nouns with the verb "drink." She didn't know the word for
"drink," but went through the pantomime of drinking whenever she
spelled "mug" or "milk." This morning, while she was washing, she
wanted to know the name for "water." When she wants to know the
name of anything, she points to it and pats my hand. I spelled
"w-a-t-e-r" and thought no more about it until after breakfast.
Then it occurred to me that with the help of this new word I
might succeed in straightening out the "mug-milk" difficulty. We
went out to the pump-house, and I made Helen hold her mug under
the spout while I pumped. As the cold water gushed forth, filling
the mug, I spelled "w-a-t-e-r" in Helen's free hand. The word
coming so close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her
hand seemed to startle her. She dropped the mug and stood as one
transfixed. A new light came into her face. She spelled "water"
several times. Then she dropped on the ground and asked for its
name and pointed to the pump and the trellis, and suddenly
turning round she asked for my name. I spelled "Teacher." Just
then the nurse brought Helen's little sister into the pump-house,
and Helen spelled "baby" and pointed to the nurse. All the way
back to the house she was highly excited, and learned the name of
every object she touched, so that in a few hours she had adDED
THIRTY NEW WORDS TO HER VOCABULARY. HERE ARE SOME OF THEM: DOOR,
OPEN, SHUT, GIVE, GO, COME, and a great many more.

P.S.--I didn't finish my letter in time to get it posted last
night; so I shall add a line. Helen got up this morning like a
radiant fairy. She has flitted from object to object, asking the
name of everything and kissing me for very gladness. Last night
when I got in bed, she stole into my arms of her own accord and
kissed me for the first time, and I thought my heart would burst,