sweetness-a soul-beauty in her face which I have not seen before.


July 31, 1887.

Helen's pencil-writing is excellent, as you will see from the
enclosed letter, which she wrote for her own amusement. I am
teaching her the braille alphabet, and she is delighted to be
able to make words herself that she can feel.

She has now reached the question stage of her development. It is
"what?" "why?" "when?" especially "why?" all day long, and as her
intelligence grows her inquiries become more insistent. I
remember how unbearable I used to find the inquisitiveness of my
friends' children; but I know now that these questions indicate
the child's growing interest in the cause of things. The "why?"
is the DOOR THROUGH WHICH HE ENTERS THE WORLD OF REASON AND
REFLECTION. "How does carpenter know to build house?" "Who put
chickens in eggs?" "Why is Viney black?" "Flies bite--why?" "Can
flies know not to bite?" "Why did father kill sheep?" Of course
she asks many questions that are not as intelligent as these. Her
mind isn't more logical than the minds of ordinary children. On
the whole, her questions are analogous to those that a bright
three-year-old child asks; but her desire for knowledge is so
earnest, the questions are never tedious, though they draw
heavily upon my meager store of information, and tax my ingenuity
to the utmost.

I had a letter from Laura Bridgman last Sunday. Please give her
my love, and tell her Helen sends her a kiss. I read the letter