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Notes of this and of all but two of the other lessons were unfortunately destroyed, so that I cannot give in detail an outline of the work with Helen from day to day. One of these two papers has no date, but I think it contains the second lesson. It records the vowels ô, i, â, ä, u, and the consonants m, b, p, n, d, t, k, g, s, r, and y. The other, marked Fifth Lesson, records that I gave Helen the vowels u, ä, i, e, i, a, ô, û, and u, which she was to practise with her teacher, associating them with the following words: cup, son, young; father, arm, aunt; pipe, pie, cry; me, eat, teeth; pin, baby, curtain; slate, nail, day; boot, rude; foot, put; tube, few. The consonants associated with words were p, in cup; b, in tub; m, in come; t, in cut; d, in do; n, in in; c, in cuff; g, in go; s, in some; f, in muff; w, in one; wh, in what. The other consonants upon this paper, v, r, and the double consonants tr, dr, br, are not written with key-words, so I conclude that more drill upon them was needed before allowing her to use them in words.

The plan with her was this: to develop, at each lesson, new elements, review those previously learned, listen to all of the combinations she could make with the consonants as initial and final elements, and construct sentences with the words resulting from the combinations. In the intervals between the lessons she practised these with Miss Sullivan.

She really had but ten lessons, although she was with me at other times, talking freely, but not under instruction. She was an ideal pupil, for she followed every direction with the utmost care, and seemed never to forget anything told to her.

On the day she had her seventh lesson, she and her teacher were invited with me to lunch at the house of a friend. While on our way there Miss Sullivan remarked that she wished Helen would use the sentences she had learned, and added that she seemed very unwilling to do so. It at once occurred to me that the cause of her reluctance was her conscientious care to pronounce every word perfectly, and so, in the moments I had with her during our visit, I encouraged her to talk freely with me, while I refrained entirely from making corrections. She was much interested in the bric-a-brac in the various rooms, and asked a great many questions, using speech constantly, and when, just before we left the house, my friend took her upon his knee, she inquired of him about his boyhood, his studies, and his early home. She told him about her studies, and her home and family. Early in the day she had said to me that she would tell me of her visit to Dr. Holmes, and as I thought this a favorable time to listen to her story, I reminded her of her promise. Seeing that she was so much interested in what she was about to say that she thought of speech only as a vehicle for thought, I noted her words as she spoke them. There were, I think, but four which I did not readily understand, and those I asked her to spell upon her fingers:

One bright Sunday afternoon, a few weeks ago, I went to see a kind poet, named Dr. Holmes. He was sitting in his beautiful library, with a great many books around him, and a cheerful fire. I think the poet must be happy with so many friends near him. Teacher told me that the Charles river was flowing beneath the library window. Dr. Holmes said that he loved that gentle river very dearly. I had read many of his poems and known some of them. I liked them very much. I liked them before I thought of putting my arms around his neck and telling him that he gave pleasure to me and all blind children, because his poems are in raised letters.

Dr. Holmes is an old gentleman. I talked to him and looked at the beautiful things, and he gave me a stamp-box. He showed me a picture of his house, and he gave me a picture of himself. The house was the house in which he wrote about in his poems, "The Opening of the Piano."

Her pronunciation of some words was peculiar because of her dividing them into syllables, as "lov-ed," "nam-ed," "plea-su-re." She did not hesitate in her attempts to pronounce any word that she wished to use to express her thought. In saying "good-bye" to an aged sister of the gentleman who had been spending the winter with him, she said, "He must have been very happy to have you here." Her enjoyment of this, her first experience in the real use of speech, was touchingly expressed in her remark to Miss Sullivan, when seated in the street car on her way home that afternoon, "I am not dumb now."

A still greater freedom in the use of speech was shown in a conversation which she held with Mr. Bell, Miss Sullivan, and myself two weeks later. We spelled our questions upon our fingers, but she replied orally.

Do you know what a cloud is?
Rain.
What is rain?
Moisture.
Where does the rain come from?
From the ocean.
From the ocean; how?
It falls down.
How does it come from the ocean?
It rises up.
What makes it rise up?
The waves -- sun and waves.
Have you been upon the ocean?
Yes; I went in a steamboat to Plymouth. The ocean is very large and deep.
What do you think about the wind?
I think the wind is not as gentle as the breeze.
What is wind?
Air. It is wild air.
Where does the wind come from, and where does it go to?
It comes from the waves beating against the shore, and it makes the wind.
Where does the wind go to?
Back to the water. When the waves are very gentle, it goes to the sea, deep, deep sea. When the sea is very gentle, then the wind stops and goes to another place. The sea is the mother wave of the wind and waves.
What is the sun?
Heat.
What is heat?
It is like a fire.
What is a fire?
It is heat.
Here is a hard question. What is thought?
When we make a mistake, we say, I thought it was right.
Are you thinking now?
I am trying to think. Sometimes we are thinking about something in our heads.
Is thought in your head?
Yes.
Where is your thought?
(Helen illustrated by describing the outline of her face and head, and then said): Mind. My head is full of mind. Ask teacher a question.
(Mr. Bell then spelled upon his fingers to the teacher, allowing Helen to follow.)
Does Helen dream?
(The teacher replied, spelling upon her fingers), Yes.
(Mr. Bell again spelled upon his fingers, saying), What does she dream about?
(The teacher spelled). Ask Helen.
(To Helen): Do you ever dream?
Yes.
What do you dream about?
About a very funny house. Last night, I dreamed about a very funny house. It was shaped like an orange and it was yellow. The beds were shaped like a pomegranate and the chairs were like balls with a flat seat. The tables were shaped like a triangle. (Helen illustrated by forming a triangle with her fingers.)
(Mr. Bell spelled), That was a funny dream. Were there any people in the house?
They did very queer things.
What?
They wore breastpins on their shoes.
Did they talk to you?
No, dear; I only thought about it. I was not one of them. They wore some bangles on their heads and rings on their waists.
How did you know they had rings on their waists? Did you feel them?
No; I only dreamed I saw them in the window.
Do you mean that you saw them with your eyes?
Yes.
Were you on the outside of the house?
I passed it and looked in.
Were the curtains drawn?
No; and it was very light.
What were the people doing?
They were throwing their handkerchiefs at each other and dancing. That was what they did. (Helen then illustrated by action.)
And were they talking?
No; they were only making funny sounds. (Helen illustrated.) Their eyes slanted down. (Helen illustrated.)
Could they see?
There were five eyes. One was in the middle of the head, one was on the nose, two were slanting (illustrated as before), and one was (pointing to the bridge of the nose).
Do such people live in Boston?
No; it was only a story.
Was it a dream, or a story?
Both.