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Beside lip-reading and vocal training, I studied Arithmetic, Physical Geography, French, and German while in New York. I think I accomplished more in German than in anything else. My teacher, Miss Olive L. Reamy, could use the manual alphabet freely, and, as soon as I had acquired a small vocabulary, we talked together in German whenever we had an opportunity; and I recommend this method of learning a language as the easiest and pleasantest method I know anything about. Why, in a few months I could understand almost anything which Miss Reamy said to me about ordinary things, and before the end of the year I had read with real pleasure Schiller's beautiful "Wilhelm Tell." But I did not do so well in French. Madame Olivier, who taught me that language, was a charming Frenchwoman, and a fine teacher; but she did not know the manual alphabet, consequently my progress was much slower than in German, and I did not find the language nearly so interesting. However, I managed to read Moliere's play, "Le Mèdecin Malgrè Lui." I found it very amusing; but I did not like it half as well as I did" Wilhelm Tell."

In October, 1896, I entered the Arthur Gilman School for Young Ladies, in Cambridge, Mass., with the purpose of fitting myself for Radcliffe College. My studies for the first year were Arithmetic, Latin, German, English History, and English Literature. In Latin I reviewed my grammar and read several chapters of Caesar's "Commentaries." I had also Latin composition three or four times a week. In German, partly with my fingers, and partly with Miss Sullivan's assistance, I read "Wilhelm Tell" again more carefully, and two of Schiller's poems," Die Glocke" and" Der Taucher," Lessing's "Minna von Barnhelm," Kriehl's "Der Finch der Schönheit," Freytag's "Aus dem Staats Friedrichs des Grossen," and Goethe's "Aus meinem Leben." I finished Arithmetic that year, and read "As You Like It," Macaulay's essay on Dr. Samuel Johnson, and Burke's speech on reconciliation.

Of course I could not possibly have done the work required at the Gilman School without Miss Sullivan's assistance. She was eyes and ears for me. I was generally taught in classes with other girls, and she sat beside me, and spelled to me everything that was said during the lesson. None of the teachers used the finger-language or manual alphabet except Frau Grote, my German teacher, and Mr. Gilman, the principal of the school. But no one realized more fully than dear Frau Grote how slow and inadequate her spelling was, compared with Miss Sullivan's; but, in the goodness of her heart, she laboriously spelled out her instructions to me twice a week, in order to give Miss Sullivan a little rest. Mr. Gilman, too, kindly learned the alphabet, and read to me a part of "As You Like It," and the essay on Johnson mentioned above. Burke's speech, which we also read together, was in Braille, for which good fortune we were both unspeakably thankful; for Mr. Gilman's fingers never learned to make the letters rapidly or accurately. Indeed, awkward misunderstandings frequently arose, owing to the omission of letters, and sometimes even of whole words. Then, too, it was Miss Sullivan who looked up new words for me, and read notes and references; and when a required book was not in raised print, her fingers spelled it all out in my hand with infinite patience.

In June, 1897, I took my preliminary examinations for Radcliffe, Mr. Gilman reading all the papers to me by means of the manual alphabet. The subjects I offered were German, French, Latin, English, and Greek and Roman History. I passed in everything, and received" honors" in German and English.

In October, 1897, I returned to the Cambridge School in splendid health and spirits, having had a lovely, restful summer. I knew there was a hard year before me, but that did not trouble me. My heart was full of hope and courage, and the determination to succeed. But no sooner had I resumed my studies than unforeseen difficulties began to appear. The books, which had been ordered in England the previous spring, had not been printed, and it was some weeks before my Braille writer, on which I was to write my Algebra, arrived. Moreover, the Algebra and Geometry classes were so large that the teacher could not give me the special instruction I needed at the beginning. Miss Sullivan was obliged to read everything to me, as well as interpret for the teachers, and, for the first time in eleven years, it seemed as if her dear hand would not be equal to the task. But at last the apparatus which I needed and some of the books came, and our work was going more smoothly, when a serious difference of opinion arose between Mr. Gilman and Miss Sullivan, which finally resulted in my mother's withdrawing me and my sister, who was then with me, from the Cambridge School. This happened in December, 1897, and I did not resume my studies until the following February.

After leaving Cambridge, it was arranged that Miss Sullivan and I should board with some friends in Wrentham, Mass., and continue my studies under the guidance of Mr. Merton S. Keith, of Cambridge. Mr. Keith came out to Wrentham once a week and taught me Algebra, Geometry, Greek, and Latin, Miss Sullivan interpreting his instruction. During the week I prepared my lessons, wrote my exercises on the typewriter, and sent them to Mr. Keith, who corrected and returned them to me. But, as Mr. Keith has prepared a paper for the" Souvenir" on his work with me, I am sure you will not wish me to go over the same ground. I will only say, I enjoyed my work with him more than I can express in words. He has done more than any of my teachers, except Miss Sullivan (although she seems more like a part of myself than a teacher), to store my mind with rich treasures of knowledge, which shall be a joy to me as long as I live. He made all my studies interesting, even Mathematics. He kept my mind alert and eager, and trained it to reason clearly, and to seek conclusions calmly and logically, instead of jumping wildly into space, as it were, and arriving nowhere. Moreover, he was always gentle and forbearing, no matter how dull I might be, and believe me, my stupidity would often have exhausted the patience of that phenomenally patient man, Job!