CHAPTER XXIII

Would that I could enrich this sketch with the names of all those who

have ministered to my happiness! Some of them would be found written

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, shall 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 handshake is brimful

of unspoken sympathy, and whose sweet, rich natures impart to our eager,

impatient spirits a wonderful restfulness which, in 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

possibilities. In a word, while such friends are near us we feel that

all is well. Perhaps we never saw them before, and they may never cross

our life's path again; but the influence of their calm, mellow natures

is a libation poured 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?" I do not understand

quite what that means. I suppose the calls of the stupid and curious,

especially of newspaper reporters, are always inopportune. I also

dislike people who try to talk down to my understanding. They are like

people who when walking with you try to shorten their steps to suit

yours; the hypocrisy in both cases is equally exasperating.

The hands of those I meet are dumbly eloquent to me. The touch of some

hands is an impertinence. I 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 me as there is in a loving glance for others. A hearty handshake or

a friendly letter gives me genuine pleasure.

I have many far-off friends whom I have never seen. Indeed they are so

many that I have often been unable to reply to their letters; but I

wish to say here that I am always grateful for their kind words, however

insufficiently I acknowledge them.

I count it one of the sweetest privileges of my life to have known and

conversed with many men of genius. Only those who knew Bishop Brooks can

appreciate the joy his friendship was to those who possessed it. As a

child I loved to sit 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 joy in life, and I never left him without carrying away a fine

thought that grew in beauty and depth of meaning as I grew. Once, when I

was puzzled to know why there were so many religions, he said: "There is

one universal religion, Helen--the religion 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 the possibilities of evil; and you have the key to Heaven." And

his life was a happy illustration of this great truth. In his noble

soul love and widest knowledge were blended with faith that had become

insight. He saw

God in all that liberates and lifts,

In all that humbles, sweetens and consoles.

Bishop Brooks taught me no special creed or dogma; but he impressed upon

my mind two great ideas--the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood 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 I have cherished friends awaiting me there in God's

beautiful Somewhere. In spite of the lapse of years, they seem so close

to me that I should 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 I have read the Bible through; also some

philosophical works on religion, among them Swedenborg's "Heaven and

Hell" and Drummond'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-clasp 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 instinctively to find

them. My fingers lighted upon a beautiful volume of Tennyson's poems,

and when Miss Sullivan told me what it was I began to recite:

Break, break, break

On thy cold gray stones, O sea!

But I stopped suddenly. I felt tears on my hand. I had made my beloved

poet weep, and I was greatly distressed. He made me sit in his armchair,

while he brought different interesting things for me to examine, and

at his request I recited "The Chambered Nautilus," which was then my

favorite poem. After that I saw Dr. Holmes many times 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 I read "In School Days." He was

delighted that I 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 autograph for my teacher ["With

great admiration of thy noble work in releasing from bondage the mind of

thy dear pupil, I am truly thy friend. John G. Whittier."] and expressed

his admiration of her work, saying to me, "She 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. I have known

him since I was eight, and my love for him has increased with my years.

His wise, tender sympathy has been the support of Miss Sullivan and me

in times of trial and sorrow, and his strong 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 accomplish. He has filled the old

skins of dogma with the new wine of love, and shown men what it is to

believe, live 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 his 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 that 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 side, 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 will live on and bless generations 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. Laurence 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 footprints 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 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 the 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 little Ascanius,

who followed with unequal steps the heroic strides of Aeneas on his

march toward mighty destinies. But they spoke many gracious words to me.

Mr. Gilder told me about his moonlight journeys across the vast desert

to the Pyramids, and in a letter he wrote me he made his mark under his

signature deep in the paper so that I could feel it. This reminds me

that Dr. 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 feel the twinkle of his eye in his handshake. 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 other interesting people I met in New York: Mrs.

Mary Mapes Dodge, the beloved editor of St. Nicholas, 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, soul-illumined letters, and photographs that I love

to have described again and again. But there is not space to mention

all my friends, and indeed there are 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 shall 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 counsel have never failed my teacher and me in all the years we

have known her.

To the other friend I am also deeply indebted. He is well known for the

powerful hand with which he guides vast enterprises, and his wonderful

abilities 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 acknowledge 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 life. 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.

II. LETTERS(1887-1901)

II. LETTERS(1887-1901)

INTRODUCTION

Helen Keller's letters are important, not only as a supplementary

story of her life, but as a demonstration of her growth in

thought and expression--the growth which in itself has made her

distinguished.

These letters are, however, not merely remarkable as the

productions of a deaf and blind girl, to be read with wonder and

curiosity; they are good letters almost from the first. The 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 equinoxes are not important, but most important

are her accounts of what speech meant to her, of how she felt the

statues, the dogs, the chickens at the poultry show, and how she

stood in the aisle of St. Bartholomew's and felt the organ

rumble. Those are passages of which one would ask for more. The

reason they are comparatively few is that all her life she has

been trying to be "like other people," and so she too often

describes things not as they appear to her, but as they appear to

one with eyes and ears.

One cause for the excellence of her letters is the great number

of them. They are the exercises which have trained her to write.

She has lived at different times in different parts of the

country, and so has been separated from most of her friends and

relatives. Of her friends, many have been distinguished people,

to whom--not often, I think, at the sacrifice of spontaneity--she

has felt it 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, like the story of "Little Jakey,"

which she rehearses for Dr. Holmes and Bishop Brooks, is charming

and her grave paraphrase of the day's lesson in geography or

botany, her parrot-like repetition of what she has heard, and her

conscious display of new words, are delightful and instructive;

for they show not only what she was learning, but how, by putting

it all into letters, she made the new knowledge and the new words

her own.

So these selections from Miss Keller's correspondence are made

with two purposes--to show her development and to preserve the

most entertaining and significant passages from several hundred

letters. Many of those written before 1892 were published in the

reports of the Perkins Institution for the Blind. All letters up

to that year are printed intact, for it is legitimate to be

interested in the degree of skill the child showed in writing,

even to details of punctuation; so it is well to preserve a

literal integrity of reproduction. From the letters after the

year 1892 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 I have been able to collate the

original letters I have preserved everything as Miss Keller wrote

it, punctuation, spelling, and all. I have done nothing but

select and cut.

The letters are arranged in chronological order. One or two

letters from Bishop Brooks, Dr. Holmes, and Whittier are put

immediately after the letters to which they are replies. Except

for two or three important letters of 1901, these selections

cease with the year 1900. In that year Miss Keller entered

college. Now that she is a grown woman, her mature letters 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

well-educated deaf and blind person in the world.

LETTERS (1887-1901)

Miss Sullivan began to teach Helen Keller on March 3rd, 1887.

Three months and a half after the first word was spelled into her

hand, she wrote in pencil this letter

TO HER COUSIN ANNA, MRS. GEORGE T. TURNER

[Tuscumbia, Alabama, June 17, 1887.]

helen write anna george will give helen apple simpson will shoot

bird jack will give helen stick of candy doctor will give mildred

medicine mother will make mildred new dress

[No signature]

Twenty-five days later, while she was on a short visit away from

home, she wrote to her mother. Two words are almost illegible,

and the angular print slants in every direction.

TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER

[Huntsville, Alabama, July 12, 1887.]

Helen will write mother letter papa did give helen medicine

mildred will sit in swing mildred did kiss helen teacher did give

helen peach george is sick in bed george arm is hurt anna did

give helen lemonade 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 improvement in fulness of

construction and more extended relations of thought.

TO THE 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 blind girls will have fun blind

girls can talk on fingers 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 papa Helen does play with dogs Helen does

ride on horseback with teacher Helen does give handee grass in

hand teacher does 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 freer 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 GIRLS AT THE PERKINS INSTITUTION

[Tuscumbia, October 24, 1887.]

dear little blind girls

I will write you a letter I thank you for pretty desk I did write

to mother in memphis on it mother and mildred 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 teacher 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 sunday 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

lovely. I will hug and kiss little blind girls mr. anagnos will

come to see me.

good-by

HELEN KELLER

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS, DIRECTOR OF THE PERKINS INSTITUTION

[Tuscumbia, November, 1887.]

dear mr. anagnos I will write you a letter. I and teacher did

have pictures. teacher will send it to you. photographer does

make pictures. carpenter does build new houses. gardener does dig

and hoe ground and plant vegetables. my doll nancy is sleeping.

she is sick. mildred is well uncle frank 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 like to read in my book.

you do love me. I do love you.

good-by

HELEN KELLER.

TO DR. ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL

[Tuscumbia, November, 1887.]

Dear Mr. Bell.

I am glad to write you a letter, Father will 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. We 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. I and mother and teacher will go to Boston in June. I will

see little blind girls. Nancy will go with me. 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,

HELEN KELLER.

By the beginning of the next year her idioms are firmer. More

adjectives appear, including adjectives of colour. Although she

can have no sensuous knowledge of colour, she can use the words,

as we use most of our vocabulary, intellectually, with truth, not

to impression, but to fact. This letter is to a school-mate at

the Perkins Institution.

TO MISS SARAH TOMLINSON

Tuscumbia, Ala. Jan. 2nd 1888.

Dear Sarah

I am happy to write to you this morning. I hope Mr. Anagnos is

coming to see me soon. I will go to Boston in June and I will buy

father gloves, and James nice collar, and Simpson cuffs. 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 shears, 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

will buy me lovely new aprons and dress to take to Boston. I went

to Knoxville with father and aunt. 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

HELEN 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 maps and blackboards she asked, "Do

men go to school?" She wrote on the blackboard the names of all

the gentlemen present. While at Memphis she went over one of the

large Mississippi steamers.

TO DR. EDWARD EVERETT HALE

Tuscumbia, Alabama, February 15th [1888].

Dear Mr. Hale,

I 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. I 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 child when I went to Memphis. She did cry

loud. I will not write more to-day. I am tired.

Good-by

HELEN KELLER.

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS

Tuscumbia, Ala., Feb. 24th, 1888.

My dear Mr. Anagnos,--I am glad to write you a 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 I am their mother. Allie is their cousin. Nancy was a

bad child when I went to Memphis she cried loud, I whipped her

with a stick.

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

with little sister.

Teacher and 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 stockings and collars and grandmother made

me warm flannels, and aunt Nannie made me aprons. Lady made me a

pretty cap. I went to see 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.

I 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 him.

Teacher and I went to walk in the yard, and I learned about how

flowers and trees grow. Sun rises in the east and sets in the

west. Sheffield is north and Tuscumbia is south. We will 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.

TO MR. MORRISON HEADY

Tuscumbia, Ala., March 1st 1888.

My dear uncle Morrie,--I am happy to write 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. I do know little girl in

Lexington Ky. her name is Katherine Hobson.

I am going to Boston in June with mother and teacher, I will have

fun with little blind girls, and Mr. Hale will send me pretty

story. I do read stories 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 ants, ants stung Yates. Yates is digging in garden.

Mr. Anagnos did see oranges, they look like golden apples.

Robert will come to see me Sunday when sun shines and I will have

fun with him. My cousin Frank lives 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 Duck Hill and he

brought sweet flowers home.

With much love and a kiss

HELEN A. KELLER.

In this account of the picnic we get an illuminating glimpse of

Miss Sullivan's skill in teaching her pupil during play hours.

This was a day when the child's vocabulary grew.

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS

Tuscumbia, Ala., May 3rd 1888.

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 wild

flowers. I walked in the woods and learned names of 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 little 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 are 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 is 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 down stairs. I send many kisses and hugs with letter.

Your darling child

HELEN KELLER.

Toward the end of May Mrs. Keller, Helen, and Miss Sullivan

started for Boston. On the way they spent a few days in

Washington, where they saw Dr. Alexander Graham Bell and called

on President Cleveland. On May 26th 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.

Early in July she went to Brewster, Massachusetts, 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. MOORE

So. Boston, Mass. Sept. 1888

My dear Miss Moore

Are you very glad to receive a nice letter from your darling

little 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 little Mildred? She is a very pretty baby.

Her eyes are very big and blue, and her cheeks are soft and round

and rosy and her hair is very bright and golden. She is very good

and sweet when she does not cry loud. Next summer Mildred will go

out in the garden with me and pick the big sweet strawberries and

then she will be very happy. I hope she will not eat too many of

the delicious fruit for they will make her very ill.

Sometime will you please come to Alabama and visit me? My uncle

James is going to buy me a very gentle pony and a pretty cart and

I shall be very happy to take you and Harry to ride. I 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 with grandmother

because they will 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 almost

every day and Carrie and Frank and little Helen and I had fun. We

splashed and jumped and waded in 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 delighted to see me, and he hugged

and kissed me. The little girls are coming back to school next

Wednesday.

Will you please tell Harry to write me a very long letter soon?

When you come to Tuscumbia to see 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 am a good little

child.

With much love and two kisses

From your little friend

HELEN A. KELLER.

In this account of a visit to some friends, Helen's thought is

much what one would expect from an ordinary child of eight,

except perhaps her naive satisfaction in the boldness of the

young gentlemen.

TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER

So. Boston, Mass, Sept. 24th [1888].

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. I 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 things 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 gentle 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

girls. 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 girls 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 born in China. I was born

in America, and Mr. Anagnos was born in 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 nurse 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 cars because it was Sunday

and steam cars do 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.

HELEN 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. MORRISON HEADY

South Boston, Mass. October 1st, 1888.

My dear uncle Morrie,--I think you will be very glad to receive a

letter from your dear little friend 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 me, about Charles and his boat, and

Arthur and his dream, and Rosa and the sheep.

I have been in a large boat. It was like 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 little 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 him. 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 will go away to a strange country to live and leave

very dear home and friends and naughty king. So, they put all

their things into big boxes, 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 learn 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 put all their things in boxes and said, Good-bye

to their 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

America. I think little children must have been afraid of a great

ocean for it is very strong and it 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 water and the

beautiful sky, for ships could not sail quickly then because men

did not know about engines and steam. One day a dear little

baby-boy was born. His name was Peregrine White. I 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 was 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. Little 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

little 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 visit Plymouth some time and see

many old things.

Now I am very tired and I will rest.

With much love and many kisses, from your little friend.

HELEN A. KELLER.

The foreign words in these two letters, the first of which was

written during a visit to the kindergarten for the blind, she had

been told months before, and had stowed them away in her memory.

She assimilated 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 sound and vision which

express ideas outside of her experience. "Edith" is Edith Thomas.

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS

Roxbury, Mass. Oct. 17th, 1888.

Mon cher Monsieur Anagnos,

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 dumb. 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

will 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 I 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 Lord

Fauntleroy in England and he will be glad to show me his grand

and very ancient castle. And we will run 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 take French. A little

French boy will say, Parlez-vous Francais? and I will say, Oui,

Monsieur, vous avez un joli chapeau. Donnez moi un baiser. I hope

you will go with me to Athens to see the maid of Athens. She was

very lovely lady and I will talk Greek to her. I will say, se

agapo and, pos echete and I think she will say, kalos, and then I

will say chaere. Will you please come to see me soon and take me

to the theater? When you come I will say, Kale emera, and when

you go home I will say, Kale nykta. Now I am too tired to write

more. Je vous aime. Au revoir

From your darling little friend

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO MISS EVELINA H. 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 I 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 thee. J'ai une bonne petite soeur is

French, and it means I have a good little sister. Nous avons un

bon pere et une bonne mere means, we have a good father and a

good mother. Puer is boy in Latin, and Mutter is mother in

German. I will teach Mildred many languages when I come home.

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO MRS. SOPHIA C. HOPKINS

Tuscumbia, Ala. Dec. 11th, 1888.

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. The iron ore is found

in the ground; but it cannot be used until it has been brought to

the furnace and melted, and all the dirt taken out, and just the

pure iron left. Then it is all ready to be manufactured into

engines, stoves, kettles and many other things.

Coal is found in the ground, 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 cover 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 burn. Can you see leaves and ferns

and bark on the coal? Men go down into the ground and dig out the

coal, and steam-cars take it to the large cities, and sell it to

people to burn, 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 little friend

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO MISS DELLA BENNETT

Tuscumbia, Ala., Jan. 29, 1889.

My dear Miss Bennett:--I am delighted to write to you this

morning. We have just eaten our breakfast. Mildred is running

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 brothers and sisters.

There are a great many instruments besides those which the

astronomers use. A knife is an instrument to cut with. I think

the bell is an instrument, too. I will tell you what I know about

bells.

Some bells are musical and others are unmusical. Some are very

tiny and some are very large. I saw a very large bell at

Wellesley. It came from Japan. Bells are used for many purposes.

They tell us when breakfast is ready, when to go to school, when

it is time for church, and when there is a fire. 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 station, and it

tells the people to keep out of the way. Sometimes very terrible

accidents happen, and many people are 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 feel, 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 now. Good-bye.

With much love, and many kisses,

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO DR. EDWARD EVERETT HALE

Tuscumbia, Alabama, February 21st, 1889.

My dear Mr. Hale,

I am very much afraid that you are thinking in your mind that

little 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 are my dear cousin. I have been at home a great

many weeks now. It 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 little 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 little, that when they grow to

be young ladies and gentlemen they will not forget to be kind and

loving and brave. I hope I shall be courageous always. A little

girl in a story 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 I hope we shall go to ride if the

roads are dry. In a few days the beautiful spring will be here. I

am very glad because I love the warm sunshine and the fragrant

flowers. I think Flowers grow to make people happy and good. I

have four dolls now. Cedric is my little boy, he is named for

Lord Fauntleroy. 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 almost an

invalid. I have two tame pigeons and a tiny canary bird. Jumbo is

very strong and faithful. He will not let anything harm us at

night. I go to school 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

HELEN 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 had learned to write idiomatic English. After May, 1889, I

find almost no inaccuracies, except some evident slips of the

pencil. She uses words precisely and makes easy, fluent

sentences.

TO MR. MICHAEL ANAGNOS

Tuscumbia, Ala., May 18, 1889.

My Dear Mr. Anagnos:--You cannot imagine how delighted I was to

receive a letter from you last evening. I 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 I saw Dr. Bryson, and he told me that he had been to

Rome and Athens and Paris and London. He had climbed the high

mountains in Switzerland and visited beautiful churches in Italy

and France, and he saw a great many ancient castles. I 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 Elizabeth 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 summer. 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 playing, 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 fine

roses. The La France and the Lamarque are the most fragrant; but

the Marechal Neil, Solfaterre, Jacqueminot, Nipheots, Etoile de

Lyon, Papa Gontier, Gabrielle 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 my heart. When you come home

from Europe I hope you will be all well and very happy to get

home again. Do not forget to give my love to Miss Calliope

Kehayia and Mr. Francis Demetrios Kalopothakes.

Lovingly, your little friend,

HELEN ADAMS KELLER.

Like 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 gift of writing is, in the early stages of its development,

the gift of mimicry.

TO MISS FANNIE S. MARRETT

Tuscumbia, Ala., May 17, 1889.

My Dear Miss Marrett--I am thinking about a dear little girl, who

wept very hard. She wept because her brother teased her very

much. I will tell you what he did, and I think you will feel very

sorry for the little child. She had a most beautiful doll given

her. Oh, it was a lovely and delicate doll! but the little girl's

brother, a tall lad, had taken the doll, and set it up in a high

tree in the garden, and had run away. The little girl could not

reach the doll, and could not help it down, and therefore she

cried. The doll cried, too, and stretched out its arms from among

the green branches, and looked distressed. Soon the dismal night

would come--and was the doll to sit up in the tree all night, and

by herself? The little girl could not endure that thought. "I

will stay with you," said she to the doll, although she 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 doll sat and they laughed, and pointed

their fingers at her. How terrified was the little girl; but if

one has not done anything wrong, these strange little 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!"

Is it not a pitiful story? I hope the father punished the naughty

little boy. Shall you 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 KELLER.

TO MISS MARY E. RILEY

Tuscumbia, Ala., May 27, 1889.

My Dear Miss Riley:--I 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 few strawberries

for you. 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 Pearl.

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 fills the air with his glad songs. But I 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 all well except Nancy, and she is quite feeble. My

grandmother and aunt Corinne are here. Grandmother is going to

make me two new dresses. Give my love to all the little girls,

and tell them that Helen loves them very, very much. Eva sends

love to all.

With much love and many kisses, from your affectionate little

friend,

HELEN ADAMS KELLER.

During the summer Miss Sullivan was away from Helen for three

months and a half, the first separation of teacher and pupil.

Only once afterward in fifteen years was their constant

companionship broken for more than a few days at a time.

TO MISS ANNE MANSFIELD SULLIVAN

Tuscumbia, Ala., August 7, 1889.

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 little 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. All

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 is 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 Henry 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 Arthur is growing very fast. He has on short dresses now.

Cousin Leila thinks he will walk in a little while. 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 himself. Father and some other gentlemen

went hunting yesterday. 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 little maiden in the world.

She is very roguish, too. Sometimes, when mother does not know

it, she goes out into the vineyard, and gets her apron full of

delicious grapes. I think she would like to put her two soft arms

around your neck and hug you.

Sunday I went to church. I love to go to church, because I like

to see my friends.

A gentleman gave me a beautiful card. It 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 do want you to come back to me soon. I miss you so very, 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. I send Mrs. H. much love and a kiss.

From your affectionate little pupil,

HELEN A. KELLER.

In the fall Helen and Miss Sullivan returned to Perkins

Institution at South Boston.

TO MISS MILDRED KELLER

South Boston, Oct. 24, 1889.

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 little

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 them. They cannot come out of

the picture to harm you.

I go to school every day, and I learn many new things. At eight I

study arithmetic. I like 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 all live. At eleven I talk with teacher and at twelve I study

zoology. I do not know what I shall do in the afternoon yet.

Now, my darling little Mildred, good bye. Give father and mother

a great deal of love and many hugs and kisses for me. Teacher

sends her love too.

From your loving sister,

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO MR. WILLIAM WADE

South Boston, Mass., Nov. 20, 1889.

My Dear Mr. Wade:--I have just received a letter from my mother,

telling me that the beautiful mastiff puppy you sent me had

arrived in Tuscumbia safely. Thank you very much for the nice

gift. I am very sorry that I was not at home to welcome 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. I learn many new

words, too. EXCEEDINGLY is one that I learned yesterday. When I

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 Carnivora. I study French,

too. When I talk French to Lioness I will call her mon beau

chien. Please tell Lion that I will 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. KELLER.

P.S. I am studying at the Institution for the Blind.

H. A. K.

This letter is indorsed in Whittier's hand, "Helen A.

Keller--deaf dumb and blind--aged nine years." "Browns" is a

lapse of the pencil for "brown eyes."

TO JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

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

Nov. 27, 1889.

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 very happy. Yesterday I

read "In School Days" and "My Playmate," and I enjoyed them

greatly. I was very sorry that the poor little girl with the

browns and the "tangled golden curls" died. It is very pleasant

to live 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 around me; for is not the air sweet

with their fragrance? 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. I hope [you] will enjoy the Thanksgiving very

much.

From your loving little friend,

HELEN A. KELLER.

To Mr. John Greenleaf Whittier.

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

letter, has been lost.

TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER

South Boston, Mass., Dec. 3, 1889.

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 should be delighted to visit Tuscumbia

the next time he comes to America. Lady Meath said she would like

to see your flowers, and hear the mocking-birds sing. When I

visit 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 Whittier. 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 does 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 church on board a great warship. After the

services were over the soldier-sailors showed us around. There

were four hundred and sixty sailors. They were very kind to me.

One carried me in his arms so that 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. How is dear little sister? Give her many kisses for

me. Now I must close. With much love, from your darling child,

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER

So. Boston, Mass., Dec. 24, 1889

My dear Mother,

Yesterday I sent you a little Christmas box. I am very sorry that

I could not send it before so that you would receive it tomorrow,

but I could not finish the watch-case any sooner. I made all of

the gifts myself, excepting father's handkerchief. I 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 make it for you. You must keep your lovely new montre in it.

If it is too warm in Tuscumbia for little 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 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 Christmas. 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 fun I am sure.

Mr. and Miss Endicott came to see me, 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 I am here. Now I must say, good-bye. I hope I

have written my letter nicely, but it is very difficult to write

on this paper and teacher is not here to give me better. Give

many kisses to little sister and much love to all. Lovingly

HELEN.

TO DR. EDWARD EVERETT HALE

South Boston, Jan. 8, 1890.

My dear Mr. Hale:

The beautiful shells came last night. I 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 I am eleven

years old 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 little girls were delighted to see the lovely shells.

I told them all I knew about them. Are you very glad that you

could make so many happy? I am. I should be very happy to come

and teach you the Braille sometime, if you have time to learn,

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 loving greeting to the little cousins, and Mrs. Hale and a

sweet kiss for yourself,

From your little friend,

HELEN A. KELLER.

This, the first of Helen's letters to Dr. Holmes, written soon

after a visit to him, he published in "Over the Teacups."

[Atlantic Monthly, May, 1890]

TO DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

South Boston, Mass., March 1, 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, many friends. On

Washington's birthday a great many people came here to see the

blind children; and I read for them from your poems, and showed

them some beautiful 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 learn 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 butterflies. They 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, without 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

flowers, or wade in the ponds for fragrant lilies, 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

will love her.

Now I must tell my gentle poet good-bye, for I have a letter to

write home before I go to bed.

From your loving little friend,

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO MISS SARAH FULLER [Miss Fuller gave Helen Keller her first

lesson in articulation. See Chapter IV, Speech.]

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!" Do you think the lovely moon was glad

that I could speak to her? How glad my mother will be. I can

hardly wait for June to come I am so eager to speak to her and to

my precious little sister. Mildred could 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

know how I came to wish to talk with my mouth. I will tell you

all about it, for I remember my thoughts perfectly. When I was a

very little child I used to sit in my mother's lap all the time,

because I was very timid, and did not like to be left by myself.

And I would keep my little hand on her face all the while,

because it amused me to feel her face and lips move when she

talked with people. I did not know then what she was doing, for I

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 very 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 lady who had been to Norway came to see me, and told me

of a blind and deaf girl [Ragnhild Kaata] 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 was very delicate and sensitive and that it

would injure 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 perhaps I shall sing too. All of my friends will be

so surprised and glad.

Your loving little pupil,

HELEN A. KELLER.

When the Perkins Institution closed for the summer, 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, Alabama, July 14, 1890.

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

precious little sister. I 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 grown 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 delighted to hear me speak, and I was 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 us to have very great sorrow sometimes? I am always happy and

so was Little Lord Fauntleroy, but dear Little Jakey's life 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? When 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. I

should like very much to see you to-day 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 lilies yesterday--he is a

very brother to me.

Teacher sends you her kind remembrances, and father and mother

also send their regards.

From your loving little friend,

HELEN A. KELLER.

DR. BROOKS'S REPLY

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 country 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 about. I do not see how we can help thinking

about God 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 sun. And the more we love the more

near we are to God and His Love.

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? 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 MADE 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 what 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 knows that we can be really

happy only when we are good. 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 sufferer 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 so. And, Helen, He loves men still, and He

loves us, 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.

All this is what you are to think of and to understand more and

more as you grow older. Think of it now, and let it make every

blessing brighter because your 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 affectionate friend

PHILLIPS BROOKS.

DR. HOLMES'S REPLY

To a letter which has been lost.

Beverly Farms, Mass., August 1, 1890.

My Dear 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 remember me so kindly.

Your letter is charming, and I am greatly pleased with it. I

rejoice to know that you are well and happy. I am very much

delighted to hear of your new acquisition--that you "talk with

your mouth" as well as with your fingers. What a curious thing

SPEECH is! The tongue is so serviceable 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 you 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 guns and cannon!

Think of the poor drummers! Of what use would they and their

drumsticks be? You are spared the pain of many sights and sounds,

which you are only too happy in escaping. Then think how much

kindness you are sure of as long as you live. Everybody will feel

an interest in dear little Helen; everybody will want to do

something 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 satisfaction 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 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 HOLMES.

This letter was written to some gentlemen in Gardiner, Maine, who

named a lumber vessel after her.

TO MESSRS. BRADSTREET

Tuscumbia, Ala., July 14, 1890.

My Dear, Kind Friends:--I thank you very, very much for naming

your beautiful new ship for me. It 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 countries. 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 will often think of them with loving thoughts. I hope I

shall see you and my beautiful namesake some time.

With much love, from your little friend,

HELEN A. KELLER.

To the Messrs. Bradstreet.

Helen and Miss Sullivan returned to the Perkins Institution early

in November.

TO MRS. KATE ADAMS KELLER

South Boston, Nov. 10, 1890.

My Dearest Mother:--My heart has been 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! And my darling

little sister, how I wish I could give her a hundred kisses! 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 late

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 with 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. When 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 dear friends, however, for they did

not expect us Saturday; but when the bell rung Miss Marrett

guessed who was at the door, and Mrs. Hopkins jumped up from the

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 see Mr. Anagnos. 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 tell everybody the time when they ask me. I

have only seen Mr. Anagnos twice. I have many questions to ask

him about the countries he has been travelling in. But I suppose

he is very busy now.

The hills in Virginia were very lovely. Jack Frost had dressed

them in gold and crimson. The view was most charmingly

picturesque. Pennsylvania is a very beautiful State. The grass

was as green as though it was springtime, and the golden ears of

corn 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 case 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 library. 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,

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

South Boston, Dec. 17, 1890.

Dear Kind Poet,

This is 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 birthday. 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

afterwards I thought why he did it, and then I was happy. The 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

crystals form in the sky. When they are ready, they will softly

fall and tenderly 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 will be

in eternity. I am afraid I cannot think about so much time. I

received the letter which you wrote to me last summer, and I

thank you for 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, Mr. Anagnos wants me to rest and play a great

deal.

Teacher is well and sends her kind remembrance to you. The happy

Christmas time is almost here! I can hardly wait for the fun to

begin! I hope your Christmas Day will be a very happy one and

that the New Year will be full of brightness and joy for you and

every one.

From your little friend

HELEN A. KELLER.

WHITTIER'S REPLY

My Dear Young Friend--I was very glad to have such a pleasant

letter on my birthday. I had two or three hundred others 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 shine,

but we had great 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 since I was

a boy no older than thee, playing 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 of love I

am

Thy old friend,

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Tommy Stringer, who appears in several of the following 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 saved her pennies.

Dr. Alexander Graham Bell 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 opportunity 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

kindergarten on the sixth of April.

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 with which people from far and

near, whom I had never seen, responded to the dumb cry of a

little captive soul for aid."

TO MR. GEORGE R. KREHL

Institution for the Blind,

South Boston, Mass., March 20, 1891.

My Dear Friend, Mr. Krehl:--I have just heard, through Mr. Wade,

of your kind offer 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 are 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 I know several of the great poet's poems by

heart. I am eager to cross the ocean, 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 people, 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 little girl who

loves dogs and all other animals, you will laugh, and I hope you

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 to 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 little fellow sent to school; so, instead of giving

me a dog, the gentlemen 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 soul, and then he cannot

help being happy.

From your loving little friend,

HELEN A. KELLER.

TO DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

[South Boston, Mass., April, 1891.]

Dear Dr. Holmes:--Your beautiful words about spring have been

making 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, frail

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 paper because I want the

spray of violets in the corner 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 Tommy's whole life. Your loving friend,

HELEN KELLER.

TO SIR JOHN EVERETT MILLAIS

Perkins Institution for the Blind,

South Boston, Mass., April 30, 1891.

My Dear Mr. Millais:--Your little American sister is going to

write you a letter, because she wants you to know how pleased she

was to hear you were interested in our poor 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 little

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, and their

beautiful island home. My favourite 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 in the clinging billow's clasp,

From seaweed fringe to mountain heather,

The British oak with rooted grasp

Her slender handful holds together,

With cliffs of white and bowers of green,

And ocean narrowing to caress her,

And hills and threaded streams between,

Our little mother isle, God bless her!"

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 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. Please think of me always as your loving

little sister,

HELEN KELLER.

TO REV. PHILLIPS BROOKS

So. Boston, May 1, 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 everywhere are rejoicing because 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 wishes

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,

HELEN KELLER.

Before a teacher was found 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.