by untaught deat childfen is atwaj^
slow and often painful. Too jnuch stress, it seema to mc, is
often laid upon the importance of teaching a deaf child to
articulate — a process which may be delrintemal to the pupil's
intellectual development, In the very nature of things, articu-
Ifllioo is an unsatisfactory means of education : while the use of
the manual alphabet quickens and icvigorati>s mental activity,
since throug!] it the deaf child ia brought into close contact wiUi
the EtigUsh language, and the highest and most abstract ideas
may be conveyed to the mind readily and accurately. Helen's
case proved ft to be also an invaluable aid jn acquiring articu-
lation. She was alrea<5y perfectly familiar with words and the
construction of sentences, and bad only meehanical ditlicultiea
to overcome. Moreover, she knew what a pleasure speech
would be to her, and this definite knowledge of what she was
atri%dng for gave her the delight of anticipation which made
drudgery easy- The untaught d^af child who is niadc to articu-
late does not know what the goal is, and his lessons in speech
are for a long lime tedious and meaningless.

Before dtscribing the proceBS of teaching Helen to speak,
it may be well to state bnefly to what eitent she had used the
vocal organs before she began to receive, regular inetruction
In arliculation. When she was stricken down with the itlneaa
which resulted in her lofis of sjght and hearing, at the age of
tikoetccn month^H abe was learning to talk. The unmeaiiiiig
babblings of the infant were becoming day by day conscious
and voluntary signs of what she felt and thought- But the
dUeaac checked her progress in the acquisitroo of oral language,
and, when her physical strength returned, it was found that she
had ceased to speak intelligibly because fihe could no longer
bear a sound- She continued to exercise hei vocal organs
meehanieally, rs ordinary children do. Hef cnea and laughter
and the tooca of her voice as she pronounced many word e1i>

aS9

menta were perfectly natural, but the child evidently attached
no significflnce to them, and with one exr^eption they wCT*
producsd Dot with any intention of communicating with those
axDund her, but from the sheer neccsaiLy of cjtcrcising her
innate, orgarip. and hf^rtditary faculty of expression. She
always attached a meaning to the word n'a^, which was one
of the fiEat auunda her baby lips Icarred (o form, snd it yfa3
the only word which she continued to articulate after she
loat hi^r hearing. Her pronunciation of thia gradually bccamt
Indistinct, and nben 1 £rst knew her it was nothing more than
a peculiar noise. Nevertheless, it was the only sigo she evor
made for water, and not xmtil she had leomcd to speli the word
with her fingers did she furgel the spoken symbol. The word
vNjtfr, and the gesture which corresponda to the word goad-by,
tecra to have been all that the child remembered of the natural
and acquirt'd signs with which she had been famiHar before
her illness.

Aa fihc became acquainted with her Eurroundings through the
Betise of feeling (I use the word in the broadest sense, as includ*
Iflg all tactile impreSGions) , she felt more and moi-e the pressing
necessity of communicating with those around her, Ilcr
little hands felt every object and observed every raovementi
of the persona about her, and she was quick to imitate these
movements. She was thus able to express her more imperative
needs and many of her thoughts.

At the time when 1 became her teacher, she had made for
herself upwctrd of sixty signs, all of which were Imitative and
were readily understood by those who know her. The only
(igns which I think she may have invented were her signfl for
srttaU and large* Whenever she wished for anything very
iniith she would Epsticnlate in a veryespressive manner. Failing
to make herself ujideretood, she would become violent. In
the years of her mental imprisonment she depended entirely
inpOTi sigaa. and she did not wcirk out for herself any sort of
articulate language capable of expressing ideas- It seems,
however^ that, while she was still sufEering ftom severe pain, she
noticed the movementsofhor mother's hps.

When she was not occupied, she wandered rcstlcsaly about
the house> making strange though rarely unpleasant soundEb

'ShPojivi it 9 And Jjfl.

SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

1 have seen her roctc her doll, mnking a contitiuoua, in&notonoiifl
soLLod, keeping cut hand oa her throat, while the fingera of the
other Imnd noted the fnovemeota of her lips. This was in
imitation oi her mother's crooning to the baby. Occasionally
she broke out into a merry laugh* and then she wotJd reach out
and touch ihe mouth of any one who bapp4.'ned to he t\tiar her,
to see il he were laughing also. If she detected no smile* she
gesticulated excitei^ly, tryi^E to convey her thought: but if she
failed to make her companion laugh, she sat still for a few
moEcents. with a troubled and disappointed e^ipreGEion. She was
pleased with anything which made a ncHBC. She liked to feci
the cat purr; and if by chance shs felt of a dog in the aot of
bftrking, she showed great pleasure. She always liked to stand
by the piano when some one was playing and singing- She
kept one hand on the Ginger's mouth, while the other rested on
the piano, and she stood in this position as long as any cme
would 9ing to her: and afterward she would make a conliououa
sound whieh she called singing The only words she had
Icamcd to pronounee with any degree of distinclncsa previous
to March* jSqd, were papa, jnamma. baby, siiUr. These
words she had caught without inRtn^ction Irom the lips of
friends. It will be aecn that they contain three vowel and
six consonant elements, and these formed the foundation for her
first real tesson in speaking.

At the end of the first lesson she was able to pronounce die-
dncOy the following rounds: a. tf. i. i. T. 6, c soft like 5 and hard
like fr, g hard, b, I, n. m. I. p, s. w. k. f and d. Hard eonsonanta
were, and indeed still are. very diJiicult for her to pronounce
Sn connectioD with one another in the same word: she often
suppresses the one and changes the other, and sometime:^ she
replaces both by an analogous sound with soft aspiration.
The confusion between i and r was very noticeable in her speech
at first- She would repeatedly use one for the other. The
great difiiculty in the pronunciation of the r made it one of the
last elements which she mastered. The tk. sk and soft g slso
gavQ her much trouble, and she does not yet enunciate them
clearly,"

When she had been talking for leas than a week* she met her
friend, Mr, Rodocanachi, and immediately began to struggla

•The diffifuUiei wWeh Miw Sullivan found in iRgi w, in k n««4im.Kh>
dlfUcalElci vhicb BJiDir ia Mi»i Ketk]'! iL^tuh tU'day.

391

lAOi tlie proQUDciation of his name: nor would she Eive It up
until she was sble to articulate the word diatincUy. Her
itlerefit never diminiEhed for s. moment; *od, in her cogcmcsa
to overcome the dilTiculLies which Lesct her en all sides, she
taxed her powers to the utmost, end learned in eleven lessons
nU ol the separate elementB of speech*

Enough nppeors in the accotints by Misa Keller's teacher
to show the process by which she reads the lips with her fingers,
the proeesfi by which she was taught to speak^ and by which, ef
courae, she can hatcn to conversation now. In reading the
lips &hc is rtot so quick or so accurate as some reports declare, la
K a clumsy and unsatisfactory way of reoeiving com munica lion,
useless when Miss Sullivan or some one else who knows the
n^uual i^lpbabei fb present to give Miiis Keller lh\: spoken words
of others. Indeed, when Eome fnend is trying to speak to
MiBS Keller, and the attempt is net proving siicceasful, Miss
Stillii^an usually helps by spelling the lost words into M»sa
Keller's hand.

President Roosevelt had little difficulty last spring in making
Miss Keller understand him, and especially requested ^lisa
Sullivan not to spell into her hand. She got every word, for
the President's speech is notably distinct. Other people sty
they have no success in mating Miss Keller *'hear" them,

A few friends to whom she is accuslomedj like Mtq. A, C, Pratt,
and Mr. J. E. Chamberlin, can pass a whole day with her and
tell her everything without the n^anual alphabet. The abihty
to read the lips helps Miss Keller in ^ttirg corrections of her
pronunciation from Ml^ Sullivan and others, just as It vras
the means of ber Ipaming to speak at all, but it is rather an
accomplishment than a ncccBsity,

It must be remembered that speech contributed in no way to
her fundamental education, though without the ability tc sp^at,
■he could hardly have gone to higher schools and to college.
But she knows better tban any one else what value sptcch
has had for her. The following ia her address at the fifth
meeting o£ the American Aosociation to Promote the TcaeMng

39a A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

of Speech to the Dcafi at Mt« Airy, Philadelphm, PeonaylvanJAi
Julys, 1896:

ADDRVSa OP HELEN KBLLBR A^T UT. AIRT

If yo\i knew all Ihe joy 1 f*el in being able to Bpeak lo you
to^iay, I think you would have some idea of the value of speech
to the deaf, and you wcmld understand why 1 want every little
deaf child in all this great worid to have an opportunity to
Jcam to speak. J know thai much has been said and written
Oil this subjt^ct, and that there 1^ a wide iliHtrencff uf opinion
among teichers of the deaf in regard to oral instruction^ It
Beema very strange to me that there should be this diflercnce oi
Dninion; I cannot undpraiand how any (inif interested in our
education can fail to appreciate tbe satisfaction we feel in being
able to express our thoughts in living words. Why, 1 use
speech constantly, and I cannot begin to tell you how muclx
plenauje it gives me to do bo. Of cotirae I know thiil it is nt
always oa«y for atrangera to understand mc, but it wiil be by'
and by; and in the ineantlme 1 have the tinspeakahle happiness
of knowing that my family and friends rejoice in my ability tO
Bpeak. My little aistcr and baby bruilicr love ti? have mc
tell them stones in the long summer evenings when I am at
home; and my mother and teacher often ask me to read to
them from my favourite books^ I also discuss the political
situation with my dear father, and we decide the mnst per-
pleTting queEtions quite na eatisfactorily to ourselves as if I
could cec and hear. So you sec what a blessing apet^h Is to
me. It brings me into closer and tenderer relationship witfti
those 1 love, and makes it possible for tne to enjoy the bwi
companionship ol a great many persons from whom^ I shouli
be entirely cut off if I eonld not talk.

I can remember the time before I learned to speak, and how
1 used to struggle to cApieaa my thoughts by means of thi
manual alphabet — how my thoughts used to heflt against Tt\y\
&igcr tips like little birds striving to gain their freedom, untilj
one day Miss Fuller opened wide the prison-door and let thenil
escape. 1 wonder if she remembers how eagerly and gladlyj
they spread their wings and fiew away. Of course, it was not
easy at Just to fly, The speech-wings were weak and broken,
and had lost all the grace and beauty that had oriee been theira;

indeed, notbjng was left save the knpulM (o fl^, but that was
vomethiDg. One can never coufient to creep when one fecU an
fmpTiUc to SoBf- But, nevertheless, it seemed to me Bometimcs
that J could never use my speech^wings as God intended I
ihould use tbem^ tliere were so many diilicultlcs in the nvay,
BO many discnuragements; but I kept ot» trying, knowing that
patience nnd perseverance would win in the end. And while
1 worked, I built the most beautiful eJr-caattcS| and dreamed
dreams, the pleasanteet of which was of the time when I shculd
talk litce other people; aJid the thought oE the pleaBure it wouJd
give my mother to hear my voice once more, Bweetcncd every
cITori snd mBde every failure an incentive lo try harder next
tiuie. So 1 want to say to those who are trying- to leam to
Gpeak and tliofic who are teaching Uiem: Be of good cheer.
Do not think of to-day'a failures, but of the success that may
ccmc to-morrow. You have set yourEelvea a difficult taalt, but
yuu will succeed ii you persevere; and j'ou will find a joy in
overcoming obstacles— -a delight in cHmhing rugged paths,
which you would perhaps never know if you did not sometime
slip backward-^if the road na£ always smooth and pleasant.
Remember, no effort that we make to attain somethinjj beautiful
is ever lost. SometLme, somewhere, somehow we Ehall find
that which ne aeek. We ^hall ^peak, yeG, and bing, too, aa
God intended we should speak and sing.

CHAPTER V

LITERARY STYLE

Ko one can bave read Miss Keller's Butobiogiapt j mtliout
feeling that she writes untasually fine English. Any teaoher
of composition knows that he csn bring his pupila to the point
of writinE without cirorx in syntax cr in the choice of nords-
It is jxJSt this accuracy which Mies Keller's eaTly education
fixes oa the point to which BJiy healthy child can be brought.
and which the anulysis of that education accounts for. Those
who try to make bernn exception^ not to be explained by any
auch anclysis of her ccrly education, fortify their position by
an appesl to the remarkable exci^lieoce of her use of lan^age
even when she was a child ^

This nppcii] is to zi certain degree valid: ^or. indeed, those
additLonal harmonics of language and beauties of thought which
make style are the gifte of the gods. No teacher could have
made Helen Keller sensitive to the beauties of language and
to the finer interplay of thought which demands expression in
melodious word groupings.

At the fiance time the inborn gift of style can be starred
or stimulated. No innat? genius can invent fin<* language.
The Gtnff of whieh good style is made must be given to
the mixid from without and given akilfxJly. A child u£ the
muses cannnt write fine English unless fine English has
been its nourishment. In tKiSp as in all other things. Mias
Sullivan has been the wlae teacher. If she had not had tasto
and an eTithtisiasm far good English. Helen Keller might have
been brought up on the "Juvcniio Literaturo," which hcht tics
tho language under pretense of being simply phrased for chil-'
dren; as if a child's book eould not, hke " Treasure Island" or
"Robinson Crusoe" or the "Jungle Book," be in good style.

If Miss Sullivan wrote fine English, the beauty of Helen
Keller's style would, in part, be explicable at once. But tha
extracts from Mi»a Sullivan's letters and from her reports*

394

LITERARY STYLE

395

alttiDUgh they are clear sad accuratCt have cot the beauly which
dklinguiflhefi Miss Keller's English. Her service as a lefieher of
Englifih is not to be measured by horown skill in compositicm.
The reason why she read Loherpufnl so many good books is due,
in some measure, to the lact that she had so recently recovered
her eyesights When she became Helen Keller's teacher she
v&s jtist awakening to the good things that are in hooks, from
whieh sbe had been £hut out during her years of blindaess.

In Captain KcUcr's library ahe found eacccllcnt books,
Lamb's "Tales frum Shakespeare," and better atill, Montaienc.
After the first year or so of elementary worlc fihe met her
pupil OQ equal tenoa, and they read and enjoyed good booka
together.

Besides the selection of g;ood books, there ts one other cause
for Mis* Keller's excellence in writing, £or which Miss Sullivaa
deserves unlimited credit. That is her tireless and onrplenting
difcipUnen which ie evident in all her work, Sbe never allowed
her pupil to send of! ietteis which contained offenses against
I3ste. but made hrr write them over until they were not only
correct, but chamiing and wet] phrased.

Any one who has tried to write knows what Miss KcUcr owes
to the endless pTaetice which Miss Sullivan demanded o£ her.
X«ct a teacher with a lildng ior good style ittsUt on a child's
wiiting a paragraph over and over again until it ia more than
correct, and he will be training, even beyond his own power of
e3(prcGsion) the power of enprc&dion in the child.

IIdw Car Miss Sullivan carried this process of re&icment
and selection is evident from the humorous commejit of Dr.
Bell, that she made her pupil a little old woman, tcio widely
diftcrent from ordinary children in her maturity of thought.
When Dr. Bell said this he was arguing his own case. For
it was Dr, BeU who first Eaw the principles that underlie
Miss Sullivan's method, and explained the proceas by whioh
Helen Keller absorbed language from books.

There is, moreover, a reason why Helen Keller writes good
Znglt^p which lies in the very absence of sight and hearing.
The disadvaniflges of being deaf and blind were overcome
and tha advantages remained. She excels other deaf people
because she was taught as if ehe were normal. On the other
band, the peculiar value to her of language, which ordinary
people take for granted as a nece&sary part of them liko

396 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

their right hand, made her think about langttftge and love 1%.
Language was her liberator, and from the first fihe cherished it.
The proof of Adisa Keller's early skill in the nae of Bngliah, and
the final comment on the excellence of this whole method of
teaching, is contained in an incident, which, although at the time
itseemedunfortunate,cannolongerberegretted- Ireferto the
*'Frost King" episode, which I shall explain in det^. Miss
Keller has ^ven her account of it, and the whole matter was
discussed in the first Volta Bureau Souvenir from which I quote
at length:

lOBS eULUTAN's ACCOUNT OF THS " FROST KIHO"

Hon, John Hitz,

SuperifOendent of iht Volkt Bvr^av, Washinston, D, C,

Dbar Sir: Since my paper wae prepared for the second
edition of the Souvenir "Helen Keller," some facta have been
brought to Tixy notice which are of interest in connecUou with
the subject of the acquisition of language by my pupil, and if
it is not already too late for publication in this issue of the
Souvenir, I shall be glad if [ may have opportunity to explain
them in detail.

Perhaps it ^U be remembered that In my paper,* where allu-

*In this paper Min SuUivma Hyt: ** Daring tfaia winter (iBgi-oa) I went
with b«- into the yird while a lisht mow vat UUios, and let her f«1 the faJliiig
fiBkn. She Appeared lo enjoy iX very much Indeed. Aa W6 went ia iha
TcpeaUd theae wordi, ' Out of the cloud-foldi of his Bftrniente Winter ihakcB
the aaow,' I inquind oE her when ahe h&d jvad thii; she did not remember
having nad It, did not Kcm to know that ihe had leuned It. A* I hjut never
Eieardit, linquii^ol eevcra] of my frieada if they nciJlad the wordi ; no one
seemed to remember it. Tba teachen at the Inttitution ejiprened the opinioq
that the description did not tppeu- in any book in raived print in that hbm?;
but one lady, Hiu Marrett, took upon henelf the luk of eTamininf booka of
poenii in orduiary type, and w«a re warded by finding thafaUowio^ linee inofke
o£ Lon^ellow'a minor poeme. entitled 'SnowlUkei';
* Out of the bosom of the air,
Oat of the ckmd'Foldior her ffarmenla ihakea.

Over the wocKlluida brown and ban,
Over the harve&L'£elr1a foraaken,

Silent, and Boft, and alow,
Descenda the £now,*
*lt would fiftera that Helen had learned and treaniied the memory of thlt
ffKpmsiaTi dF the poet, aod thli monunfl la the snov-Btorm bad found Iti
applications*'

MR. JOHN HITZ BEADING TO MISS KELLER

LITERARY STYLE

397

Ion IS mode to Helen's remarkable mpTnory. it ift nntw! th^%
shs appears to retain in her mind many forms of CTtprcedon
which, at the time they arc received, she probably doca nt>fi
understand: buft when further information is acquired, the
language reUuncd in her momory finds full or particU exprcs-
sioiL m her conversation or istiting. according as it proves of
greater or less value to her m the fitness of its application to
the new experienec. Doubliees this is tnie in the case of every
intcUigent child, and should not, perhaps, be considered worthy
of especial mention in Helen's case, but for the fact that a child
vhft i£ deprived of the £ent;es of sight and hearing might not
be expected to be as gifted mentally as this Lttlc girl proves to
hei hence it is quite possible we may be inchned to class aa
marvclotis many things we discover in the devel<3pmeat of her
mind which do not merit such an explanation^

In the hope that 1 may be pardoned if I appear to over*
estimate the remarkable incntal capacity and power of e^mpre-
hecaioii and discdmi nation which my pupil possesses, I wish
to 4idd that, while I have always known that Helen made great
UE^ of such dt^ficriptions and compatisone as appeal to her imag-
inatirjn and Une poetic nature, yeb xecent developments in her
writings convince me of the fact that I have not in the past been
fuily aware to what cKteot she absorbs the hmgnage of her
favourite authoiB. In Uie early pjrD of her education I had
full knowledge of all the books she, read and of nearly all the
storied which were read to her. and could without dif^culty
trace the source of any adaptations noted In her writing or
conversation; and 1 have always been muc;h pleased to observe
bow appropnatcly she applies tho eJEpresaiona of a favourite
author in her own compositions.

The following extracts from a few of her published letters
pvc evidence of how valuable this power o( retaining the mem-
ory of beautiful language has been to her. One warm, sunny
day in early spring, when we were at the North, the balmy
atmosphere appears to have brought to her mind the sentiment
expressed by Lon;ife!lGW in *'Hiawatha," and she almost sings
with the poet: "The ground was all aquiver with the stir of
new life. My heart sang for very joy, T thought of ray own
dear home, I knew thaD in that sunny land spring had come
m all its splendour. 'All ita birds and all its blossoms, all its
dowuB and all its grasses/ "

398 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

About th^ Game timr, in a letter to n friend. In which fihfl
makes mention of her Southern home, she gives so dote ft
reproduction from a poem by one of her favourite authors that I
will giTe eiHrflctfi from Helen's letter and Irom the poem itself:

FR.OU THE POBll FNTlTLBt*
"GrHIUO," BY OLIVER WBH-

hbll HOLHEa
The blucLird, breathuif from

his azure plomes
The fragrance borrowed from

the my rile bloomsi
The thrush, poor WAnrLerer,

dropping meekly down.
Clad in His remnant oJ aubum-

nal bTown;
The orialC) drifting like a £ake

of fire
Rent by a whirlwind from a

blazing spire ;
The robin, jerldiig bis EpaS-

modic throat,
Repeats impcrioua, his a1

calD note;
The crack-brained bobolink

courts his crazy matcn
Poiced on 3 bullmsh tipsy

with his weights
Nay, in bis cage the Icmc

canary sings.
Feels the sof ti air, and spread*

hJG id]o wingSt

Or the las6 day of April she usea anotlier eatpresaon from
thf same poem, whieh is more an adaption than a reproduo-J
tiun: 'To-morrovr April ^11 hide her tears and blu^ca bcacAth
the floweis of lovely May/'

In a letter to a friend* at the Perkins Infititiltion, dated May
17. iSS^t she givce a rcproductioti from gna of Hans Christian

E3ETIUCTS I'nOU FFLBFi 5
LET TBS

[7"Jt*t entire ieiler is published
Ort pp. J45 and 246 oj the Ke-
pori of tkff Pffrkinj InstiUiiion
for iSgi]

The blue-bitd with hia o^ure
plumes, the thruiih clad all in
brown, the robin jerking his
spa&modic throat, tlic oriole
drifting like a finke of fire,
the joJly bobolink and hia
happy mate, the mocking-bird
imitating the notes of all, the
red-bird with hia one sweet
trill, and thi: busy little wren,
are all making the trees m
our front yard ring with thar
glad SQDgs.

"PAflB TJD.

LITERARY STYLE

Anders^Ti'a stories, wltich 1 had read to her not long before.
Thifi letter is published in the Perkins losLittittoa Kepon (^fipi],
p. 304. Thfr original siory was read to her from a copy ftt
"Andersen's Stories/' published by Lcavitb & Alien Bros., and
inay be foimd on p. cj7 of Part h in that volume-

Her admiration for ihe impressive cHplanalionB which Bishop
Brooks has given her of the Fatherhood of God is well known.
In erne nf his letters, speaking of hnw God m every way tdlla us
cf his love, he says, "I think he writes it even upon the walls
of the great house of nature which wc live in, that he is our
Father/* The next year at Andover she said: "II lieemti to
me the world is full of goodness, beauty, and love; and how
grateful we must be to our heavenly Father, who has given ua
so much to enjoy I His love and care are written all over the
walls of nature,"

In these \aXcr years, since Helen haa come in contact with Bo
many persons who are ablr to converse freely with her, she has
made the acquaintance of some literature with w^hich 1 am not
famihar; she has also found in books printed in raised letters,
in the reariing of which I have been unable to follow her. vnuch
toaterial for the cultivation of the taste she possesses for pocticsi
imageryi The pages of the book she reads bccumc to her
like painlinEE, to which her imaginative powers give life and
colour. She is at once transported into the midst of the events
portrayec^ iu the ^tcry she reads or is told, and the charactexa
and descriptions become real lo her; she rejoices when justice
wins, and is sad when virtue goes unren^arded. The pictures
the language paints on her memory appear to raake an indeLblc
ijnpresaon: and many limes, when an experience comes to
ber similar in character, the language starta lorth with wonder-
ful accuracy* like the reflection from a mirror-
Helen's mind is so gifted by nature that she spems able to
underptand with only the faintest touch of explanation every
possible variety of external relations. One day in Alabama» as
^e were gathering wild Sowers near the springs on the hill-*
sides, she seemed to underetand for the first time that the
springs were surrounded by mountains, and abe exclaimed:
"The mountains are crowding around the springs to look at
their own beautiful reflections I" i do not know where she
ohtained this language, yet it i^ evident that it must hava
come to her from without, as ic would hardly be possible for a

40O A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

pcraon deprived ot the vl&ual scasc tc criginatc such an idea,
Tn mentioning a visit Ic Lexington, Mass.n She •amtes: "Aa
wc rode along we could evt the lorest monarchB bend tbeir
proud Earms to listen to the liUle chlldien of the woodlands
whispering thHr secrets. The anemone^ the wild uiolel, the
hcpalicfi, and the funny little curled-up fcma all peeped out at
us from beneath the brown leaves," She closes thii letter
with^ "I musfc go to bed, for Morpheus has touched my eye-
lida with his golden wand." Here agam. I am unable to State
where she acquired these expressions.

She hsa aln'ays Eeemed to prefer stories which eierciee the
imagination, cmd c^tch^-s &ad retainc the poetic spirit in all Euch
literature: but not until this winter have I been conscious that
her memory absorbed the exacti language to such sn extent
that she is herself unable to tTEice the source,

Thia is shown in a Little story she wrote in October last
at the home of her parerits in Tuacunibifl, which she called
"Autumn Leaves." She was at work upon it about two weeks,
writing a little each day, at her own jjleasure. "When it was
iim&hed, and wo read ib in the Ismily, tl occasioned much com-
ment on account of the beautiful imagery, and we could not
understand how Helen could describe such pictures withoutt
the aid of sight. Afi we had never seen or heard of any such
stpry as thia before, we inquired of her where she read it; she
fieplied, "I did not read it; it is my stoiy for Mr. Anagnos*s
birthday/* While 1 was aurprified that the eould write lika
this, 1 was not more astonished than 1 had been many times
before at the nnexpecied achievements of my Hltle pupil,
especially as we bad exchanged Tn&tiy beautiful thoughts on
the subject of the glory ol the ripening foliage during the autumn
of thi* year.

Before Helen made her final copy o£ the story, it was sug-
gested to her to change its title to "The Frost King," as more
appropriate to the subject of which the story treated; to this
the wilhngly asBented. The story was written by Helen in
braille, as usual, and copied by her in the esme manner; 1
then interlined the manuscript for the greater convenience rrf
those who desired to read it, Helen wrote a httle letter, and,
enclosing the tnanuacript. forwarded both by mail to Mr, Anagnoa
for his birthday.

The ctory wfls printed in the January number of the MtnUv,

LITERARY STYLE

ta)d, fi^m a re^-iew of it In the Coodsott Gaseftff. T -was «t»rtled
tc find that a very sliiiilar stor)' bad bern published in iSj^i
■ever years before Hden was "hom. This stoIJ^ "Frost Fairies/'
Appeared in a bockk written by Miss Morgaret T, C;inby, entitled
"Birdie and hia Fairy Friends." The passages quoted from ttio
two storips were so mucli alike in thouglit end eipressioa as to
convince me that Miss Canby's storj' must at Eomc time havQ
been read to Helen,

As I had never read this siory, or even heard of the book,
J inquired of H<;kn if &hfs loiew anything about the matter,
and found she did not- She waa utterly unable to recall cither
the naint: of the stury or the book. Careful examination was
made oi the books in raised print m the library of the Perkins
Institution to Iram if any cMrscts from thia volume cotild
be found there; but nothing vias discovered. 1 then concluded
thai the story muEt have been read to hrr a Inng time ago, as
her memory usually retains witb ^eat distinctne&E facts and
impreEsioiia which have bct-n coramiUed to its keeping.

After making careful inquiry, I sueceedpd in obtaining the
information that our friend. Mrs. S. C. HcpkinSf bad a copy of
this book in i3S8, which was presented to her little daughter
in 1S73 or 1874- Helen and I spent the summer of i*S8 with
Mrs. HopkioB at fccf home in Brewster, Mass,, where she kindly
relieved me, a part of the time, oE the care of Helen. She
amused and entertained Helen by rtadinEtoherfromaeoUection
of juvenile pubUcations, among which was the copy of "Birdie
and his Fairy Friends"; and, while Mrs. Hopkins doe^ Hob
remember this story of "Frost Fairiee/'she is confident that she
read to Helen eTitracts. if not entire etoriefii from thifi volume.
But as she was not able to find ber copyj and appUcalicms for the
volume at bonkstore<i in Boston, New York, Philfldelphia, Albany,
And other phu^ee resulted only in failure, search was inati-
tuted for the author herself- This became & diCficult task, ai
her publishers in Philadelphia had retired from business many
years ago; however, it was eventually discovered that her
ie«idence is at Wilmington, Delaware, and copies of the second
edition of the book, iSBp, were obtained from her. She ha*
since secured and forwarded to me > copy of the first edition.

The most generous and gratifving letters have been received
from Miss Canby by Helen's friends, a few extracts from which
are given.

40J A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Under dat* of Febmary 34. tAqi. after meniinning the ordef
of the publication of the fiton^ in the magazine, shi^ writca:

"All the storica were reviBed before publishing them in book
form; additionfi were made trt the ntimber b.s first published, I
think, and some of the titles ma^ have been changed."

la the same letter she writCE:

'"I hope that you will be able to make her iinderttntid that I
am glnd she enjoyed my story, and that I hope the new book
will give her pleasure by leoewing her friendship with the
Fairies. T shall write to her in a short time. I am so much
impressed with what I have learned of her that 1 have written
a. little poeni entitled 'A Silent Singer/ which I may send to
her mother after a while. Can you tell me in what paper the
article appeared accusing Helen of plagiarism, and giving
passages from both stories ? I should like much to sec it, and
to obtain a few copies if possible/'

Under dale of March 9, iSga, Miss Can by writes:

"I find traces, m tJic Report which you so kindly 3rnt me,
of littli? Helen having heard other stories than Ihnt of "Frost
Fairies/ On page t^i. in a letter, there is a passage which
mast have been suggested by my story called 'The Rose Piiiries"
{fiee pp. 13-ifi of 'Birdie'), and on pages 93 and 94 of the Report
the description of a thunderstorm is very much like Birdie's
Idea cf the same in the 'Dew Faidca' on pages 5g and 6a of my
book. What a wonderfully active and retentive mrnd that
gifted child must have I If she had remembered and writtca
down, accurately^ a short story, and that soon after hearing it,
(t would have hvnn a marvel; hut to have heard the alory once,
three years ago, and in such a way that neither her parents nor
teacher could ever allude to it or refresh her memory about
It, and then to have been able to reprnduce it so vividly, even
adding some touches o£ her own in perfect keeping ^-ith the
rest, which really improve the original, is aomcthing that very
few girls of riper age, and with every advantage of sight, hearing,
and even great talents for composition, could have done as
well, if at alL Under the circmn stances, I do not see how any
one can be so unkind as to call it a plaj^arism : it is a wonclerful
feat of memory, and stands atn*u. as doubtless much of her
work will in future, if her mental powers grow and develop with
her years as greatly as in the few years past. I have known
CDSQy children well, have been surrotinded by them all my Ulq,

LITERARY STYLE

and love nothing belter than to talk with them, amu^e them,
and quietly notice their traits of mind and character; but I do
not rcccUoct more than one girl of Helen's a^ who had the love
and thirst for knoVLled^i:. and the store at Uteraiy and £en«ral
information, and the skill in composition, which Helen posseaws.
She iG indeed a 'Wonder- Child,' Thank you very much lor
the Report, Ctuclle, and Helen's Journal. The last made me
realize the great disappointment to the dear child more than
befors. PLcasc i^ivs her my warm lo\'c, and tell her not to feel
troubled about it any more. No one &hal1 be allowed to tbiuk
it wfis anything wrong: and some day she will write a great,
be&uliful Etory or poem that will make many people happy.
Tell hei there are a few bitter drops in every one's cup, and tbo
rnly way i5to take the bitter patiently, and the sweet thanlcfully.
I BbaJl love to hear of her reception of the book and how sha
likes the stories which arc new to her,"

I have now (March, ififj?) read to Helen "The Frost Fairies/*
*'Tho Rose FairicB," and a portion of "The Dew Fairies/' but
she IS unable Lo throw any light on the matter. She recdB'i^^cd
them at once as her own stories, with variations, and was much
pu^rJcd to know how tbcy could have bcca published before
she was bom ! She thinks it is wonderful that two people
should write Glories bo mneh alite; buB she still considers her
own OS original.

1 give below a portion of Mifia Canby's Story, "The Rose
Fairies/' and alflo Helen's letter lo Mr Anagnos containing her
"drc&m/' so that the likenesses and diE'crenccs may be studied
by those inlercated in the subject;

7HB DOSB F Aim BE

{From *'Birdff and his Fairy Friends," by Margaret T. Canhyi]

One plea-'^ant morning little Birdie might have been
«UioE quietly on the grass-plat at the side of his mother's
house, looking very earneally at the roae-buahes.

It was quite early; great Mr- Sun, who is snch an early riser
in summer time, had not been up very long; the birds were just
beginninp to chirp their "gcHjd- mornings" to each other; and
as for the flowers, they were still asleep. But Birdie was so
bufiy all day, trotting about the hou^e and garden, that he was
always ready for hU neal at cight> before the birds and flowers

404 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

had thought of seeking tJieirs ; and so it cutnti to pass that when
Mr. Sun raisL-d his head Hbove Lhe green woods and biniled
lovinfily iipon lhe earth, Birdie wa» ofUn thi? first lo see him,
ArA to smili: back at him, all the whUc robbing his eyes vritb hi*
dimpled fists, until belwcen wnilinK and lubbing, he v/as wide

And what do you think he did next ! Why, the little rogue
rolled into his mamma's bed, and kissed her eyelids, her cheeks,
and her mouth, until she began to dream th^t it vae raimng
kisses; and at last e.hc opened hercyca to :5cc what it all racaQt,
and found that it was Birdie, trying to "ki:is bcr aw^ke." as
he said.

She loved her little boy very dearly, and liked to make him
happy, and when he said, "PIrasc drrss me, dear mammi, and
let me go out to play in the £arden." she ehoeriuUy consented;
and. aooQ after. Birdie went downstairs in hia momiug-drcHs of
eool linen, and with his round face bright and rosy from its
bath, and ran out on the gravel path to pl^y until breakfast
was ready.

He stood still a moment to look about him. and think what
he should do first. The fre«h morning air blew softly in his
fact, a^ if to wtlcoiuc him and be his merry playmate: and the
bright eye of Mr. Sun looked at him with a warm and glowing
smile; but Birdie soon walked on to find something to play with.
As he eanie in sight cf the rose-bushes that ^cw near the cldo
of the hoU5e, he suddenly clapped his hands, and with a little
about o£ joy stopped to look at ihera; they were all covered
with lovely rosebuds. Some were red, sumc white, and others
pale pink, and they were just peeping out of the green leaves,
as roEy-faced children peep out from their warm beds in winter-
time before they are quite willing to ^et up. A few days before,
Birdie's papa had told him that the green balls on the rose-
buehea had beautiful flowers ehut up Aithia them, but the
little boy found it hard to believe, for he was ao young that tie
did not remember how pretty the rosea had been the summer
before. Now he found out that his father's words were true,
for a few diiys of v, arm weather had turned llic Kften balls
fnbo rosebuds, and ihey were so beautiful that it was enough,
to make Birdie stand still before them, bis blue eyes dancing
with delight and hi^ Httle h^tnda clasped tightly togetbLT.

After awhile he went nearer, and looking elosely at thft

LITERARY STYLE

fcuds, found lt»at tbey were foMed up, leaf over leaf, ae eycTiiia
BTt folded over tleeping eyes, so ihal Birdip thought tRey must
be asleep. "Lazy roses, wake np/' eoid he. giving the branchto
a E^iitle shake: but only ihe dew fell oH in bright drops, and the
fiowera were still shut tip. At last Birdie remembered how he
had awakened Iil^ mother with kisses, and tliought he would
try the same plan with the roses; so he drew up his red lips
until Ihey looked like a rosebud, too, and bending down a
branch with a lovely pick bud upon it, he kissed it softly two
or three timeG.

Here the siTnilarity in the language of the itoiy to that in
the letter ceases.

aSLBN a LSTTSR TO UJt, ANA0N09

^Written February a snd 3, 1S90-)
^Tkis IftttT uTu enclosed i't- auotker wriftctt in French, dated

Le I feiTi'tT iSgo.]
My DEAR Mr. Akacnos: You will laugh when you open your
little fricnd'a letter and see all the queer mistakes &he has made
in French, but I think you will be pleased to ttiow that I ean
write even a short Utter in French, It makes me very happy
to please you and my dear teacher. I wish I coulJ see your little
niece Amelia, 1 am sure we should love each other, I hope
.you will bring some of Virginia Evanghclidcfi' poems homo
itb you» and trsuslate (licm for mc. Teacher and I have ju9b
■turned from our walk. It is a beautiful day. We met a
'cet little child. She was playing on the pier with a wee
>ther- She gavs mc a kiss and then ran away, because she
ras a shy little girl. 1 wonder if you would like to have me tell
m B pretty dream which 1 had a long time ago when I was a
;ry little diild ? Teacher says it was a day-dream, and she
links you would be delighted to hear it. One pleasant moming
the beautiful apringiimc, I thought I was sitting on the soft
rafis under my dear mother's window, looking very earnestly
thft rose-biisbea which were growing all around me. It
was quite early, the sun had not been up very long; the birda
were just beginning to sing joyously. The flowers were still
asleep. They would not awake until the sun had Bmilod lov-
ingly upon themn 1 wno a very happy little child with rosy

4o6 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

cbfclrs, and liirgc "blue eyes, and the taosi bcAVitiful golden
ringlets you can imagine. The fresh muming air blew gently
in my face, a* if to welcome me, and be my merry playmate,
and tbc sun looked at mc with a wanxt and tender smile. I
clapped my chubby hjind^ fur joy when I saw that the rose-
buihefi were covered with lovely buds. Some were red^ some
white, and others were delicate pink, and they were peeping out
from hetwemi the green leaved like hesutiful littlp fairies. I
had never seen anything so lovely befote, for I was very young
and 1 could not remember how pretty the roscs had been the
fiummer before. My little heart was Glleil with a sweet joy,
snd 1 danced around the rose-bushes to chow my delight. After
a while I went very near to a beautiful while rose-bush which
was completely covered with buds and sparkling with dew-
drops; 1 bent down one of the branches with a lovely pure
white bud upon it, and kissed it softly many times; juat then
I felt two loving aririK stt-al gently around me. find loving lips
kiEsing my eyehds. my checks, and my mouth, until I began
to thinlc it was raining ki5Sl^3; aJid at laat I opened my ey» to
see what it all meant, and fonnd it was my precious mnthrr^
who waa bending over me, trying to kiss me awakp- Do you
like my day'dream ? If you do, perhaps 1 will dream again for
you some time.

Teacher and all of your friends send you their love. 1 filiall
be ao glad when you come home, for 1 greatly miss you. Plcaac
give my love to your good Gn?ek friends, and tell them that
I chall come to Athens some day.

Lovingly your Utile friend and playmate,

HEI.BN A. KBtLEtt.1

"The Frost Fairies" and "The Frost King" are given in fuU,
ta the differences ore as important as the resemblances:

THH PROST FAIBIP5

By MiBiiiBfcT T. Cahhv
Kin^ Frost, or Jack Frost as
he is fiometimes called, lives
in 0, cold country far to the
North : but every year he takes
a journey over the world in a

THK TBoar Ktwo

£f Eii-BH A. Kellv

King Prost lives in a beauti'

ful palace far to the North, in

the land of perpetual Enow.

The palace, which is magoi*

LITERARY STYLE

407

'car of goldcD clouds dravn by
ft strong and rapid iteed called
"North Wind." Wherever he

■£oes be does many ncnderful
thingK; he builds brideea over
every stream, clear as gla^
hi appearaiLce but often slroDg
as iron; he puts the Hotters and
planU to sleep by one touch
of hib band, and they all bcw
down and sink into tb? warm
earth, until spring returns;
then, lest we sbculd grieve for
the flcjwers, he places at OTir
ifriDdQwn lovely wreaths and
■prays of his white noithem
fli:>wcr<i. or delicate little forests
oF fairy pine-treea, pure white
and very Leautiful. But his
most wonderful work is the
painting of the treca^ whieh

■look, ifter his tast is done.
as if they were covered with
the brightest layers of gold
and rubies; and ore beautiful
enough to comfort ua for the
flight of suntmer.

I will tell you how King
Frost first thought ot this kiad
work, for it is a strange story.
You must know that Lhii King,
like aU other Icings, has great
treasures of ^old and precious
stones in his palace; but. being
a good-hearted old fellow, he
does not keep his riches
locVed up all the (icne, but
tries to do good and aizk.s
others happ/ with them. He
has two neighbours, who
live still farther north; one is

ficcnt beyond description^ was
built centuries ago, tn the
reign of King Glacier, At a
Utile distance from the palace
we might eatily mistake it
for a mountain whose peaks
were mounting heavenward to
receive the last kisB of the
departing day. Bat on nearer
approach we should discover
our error. What we had
supposed to be peaks were m
reality a thousand glittering
Epirea. Nothing could be more
beautiful than the architec-
ture of this icc-polacc^ The
walls are curiously constructed
of massive blocks of ice which
terminate in cliff-like towcTL
The entrance to the palace \s
at the end of an arched recess,
and it is guarded nigbb and
day by twelve soldierly-look-
ing white Bear«.

But, children, you mun
make King Frost a viat the
very first opportunity you
have, and see for yourselves
this wonderful palace. The
old King will welcome you
kindly, for he loves children,
and it is hia chief delight to
give them pleasure.

SUPPLEMENTAR'^'

Kine Winter, &. cross and
churlish old monarch, who is
hard ajid cruel^ and di^lightB
in malciuE the poor sufTer and
weep; but the other neighbour
is Santa Gauh, a fire, good-
natured, jolly old soul, who
loves to do good, and who
brings presents to the foot.
and to nice littU cbildrea at
Christmas,

Well, one day^ King Frost
was trying to think of some
good Ihal h<? could do with
hia treasure; ^uid Buddealy he
concluded to send some of it
to his kind nckghbour, Santa
Claus, to buy presents of food
and clothing for the poor,
that they might not sufier ao
much when King Winter went
near their homts. So he called
together his merry hltle EairieE,
and showing them a Hum tier
of jars and vases filed with
gold and preoLOua Btones. told
them to carry those carefully
to the palace of Santa Claus.
and give them to him with the
compliments of King Froal.
**He will know how to make
good use of the treasure."
Ebdded Jack Frost; then he
told the fairies not to loiter
by the way, but to do his
bidding <iLjiek]yt

The fairies promised obedi*
ence and soon started on their
journey* dragging the great
glass jars and vases along, as
well as they could, and now

You must know that King
Frostn like all other kings, has
great treasures of gold and
precious stones; but as he
is a generous old monarch,
he endeavours to make a right
use of his riches. So vhcrever
he goes he does many wonder-
fid works; he builds bridges
ov^er every stream, aa Irana*
parent as glass, but often as
strong OS iron; he fihakcfl the
forest trees until the ripe nuts
fall into the laps of laughing
children; he puis the flowers
to sleep with one touch of his
hand; then, lest wc should
mourn for the bright faces of
the flowers, he paints the
leaves with gold and crimHjn
Aad emerald, and when his
task is done the trees arc beau-
tiful enough to comfort me for
the flrght of surnmer. I will
tell you how King Frost hap-
pened to think of painting the
leaves, for it is a strange
story.

One day while King ?rost
waR surveying his vast wealth
and thinking what good he
could do with it) he suddenly
bethought hJTH of his jolly
old neighbour, Santa Claus.

LITERARY STYLE

409

ftnd th«n grumblLng a little n^t
having Huch hatd work to don
for they were idle rairics, and
lik*d play belter than work.
At \&st Ihcy reached a great
foTF^t. and, being quite tired,
they decided to rest awhile
«.iid look for nuts before going
any further. Bui lest the
treasure should be stolen from
Ihcdj thty hid the jars among
the tliick leaves of the forest
trees, placing some high up
near the top, and others in
different part^ of the vurious
trees, until they thought po
one could 6nd them.

Then they began to wan-
dar about and hunt for nuts,
and climb the trees to shake
them dowTi, and worked much
harder for their own pleasure
thtjji they had done for Ibeir
master's bidding, for it is a
itratige Inith that fairies and
children never com plain of
the toil and trouble they
take in search of amuceinent,
although they often grumble
when asked to work for the
good of others.

The frost fairies were so
busy and so merry over their
nutting frolic that they soon
forgot their errand and their
ting's command to go quickly;
but, as they played and loit-
ered in the forest until noon,
they found the reflfion why
they were told to hasten; for
although they had. as they

"I wilt aond my treasurea to
Santa Claus/' said the King to
himself. "He is the very man
to dispose of them satisfac-
torily, for he knows where the
poor and the unhappy live,
and hi^ kind old h«art i£
a1way?t full of benevolent plans
for their relief," So he called
together the merry little fairies
of hia hmjachold and. showing
them the jars and vases con-
taining his treasures, h? bade
them carry them to the palace
of Santa Claus as quickly aa
they couJd* The fairies prom-
ised obedience, and were oS
in a twinkling, drag^ng the
heavy jars and vases along
after them as well as they
could, now and then grumb-
Lng a little at having such a
hard task, for they were idle
fairies and loved to play better
than to work. After awhile
they came to a great forest
and, being tired and hungry,
they thought they would r«t
e, little and look for nuts
before continuing their jour-
ney. But thinking their treas-
ure miifhb be stolea fiuia
them, they hid the jars among
the thick green leaves of the

410 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

thought, hiiJden the treasure
ao careliilly, they had not
eecured it from the power oi
Mr. Sun. '^h<^ was bn crcmy
of Jack Frost, and delighted
to undo bis work and weaten
him whenever he coutd-

Hls bright eyes found out
the jarB oE treasure among the
trees, and as the idle fairies
la ft i.hE!in there until noon, at
which time Mr. Sim is the
strongest H the delicate glass
began to melt and break, and
before long every jar and vase
wa:i craL-ki:d or brukcti, and the
precious treasures they con-
tained were molting, too, and
dripping slowly in streams of
gold and orimson over the
trees and bushes of tho forcat.

Still, for awhile, the trust
fairies did not cotiee this
strange occurrence, for they
were down on the grass, so
far bplow the tree>tops that
the wondcrfiU shower of trcas-
tite was a long time in reach-
ing them: hut at last one of
them said. "Hark E I believe
it is raining; 1 certainly hear
the falling drops/' The otherE
laughed, and told him that it
seldom rained when the sun
was shining; but as they lis-
tened they plainly beard tbe
tinkling cf many drop^ falling
through the foreetj and slid-
ing from leaf to leaf until they
reached the bram hie- bushes
beside them, when, to their

various trees until they
stiTC that no one could find
them. Then they began to
wander merrily about scaccli-
ing for nuts, olimbing tree£,
peeping curiously into the
emptv birds" nests, and play-
ing hide and seek frtrni behind
the trees- Now, these naughty
fairies were so busy and so
merry over their frohc that
they forgot all about their
errand and their master's
ccjmmand to go quickly, but
soon they found to their dis-
may why they had been bid-
den to hasten, for although
they bad, as they supposed,
bidden the treasure carefully,
yet the bright eyes of King
Sun had spied out the jars
among tbo leaves, and aa he
and King Frost could never
agrc!e as to what was the best
way of benefiting the world,
he was very glad of a gtjod
opportunity of playing a joke
upon bis rather sharp rivoL
King Sun laughed softly to
himself when the delicate jar^
began to melt and break. At
length every jar and vaae wu
cracked or broken, and the
precious stones they contained

LITERARY STYLE

great dismay, they found that
the Toin-drjpy were m<lUd
Tubies, which hardened on th*
leaved and turned them to
bright crimson la a momeai.
Then looking more clesely ai
ihc trees aromid. they saw
that thf; tn^surc was all
jnehing away, and that miich
oi it woa already spread over
the leaves o£ the o^ trees and
maples, which were shining
with their gor£coii3 drcsa of
{old and bronze, i^rims^n and
emer^d. It was very beau-
tiftd; but the idle fairies vrere
loo mucb frightened at the
mischief their disobedience
had caused, to ftdoiirc the
T>cauty of the forest, and at
once tried to hide themselves
fijnong the bk;shes, lest King
Frost shoidd come and puniEh
them.

Their fears were well found-
Ed. for their long absence bad
cJarmed the king^ and be
had started out to ^ook for
his tardy servants. £.nd just
as they were &II bidden, he
came along slowly. l(>okii]g on
all sides for the fairies. Of
course, he Boon noticed the
brightness of the leaver, and
discovered the cause, too,
when he caught sight of the
brolten jars and vases from
which the melted iTpasure was
•till dropping. And when he
came to the nut trees, and
■aw the shells left by the idle

were melting, too, and running
in little atrcjim^ over the trees
and buahcs of the forest.

Still the idle fairies did not
notice what was happoQing,
for they were down on the
grass, and the wonderful
shower of treasure wu a long
time la leaching them: but at
last they plainly heard the
tJnlding of many drops falling
like rain through the forest,
and sliding from leaf to 1es.f
until they reached the little
bu&hes by their side, when to
their ajtoniahnicnl they dis-
covered that the rain-drops
were melted rubied which
hardened on the leaves, and
turned them to crimson and
gold In a moment' Then,
looking aroLind more closely,
they saw that much of the
treasure was already melted,
for the oaks and maples were
arrayed in gorgeous dresaes of
gold and crimson and emerald.
It was very beautiful, but the
disobedient fairies were loo
frightened to notice the beauty
of the trees. They were afraid
that King Frost would come
and punish them. So they hid
themulves among the bushes

413 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

fairies and oU the truces of
their frolic, he knew exaclly
how they had Hclcd, and that
they had disobeyed him by
playing and loitering" on their
way through the woods-
King FroBt frowned and
looked vtry angry at first.
And his fairies trembled for
fear and cowered still lower in
their hidirjg-plACea ; but just
then two little children came
dancing through the wood,
and thougt they did not aee
King Frost or the fairies, they
caw Che beautiful colour of
the leaves, and laughed with
delieht, and began piclcing
great bunches to lake to their
mother, *'The leaves are as
pretty as flower^/' said they;
and they called the golden
leaves "'buttcrcupB.*' and the
red DTiea "roees/' and were
very happy as they went sing-
ing through the wood.

Thdr pleasure charmed
away King Frost's anger, and
lie, toOf bcgen to adrairc Ihe
painted trees, and at last he
Baid to himself, "My trcaaurca
are not wasted if they make
little children happy. I will
not be oiTended at ray idle,
thonghltcHS fairies, for thej'
have taught me a rew way of
doing good." When the fjost
fairica heard these words they
crept, one by one. from their
comera. and* kneelinjf down
before their master, confessed

and waited (ilently for some-
thing to happen. Their fear*
were well founded, for their
long absence bad alarmed the
King, and he mounted North
Wind and went out in search
of hiH tardy couriers. Of
course, he had rot gone f&r
when he noticed the bright
nefiB of the leaves, and he
quickly guefleed the cause
when he ww the brolcen jars
from which the treasure waa
still droppbg. At first King
Frost was very angry, and
the fairies trembled and
crouched lower in their hiding-
places, and I do not Icnovr
what might have happened to
them if just then a party of
boya ajid girls had not entered
the wood. When the children
saw the trees all aglow with
brilliant cok>r¥ they clapped
their hands and shouted for
jcy, and immediately began
to pick great bunches to take
home. "The leaves are ofl
lovely as the flowers!" cried
they, in Ihdr delight* Tbdr
pleasure banished the angorj
from King Frost's heart oni
the frown from his brow, and
he, too, began to admire the

I I

LITERARY STYLE

4«3

tiidr fnult, and ^kcd his par-
dtMi, He frowned upcin thctu
for awhilp. and Bcolded ihem,
too, but b-c Eorm relented, and
said he would for^vc them
this time, acd would only
punUh thcin by mokiag them
cany more treaiitire to the
forest, and hide it in the trees,
until ol^ the leaves, with
Mr, Sun's help, were covered
with gold and rohy coats.

Then the fairies thantcd
him for his forgiveness, and
promised to work very hard
to please him; and the good-
natured king took them all
up in his arms, and harried
them safety home to hia poJoce.
From (hat time, I suppose, it
has bcpn part cf Jaeic FroFt's
work to paint the treea with
the glowing colours we sbb in
the autumn; and if they are
net covered with ^old and
precinus stones, 1 do not know
how he makes them &o bright;
d<j youf

painted tTCtS. Hc said to
himsc-lf, "My trcflBUiea arc
not wasted if they make lit*
tie children happy. My idle
fairies end my fiery enemy
have taught me a new wa-y of
domEBE>Q<^'"

When the fairies heard this,
they were greatly relieved and
came forth from their hiding-
places, confessed their fault,
and asked their master's for-
giveness.

Ever since that time it ha»
been King Frost's great de-
hght to paint the leaves with
the glowing colors we see £n
the autumn, and if they are
not covered with gold and
precious stones I cojuiot im*
ngine what makes them bo
bright, can you ?

If the story of *'The Frost Fairies" was read to Helen in the
bummer of 1S8B. she could not have undeistood very much of
It at that lime, for she had only beea under instruction since
►March, 1887.

Caji it be that the language of the story had remained dor-
mant in her mind until my description of the beauty of the
autumn scenery in 1891 br<:mght it vividly before her mental
\ision ?

I have made careful investigation among Helen's friends in
Alabama and in Boston and its vicinity, but thus far have bc^n
tmable to ascertain any later date when it could have been read
to her.

414

A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Another faot is of great signLlcance m this cnnrecimn. "The
Rose Fairies" w-ts piiblishod iii the samo volume with "The
Frost Feirics," and, therefore, wna probably read to Hdaa at
or about che same tkTrc.

Now Helen, in her letter of February, iS^o (quoted above),
alludes to this atory of Miaa Caoby's as dream "uihtch I kad a
toag iifne ago mitcn I ti/oi u ivry Hllie chiid." Surely, a year
and a half would appear "a long lime ago" to a little girl like
Helen ; we therefore have reason to believe that the stories muot
have been read to her at Least as early a& the summer of iSSS.

HCLGH UELLKK's OWN STATEMCHT

(^The foUowins tntry madf by Helm in her diary speaks for itMlfJ)

iS99. Jatiuary jq. This mnming 1 toot a hath, and when
teacher came upstairs to comb nay hair she told me some very
aad news which niadij Tue unhappy all day. Some one wrote to
Mr Anagnos that the story which 1 senl him a*j a birthday
gift, and which I wrote myself » was not my atory at all. but that
a lady had written it a long time ago. The person said her Btory
was called "Frost Fairies/' I am sure I never heard it. It
made us feel so bad to think that people thought we had been
uiitrue and wicki^d- My heart aus full of Ifars, for I love the
beautiful truth with my whole heart and mind.

It troubles mc greatly now. 1 do not know what 1 shall do,
I never thought that people cnuld make such mistakes. I am
pcrfeetly sure 1 wrote the story myEell. Mr, Anagnos is much
troubled. It grieves mc to think that I have been the cause of
his tmhappine[;s, but of cuurse I did not mean to do it.

I thought about my story in the autumn, becauflo teaehef
told me about the autumn leaves while wc walked bi the Woods
at Fem Quarry. I thought fairies must have painted them
because they are so worderful^ and I thought, too^ that King
Frost must have jara and vases eontainmg precious treasures,
because I knew that other kings long ago had^ and beeauso
teacher told me that tbo leaves were painted ruby, emetald,
gold, crimson^aud brown; so that I thought the paint must be
melted stones. T knew that they must make children happy
because they are so lovely, and it made me very happy to think
that the leaves were so beautiful aad that the trees glowed
so, although I could not see them.

LITERARY

I thought everybody had the Game thought about the leaves^
but I do not know now- I thought very much about the sad
news when teacher went to the doctor's; she was not bere at
dinner and 1 misGcd her.

1 do not feel that I can add anything more that will be d
Interest- My own heart is too "full of tears'* when I remember
bow my deal little pupil suffered when bhc knew "that people
thought vrv had been untrue and wicked," for I know that Khe
does indeed "love the beautiful truth with bcr whole hcArt
and iTiipd."

Yours truly,

AlfNLB U. 0ULLCTAH,

Bo much appears in the Volta Bureau Souvenir, The following
lettfT from Mr, Anagncte 1:^ reprinted from the American Annals
ef theDeaJ, April, 1S92:

PBLLE-INS INSTITUTION A^D VABSACHl^BTTS SCHOOL POK
TUB CLIND

So. Boston, March iif rfiga.
To THB Editor oy tab AnnfUs.

Sat', In compliance with your wishes I make the iotiowing
statement concerning Helen Keller's story of "King Frost.''
Ic was sent to me as a birthday gift on November 7th, from
Tuscumbia, Alabama- Knowing as well as I do Helen's estro-
ordinary abilities I did cot hesitate to accept it as her own
work ; nor do I doubt to-day that she is fully capable of writing
Bueh a composition. Soon after its appearance in print I
was pained to learn, through the Goods<?tt Ganetu, that a portion
of the story (eight or nine passages) is either a reproduction or
adaptation of Miss Margaret C^nby's "Frost Fairies." I
immediately instituted an inquiry to ascertain the facta in the
case. None of our leachera or ofHcers who are Bccustomed to
converse with Helen ever knew or heard about Mifis Canby'a
book, nor did the child's parents and relatives at home have
any knowledge of it. Her father. Captain Keller, wrote to me
OS follows on theEubject:

"1 hasten to assure you that Helen could not have received any
idea of the story from any of her relations or friends here, none

4i6 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

o£ whom can cominimicotB witJx her rcndilj' enough to impresb
her with Ihe details of a stoiy of ihat character,"

At ray request, one of tlie leflchers in the girls' dopajtment
cxamiiLcd Helen in regard to the conatraction of the Story.
Her testimoDy is as follows;

*'I first tried to ascertain what had suggested to Helen"* mind
the particular fancIeB which made her story seem lite q tcpro-
duction of one written by Mias Margaret Conby. Helen told
me that for a long time she had thought of Jack Froel as a king,
because oC the many treasures which h? possessed- Such
nch treasures must bo kept in a safe place* and so die bad
imagined them stored in jars and vases in one part of the
royal palace. She said that one autumn day her teacher told her
03 they were walking together in the woods, about the many
beautiful colours of the leaves, and she had thought that such
beauty must inako people very happy, and very grateful to
Kiug Frost. I asked HeEen what stories &he had read about
Jack Frost In anawor to my question she recited a part of
the poem called 'Freaks oF the Frost," and she referred to a
little piece about winter , in one oE tlie school readers. Shecmild
not remember that any one had ever read to her any ttories
about Kln^ Frostf but said she had talked w^ith her teacher
ahoMjMk Frost Ami the wonderful things he did."

The only person that we supposed might possibly have read
the story to Helen was her friend, Mrs. Hopkins, whom ^hcwas
visiting at the time in Brewster. I aaked Miss Sullivnn in go
at once to see Mrs, Hopkins and ascertain the facts in the matter.
The result of her invcBtJEOliDa is embodied in the printed note
herewith enclosed.*

1 have scafcely any doubt that Mies Catiby's little book was
read to Helen, by Mrs, Hopkins, in the summer of tBSB. But
the child has no lecoIlectJon whatever of this fact. On Miss
Sullivan's return to Brewster, she read to Helen the story of
"Little Lord Fauntlcroy,^' which ahc had purehaficd in Boston
for the purpose. The child was at once fascinated and a.bsorbed
with the charming story, which evidently made a deeper impces-
oion upon her mind than any previously read to her, as was
*bown in the frequent reference to it, both in her conveisalion
«nd letters, for many months afterward Her intense icterest

■Thii nolc is ■ glitrni«il dE th* tiirt [Afts And »n kpalotf^, vUcti&lr, AdaOtiM
intcTud in liiE reporu oE t^e Perldaa IniTituitf.

LITERARY STYLE

4ir

Pin FaunUeroj' must have buried all remombrance of 'Frostt
Furies," and when, more than three ycara later, ehe had acquired
, a tuUer t:iiok\li?dge £Uid uw of language, and wjls told of Jack

Frost and his work, the eeed so long buried sprang up laio new
thouEhts and fancies. This may explain the reason why Helen
claims persistpntly tbat "The Frost King" is her own stoiy.
She eeem£ to have some idea of the difference between original
composition and reproduction. She did not know the meaning
of the word "plagiarism" until quite recently, when it was
ejcplairied to her. Sh? is absolutely truthlul. Veracity ifi the
strongest element of her character. She vas very much sur-
prijied and grieved when she was told that her composition
wa£ an adaptation ol Miss Canby's story of "Frost Fairies,"
She could not Iceep back her teara, and the chief cause of her
pain seemed to be the fear lest people should doubt her Imtb-
fulness. She said» with great intensity of feeling, "1 Love the
beautiful truth." A mcist rigid examination of the child of
about nvo hours' duration, at which eight persons were present
and aeked all BortE of questions with perfect freedom, failed
to elicit in the lij^t any ttstimony convicting either her Lcacher
or any one else or the intention or attempt to praciiee deception.
In view of these facta I cannot bvt think that Helena while
writing "The Frost King," was entirely uotonadous of ever
having had the story of "Frost Fairies" read To her, nnd thathel
memory has been accompanied by such a loss of asGOCiationA
that she herself honestly believed her composition to bc
original- This theory is shared by many perBoas who are
perfectly well acquainted with the child and who are able to
rise above the clouds of a narrow prejudice.

Veiy sincerely yoiin,

M. XsAGHoa,
Dvvcior of ihe Ferhins Tns!itution and

MassMhbjetts School for iha Blind,

Tbe epTsodo had a deadening effect on Helen Keller and on
Miss Sullivao. who fcarcd thjat she bad allowed the habit of
Imitation, which has in truth made Miss Keller a writer, to go
too far. Even to-day, when Misa J' slier atrikeg off & Sne phrase,
Miss Sullivan says in humorous despair, "I wonder where she
pot that ?" But she knoivs now, since she has studied with her
pupil in college the ptoblcma of composition, under the wisa

4i8 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

advice of Mth Charles T. Copetand, that the style of every
writer and Indeed, of every humaD Wiog, iUlteratc or culti-
vated, Is 0. oompncite reminiscerce af all that he has read and
heard. Of the sources of his vocabulary ho is, for the most
parbn OS unaware as he is of ihc moincnL »hcn he ate the food
which makes a hit of his thumbnail. With most of us the
contributions from diSercnt sources are blended, crossed and
confused, A child with but few sources may keep distinct
(vhat he draws from each. In this case Helen Keller held atmost
intact in her mind, unmixed with other ideas, the words of a
stoiy which at the time it was read to her, she did not fully
underttand. The importance of this cannot be overjEtin^ated.
Itt shows bow the child-mind gathe;^ into itstlf words iC ha3
heardj and how they lurk there ready to come out whtn the Icey
that releases the spring is touched. The reason that we do nob
observe this process in ordinary children is, because we seldom
observe them at all, aiid because they are fed from ko many
aourees that the memories are confuced and mutually destructive.
The story of "The Frost King" did not, however, come from
Helm Keller's mind intact, btiL- had taken to itself the mould
of the chlld'ft temperament and bad drawn on a vocabulary
that to some extent had been supplied in other ways. The
style of her version is in aome respects even better Than the
style of Miss Cacby's story. It has the imaginative credulity
of a primitive folk-lale; whereas Miss Canby's &tory Is evi-
dently told for children hy an older person, who adopts the
manner of a fairy talc and cannot conceal the mature mood
which allowa such didactic phrases as "Jack Frost as he bsonie*
times calledn" "Noon, at which lime Mr. Sun is strongest.'*
Most people will feel the superior imaginative quality of Helen
KcUct'b opening paragraph. Surely the writer must become as
a little child to see things like that. "Twelve soldierly looking
white bears" is a stroke of genius, and there is beauty of rhythm
throughout the child's narrative. It is original in the same
way that a poet's veraion of an old story is original.

This little story ealla into life oil the qoestiona of language
and tlie philoscphy of style. Some conclusions may be brieQy
CTjggested.

All use of langUB^ ia imitative, and one'o style is made up ol
■11 other styles that one has met.

The way to write good English is to read it 4Uid hear it. Thus

LITERARY STYLE

419

it 19 that any child raay be taught to use correct ^nfflish by not
being allowed to read or tear any other kind. Iti a thild, the
■election of the better from the worse is not conscious; he b the
ficrvant of h\a word experience.

The ordinary man will never be rid of the fallacy that words
ob«y thought, chab one thmks first and phrases afterward.
There must first, it ia true, be the intention, the de^rti to uttcf
something, but the idea docs not often become specific, does
cot take shape until it is pbr^Ecd; certainly an idea is a difTerent
thing by virtue of bdng phrased. Words often make the
thought, and Lht master of words will say things greater than
in liira. A remarkable example is a paragraph froTii Miss
rr's fiketch in the Youth's Companion, Writing of the
moment when she learned that everything has a namCn she
tays: "We met the nurse carrying my little cousin; and teacher
Bpelled 'baby.' Ami for sJa first litna I was impressed with the
emallness and helplessness of a little baby, and mingled with
the thought there was another one of myselC, and I woe glad
I was myself, end not a baby." lb was a word that created
these thoughts in hor mind. So the master of words is master
of thoughts which the words create, and says things greater
than he could otherwise know. Helen Keller writing "The
Frost King" waa building better than she knew and saying
more than Bhc meant.

Whoever makes a sentence of words utteis not hia wisdom,
It the wisdom of the race whose life is in the words, though
they have never been so grouped before- The man who can
write stories thinks of stories to write. The medium calls forth
jlhe thing it conveys, and the greater the medium the deeper tlie
[tboi;ghta-

The educated man is the man whose expression is educated.

[^e substance of thought is language, and lanj^uage is the

le thing to teach the deaf child and every other child. Let

um get language and he get« the very atuS that language is

Imade of, the thought and the experience of his race. The lan-

ifiiiagc must be one used by a nation, not an artificiitl thing.

Volapuk is a paradojE, unless one lias French or English or

[German or some other language that has grown up In a nation,

le deai child who has only the sisn languai:e of De L'Ep6e a

m intellectual Philip Nolan, an alien from all racca, and his

3Ughts are not the thoughts of an EngJiehman, or a

430 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

Freneliniaii , or a SpzLnlard. The Lord's prayer in fli^ns la not
the Lord's prayer in English.

In his CBsay on Etyle De Qninoey says that the beet English
is to be found in the tetters of the cultivated gentlewoman,
bt[:au*5e slie has read only a. few goud books ajid has nut heeo
corrupted by the style of newspapers and the jargon of street,
roarlcct-placc, and assembly ball.

Precisely these outward circumstancea account for Helen
KcUcr'E ii£e of Englisb. In the early yean of her educs-tiiHl
she had only good things to read; some wcrCt indeed, triviiil #jid
not excellent in style, but not cue was positively bad in Tnanner
or Eubst&nce. This happy rendition has obtained throughout
her life. She haa been nurtured on ima^natlve literature,
and she has gathered from tt into her vigorous and tenflcicms
memory the stvle of great writerii, *'A new word opena its
tiearl to inc.*' she writes in & letter; and ^-hen she usea the word
its heart is stUi open. When she was twelve years old, she waa
Bfikcd what book fihe would take oa a long railroad journey,
'*Paradi^ Lost/' «hc answered, and she read it on the
train.

Until the last year or two she has not been master of her
fityte; rather has her sty^le been master of her. It is only since
fihe has made compositrnn a more consdous study that she
has ceased to be the victim of tha phraaei tho lucty victim,
fortunately, of the good phraEC,

When in 1S91, ehe was oneouraged to wnte a sketch of her
Hfe for the Youth's Cempatiojt, in tho hope that it would
reassure her and liclphcr to recov^er from theeHect of "The Frost
King," she produced a piece of composition which ia much
inorc remarkable and in its*jl£ more entertaining at some points
than the currespondiag part of her story in thia book. When
(ho came to retell the story in a fuller form, the echo was still
in her mind of the phrases she had written nine years before.
Yet she had not seen her sketch in the YiyHt!i'i Companiifn once
she wrote it. except two passages which Miss Sullivan read to
her to remind her of things she should say in this autobiography,
and to show^ her. when hi^r pliraaing troubled her, how muc:h
better she did as a little girl.

Prom the early sketch I take a few parage* which seem to
me, without malring very much altowanee for difference In tim^
almost aa good as anything she has written since :

LITERARY STYLE

I discovered the true way to wallc v/hea I was a year old,
lind during the radiant aunucer days that followed 1 WD» never
still a minute. . . .

Then when my father cumc in the evenings I would run tO
the gate to meet him, s.ad be would take me up m liu strong armfl
and jinit back Lhe taTiglect carls frum my face and kiss ne many
tunes, eaj-ing, "What has my Little Woman been doinf;
to-day?"

But the bnghtes^t summer has winter behind it. In the
cold, dreary month of February, when 1 was nineteen months
old, 1 hud a serious illness. I still have confused memories
of that illness. My mother sal bt-side my little bed and tried
to fioothe my feverish moane while in her troubled heart she
prayed, "Father in Heaven, spare mv baby's life! " But
the (ever grew and flamed in my eyes, and for several days my
kind physir^ian thought 1 would die.

But early one morning the fever left me aa mysteriously and
une:<pectedly as it had i^ome, and I fell inta a quiet sleep. Then
my parents knew I lA-ould live, ajid tbcy were very happy.
They djd not know £or some time after my recovery that the
cruel fever had taken my sight and hearing; taken all the light
and music and gladnefis out of my little bfc.

But I was tCJO youni; to rc^alJcc what had happened. When
T awoke and found that all vas dark and still, 1 suppose? T thought
it WOE night, aod I must have wondered why day woe so long
coming- Gradually, however, 1 got used to the silence and
darkness that surrounded me, and forgot that it had ever
been day.

I forgot everything that had been except my mother'a lender
love. Soon even my childish voice was stilled, because I had
ceased to hear any sound.

But all was nut losti After all, sight and hearing arc but
two of the beautiful blessings which God had given me. The
mofit precious, the mo^ wonderful of His gifts WEts tt ill mine.
My mind remained clear and active, "though fied ioEe'er the
light,"

As soon as my strength returned, I began to take an interest
in what the people around me were doing. I would cling
to my mother's dress as she went abou^ her household duties,
and my litile hands felt every object and observed every motioiit
and in this way I learned a great many things.

422 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

When t -was a little ulder I felt the need of come me^iu of
communication with those arouod me, and I began to make
nimple aigne which my parenls and friends readily understood;
but it often happened that I was unable to eiprees my thcughts
intelligihly, and Qt such times I would give wey to rtsy angry
(eclingfl utterly, , , .

Teacher had been with me nearly two weeks, and I had
learned eighteen or twenty words, before that thought flashed
wto my mind, as the sun breaks upon the sleeping world; and
in that moment of illumination the secret of language woiB
reveflled in me, and I Caught a glimpse of the beautiful cotmiiy
1 waa about to explore.

Teacher hiul been IryLng all the morning to make me under-
fitand that the mng and the milk in the mug had different
names; but I was very dull, and kept spelling milh for mug, and
mug for milk until teacher must have Lost all hope of making
me see ray mistake. At laEt the got up, gave me the mug, and
led mc out of the door to the purap-housc. Some one waa
pumping water, and as the cuol. freiih stream burst forth* teacher
made me put my mug under the spout and epcUed '^w-a-t-e^,"
Water!

ThaB word startled my soul, and it awnke. full of the spirit
of the morning, full of joyous, exultant song. Until that day
my mind had been like a darkened chamber, waiting for words
to pnter and light Ihe lamp, which is thought. , , .

I learned a great many words that day. I do not remem-
ber what they atl were; tiut £ do know Ihat tnalher^ father, yuter
and teacher were among them. Ill would have been difficult
to £nd a happier little child than I was that night &a t lay in
my crib and thought over the joy the day had broughi mc, and
for the first time longed for a new day to eome.

The neitt morning I awoke with joy in my heart. Every-
thin£ I toxiched seemed to quiver vrtth life. It was because I
saw everything with the new, strange, beantiful sighl. which
had been ^ven mc, I was never angry after that because 1
understood whali my friends said to me, and I was very busy
learning many wonderful things. I was never still during the
first glad day? of my freedom, I was continually spclUng,
and acting ou* the words as I spelled them. I would run, skip,
jump and E^ng, no niatter where L happened to be. Every-
thing was budding and blossonung, The honeysuckle hung ia

LITERARY STYLE

43i

long garlands, deUriously fragrant, and the loses had never
been b> beautiful beEore. Teacher and 1 Uved out-Df-doorft
from morning imtU mghti and I rejoiced greatly in the forgotten
Ugbt and sunshine found again. . . .

The morning alter our arriv^J I awoke bright and eaiiy.
A Ix^ut^ul summer day had dawned, the day on which I wa3
to make the acquaintance of a aomher and mysledcms friend.
I got up, and dfEEsed quickly and ran downGtairs. I mel
Teacher in the hall, end begged to be taken to the sea at once.
"Not yet," she responded, laughing, "We must have breakfasli
£rst/' As soon aa breakfast waa over we harried oQ to the
shore Our pathway led through low, sandy hills, and as wo
hastened on, 1 often caught my feet in the long, coarse grass,
and tumbled, laughmg, in the warm, shining Band. The beauti-
ful, warm air was peculiarly fragraoti and I noticed it got cooler
and fresher as we went on.

Suddenly vre stopped, and 1 knew, without being told, tho
Sea was at my feet. I knew, too, it was immense I awful I and
for a moment some of the sunshine seemed to have gone out
of the day. But 1 do not think I was afraid; for later, when
1 had put on my bathing-suit, and the Uttle wavca ran up on the
beflch and kissed my feet, 1 shouted for joy, and plunged fear-
lessly into the surf. But, unfortunately, I struck ray foot on a
lock and fell fonvard into tlie cold water.

Then a strange, fearful sense of danger terrified me. Tho
salt water filled my eyoa, and took away my breath, and a
great wave threw me up on the beach as easily as if I had been
a little pebble. For several days after that 1 was very rimid,
and could hardly be persuaded to go in the water at all; but by
degrees my courage returned, and almost before the summer
WR3 over, X thought it the greatest fun to be tossed about by the
cea-waveft. . » •

I do not koow whether the difference or the similarity in
phrasing between the child's verBion and the womotn'a is the more
remarkable, Tho early story h simpler and shows less dehberaie
aitiQce, though even then Miss Kcllei was prematurely conscious
of style; but the art of the later jarrai J ve, as in the passage

424

SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

nboutthc eea, or lie passasc on ttie medallion of IIomcr,iBourcly
a fulfilment of the promise of the parly stury. Tt was !n thtse
early day* that Dr. liolmcs wrote to her: '"1 am delighted
with the style of youi Itlt^rs. Tlicrcis uo affectation abuui them,
acd as they come straight from your heart, so they go stmiyht
to mine."

In the ycare when she waa growing oat of childhood, her etylc
lost Its early simplicity and became ttiiT and, as slie says,"peri-
TPigged." In these years tlie fear came many times td Miss
Sullivan leat the euccesa of the child was to cease with child-
hood. At limes Miss Keller seemed to lack flcxxhility: her
thoughts ran in set phraccs which ehe seemed to have no pou^^
to re\ise or turn over in new ways.

Then came the work in college— original theme writing with
new idt-als of compofiitlon or at least new methods of EuggeEting
thoae ideals. Mias Keller began to get the better of her old
friendly taskmaster, the phrase. This book, her first maturfl
expeximent in writing, settles the question of her ability to write.

The style of the Bible Is everywhere in Miss Keller's work,
jusL as it iain the style of moat grtat English writeis, Stevenson,
whom M^sB Sullivan htes and used to read to her pupil, is another
marked influence. In her autobiography are many quotatJona,
chiefly from the Bible and Stevenson, distinct from the context
or interwoven with it, the whole a fabric quite of her own deeign.
Her vocabulary has all the phrases that other people -use, and
the explanation of it and the reasonableness of it ought to be
evident by this time. There is no reoiion why she should strike
from her vocabtdary ell words of sound and vision. Writing
for otliei people, ^he should in many cases be true to outer
fact rather than lo her own eiperience. So long as she uses
words correctly, she should be granted tbo prii'ileKC of using
them freely, and not be expected to confine herself to a vocaha*
lary true to her lack of sight and hearing. In her atyle, as in
what she writes about, we must concede to the artist what we
deny to the autobiographtir. It should bi? CAplained, too,
that Umk and s9e are used by the bhnd^ and hrar by the
deaf, for perceive; they arc simple and more couvenient
words. Only a literal person could think of holding the
blind to fwcfftion or appffrcepiiott, when seting and looking
arc so much easier, and have, moreover, in the speech of hU
[iLMi the mE-aning of intellectual recognition as well as r^cosni'

LITERARY STYLE

4=5

tion through the sense of sight. When Miss Ktller exammea
a Btatue, sho says in her natural idiom, aa her fingers run over
the marble, "It looks like a head or Flora."

It IS tnir^H on the othor hand, that iri her descripHons, she 19
best from the point of view: of orl when she U faithful to her
own ficusations: and this is precisely true of all jLitists,

Her recent training has taught her to drop a good deal of
her conventionality ond to write about eJiperiencca in her life
which aic peculiar to her and which, \\k^ the storm in the wild
cherry tree, mpan mcist and call for the truest phrasing. She
has learned more and more to givo up the style she borrowed
from books and trieJ to use, because she wanted to write like
other people; she has leart^ed that she is at her best when she
'^feels" the lilies away; lets the roses press into her hnnds imd
Bpeaks of the heat which to her means light.

Miss Keller's ftutnbJography contains almost everything
that she ever intended to publish. It sscras worth whilsi how-
ever* to quote froia some of her ciiance bits of writing, which
are neither so informal as her letters nor so carefully composed
fi3 her atory cf her life- Thcae ejitracts are from her exercises
in her course in composition, where she showed htrself at the
be^ning cf her college life quite without rival Among her
clasaroatea, Mr, Charlca T- Copeland, who has been for many
years instructor in English and Lecturer on English Literature
at Harvard and Radclific , said to Tne : *' In some of her
work she has shown that she can wiil^ belter than any pupil
I ever had, man or woman. She has an excellent "ear" for tha
flow of sentences." The extracts follow:

A few veraes of Omar Khayyam's poetry have jtut been
rea4 to mCi ajid I feel as If I had spent the to&t ha!f-hoiir in a
magnificent sepulcber. Yes, it is a tomb in which hope, joy
and the power of acting nobly lie buried. Every beautiful
description, every deep thought ghdcs insensibly into the sarac
mournful chant of the brevity of life, of ihe slow decay and
dissolution of oU earthly things r The poet'fi bright, fond
raemorics of love, youth and beauty arc but the funeral torches
shedding their light on this tomb, or to modify the image 4
Lttle. they ore the flowers that bloom on it, watered with tear*
and fed by a bleeding heart Bcaide the tomb ^ts a weary soul.

h. I

i36 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

rejoicing neither in the joys uf the pasl nor in the posGibilitieB of
the future, but seeking consolaiion in forgelfulnciia. In vain
theinepifing scaihoutGto this languid soul, in vain the heavens
Btrive with its weakness: it 6tUl persists tn regretting and Bceks
fi rerujje in obliviun hum the pangs of preaant woe. At times
it catches fiome famt echti from the living, joyous, real world, a
gleam of the perfection that Ift io l>e; and, thriJled out of its
de&pondcncy. fL'oJs capable of wdrkiitg oat a grand idea! even
"in the poor, miserable, hampered acttisl," wherein it is placed;
but in a moment the inspiration, the vjfiion is gone, and this
great, much-auHeHn^ soul is again enveloped fu the darknesa
of iinoertainty and despair.

It is wonderful bow much Lime good people spend fEgbting
tlie devil, H they woutd only expend the fiame amount of
encr^ loving their fellow men, the devil would die in bi« own
tracks of CEmui.

I often think that beautiful ideas embarrass most paople
aa much as the company of great men. They arc regarded
generaUy ss far more appropriate in booka and in public die-
courses than in the parlor or at the table. Of couise 1 do not
refer to beantiful suiiiiuents, but to the higher truths relating
to everydfl}' life- Few people that I know seem ever to pause
in their dail/ intercourse to bonder at the beautiful bits oi
truth they have gathered during their years of study. Often,
when 1 Gpeak enthusiastically of something in hietory or in
poetry, I receive no response, and I feel that I must change the
subject and return to the commonest topics, such as the weather.
dreEEniakirg, BportE, sickness, "blues" and "worricfi." To be
sure, 1 take the keenest interest in cvtrythiog that concern*
those who surround me: it is this very intertst which makes
it GO difficult for me to carry on a conversation with some people
who will not talk or say what they think ; but I should not be sorry
Co find more friends ready to talk with me row and then about
the wonderful things 1 read. We need not be like "Le« Fcmmcs
Gavantcs'*; but wc ought to have fiomcthing to Gay about what
we learn viS well as about what we mttst do, aod what our pri>
lessore say or how they mark our them?*.

To-day I took luncheon with the Frcflhman Class of Radclifla

LITERARY ST\'LE

Thia waa ray flrat real experience in college Hfc. aad a ddlglitful
ejtperieiice it wasl For the firet time since my eocrflnce into
Radcliffe I bad tbe opjiorttinit/ t4> mo-kc frionds witb all my
classm^tcs^ and the pleasure of knowing that they regarded
me as one (if tbemselvEs. insteau at thinking of me as living
apart and taking no interest in the everyday nothinge oi their
Ufe, da 1 had sometimes feared they did. I have often been
surprised to hear this opinion expressed or rether implied by
ffirlE of lay own age and even by people advanced in years.
Once Bome one wrote to mc that in hia mind 1 was always ^'swctt
and earnest."" Ihinking only uf what is wise< good and intertaiing
— as if he thijught 1 wub one ot those weah&ome saints of wliom
there are only too many in the world! I always laugh at
Ihtw foolish notioTiBH and assure my friends that it i* much better
to have a few fatilte and be cheerful and responsive in spite of
all deprivations than to retire into one's ahell, pot one^s aflliction,
clothe it with fianotiiy, and then set one's self up as a monumerit
of patience, virtue, goodness and all in all; but even while
I laugh I fi:el a twinge of pain !n my heart, bccaiise it seems
Tether hard to me that any one should imagine that I do rot
(eel the tender bonds which draw mc to my young ebters — -
the syropathies springing frotn what we have in common-
youth, hope, a half-eager, half-timid attitude towards the life
before us and above oU the royally of maidenhood.

Sainte-Beuve says, "11 vietit uh oga peai-Hrff /juand on n*ecHt
pins." This is the only alluBion I have reai3 to the possibility that
the soiuces of literaturen varied and ioliniLe aa they aeem now,
may sometime be exhausted. It surprisea me to find that such
an idea has crossed the mind of any one, especially of a highly
gifted critic. The vtry fact that the nineteenth century baa
not produced many anthors whom Che wnrld may ermnt amrwig
tbe greatest of all time does not in my opinion justify the rcmarlCi
"There may come a time when people ctase to write.''

In the first place, the fountains of Uteraiure are fed by two
Tast worlds, one o£ action, one of thought, by a succesaion of
cicaUoQs in the one and of changes in the other. New eiperif ncea
and events call forth new ideas and Btir men Co aslc questions
unthoughc of before, and seek a definite answer in the deptbfl
of human knowledge.

In the second place, i£ ib la true that aa many centuries mutft

4^3 A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

pass before the world becomes pcrfecl as pissed before it becainft
what it is to-day, literature will surely be enriched incalcuUbly
by the trempndoua changes, acquisitions snd TinproveioentB
that cannot fail to take place in Ihc distant future. If geniua
Las been silent (or n century it bus not been idle. On the
contrary, it has been colltcting fresh materials not only from
the remote post, but also from the age of progrcafi and develop-
ment, and perhaps in the new cpututy there will be oulbiusts
of splendor in all the various branches of htorature. At
prcBent the world ia undergoing a complete revolution, and in
tlie midfit of falline systems and empires, conflicting theories
and creeds, discoveries and inventions, it ia a marvel hew one
can produce any great literary works at all. Thia ia an age of
workers, not uf thinkers. The song to-day ia:

Lee the dead rasE bury iu dtad,
Act, Act in the living prci^aLn
Heart iviihiJi uid God avorbrviit

A little later, when the rush and heat of achievement relax, wo
can begin to expect ihe appearance of grand men to celebrate
in glorious poetry and prose the deeds and triumphs of ths
last few centurieot

It ia very interesting to watch a plant grow, it is like taking
part in Creation. When all outside is cold and white, when the
little children of the woodland are gone to their nurseries in the
waim earth, and ihc empty nests on the bare trees fill with snow,
my window-garden glowa and stnilea, making summer within
while it is winter without. It is wonderful to see flowers bloom
in the midEt of a snow-storm I I have felt a bud "shyly doff
her green hood and blossom with a silken burst of sound,"
while the icy fingers of the snow beat against the window-
panes. What secret power, 1 wonder^ caused this blost^oming
miracle p What mysterious force guided the seedling from
the dark earth up to the light, through loaf and stem and bud,
to glorious fuIHlmont in the perfect flower? Who eould have
dreamed that such beauty lurked in the dark earth, was latent
in the tiny seed we planted? Beautiful flowpr, you have taught
me to Eee a Uttle way into the hidden heart of things. Now
I undeiiiand that the darkness everywhac may hold po&d-
bilitiea belter even than my hopes.

LITERARY STYLE

A rKBB TEANBt^TIOK TE-OU UORACq

Bock II— t a.

1 am not one of tlioffe on whom fortune dpigna lo smile. My
bouse is Dot resplendent with ivory and gold; nor ia it adorned
with marble arohes, resting on graceful eoltimna brought from
the qiiarriea of (^atant Afnco. For me no thrifty spinners
weave purple gamients, I have not unexpectedly fallt^n heir
to princely Mlatea, titles or power; but 1 have fiomething more
to be desired than all the w^rld'a trcAsures — ^the love of my
friends, arid huiiorabte fame, won by my own industry and
talents. Despite my poverty, it is my privilege to be the
companion of the nch aud mighty. I am too fateful for all
these blessings to wish for more from princes, or fium the gods.
My htlle Sabine farm ia dear to me; for here 1 spend my happiest
days, far from the noiae and strife of the worldi

Oh ye who live in ilie midst of lunnry. who seek beautiful
marblefl for ne^ villas, that chall eurpaES the old In Gpkudor,
you never dream that the shadow of death is hansii^G over your
faahs. Forgetful of the tomb, you lay the foundation of your
palaces. In your mad pursuit oE pleasure you rob the sea of
lis beach and desecrate hallowed ground. More i^vcn than this.
In your wickedness you destroy the peao^ful homes of your
clients I Without a touch o£ remorse you drive the father from
liifi land, clasping to his bosom his hou^sehold gods and his
^Itelf-naked children.

You forget that death comes to the rich and the poor alike,
Jwid comes once for all; but lemeraber, Acheron could not be
I bribed by gold to ferry the crafty PrometheuH back to the sunlit
'world. Tantalus^ too, great as he was above all mortals, i^ent
.'down to the kingdom of the dead, never to relum. Remember,
[too. thatr although death Is Inexorable, yet he is just; for
Ifie brings retribution to the rich for their wickedness, and gives
■the poor eternal rest from their toil and eoitow.

Ah, the pranks that the nixies of Dreamland play on ua
itrhile we steep 1 Methinks "Ihey are jesters at the Court of
^Heaven." They frequently take the ahape oi daily themes to
lock me; they stmt about an the stage of Sl^ep like foo1i^
virgins, only they carry weU-trimmed note-books in their

43° A SUPPLEMENTARY ACCOUNT

hands instaad of orapLy Umpfi. At Dthor times thay eKantine
and cross- examuie me in all the studies I have ever liad, and
invariably ask me questions s.s easy to answer as this: "What
wcs the name of the first mouse that worried Hippopotamua,
E&trap of Cambridge under Astya-gaa, grandfather of Cynis
the GreatF" I wake terror-stricVei] with the Words dnging
jn my ears. "An answer or your life!"

Such arc the distorted ffincics that flit through the mind o£
one who is at college and lives as I do in an aimoaphere of
ideas, conceptions and half- thoughts, half- feelings which tumble
and joBtlc each other unlJl one is almijst crazy. I rarely have
dreama that arc not in kierpingwith what I really think and feel,
but one night my very nature seemed to change, and I stood
in the eye of the world a mighty man and a terrible;, Katurally
1 love peace and hate war and all that pertains to war; I see
nothiTig admirable in the ruthl^B^ career of Napoleon» save its
finish. Nevertheless, in that dream the spirit of that pitiless
slayer of men entered me I I shall never forget how the fury of
battle throbbed in ray veins— it seemed as if the tumultiious
beating of my heart would stop my breath, [ rode a ficiy
hanter — I can feel the impatient toss of his head now and
Iho qiiivcr that ran through him at the first roar of the cannon.

From the top of ihe hill where i stood I saw my army surging
over a Runlil plain like argry hteakere^ and as they moved, 1
saw the green of fields, like the cool hollows between billowa.
Trumpet answered trumpet above the steady heat of dnuns
and the rhythm of marching feet- I spurred my panting
Bteed and waving my anord on high and shouting, "I comet
Behold me, warriors — Europe]*' 1 plunged into the oncoming
billows^ as a <itrotig swimmer dives into breaken, and struck.
alas, 'tis true, the bedpost f

Now I rarely sleep without dreaming: hut lieforc Miss Sullivan
came to me, my dreams were few and far between, devoid
of thought or coherency, except those of a purely physical
nature- En my dreams something was always fatliag suddenly
and heavily, and at times my nurse seemed to punish me for my
unkind treatment of her in the daytime and return at an usurer's
rale of interest my kietings and pinchinga, 1 would wake
with a itarl or struggle ffflntically to escape from my tormenCor-
I was very fond of bananas, and one night I dreamed that I
found a Jong string of thorn in th? diuiiiE-iooint near the cup-

LITERARY STYLE

431

board, otl peeled and dcliciousl/ ripe, and all 1 had to do wa4
to fitand under the string nnd eat as long as t could eat-
After MisE SullivBii Game to me, tho more 1 Icamodt the
aEtcnci I dreamed: but with the waking ot my nund there came
manj' dreaty fancies and vague terrors which troubled my sleep
for a long time. I dreaded the dorkoees and loved tbe wood-
Ore, Its warm touch seemed so like a liuTiian caress, I really
thought it wsa a tenttent being, capable of loving and protecting
me. One cold wintc^r night I ws^ clone in my room. lAias
Sullivan h£id put out the light and goue away, thiuldiig 1 wa^
sound asleep. Suddenly 1 felt my bed shake, and a wolf seomed
to spring on me and suarl in my face. It was only a dream, buti
I thought Lt real, and my heart sank within me. 1 dared not
Bcream. and 1 dared not stay in bed. Perhaps thiE was a con-
fused recollection of the story I had heard not long before
about Red Riding Hood, At eM events, I slipped down from Ihe
bed and nestled close to the fire which had not fiickered out.
The instant 1 felt its vrarmth I w^s reassuredi and I aat a long
time watching it climb higher ami hitUcr in shining waves.
At last fileep surprised me, and when Mi^ Sulhvad returned
she found me wrapped in a blanket by the hearth.

Often when I dreaTii. thoughts pass through my mind like
cowled Ehadows, silent and remote, and disappear. Perhaps
they are the ghoata of thoughts that once mhabiled the mind of
an ancestor- At other times the things 1 have Icamed and the
things I have been taught, drop awayt as the lisord sheds its
akin, and 1 sec my soul as God scea iL. There are also rare and
beautiful moments when 1 see and hear in Dreamland. What
if in my wakmg hours a sound should ring through the sileob
laUs of hearing? What if a ray of light should ilaah through
the darkened ehambera of iny EOul? What would happen, I
ask many and many a time. Would the bow-on d-string tension
ct life finap^ Wotild tlje lieATt, overweighted with Euddcn
joYt stop beating for very excess oC happiness?

INDEX

Abstract Ide^i, 3*^3'» 35*>f
3S*-JS9* 3^S' See also
Innate idfos and Rttigion^

Adams, Benjamin, 4.
AdtLms. Charles, 4,
Mteid, 111, J45, J5J1 aS3»
Aldcn, Mr. Wilfiam L,, 336.
Alexander, Mr, Wm. V., eee

Editor's PrcEaee,
Algebra, study of, 50-95, »4t-

242, J48-
Allen. Mr. E. E.. ^g, ags.
Alphabet, see Manual.
Amerkan Annals of ih4 Deaf,

AmcricrLii Associatiori to Pro-
mote the Teaching of Speech
to the Deaf, meeting at
ChautflUtjua, So, 334, 300:
CA.tracta from Mi&a Sulli-
van's paper before, [474-177,
386-387^ Helen KcDc/a
addrcsB at meeting at Mt,
Airy, j9'-3?3-

AnagnoB, Mr. Michael, 19, 63-
yi, ToS, iSo, 193, 9Q9, 300,
ioa, 311, 324. 344; letter
frQm, 415; letters to, i4fl,
151, IS4- '^J. i*Sj 405-

Andersen, Hana Chrialian, 399,

Andovcr, visit to, 30a, 399.

Anna, Cau^in (Mrs, George T,
Turner), letter to, 145.

Arabian Nights, The, toS-

Aritbmctic, study of, 3$, fit,
175- aig, 330, 364-3*55»

/^j YoH Ltkf IS, Ss-

Astnjnomy, study otf 90, 165*

Bacom's Essays, 365.

B«ll, Dr. Alexaddef GtBham,

90.67,73.76. 137-uai '55.
iga, 916, 3ig, ^35- 3&S— :j6g,
774. 3J7' »73, 346. 395;
letter to. uB-
Belle, "our dog," 13, jja-

3'3-
Bcnnctt, 3Jias Delia, letter to,

Bibl*. M, iit-rtj, aSj,
5*6f« 5(fW«, loS.
Bicycle, 175, 34i-?44.
BirdU and H(j Fairy Friand^t

*Sj 4C'i-4i3>
S/aCiB Biraitty. 53, 36J,
Blind Girls, letters to, 14G,

J47-
BcV. Mr. Edward W., Eee

Editor's Preface.
Hooka. 1 05-1 1 S, 3OJ. 370-377,

37g-3flo, 3^5, See aUo

l,aneua^it Method, Style, and

specific titlt^a.
Botany, ctudy of, 36, 3G4.
Boy 1 Ktinv, A, 13*.
Bradford, Mrs. George H..

letter to, 331.
Bradstreet, Mcb&iq., letter tOi

191.
Brrulle, S4. c}0, 152. 7751 >94,

39*1 J"4i h1^9; difficulty of,

in examinations, 9 j-9 5, vj^

»&o.
Braille Machine, 3G5. ^ga.
Biidgman, Laura. 17, 13. 3791

igo, aD7-Jo8. jos, 330, j68.
Brooks, Ph dims , 133, sij, 37».

399; tetter from, 1S7; Utters

to, 1S5, 100, 903,
Bryant, William CuUea, Sa^

303-363.

433

434

INDEX

Bunter Hill, visit to, 4^.
Burke's Spefck on Cfitetiiolion

with Apterica. 85-86,
Burroughs, Mr- Joha, j^g, J33,

Cambridge School for young
Ladies, 81-93, 137-240.

Campbell^ Mildred, 6.

Caiihy. Miss Margaret T-. 65-
68, 401; letters £rom, 40J—

40 J-
Cards, ploying, uS.
Carlyle, 117,

CastU of Olranto. Tkt. 031,
Chatnberfd NauiiiHS^ The. 37.
Clmnilierlin, Mr. J. E., lai-

12a, it&, 39I'
Chambcrliii, Mrs. J. £., ajiS.
Checkers, ia6>
Cbcss, ia6.

Children, love of, taS.
Chisholm, Dr.< so
Chrialinas, first, 41-4^, 150.

342-343-
Church, firat visit to, 347-348.
Cicero, 155,
CircuH, 340-341,
Clemetis, Mr, Samuel L., 117,

'a*'- '39- "7- "^^^ '*'^-
Clflmrnt, Mr, Edward H.,

letter to. aog.
Clevelaad, Mr. Grover, 155,
Cleveland, Mrs- Grover, letter

to, 21 L.

Colombo. 36a, 764.

Colour, idea of, 145, jS8, 335,

339-34'^-
Comnnimcalioii. See Convet-

salion, A/onuu/ ^/f>hd&ff,

SiffMj, Speech.
Conversation, knowledge

gained from, 3^9- tbeme

on. 4»6.
Copeland. Mr. Charlea Town-
fiend, too. 41&, 4351 Letter

to, 3 7 3.
Col^eille, 1J7, 164,
Cornell Univcroity, afifi,
Croutor, Dr., a 3 5,

Death, idea of, 344* 354-3ES-
Derhy, Mi^ CuroLinc* letters

to, 307. aio, rJ4. dig. nij,

134- 33^, III, 333. Ji4. »44-
Diary, ece I'ournaU^
Didcens's ,4m[TfC(i« N^Ui, 17;

^ Child's History a} England^

loS, J67,
Dodge, Mni. Mary Mapes, 139,

Dog Show, 3i6.

Doga, 135,

"DolJ, " ja-34, 305-30*-

Donald, MiEB Dora, 153.

DreadB^ 439-431,

Dnimmond, Mr. Henry, 13 J,

EcLDGues, Virgil's- 25^- aS3-
Econcmics, atudy of, loo.
Education, Chapter on, '^7-~

383. Sei^ also for Epcoific

diecu^ions, Bi?oks,LaHguag9

Method. Style.
Elizabethan LUeTatiire, sludy

of, 100.
Emerton's Middle Ages, 115.
Ecdicott, Mr William, 46,

Enghsh, study of, 83, 97, 09,
100, ai4f 373, See also
Style.

E'Hj.H.h Arden. 197.

Everett. Edward, 4.

Everett, Lucy Helen, 4,

Examinations. Sec Radclifft^

Paert Qubbh, The, 964.
Fsm Qunrry. 50-54, 63.
Fire, expenenre with, y.
Frecman'e History of Europe,

French Literature, comments

on, J 16.
French, etudy of, 78, 80, 97,

'6»-"ej.3fio.
Freytag'p A us dffm Stoat Fried-

Ttifii dci GroMcn. 85.
Frost Fairits, Tlie, G4-68, 401;

iitory quoted iu full, 40^

4"3-

INDEX

"Frost King" ert^icide. The,
ao4; Editor's aiscussion of*
417-4 1 g i Helen KcJler's
account of, 6J-7J. 71; Miss
SiJIivul'^ account of, 396-

4"5-

Frost Kin^, The, Helen

Keller's. 406—413-
Fuller, Mrs- S- R-, letter to,

ass-
Fuller. Mi33 Sarah, sg-Ooi 3S4,

387; kttcr to. iBj,
Pumcsa, Dr. H. H., 387,

GAkti9- Sec Cards, Checkers,

Ckff^s, etc.
Garcclon, Dr,, J49.
GtMKTaphy, study of, 35^J*i

364.
Geometry, study cf, Qo-54,

341-342,
Gciman Literature, corarncn is

on, I j6, 117'
German, study of, 80. Sj, 97,

180.
Gader, Mr. Richard WatBon.

13B, 130,
Gilmaii, Mr. Arthur, 83-93,

^37 1 94^j s6a-26i, 996,

.i'.''^-

Gilman. Dr, Daniel C. , extract

from letter to Miss Sullivan,

301,
GoetlieH p7 [AusMiriHttnLebtH,

By, Faust, n6.
Goodhue, Susanna E., 4.
'i>odscn Ga^f^ie, T"*I(T, 401.
'Cv0al Round World, The, letter

tfj, H-J6.
Greece, interest in, log— 110^
" Greek Heroes " [Charlea

Kiogsky'a The Heroes), %is%,

Greek, study of^ 90^ tio— iii,

34>- 353'
Green's A ^hort History of iha

English People. 115, 265,
999,
Greer, Dr. David H,, 363-^64,
a6S; letter %o, 353-

Gror*?, Fran, 84, ^fif.
Govetiuiient, study of, too.

Haouetood.MIss Linnie, 255.
Hole, Dr. Edward E-, 4. 13S-

"37- '39- '5*' 34*; letters to,

ijT, j66, i8f, 51J, j^B.
Hahfai, visit to, lao-i ^r, 377-

978.
Hammond. See _ TypaurriUr,
Hands, recognition of, 133^

aS6.
Harbaugh, Miss, 91,
Hawthorne's Ths Wonder

Book, toS-
Heady, Mr. Morrison, lettciK

tOp 153. '53-

ffciJi, loS.

HcJnc'fl Harsreist, 85.

Henry Esmond, 365.

Hcmck. Rot-erti iij.

Hipobotham, Mr. H. N., 76^
218-319.

History, stu(5y of, S3, 97, 115,
jff3i 324,

Hits, Mr, John, »S5.3S4; let-
ters to, aia, 234, 3J9, 249,
2<g, 264. 767. 5co also
fioi tor's Preface.

Hoar, Hon. George F., letter
to, 280.

Holmes, Mr. John H., letter

to. 901.

Holmes, Dr. Oliver Wendell.
1,15- 136; extract from poem ,
"^ring," 3gB ; leltcrB from ,
i8<j, 434; letters to, tSa, 198,

Homer, 254; medallion of, 1 17-
128. Sce(7rfrjt, YJiiJ,

Hood, Thomiis, iij*

Hooker. Miss, 318.

Hopkina, Sophia C., 67, 3C1,
401; Helen Keller'fi letter to ,
164; Miss Sullivan's letters

t<^' 3'*3-337» 3*°-3S»' See
also Editors Prefaee,
Horace, Odes of, loa, 264;
Helen Keller'^ traudlatioa
from, 41 g,

'V->

43^

INDEX

Howe, Dr. Samuel Gridley, 17-
ajfi-j^fl, 380, 137-398, joa,

37*-
Howclls, Mr, William Dean,

Sj, ijB, ja7, 3j8, 3jS.

Hugo. 1 16.

HuTTiason. Dr. T. A., aas. jaA.

HusSt examination on, jqj-

Hutton, Mr, Laurence, 138,

337, 3^8, 331,
Hutton, Mrs. Laurpnee, fjS,

140. 5JT- 3&fi. =9S: letters

to, 3ap, 337. ajo. 340. 341.

34J, »44t 34a, IS'. J,5St »S7-

S6l. I&6) 374. Sec 0.150

£dilor'o Pjx>faco,

lU^D, 110, TIX, B4'i '45* *5>>
Inches. Mr;, Cbarlca E., Uiiet

to, 3>[.

Ii^na-te ideas, 303-354.

Irons, Rev. Joan D,, 7^79,

931.

Irving, Sir Henry, iftB, tfji,
Irving, Washington, 8^.
Irwin. Miss Agnes, 358. 387.

Ivy Green, 5. 308-

JerFERsoN, Mr. JcMph laE^
130, 387,

JotnEon, Samuel. S6.
oumalfi, extracts from Helen
KeUer'B, 396. 34^47. i^°~
361, 4i4-4tc.

KcUcr, C&Gpar, *,

Keller, MiBo Bvelma H., letter
to, 16 1.

Keller, ■^Grandfather/* 4.

Keller, Helen, ancestrv, 3;
birth, 3; <]haracteriGitcs. 6,
14, 17, 3S7-2B8, 304->96,
304-305, 3^3. _3S5-357. 3^3~

J 54: chnstcniQg. t; early
ome,4; first lesson, a a, 305;
FroHt King episode^ 63-73,
356-419; illneGS, 7; journey
to Baltimore, tH; joum*y
to Boston. 4^; knowledge
before education, 10, >l.
304. 307; knowledge gained
irom conversation, aSg;
knowledgo ol life, 195;
knowledge of visible world,
389-390, 357; plan to eatab-
tisb an institution for deaf
and blind children, 367— a6^j
plEa&urea. 119-131; post-
pones cntcriag Radcliile.
958; studies at Hulton,
Penn,, 78-79, lai; studies
at Wrignl-Humason Scbool,
So-Bi. 314—136; studies
under Mr, Merton S. Keith,
140-34?, 344-245. 2 4*, 353-
155; tea for kindcrEarteo,
ao6— aotj; viait to Andover,
doa; visit to Cincinnati, 34^^
349: visit to HnUffLji, i»o,
377-3 78; r-isit to Memphis,

Mo-15^ 345-346; visit to
agara. 74. 315-317; vi^t
to Plymouth. 45, 159-161;
visit to World's Fair, 75-77,
aiS— ajo; work (or Tommy
Stringer, 196-303;
Keller, Dr. Jamea, 333, 346,

347' 349-
IC&ATA,MisARagnhi]d,5g, 184, Keller. Mr. James, 303. 305,

as6.
Keith, Mr. Merton S., 93"*JS*

^40, 140-343, 345, *43i iSSt

361, 306, 383.
Keller, Captam Arthur H., 4,

>4-i5» »J7, J<>4i 309- 3"t

343- 344- 347-348-

308.

Kel1t:r, MiS- Kate Adams. 4, 9,
87, all, 303. 3o4p 308,
343-344 : letters to, 145,
158, itB, 179. T9», afC, i«7

Keller, Mi£S Mildred, 16, S;
333-334 betters to, 173, f6i

INDEX

43r

Keller, Ptulttp^ Brools, no,

Kcller'3 LcL]:iding, ^t;, 331
Khayyam^ sec Omor
King Lrar. 113.
K-ine of IVa^lartd, 331,
Kipung, Mr Rudynrd, 353.
KiplinE's Dreaming True, a^fi:

jHngls Book. 109, 351, 3g4-
Kittrcdge, Professor George

Lyman, 100, 1 15.
Knowledge, before education,

10, 31, 304, 307; of hf^. 395;

of vialble world, 389-390,

"Knowledge is power," 104-
Kreht, Mr, George R., letter
to, 197

Ladies' Home Joubmal, 71;

see also Ediior'ii Preface,
La Foniuine'a Fabies, 7ft, loS,

log.
Lamb's TaJts from Shakfs-

fvarff, 108. 3(JS'
Larnaon, Mrs, Mary Swift, 39,

39S footnote.
Language, absorption of, lofi,

iOt-iOj. 318, 3^s, 3TS, ag;.

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