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GENTLEMEN,

LAURA BRIDGMAN has become extensively known. Human sympathies are always ready to be poured out in proportion to the amount of human suffering. The privation of any one sense is supposed to be a dreadful calamity, and calls at once for our sympathy with the sufferer; but when a human being is known to be deaf, dumb, blind, without smell, and with imperfect taste, that being excites the tender compassion of all who feel, and becomes an object of great curiosity to those who reflect, as well as feel. When the supposed sufferer is a child -- a girl -- and of pleasing appearance, the sympathy and the interest are naturally increased.

Such is the case with our beloved pupil, Laura Bridgman; and so general is the interest which she has excited, and so numerous are the inquiries concerning her, that I have thought it would be showing proper respect to the public of this section of the country, to publish, in the next annual report, a short history of her case. It is true, an account of the manner of teaching her, and of her progress from year to year, has been given in the reports of 1838, '39, and '40. But those reports are seldom preserved; and hundreds of people have seen her for the first time during the last year. I therefore submit the following imperfect outline of her history.

She was born in Hanover, New Hampshire, on the twenty-first of December, 1829. She is described as having been a very sprightly and pretty infant, with bright blue eyes. She was, however, so puny and feeble, until she was a year and a half old, that her parents hardly hoped to rear her. She was subject to severe fits, which seemed to rack her frame almost beyond its power of endurance, and life was held by the feeblest tenure; but when a year and a half old, she seemed to rally; the dangerous symptoms subsided; and at twenty months old, she was perfectly well.

Then her mental powers, hitherto stinted in their growth, rapidly developed themselves; and during the four months of health which she enjoyed, she appears (making due allowance for a fond mother's account) to have displayed a considerable degree of intelligence.

But suddenly she sickened again; her disease raged with great violence during five weeks, when her eyes and ears were inflamed, suppurated, and their contents were discharged. But though sight and hearing were gone forever, the poor child's sufferings were not ended; the fever raged during seven weeks; "for five months she was kept in bed in a darkened room; it was "a year before she could walk unsupported, and two years before "she could sit up all day." It was now observed that her sense of smell was almost entirely destroyed; and consequently, that her taste was much blunted.

It was not until four years of age, that the poor child's bodily health seemed restored, and she was able to enter upon her apprenticeship of life and the world.

But what a situation was hers! The darkness and the silence of the tomb were around her: no mother's smile called forth her answering smile, -- no father's voice taught her to imitate his sounds -- to her, brothers and sisters were but forms of matter which resisted her touch, but which differed not from the furniture of the house, save in warmth and in the power of locomotion; and not even in these respects from the dog and the cat.

But the immortal spirit which had been implanted within her could not die, nor be maimed nor mutilated; and though most of its avenues of communication with the world were cut off, it began to manifest itself through the others. As soon as she could walk, she began to explore the room, and then the house; she became familiar with the form, density, weight, and heat, of every article she could lay her hands upon. She followed her mother, and felt of her hands and arms, as she was occupied about the house; and her disposition to imitate led her to repeat every thing herself. She even learned to sew a little, and to knit.

Her affections, too, began to expand, and seemed to be lavished upon the members of her family with peculiar force.

But the means of communication with her were very limited; she could only be told to go to a place by being pushed; or to come to one by a sign of drawing her. Patting her gently on the head signified approbation; on the back, disapprobation.

She showed every disposition to learn, and manifestly began to use a natural language of her own; she had a sign to express her idea of each member of the family; as drawing her fingers down each side of her face, to allude to the whiskers of one; twirling her hand around, in imitation of the motion of a spinning wheel, for another; and so on. But although she received all the aid that a kind mother could bestow, she soon began to give proof of the importance of language to the developement -sic- of human character: caressing and chiding will do for infants and dogs, but not for children; and by the time Laura was seven years old, the moral effects of her privation began to appear. There nothing to control her will but the absolute power of another, and humanity revolts at this: she had already begun to disregard all but the sterner nature of her father; and it was evident, that as the propensities should increase with her physical growth, so would the difficulty of restraining them increase.

At this time, I was so fortunate as to hear of the child, and immediately hastened to Hanover, to see her. I found her with a well-formed figure; a strongly-marked, nervous-sanguine temperament; a large and beautifully shaped head, and the whole system in healthy action.

Here seemed a rare opportunity of benefitting an individual, and of trying a plan for the education of a deaf and blind person, which I had formed on seeing Julia Brace, at Hartford.

The parents were easily induced to consent to her coming to Boston, and on the fourth of October, 1837, they brought her to the Institution.

For a while, she was much bewildered; and after waiting about two weeks, until she became acquainted with her new locality, and somewhat familiar with the inmates, the attempt was made to give her knowledge of arbitrary signs, by which she could interchange thoughts with others.

There was one of two ways to be adopted; either to go on to build up a language of signs on the basis of the natural language which she had already commenced herself; or to teach her the purely arbitrary language in common use: that is, to give her a sign for every individual thing, or to give her a knowledge of letters, by combination of which she might express her idea of the existence, and the mode and condition of existence, of any thing. The former would have been easy, but very ineffectual; the latter seemed very difficult, but, if accomplished, very effectual; I determined, therefore, to try the latter.

The first experiments were made by taking articles in common use, such as knives, forks, spoons, keys, &c., and pasting upon them labels with their names printed in raised letters. These she felt of very carefully, and soon, of course, distinguished that the crooked lines s p o o n, differed as much from the crooked lines k e y, as the spoon differed from the key in form.

Then small detached labels, with the same words printed upon them, were put into her hands; and she soon observed that they were similar to the ones pasted on the articles. She showed her perception of this similarity by laying the label k e y upon the key, and the label s p o o n upon the spoon. She was encouraged here by the natural sign of approbation, patting on the head.

The same process was then repeated with all the articles which she could handle; and she very easily learned to place the proper labels upon them. It was evident, however, that the only intellectual exercise was that of imitation and memory. She recollected that the label b o o k was placed upon a book, and she repeated the process first from imitation, next from memory, with only the motive of love of approbation, but apparently without the intellectual perception of any relation between the things.

After a while, instead of labels, the individual letters were given to her on detached bits of paper: they were arranged side by side, so as to spell b o o k, k e y, &c.; then they were mixed up in a heap, and a sign was made for her to arrange them herself, so as to express the words book, key, &e., and she did so.

Hitherto, the process had been mechanical, and the success about as great as teaching a very knowing dog, a variety of tricks. The poor child had sat in mute amazement, and patiently imitated every thing her teacher did; but now the truth began to flash upon her -- her intellect began to work -- she perceived that here was a way by which she could herself make up a sign of any thing that was in her own mind, and show it to another mind, and at once her countenance lighted up with a human expression: it was no longer a dog, or parrot, -- it was an immortal spirit, eagerly seizing upon a new link of union with other spirits! I could almost fix upon the moment when this truth dawned upon her mind, and spread its light to her countenance; I saw that the great obstacle was overcome, and that henceforward nothing but patient and persevering, but plain and straightforward efforts were to be used.

The result thus far, is quickly related, and easily conceived; but not so was the process; for many weeks of apparently unprofitable labor were passed, before it was effected.

When it was said above, that a sign was made, it was intended to say, that the action was performed by her teacher, she feeling of his hands, and then imitating the motion.

The next step was to procure a set of metal types, with the different letters of the alphabet cast upon their ends; also a board, in which were square holes, into which holes she could set the types, so that the letters on their ends could alone be felt above the surface.

Then, on any article being handed to her, for instance, a pencil, or a watch, she would select the component letters, and arrange them on her board, and read them with apparent pleasure.

She was exercised for several weeks in this way, until her vocabulary became extensive; and then the important step was taken of teaching her how to represent the different letters by the position of her fingers, instead of the cumbrous apparatus of the board and types. She accomplished this speedily and easily, for her intellect had begun to work in aid of her teacher, and her progress was rapid.

This was the period, about three mouths after she had commenced, that the first report of her case was made, in which it is stated that "she has just learned the manual alphabet, as used by the deaf mutes, and it is a subject of delight and wonder to see how rapidly, correctly, and eagerly, she goes on with her labors. Her teacher gives her a new object, for instance a pencil, first lets her examine it, and get an idea of its use, then teaches her how to spell it by making the signs for the letters with her own fingers: the child grasps her hand, and feels of her fingers, as the different letters are formed -- she turns her head a little one side, like a person listening closely -- her lips are apart -- she seems scarcely to breathe -- and her countenance, at first anxious, gradually changes to a smile, as she comprehends the lesson. She then holds up her tiny fingers, and spells the word in the manual alphabet; next, she takes her types and arranges her letters; and last, to make sure that she is right, she takes the whole of the types composing the word, and places them upon or in contact with the pencil, or whatever the object may be."

The whole of the succeeding year was passed in gratifying her eager inquiries for the names of every object which she could possibly handle; in exercising her in the use of the manual alphabet; in extending in every possible way her knowledge of the physical relations of things; and in proper care of her health.

At the end of the year a report of her case was made, from which the following is an extract:

"It has been ascertained beyond the possibility of doubt, that she cannot see a ray of light, cannot hear the least sound, and never exercises her sense of smell, if she has any. Thus her mind dwells in darkness and stillness, as profound as that of a closed tomb at midnight. Of beautiful sights, and sweet sounds, and pleasant odors, she has no conception; nevertheless, she seems as happy and playful as a bird or a lamb; and the employment of her intellectual faculties, or acquirement of a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure, which is plainly marked in her expressive features. She never seems to repine, but has all the buoyancy and gaiety of childhood. She is fond of fun and frolic, and when playing with the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds loudest of the group.

"When left alone, she seems very happy if she has her knitting or sewing, and will busy herself for hours: if she has no occupation, she evidently amuses herself by imaginary dialogues, or recalling past impressions; she counts with her fingers, or spells out names of things which she has recently learned, in the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes. In this lonely self-communion she seems to reason, reflect and argue: if she spells a word wrong with the fingers of her right hand, she instantly strikes it with her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disapprobation: if right, then she pats herself upon the head and looks pleased. She sometimes purposely spells a word wrong with the left hand, looks roguish for a moment and laughs, and then with the right hand strikes the left, as if to correct it.

"During the year she has a attained great dexterity in the use of the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes; and she spells out the words and sentences which she knows, so fast and so deftly, that only those accustomed to this language can follow with the eye the rapid motions of he fingers.

"But wonderful as is the rapidity with which she writes her thoughts upon the air, still more so is the ease and accuracy with which she reads he words thus written by another, grasping their hand in hers, and following every movement of their fingers, as letter after letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in this way that she converses with her blind playmates; and nothing can more forcibly show the power of mind in forcing matter to its purpose, than a meeting between them. For, if great talent and skill are necessary for two pantomimes to paint their thoughts and feelings by the movements of the body and the expression of the countenance, how much greater the difficulty when darkness shrouds them both, and the one can hear no sound!

"When Laura is walking through a passage way, with her hands spread before her, she knows instantly every one she meets, and passes them with a sign of recognition; but if it be a girl of her own age, and especially if one of her favorites, there is instantly a bright smile of recognition -- and a twining of arms -- a grasping of hands -- and a swift telegraphing upon the tiny fingers, whose rapid evolutions convey the thoughts and feelings from the outposts of one mind to those of the other. There are questions and answers -- exchanges of joy or sorrow -- there are kissings and partings -- just as between little children with all their senses."

During this year, and six months after she had left home, her mother came to visit her, and the scene of their meeting was an interesting one.

The mother stood some time, gazing with overflowing eyes upon her unfortunate child, who, all unconscious of her presence, was playing about the room. Presently Laura ran against her, and at once began feeling of her hands, examining her dress, and trying to find out if she knew her; but not succeeding in this, she turned away as from a stranger, and the poor woman could not conceal the pang she felt, at finding that her beloved child did not know her.

She then gave Laura a string of beads which she used to wear at home, which were recognized by the child at once, who, with much joy, put them around her neck, and sought me eagerly, to say she understood the string was from her home.

The mother now tried to caress her, but poor Laura repelled her, preferring to be with her acquaintances.

Another article from home was now given her, and she began to look much interested; she examined the stranger much closer, and gave me to understand that she knew she came from Hanover; she even endured her caresses, but would leave her with indifference at the slightest signal. The distress of the mother was now painful to behold; for, although she had feared that she should not be recognized, the painful reality of being treated with cold indifference by a darling child, was too much for woman's nature to bear.

After a while, on the mother taking hold of her again, a vague idea seemed to flit across Laura's mind, that this could not be a stranger; she therefore felt of her hands very eagerly, while her countenance assumed an expression of intense interest -- she became very pale, and then suddenly red -- hope seemed struggling with doubt and anxiety, and never were contending emotions more strongly painted upon the human face: at this moment of painful uncertainty, the mother drew her close to her side, and kissed her fondly, when at once the truth flashed upon the child, and all mistrust and anxiety disappeared from her face, as with an expression of exceeding joy she eagerly nestled to the bosom of her parent, and yielded herself to her fond embraces.

After this, the beads were all unheeded; the playthings which were offered to her were utterly disregarded; her playmates, for whom but a moment before she gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove to pull her from her mother; and though she yielded her usual instantaneous obedience to my signal to follow me, it was evidently with painful reluctance. She clung close to me, as if bewildered and fearful; and when, after a moment, I took her to her mother, she sprang to her arms, and clung to her with eager joy.

I had watched the whole scene with intense interest, being desirous of learning from it all I could of the workings of her mind; but I now left them to indulge unobserved those delicious feelings, which those who have known a mother's love may conceive, but which cannot be expressed.

The subsequent parting between Laura and her mother, showed alike the affection, the intelligence, and the resolution of the child; and was thus noticed at the time:

"Laura accompanied her mother to the door, clinging close to her all the way, until they arrived at the threshold, where she paused, and felt around, to ascertain who was near her. Perceiving the matron, of whom she is very fond, she grasped her with one hand, holding on convulsively to her mother with the other, and thus she stood for a moment -- then she dropped her mother's hand -- put her handkerchief to her eyes, and turning round, clung sobbing to the matron, while her mother departed, with emotions as deep as those of her child."

At the end of the year 1839, after she had been twenty-eight months under instruction, the following report was made of her case:

"The intellectual improvement of this interesting being, and the progress she has made in expressing her ideas, are truly gratifying.

"Having mastered the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes, and learned to spell readily the names of every thing within her reach, she was then taught words expressive of positive qualities, as hardness, softness; and she readily learned to express the quality, by connecting the adjectives hard or soft with the substantive; though she generally followed what one would suppose to be the natural order in the succession of ideas, by placing the substantive first.

"It was found too difficult, however, then to make her understand any general expression of quality, as hardness, softness, in the abstract. Indeed, this is a process of mind most difficult of performance to any, especially to deaf mutes.

"Next she was taught those expressions of relation to place, which she could understand. For instance, a ring was taken and placed on a box, then the words were spelt to her, and she repeated them from imitation. Then the ring was placed on a hat, and a sign given her to spell; she spelt, ring on box -- but being checked, and the right words given, she immediately began to exercise her judgment, and, as usual, seemed intently thinking. Then the same was repeated with a bag, a desk, and a great many other things, until at last she learned that she must name the thing on which the article was.

"Then the same article was put into the box, and the words ring in box given to her. This puzzled her for many minutes, and she made many mistakes: for instance, after she had learned to say correctly whether the ring was on or in a box, a drawer, a hat, a bucket, &c., if she were asked, where is house, or matron, she would say, in box. Cross-questioning, however, is seldom necessary to ascertain whether she really understands the force of the words she is learning: for when the true meaning dawns upon her mind, the light spreads to her countenance.

"In this case, the perception seemed instantaneous, and the natural sign by which she expressed it was peculiar and striking: she spelt o n, then laid one hand on the other; then she spelt i n t o, and enclosed one hand within the other.

"She easily acquired a knowledge and use of active verbs, especially those expressive of tangible action; as to walk, to run, to sew, to shake.

"At first, of course, no distinction could be made of mood and tense; she used the words in a general sense, and according to the order of her sense of ideas. Thus, in asking some one to give her bread, she would first use the word expressive of the leading idea, and say, Bread, give, Laura. If she wanted water, she would say, Water, drink, Laura.

"Soon, however, she learned the use of the auxiliary verbs, of the difference of past, present, and future tense. For instance, here is an early sentence: Keller is sick -- when will Keller well; the use of be she had not acquired.

"Having acquired the use of substantives, adjectives, verbs, prepositions, and conjunctions, it was thought time to make the experiment of trying to teach her to write, and to show her that she might communicate her ideas to persons not in contact with her.

"It was amusing to witness the mute amazement with which she submitted to the process, the docility with which she imitated every motion, and the perseverance with which she moved her pencil over and over again in the same track, until she could form the letter. But when at last the idea dawned upon her, that by this mysterious process she could make other people understand what she thought, her joy was boundless.

"Never did a child apply more eagerly and joyfully to any task than she did to this; and in a few months she could make every letter distinctly, and separate words from each other;" and she actually wrote, unaided, a legible letter to her mother, in which she expressed the idea of her being well, and of her expectation of going home in a few weeks. It was indeed a very rude and imperfect letter, couched in the language which a prattling infant would use. Still it shadowed forth, and expressed to her mother, the ideas that were passing in her own mind.

"She is familiar with the processes of addition and subtraction in small numbers. Subtraction of one number from another puzzled her for a time; but by help of objects she accomplished it, She can count and conceive objects to about one hundred in number; to express an indefinitely great number, or more than she can count, she says, hundred. If she thought a friend was to be absent many years, she would say, will come hundred Sundays -- meaning weeks. She is pretty accurate in measuring time, and seems to have an intuitive tendency to do it. Unaided by the changes of night and day, by the light, or the sound of any timepiece, she nevertheless divides time pretty accurately.

"With the days of the week, and the week itself as a whole, she is perfectly familiar. For instance: if asked what day will it be in fifteen days more, she readily names the day of the week. The day she divides by the commencement and end of school, by the recesses, and by the arrival of meal-times.

"Those persons who hold that the capacity of perceiving and measuring the lapse of time is an innate and distinct faculty of the mind, may deem it an important fact, that Laura evidently can measure time so accurately, as to distinguish between a half and whole note of music.

"Seated at the pianoforte, she will strike the notes in a measure like the following, quite correctly.

"Now it will be perceived, that she must have clear perception of lapse of time, in order to strike the two eighths at the right instant; for in the first measure they occur at the second beat, in the second measure at the third beat.

"Her judgment of distances and of relations of place is very accurate. She will rise from her seat, go straight towards a door, put out her hand just at the right time, and grasp the handle with precision."

These extracts from former reports bring down the history of her instruction to the commencement of the year 1840, when she had been two years and two months under instruction.

She had attained, indeed, about the same command of language as common children of three years old. Of course, her power of expression is by no means equal to her power of conception; for she has no words to express many of the perceptions and sensations which her mind doubtless experiences.

I shall now notice such of the phenomena that I have remarked in her case during the last year, as seem most striking and important.

I shall divide these into physical, intellectual, and moral.

Her health has been very good. She has not grown much in height, but her frame has filled out.

A perceptible change has taken place in the size and shape of her head; and although unfortunately the measurement taken two years ago has been mislaid, every one who has been well acquainted with her, notices a marked increase in the size of the forehead. She is now just eleven years old; and her height is four feet, four inches, and seven-tenths. Her head measures twenty inches and eight-tenths in circumference, in a line drawn around it, and passing over the prominences of the parietal and those of the frontal bones; above this line the head rises one inch and one-tenth, and is broad and full. The measurement is four inches from one orifice of the ear to the other; and from the occipital spine to the root of the nose, it is seven inches.

Nothing has occurred to indicate the slightest perception of light or sound, or any hope of it; and although some of those who are much with her, suppose that her smell is more acute than it was, even this seems very doubtful.

It is true that she sometimes applies things to her nose, but often it is merely in imitation of the blind children about her; and it is unaccompanied by that peculiar lighting up of the countenance, which is observable whenever she discovers any new quality in an object.

It was stated in the first report that she could perceive very pungent odours, such as that of cologne; but it seemed to be as much by the irritation they produced upon the nervous membrane of the nares, as by any impression upon the olfactory nerve.

It is clear that the sensation can not be pleasurable, nor even a source of information to her respecting physical qualities; for such is her eagerness to gain this information, that could smell serve her, she would exercise it incessantly.

Those who have seen Julia Brace, or any other deaf-blind person, could hardly fail to observe how quickly they apply every thing which they feel, to the nose; and how by this incessant exercise, the smell becomes almost incredibly acute. Now with Laura this is not the case; she seldom puts a new thing to her nose; and when she does, it is mechanically, as it were, and without any interest.

Her sense of touch has evidently improved in acuteness; for she now distinguishes more accurately the different undulations of the air, or the vibrations of the floor, than she did last year. She perceives very readily when a door is opened or shut, though she may be sitting at the opposite side of the room. She perceives also the tread of persons upon the floor.

Her mental perceptions, resulting from sensation, are much more rapid than they were, for she now perceives by the slightest touch, qualities and conditions of things, similar to those she had formerly to feel long and carefully for. So with persons, she recognises her acquaintances in an instant, by touching their hands or their dress; and there are probably fifty individuals, who if they should stand in a row, and hold out each a hand to her, would be recognized by that alone.

The memory of these sensations is very vivid, and she will readily recognize a person whom she has once thus touched. Many cases of this kind have been noticed; such as a person shaking hands with her, and making a peculiar pressure with one finger, and repeating this on his second visit after a lapse of many months, being instantly known by her. She has been known to recognize persons whom she had thus simply shaken hands with but once, after a lapse of six months.

This is not more wonderful indeed, than that one should be able to recall impressions made upon the mind through the organ of sight, as when we recognize a person of whom we had but one glimpse a year before; but it shows the exhaustless capacity of those organs of sense which the Creator has bestowed, as it were in reserve against accidents, and which we usually allow to lie unused and unvalued.

The progress which she has made in intellectual acquirements, can be fully appreciated by those only who have seen her frequently. The improvement however is made evident by her greater command of language; and by the conception which she now has of the force of parts of speech which last year she did not use, in her simple sentences; for instance, of pronouns, which she has begun to use within six months. Last spring, returning fatigued from her journey home, she complained of a pain in her side, and on being asked what caused it, she used these words, Laura did go to see mother, ride did make Laura side ache, horse was wrong, did not run softly. If she were now to express the same thing she would say, I did go to see mother, ride did make my side ache. This will be seen by an extract from one of her teacher's diary of last month, "Dec. 18th, to-day Laura asked me "what is voice?" I told her as well as I could, that it was an impression made upon another when people talk with their mouth. She then said, "I do not voice." I said, can you talk with your mouth? Ans. "No;" "why?" "Because I am very deaf and dumb." "Can you see?" "No, because I am blind, I did not talk with fingers when I came with my mother, Doctor did teach me on fork -- what was on fork?" I told her paper was fixed on forks, she then said, "I did learn to read much with types, Doctor did teach me in nursery. Drusilla was very sick all over."

The words here given -and indeed in all cases- are precisely as she used them; for great care is taken to note them at the time of utterance. It will be observed that she uses the pronoun, personal and possessive; and so ready is she to conceive the propriety of it, and the impropriety of her former method, that upon my recently saying, 'Doctor will teach Laura,' she eagerly shook my arm to correct me, and told me to say, "I will teach you." She is delighted when she can catch any one in an error like this; and she shows her sense of the ludicrous, by laughter, and gratifies her innocent self-esteem by displaying her knowledge.

It will be observed that these words are all spelled correctly; and indeed her accuracy in this respect is remarkable. She requires to have a word spelled to her only once, or twice at most, and she will seldom fail to spell it right ever afterwards.

I will give some sentences such as she was accustomed to use about the commencement of the past year, and contrast them with those of later date. Riding in the stage coach with her teacher over a rough road, she said, "Laura will say to man horse will run softly -- horse is wrong." Sitting at breakfast she asked "who did make egg?"-- Ans. "hen" "With foot?" Ans.-- "No;" "Laura do love egg, hen will make more."

Here are some of her sentences of a more recent date, and subsequently to her learning the use of pronouns, the numbers of nouns, &c. Being surprised lately, that I had not examined her for some time, she stopped short in her lesson, and said to her teacher, "Doctor is not glad that I can cypher good;" being asked why, she said, "because he does not want me to show him sum," she was told I was busy, and had gone to the City, she said, "horse will be much tired to go to Boston all days."

She easily learned the difference between the singular and plural form, but was inclined for some time to apply the rule of adding s, universally. For instance, at her first lesson she had the words arm-arms, hand-hands, &c.; then being asked to form the plural of box, she said box s, &c., and for a long time she would form the plural by the general rule, as lady, ladys, &C.

One of the girls had the mumps; Laura learned the name of the disease; and soon after she had it herself, but she had the swelling only on one side; and some one saying, you have got the mumps, she replied quickly, "no no, I have mump."

She was a long time in learning words expressive of comparison; indeed her teacher quite despaired of making her under stand the difference between good, better, and best, after having spent many days in the attempt. By perseverance however, and by giving her an idea of comparative sizes, she was at last enabled to use comparisons pretty well. She seemed to attach to the word large, when connected with an object, a substantive meaning, and to consider it a specific name of the particular thing. The same difficulty perhaps occurs with common children, only we do not notice it: children merely observe at first; comparison comes later; and perhaps few girls of six years can be made to have a clear idea of the power and signification of the word or, which, insignificant as it seems, has been a stumbling block to Laura up to this day.

With pronouns she had very little difficulty. It was thought best at first to talk with her as one does with an infant; and she learned to reply in the same way. Laura want water, give Laura water; but she readily learned to substitute the pronoun, and now says give me water -- I want water, &c. Indeed she will not allow persons to address her in the third person, but instantly corrects them, being proud to show her knowledge.

She learned the difference between present and past tense the last year, but made use of the auxiliaries; during this year she has learned the method of inflecting the verb. In this process too her perfect simplicity rebukes the clumsy irregularities of our language: she learned, jump jumped -- walk walked, &c., until she had an idea of the mode of forming the imperfect tense, but when she came to the word see, she insisted that it should be seed in the imperfect; and after this, upon going down to dinner, she asked if it was eat -- eated, but being told it was ate, she seemed to try to express the idea that this transposition of letters was not only wrong, but ludicrous, for she laughed heartily.

The eagerness with which she followed up these exercises was very delightful; and the pupil teasing the teacher for more words, is in pleasing contrast with the old method, where all the work was on one side, and where the coaxing, and scolding, and birchen appliances to boot, often failed to force an idea into the mind in the proper shape. But Laura is always ready for a lesson; and generally has prepared, beforehand, a number of questions to put to her teacher; for instance, when she was learning past tenses, she came one morning with fourteen verbs, of which she knew the present form, to ask for the imperfect.

The most recent exercises have been upon those words which require attention to one's own mental operations, such as remember, forget, expect, hope, &c.

Greater difficulties have been experienced in these than in her former lessons, but they have been so far surmounted that she uses many words of this kind, with a correct perception of their meaning.

The day after her first lesson on the words I remember -- and I forget, this memorandum was made of her second lesson on the same words: Question -- "What do you remember you did do last Sunday?" Answer -- "I remember not to go to meeting,'' meaning that she did not go to meeting: Question -- "What do you remember you did do on Monday?" Answer -- "To walk in streets, on snow;'' this was correct: Question -- "What do you remember you did do in vacation?" Answer -- "What is vacation?" This was a new word to her -- she had been accustomed to say "when is no school," or "when girls go home." The word being explained, she said "I remember to go to Halifax;" meaning that she did go to Halifax, which was true. What do you remember you did in vacation before? Answer -- "to play with Olive, Maria, and Lydia" -- these were the girls who had been her companions.

Wishing to make her use the word forget, I pushed the questions back to periods which she could not recall. I said, what did you do when you was a little baby? -- she replied laughing, I did cry, and made the sign of tears running down her cheeks.

What did you say -- -no answer-; did you talk with fingers? "No," -very decidedly-; "did you talk with mouth" -- -a pause- -- "what did you say with mouth?" -- "I forget." I then quickly let her know, that this was the proper word, and of the same force as, I do not remember. Thinking this to be a good opportunity of testing her recollection of her infancy, many questions were put to her, but all that could be learned satisfactorily was, that she could recollect lying on her back, and in her mother's arms, and having medicines poured down her throat -- or in her own words, "I remember mother to give me medicines" -- making the signs of lying down, and of pouring liquids down the throat.

It was not until after she had learned a few words of this kind, that it was possible to carry her mind backwards to her infancy; and to the best of my judgment, she has no recollection of any earlier period than the long and painful illness in which she lost her senses. She seems to have no recollection of any words of prattle, which she might have learned in the short respite which she enjoyed from bodily suffering.

Her idea of oral conversation, it seems to me, is that people make signs with the mouth and lips, as she does with her fingers.

Thus far, her progress in the acquisition of language has been such as one would infer, a priori from philosophical considerations; and the successive steps have been nearly such as Monboddo supposed were taken by savages in the formation of their language.

But it shows clearly how valuable language is, not only for the expression of thought, but for aiding mental development, and exercising the higher intellectual faculties.

When Laura first began to use words, she evidently had no idea of any other use, than to express the individual existence of things, as book, spoon, &c. The sense of touch had of course given her an idea of their existence, and of their individual characteristics; but one would suppose that specific differences would have been suggested to her also; that is, that in feeling of many books, spoons, &c., she would have reflected that some were large, some small, some heavy, some light, and been ready to use words expressive of the specific or generic character. But it would seem not to have been so, and her first use of the words great, small, heavy, &c., was to express merely individual peculiarities; great book was to her the double name of a particular book; heavy stone was one particular stone; she did not consider these terms as expressive of substantive specific differences, or any differences of quality; the words great and heavy were not considered abstractly, as the name of a general quality, but they were blended in her mind with the name of the objects in which they existed. At least, such seemed to me to be the case, and it was not until some time after, that the habit of abstraction enabled her to apply words of generic signification in their proper way.

This view is confirmed by the fact, that when she learned that persons had both individual and family names, she supposed that the same rule must apply to inanimate things, and asked earnestly what was the other name for chair, table, &c.

Several of the instances which have been quoted, will show her disposition to form her words by rule, and to admit of no exceptions; having learned to form the plurals by adding s, the imperfect by adding ed, &c., she would apply this to every new noun or verb; consequently the difficulty hitherto has been greater, and her progress slower, than it will be, for she has mastered the most common words, and these seem to be the ones that have been most broken up by the rough colloquial usage of unlettered people.

The notice of her intellectual progress has thus far related to her acquisition of language, and this, to her, was the principal occupation; other children learn language by mere imitation and without effort; she has to ask by a slow method, the name of every new thing; other children use words which they do not understand; but she wishes to know the force of every expression. Her knowledge of language however is no criterion of her knowledge of things; nor has she been taught mere words. She is like a child placed in a foreign country, where one or two persons only know her language, and she is constantly asking of them the names of the objects around her.

The moral qualities of her nature have also developed themselves more clearly. She is remarkably correct in her deportment; and few children of her age evince so much sense of propriety in regard to appearance. Never, by any possibility, is she seen out of her room with her dress disordered; and if by chance any spot of dirt is pointed out to her on her person, or any little rent in her dress, she discovers a sense of shame, and hastens to remove it.

She is never discovered in an attitude or an action, at which the most fastidious would revolt, but is remarkable for neatness, order, and propriety.

There is one fact which is hard to explain in any way; it is the difference of her deportment persons of different sex. This was observable when she was only seven years old. She is very affectionate, and when with her friends of her own sex, she is constantly clinging to them, and often kissing and caressing them; and when she meets with strange ladies, she very soon becomes familiar, examines very freely their dress, and readily allows them to caress her. But with those of the other sex it is entirely different, and she repels every approach to familiarity. She is attached, indeed, to some, and is fond of being with them; but she will not sit upon their knee, for instance, or allow them to take her round the waist, or submit to those innocent familiarities which it is common to take with children of her age.

This circumstance will be variously explained by those who have formed theories on the subject; and the inference from it, of a natural feeling of delicacy, will be opposed by some with the fact of the want of delicacy in savages: It will be denied, too, by those who have arrived at that extreme of refinement, which seems to approach the primitive state; who choose that dress shall not be covering, even in promiscuous assemblies; and who there shrink not from the dizzying dance, in which

"Round all the confines of the yielded waist,
"The strangest hand may wander, undisplaced." But against the evidence unfavorable to its existence, which is to be drawn from customs, whether of savage life, or of the haut-ton, may be opposed that of this unsophisticated child of nature, valeat quantum.

The fact is merely noticed for the consideration of others; its opposite should have been as unhesitatingly announced, had it existed.

She seems to have, also, a remarkable degree of conscientiousness, for one of her age; she respects the rights of others, and will insist upon her own.

She is fond of acquiring property, and seems to have an idea of ownership of things which she has long since laid aside, and no longer uses. She has never been known to take any thing belonging to another; and never but in one or two instances to tell a falsehood, and then only under strong temptation. Great care, indeed, has been taken, not to terrify her by punishment, or to make it so severe, as to tempt her to avoid it by duplicity, as children so often do.

When she has done wrong, her teacher lets her know that she is grieved, and the tender nature of the child is shown by the ready tears of contrition, and the earnest assurances of amendment, with which she strives to comfort those whom she has pained.

When she has done any thing wrong, and grieved her teacher, she does not strive to conceal it from her little companions, but communicates it to them, tells them "it is wrong," and says, "*_____* cannot love wrong girl."

When she has any thing nice given to her, she is particularly desirous that those who happen to be ill, or afflicted in any way, should share with her, although they may not be those whom she particularly loves in other circumstances; nay! even if it be one whom she dislikes. She loves to be employed in attending the sick, and is most assiduous in her simple attentions, and tender and endearing in her demeanor.

It has been remarked in former reports, that she can distinguish different degrees of intellect in others, and that she soon regarded almost with contempt, a new comer, when, after a few days, she discovered her weakness of mind. This unamiable part of her character has been more strongly developed during the past year.

She chooses for her friends and companions, those children who are intelligent, and can talk best with her; and she evidently dislikes to be with those who are deficient in intellect, unless, indeed, she can make them serve her purposes, which she is evidently inclined to do. She takes advantage of them, and makes them wait upon her, in a manner that she knows she could not exact of others; and in various ways she shows her Saxon blood.

She is fond of having other children noticed and caressed by the teachers, and those whom she respects; but this must not be carried too far, or she becomes jealous. She wants to have her share, which, if not the lion's, is the greater part; and if she does not get it, she says, "My mother will love me."

Her tendency to imitation is so strong, that it leads her to actions which must be entirely incomprehensible to her, and which can give her no other pleasure than the gratification of an internal faculty. She has been known to sit for a half an hour, holding a book before her sightless eyes, and moving her lips, as she has observed seeing people do when reading.

She one day pretended that her doll was sick; and went through all the motions of tending it, and giving it medicine; she then put it carefully to bed, and placed a bottle of hot water to its feet, laughing all the time most heartily. When I came home, she insisted upon my going to see it, and feel its pulse; and when I told her to put a blister to its back, she seemed to enjoy it amazingly, and almost screamed with delight.

Her social feelings, and her affections, are very strong; and when she is sitting at work, or at her studies, by the side of one of her little friends, she will break off from her task every few moments, to hug and kiss them with an earnestness and warmth, that is touching to behold.

When left alone, she occupies and apparently amuses herself, and seems quite contented; and so strong seems to be the natural tendency of thought to put on the garb of language, that she often soliloquizes in the finger language, slow and tedious as it is. But it is only when alone, that she is quiet; for if she becomes sensible of the presence of any one near her, she is restless until she can sit close beside them, hold their hand, and converse with them by signs.

She does not cry from vexation and disappointment, like other children, but only from grief. If she receives a blow by accident, or hurts herself, she laughs and jumps about, as if trying to drown the pain by muscular action. If the pain is severe, she does no go to her teachers or companions for sympathy, but on the contrary tries to get away by herself, and then seems to give vent to a feeling of spite, by throwing herself about violently and roughly handling whatever she gets hold of.

Twice only have tears been drawn from her by the severity of pain, and then she ran away, as if ashamed of crying for an accidental injury. But the fountain of her tears is by no means dried up, as is seen when her companions are in pain, or her teacher is grieved.

In her intellectual character, it is pleasing to observe an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and a quick perception of the relations of things. In her moral character, it is beautiful to behold her continual gladness -- her keen enjoyment of existence -- her expansive love -- her unhesitating confidence -- her sympathy with suffering -- her conscientiousness, truthfulness, and hopefulness.

No religious feeling, properly so called, has developed itself; nor is it yet time, perhaps, to look for it; but she has shown a disposition to respect those who have power and knowledge; and to love those who have goodness; and when her perceptive faculties shall have taken cognizance of the operations of nature, and she shall be accustomed to trace effects to their causes, then may her veneration be turned to Him who is almighty, her respect to Him who is omniscient, and her love to Him who is all goodness and love!

Until then, I shall not deem it wise, by premature effort, to incur the risk of giving her ideas of God which would be alike unworthy of His character, and fatal to her peace.

I should fear that she might personify Him in a way too common with children, who clothe Him with unworthy, and sometimes grotesque attributes, which their subsequently developed reason condemns, but strives in vain to correct.

I have thus far confined myself to relating the various phenomena (1) which this remarkable ease presents. I have related the facts, and each one will make his own deductions. But as I am almost invariably questioned by intelligent visiters -sic- of the Institution about my opinion of her moral nature, and by what theory I can account for such and such phenomena, and as many pious people have questioned me respecting her religious nature, I will here state my views.

There seems to have been in this child no innate ideas, or innate moral principles; that is in the sense in which Locke, Condillac, and others, consider those terms. But there are innate intellectual dispositions; and moreover, innate moral dispositions not derived as many metaphysicians suppose, from the exercise of intellectual faculties, but as independent in their existence, as the intellectual dispositions themselves.

I shall be easily understood when I speak of innate dispositions in contradistinction to innate ideas, by those who are at all conversant with metaphysics; but as this case excites peculiar interest, even among children, I may be excused for explaining.

We have no innate ideas of color, of distance, &c.: were we blind, we never could conceive the idea of color, nor understand how light and shade could give knowledge of distance. But we might have the innate disposition, or internal adaptation, which enables us to perceive color, and to judge of distance; and were the organ of sight suddenly to be restored to healthy action, we should gradually understand the natural language, so to call it, of light; and soon be able to judge of distance, by reason of our innate disposition or capacity.

So much for an intellectual perception. As an example of a moral perception, it may be supposed for instance, that we have no innate idea of God, but that we have an innate disposition, or adaptation, not only to recognize, but to adore Him; and when the idea of a God is presented, we embrace it, because we have that internal adaptation which enables us to do so.

If the idea of a God were innate, it would be universal and identical, and not the consequential effect of the exercise of causality; it would be impossible to present Him under different aspects: He would not be regarded as Jupiter -- Jehovah -- Brahma; we could not make different people clothe Him with different attributes, any more than we can make them consider two and two to make three, or five, or any thing but four.

But on the other hand, if we had no innate disposition, to receive the idea of a God, then could we never have conceived one, any more than we can conceive of time without a beginning; then would the most incontrovertible evidence to man, of God's existence have been wanting -- viz. the internal evidence of his own nature.

Now it does appear to me very evident from the phenomena manifested in Laura's case, that she has innate moral dispositions and tendencies, which, though developed subsequently (in the order of time) to her intellectual faculties, are not dependent upon them, nor are they manifested with a force proportionate to that of her intellect.

According to Locke's theory, the moral qualities and faculties of this child should be limited in proportion to the limitation of her senses; for he derives moral principles from intellectual dispositions, which alone he considers to be innate. He thinks moral principles must be proved, and can only be so by an exercised intellect.

Now the sensations of Laura are very limited; acute as is her touch, and constant as is her exercise of it, how vastly does she fall behind others of her age in the amount of sensations which she experiences; how limited is the range of her thought -- how infantile is she in the exercise of her intellect! But her moral qualities -- her moral sense, are remarkably acute; few children are so affectionate, or so scrupulously conscientious -- few are so sensible of their own rights, or regardful of the rights of others.

Can any one suppose, then, that without innate moral dispositions, such effects could have been produced solely by moral lessons; for even if they could have been given to her, would they not have been seed sown upon barren ground? Her moral sense, and her conscientiousness, seem not at all dependent upon any intellectual perception; they are not perceived, indeed, or understood -- they are felt; and she may feel them even more strongly than most adults.

These observations will furnish an answer to another question, which is frequently put concerning Laura; can she be taught the existence of God, her dependence upon, and her obligations to Him?

The answer may be inferred from what has gone before -- that, if there exists in her mind (and who can doubt that it does) the innate capacity for the perception of this great truth, it can probably be developed, and become an object of intellectual perception, and firm belief.

I trust, too, that she can be made to conceive of future existence, and to lean upon the hope of it, as an anchor to her soul in those hours, when sickness and approaching death shall arouse to fearful activity the instinctive love of life, which is possessed by her in common with all.

But to effect this -- to furnish her with a guide through life, and a support in death, much is to be done, and much is to be avoided!

None but those who hare seen her engaged in the task, and have witnessed the difficulty of teaching her the meaning of such words as remember, hope, forget, expect, will conceive the difficulties in her way; but they, too, have seen her unconquerable resolution, and her unquenchable thirst for knowledge; and they will not condemn as visionary such pleasing anticipations.

I hope that funds will be provided to enable me to procure some intellectual person, who will devote her whole time to Laura, and that I shall not lie obliged to depend so much upon those who have other duties. Hitherto, the plan of her education has been most faithfully seconded by the Teachers of the Institution, to whom great credit is due; especially to Miss Drew, whose unwearied patience, and ever-watchful kindness, are the more meritorious, that their value can never be conceived by their unfortunate object.

By her teachers then, and by all concerned, the attempt to develope the whole nature of this interesting being will be continued with all the zeal which affection can inspire; it will be continued too, with a full reliance upon the innate powers of the the -sic- human soul; and with an humble confidence that it will have the blessing of Him who hears even the young ravens when they cry.

All of which is respectfully submitted.

SAM'L G. HOWE.

NOTE TO APPENDIX A.

THE number of persons who have been deprived of both sight and hearing, has been supposed to be very small. There had been but one case upon record, I believe, in England, before that of James Mitchell, mentioned by Dugald Stewart. There has been one noticed quite recently, in France; and there is the well-known case of Julia Brace, at Hartford.

But I am inclined to think these melancholy cases are more frequent than has been supposed. I have seen a boy in Rhode Island, who has been deaf, dumb, and blind, since he was four years old: he is now fourteen. His parents, who are very poor and benighted people, resisted all efforts to have him brought to this Institution. I have seen him several times, and was pained to find, on my last visit, that he was indulged and pampered in his appetites; and had contracted habits, which lead directly to intemperance.

There is a girl in Vermont, of whose case I have all the particulars, and who will probably be brought here soon.

A correspondent in Ireland has recently informed me, that a very interesting case had been discovered in Belfast, of a little girl quite deaf and blind. Some intelligent persons had made arrangements to have her instructed in the manner that Laura has been; but, at the last dates, the mother had absconded with her child, preferring the gain which she made by showing her offspring as a monster, to her real welfare.

A very melancholy case was recently brought to me for advice. It was that of a boy of very prepossessing appearance, fourteen years old, who, two months before, was in the possession, of all his senses, and remarkable only for precocious mental activity. He was considered an extraordinary boy, and his mental activity was doubtless the effect of morbid sensibility of the brain, which could probably have been cured by entire cessation of study.

Suddenly, his sight began to fail; and in a few weeks he became entirely blind. Hardly had his parents recovered from the stunning influence of this blow, before they remarked with alarm that his hearing began to be affected, and they brought him to this city for advice.

When I saw him, his hearing was very obtuse; it was necessary to speak in his ears very loud, to make him hear; and addressing him in this way, seemed like calling to a departing spirit, which was rapidly fading away. His mind was not affected at all; but it was getting closed up in the body, and as much beyond the reach of other minds, as though his body were in the act of being enclosed in mason work.

I recommended that immediate advantage should be taken of what hearing remained, to teach him the manual alphabet, because, afterwards, it would be a very slow process. This was two months ago, and I have not since heard of him.